Protecting Jenna (NCIS Series Book 8) Read online

  She smiled and his heart flip-flopped, a true, amused smile that did things to his well-organized, completely rational brain. The expression in her eyes glinted, then softened, becoming a little warmer, a little more intimate—the look you gave someone you’d known a long, long time. As if they were old souls.

  “Jenna,” he whispered raggedly, dragging his fingers through her curls.

  Someone dropped a lid off one of the dishes and it reverberated with a metallic sound. She froze, and the dreamy, lost look in her eyes snapped off. “Oh, God,” she murmured and pushed away from him. “What am I doing?” She shook her head, and before he could stop her, she rushed past him and back into the bright lights of the party.

  He watched her get control of herself, march briskly to her husband, and they walked onto the dance floor. She couldn’t have put up a larger or more formidable wall. He wanted to know how she really felt, but he was being a complete fool. She was married to the United States ambassador. She wasn’t free and neither was he.

  This could torpedo his career in a freaking heartbeat. He had to get control of himself.

  The faster he realized that, the better off he would be.

  The next day, Jenna was summoned to the embassy and told to pack a bag. She was hoping to catch Austin, talk to him, make it clear that she was married and that she couldn’t engage in any kind of an affair with him. She was just…a woman who was desperately trying to handle disappointment.

  But, as she came through the gates, there were several pockets of people—angry people. They banged on the car windows when the vehicle slowed to enter. As the gates closed behind her, she noticed that the Khida security force responsible for guarding the grounds were flanking the gates fully armed, the looks on their faces tense and watchful.

  Once inside, she forgot about talking to Austin as another Marine buzzed her in. The uniform triggered thoughts of Austin anyway, and a flash of memory chased her up the staircase and into the suite of offices as she was immediately allowed entrance to her husband’s.

  “Robert. What is going on?”

  He looked up from his phone call and murmured something, then hung up. He smiled, but it was the tight one that told her he was going to treat her like a child.

  “There is no need to worry, my dear.”

  “There’s a growing number of very angry people outside. I think there’s a need to worry,” she snapped.

  His eyes flashed. It was the first time she’d ever raised her voice to him, and God, it felt good.

  “Very well. We are monitoring the situation and the residence isn’t safe. You’ll stay here until this blows over.”

  “What happened?”

  “There was an incident in New York. Several Ja’arbah citizens, who are attending the university, were victims of a hate crime. One of them was killed after being set on fire and the other two are in critical condition.”

  “Oh, my God.”

  He came around the desk and clasped her upper arms, smiling that tight smile again. “They’re angry and want justice.”

  “Have they caught the people responsible for the deaths?”

  “The suspects in the case are at large, and the NYPD is doing everything they can to apprehend them.” He gave her a calming look, but Jenna felt cold and unsettled. She moved away from him, folding her arms across her chest and rubbing at them. “They’re protesting. We’ll let them get it out of their system.”

  “Are you sure that’s all they’re going to do? There are militants everywhere, Robert. Even here.”

  He looked at her like she had grown two heads. As if he couldn’t fathom where she might have heard the word militants.

  She huffed a breath. “Robert.”

  “For now. Yes. If things change, we’ll deal with it.”

  He went to his intercom. “Janet, please send up Sergeant Beck.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Oh, no, not Austin. “Why are you sending up a Marine?”

  “You need a guard.”

  “Guard? You’re assigning someone to babysit me. I’m not a child, Robert.”

  “I know that, and this is a precaution.”

  “He’s needed elsewhere,” she said firmly.

  “I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but if this is about our discussion regarding children, your petulance can stop right now. I am the authority here, Jenna, and I will do what I see fit for my wife. Is that understood?” He never let her forget he was in a prestigious position, symbolizing the sovereignty of the United States and serving as the personal representative of the president.

  She couldn’t protest any louder because he might wonder why. She bit her tongue and looked away. “Understood.”

  “Good. Put this on and keep it on until you're safe.” He handed her a bulletproof vest.

  No, she thought, as memories of Austin’s mouth and how much she’d wanted to kiss him shocked through her, this wasn’t good at all. She took the vest, her stomach tight.

  Two days later, Jenna stood staring out of the embassy window, watching as dusk settled, tension in the air, like it was waiting, breath suspended for…violence. That feeling shivered across her skin, settled like a sick rock in her stomach and sent fear skittering along her nerve endings. Robert had been wrong, and the numbers of people only swelled. Angrier people, some carrying weapons, now surrounded the embassy on all sides. The police had tried to disperse them with tear gas. They just surged back once it had cleared. The sound of breaking glass audible above the constant, bone-chilling chant. Suddenly someone grabbed her arm and pulled her away from the view.

  “I’d prefer you stay away from the windows, ma’am,” Austin said, his voice still professional and neutral. No inflection.

  She cringed. She hadn’t said a word to him about what had happened. He had been the perfect gentleman. Both of them must have wised up. Or had she? She still couldn’t get him off her mind and if he called her “ma’am” one more time… Today he was in tan camouflage instead of his more formal dress, a battle helmet on his head, in constant contact with the other Marines in the compound and Post One.

  She huffed and settled on the cushions of the leather couch in the office where she had been sleeping.

  He glanced at her, his posture loose as he leaned against the wall. “What is it? You’re staring daggers at me.”

  “Please don’t call me that again.”

  He stared at her, and she breathed a sigh of relief. That blank look was gone, replaced by a pensive one. “Call you what?”

  “Ma’am.”

  He looked down. “It’s necessary.”

  “Jenna, please. Call me Jenna.”

  He just stared at her.

  “As opposed to ‘ma’am.’ It makes me feel eighty.” But it mostly made her feel alone.

  She felt strangely calm inside, as if she’d emptied everything out and now there was nothing left. It was almost a nice feeling, that kind of hollowness. Maybe, she thought with a touch of black humor, she had to honor Robert’s wishes about children. But she didn’t have to like it, and she could no longer contain her resentment. She sighed and rubbed her arms. She had been dodging reality long enough.

  He smiled then, and she had to remember to take a breath. Austin in Marine mode was lethal, but when he smiled…everything melted. She knew it was inappropriate.

  “All right. It’s not protocol. I should really call you Mrs. Webb…” She narrowed her eyes and he laughed again. “All right, okay. Jenna it is, but I think you should still address me as Sergeant Beck. That’s as far as I can stretch my strict protocol.”

  This time she smiled. He really was working at keeping his distance. Wasn’t that a good thing? “If you insist.” It would be a good thing if protocol wasn’t already on the rocks.

  “I do.” He indicated the window with a nod of his head. “Let’s just keep our heads down and out of any line of fire.” She must have blanched because he looked contrite and swore softly under his breath. “Sorry. It’s safer. All r
ight?”

  “Yes.”

  The buzz of the chanting closed in on her, and she turned toward the window just able to see over the sill. It was a beautiful night, with the twilight soft, purple, and oddly welcoming. This…fearful restlessness was building in her. It was as if her brain was telling her to flee, but she knew she had nowhere to go right now.

  “What if they breach the walls? Come after us?”

  “We have safe haven in the event of the worst-case scenario. But your husband decided this morning that we should all be evacuated until things die down. He didn’t tell you this?” Safe haven was a fortified room where they could lock themselves in, but how long could they survive? What if they set the building on fire?

  “No.” She sighed. He would of course want to spare her the worry. “I’m sure he’s very busy handling this crisis.”

  “The choppers will be here in time. I promise you. Nothing will happen to you. I’ll keep you safe.”

  She stared out at the milling crowd, its cadence never wavering, arms pumping over their heads. She wished she were home. Home in DC, where it was safe. She absently tucked her hair behind her ear, trying to keep the fear at bay.

  “Talk to me about something, anything.”

  His eyes softened a bit. “I’m a surfer. I ride the waves as often as I can.”

  “A surfer? How long have you been doing that?”

  “Since before I could walk. My parents were avid surfers and got me on a board when I was a baby.”

  She raised a brow. “Really? Just a baby?”

  He chuckled and leaned back against the wall, eyeing the door, his M4 pointing to the ceiling, the butt end resting against the carpet. On his hip, he carried an M9 pistol. He stood between a locked door and whatever wanted to come through it. They were in one of the second-floor offices, the stairs barricaded with office furniture. They would be exiting out a side office and heading to safe haven or on their way up to the roof as soon as it became necessary.

  “Yeah. I was born in San Clemente, California, and they’ve got one of the best beaches there to surf. Trestles. Well, there are three distinct spots—Uppers, Middle, and Lowers. Lowers used to be part of Camp Pendleton until President Nixon decreed it park land. Little did I know I’d be one of the Marines who served.”

  “That seems…so…strange, personality-wise.”

  He shifted again and gave her a sidelong glance. “Why do you say that?”

  “Surfers are known for their laid-back, get-in-touch-with-nature attitudes. ‘Go with the flow, dude.’ Marines, well, they usually are going against the flow with a very determined attitude, ‘hooyah.’ Uniforms and boots versus flip-flops and board shorts.”

  His smile returned then, those full lips parting for a flashing curve of white teeth and wry self-awareness, sexy-tough handling both her and the weapons he carried with masterful ease. “Ah, that was a nice try, but it’s actually ‘oohrah’ for us jarheads.” He leaned forward, his weapon tilting with him, this lethal man with a glint in the gunmetal gray of his eyes. “You can’t see me out of this uniform?”

  She had to swallow at the mention of anything bare on Austin, and with that one sentence all the sensations and her reaction to his mouth came rushing back.

  His face changed, and he grimaced as if he’d just realized what he’d said. “Not that you’d imagine me without my uniform…” He glanced away, then looked back at her, capturing her gaze, a soft flush of color washing his cheeks. Shaking his head, he gave her an exasperated look as if he was, all of a sudden, tongue-tied. “I meant, in board shorts and flip-flops,” he said, tipping his head back and closing his eyes.

  “I know what you meant.” He was the most fascinating mix of toughness and grace she’d ever seen, six feet and two inches of raw, lean power, soft-looking short brown hair mixed with blond highlights. His eyes were the purest, clearest crystalline gray she’d ever seen, the color of river water with sunlight shooting through it.

  He was a very beautiful young man, but he carried himself and acted much older than he looked. When she’d found out he was all of twenty-two, she’d been floored. That for some reason made her feel much older than twenty-six. She felt weary, unhappy, and that was probably the reason for having these very wrong thoughts and feelings for Austin. The risk, too. That was jacking everything up to a danger-zone level.

  He was gorgeous, with his beautiful nose and chiseled cheekbones, and those lips, which she couldn’t help fantasizing about. Just looking at him made her mouth go dry. The essence of him had the kind of presence that made a woman feel safe, a quiet strength embedded with a sure confidence that was take-charge and steady, but with a demeanor that was warm and true.

  For the first time in her life, she had cast her eyes in another man’s direction, and she was at a loss in knowing how to make it go away—these inappropriate thoughts or the recklessness of wanting to give in to those desires. Dangerous and wrong. She bit her lip, resenting her father and how hard he’d pushed. She’d been the dutiful daughter and acquiesced to his wishes like she always had. She regretted it now.

  She was married to a man who treated her like a glass figurine, had no intention of ever giving her children and didn’t think she could handle anything more taxing than a garden party or shopping.

  Austin was talking about surfing, and she’d let the cadence of his deep voice wash over her and dissipate the spiraling fear. Then he dropped the big bomb. “My girlfriend likes to ride, too, which is a plus.” That made her gasp. She had to cover it up with a cough.

  “You’ve got a girlfriend?” Acute disappointment rippled through her. What had she thought anyway? She was the wife of a US ambassador and he was a young Marine. There was no hope for them and yet the discontent was keenly severe.

  “Yeah—” He pulled off his helmet and leaned over to show her the inside. The picture showed a pretty blonde woman on a beach, her long hair flying around her face, caught in the wind.

  “She’s very pretty,” was all Jenna could muster, her heart heavy.

  He smiled and set the helmet back on.

  That’s when she leaned into the leather of the couch and closed her eyes, trying to get her emotions back under control. This man was taken, so taken. Not that it would have done her any good if he wasn’t.

  After that, she lay down and fell asleep until something woke her up. Maybe it was the eerie silence that registered when she opened her eyes, no crowd noise at all. Even the constant bashing from the sledgehammers destroying computers, equipment and anything useful that could be beneficial to the enemy was silent.

  She looked to find Austin beside the window, and she wondered when he’d last slept. “Sergeant Beck?”

  He turned his head and maybe it was the sound of her voice, but he took two strides to the couch and crouched down.

  “What’s happening?”

  “Nothing right now. Go back to sleep.” The light from the moon illuminated his face.

  “Please don’t lie to me to spare my feelings. I’m sure Robert told you to keep me wrapped up in cotton wool.”

  “Silk, actually.”

  “Oh, man.” She blinked a few times and sighed. “Just tell me.”

  “They’re resting. I think they’re done waiting.” He rose, his body tense.

  “The choppers?”

  “On their way. As soon as they get here, we’re moving out. I wanted you to sleep as long as you could.”

  He went to move back to the window, but she stood and set her hand on his forearm. “I can’t sleep now. Why don’t you get some rest? Even twenty minutes will help.”

  He looked at her for a moment.

  “I’ll keep watch. I’ll wake you if something happens.”

  He nodded, removed his helmet, propped his rifle against the desk and lay down on the couch.

  Restless after a half an hour of staring out at the quiet, milling crowd now stretched out as far as the eye could see, she turned from the window and walked over to the sofa. He was o
n his back, the throw had slipped off his shoulders, and she knelt down, pulling it up. His warm hand clasped around her wrist. She froze, her gaze going to his face. His eyes were open, watchful.

  “I’m going to miss seeing you, Jenna,” he said, his voice whiskey soft.

  His tone set off a reaction in her that only made her lean forward. She closed her eyes, trying to corral her feelings. “You shouldn’t say things like that,” she whispered.

  He rose and she backed away. “I know.” His tone was unapologetic. He stepped closer to her, then cupped her jaw and turned her face toward him, his expression unsmiling, his eyes dark and intent.

  “Where will you be going?” She felt desperate and everything inside her rebelled at saying goodbye to this man.

  “Wherever they tell me to, Jenna. I belong to the Marines.” He smiled at her and her heart flipped over. Held immobile by the intimacy of his touch, she stared at him, her gut rolling into a ball of dread. She had to say goodbye.

  “Give me something to remember,” he said, his voice gruff and very low.

  That request did unbearable things to her heart, and she breathed around the fullness in her chest.

  Feeling as if she was losing her mind, paralyzed by his touch and his request, she surrendered to the desperate moment, as if these precious minutes were carved out of time. He tipped her face up and Jenna made a helpless, lost sound as he slowly lowered his head.

  He pressed his lips to hers lightly at first, but the initial contact with her mouth made him stop and his eyes pop open, a dazed, oh-my-God look in them. Then his mouth took hers in a kiss that agitated every cell. Right or wrong evaporated, and everything receded.

  He worked his mouth hungrily against hers, drawing her hips even closer. She couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. Her mouth responded, pliant against his moist and so-damn-hot lips, as a thousand sensations shot through her.