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Zora Clark wished she was that girl. The one who could, and would, throw caution to the wind. Every time she and Tucker had this pre-scripted conversation she had other lines she wanted to say, things she couldn’t get out.
The tiniest sip of whiskey couldn’t be blamed for this moment. No, for her this was a year in the making.
She’d wanted Tucker since the moment he’d told his commanding officer no.
At a glance, Tucker was a stereotype. The country boy, bit of a redneck, who’d joined the Navy SEALs because he couldn’t help but be the best at what he did. But the day he said no?
That was the day he’d proven there was more under the sand and scruff. He didn’t just take orders, he considered them. He figured out a better way. And that intelligence? That awareness that what they did had consequences that reached past this op? That was sexy.
Even now when they were almost nose to nose and she’d practically written him an invitation he didn’t pounce. No, he looked at her and she knew he was considering every angle.
“Why now?” he asked.
She licked her lips. “Because I’m leaving in a few weeks. Because…”
Her insides knotted up.
Could she have imagined the flirting? Was it in her head? What if he wasn’t interested in her?
His hand slid from the back of the sofa to her shoulder, his fingers caressing the base of her neck.
Tucker wasn’t her usual type. She’d always gone for the bookish boys, intellectuals. But Tucker had proven that intelligence didn’t come in one form. He was smart, rugged, dangerous. And she was utterly clumsy when it came to throwing herself at a man.
“I’m going to miss these evening chats.” His thumb swiped up the side of her neck to her jaw.
Her insides wobbled. “Me, too.”
“Maybe we can work something out?” He leaned in a tiny bit more. “They make these neat things called phones. Heard of them?”
Despite the tension she chuckled, and that was when he moved.
Tucker’s mouth pressed against hers. She sucked in a breath and reached for him, gripping his shoulder as if she could keep him close. His lips were firm as they moved against hers, teasing, tasting. She lifted her other hand to his face, eager to touch him at last.
Zora ran her fingers over his scruff. It was softer than she’d expected.
He shifted then, letting go of her. She cupped the back of his head, not ready for the kiss to end. His mouth curved into a smile then lazily suckled her lower lip between his. He sucked on it, creating a pulsing deep in her belly.
Tucker slid off the sofa and knelt in front of her, the kiss never breaking.
Oh.
Oh, now she understood.
He grasped her hips and pulled her to the edge of the cushion, their bodies pressed together while the balcony wall hid them from view and the shadows concealed them.
For this moment, it was just them and she could taste the passion she’d been nursing. Though she wished she could lose herself in this completely, she could feel the tools of Tucker’s trade clipped to his jacket, concealed underneath his clothes.
They would never be normal people. And Tucker understood that about her when all the other men in her life hadn’t.
His hands cupped her ass, squeezing and pulling her closer, rocking against her. She groaned her approval.
What she wouldn’t give for a private bedroom and an hour alone with him. They were already tempting fate making out like this in the open. Still, she could imagine what it would be like to be bold, to flaunt the social rules of the country.
Being with Tucker just might be worth it.
The ring of her phone startled her out of her lust fueled thoughts. The light was most jarring of all.
Both Zora and Tucker turned their faces, breathing heavily, and stared at the number on the screen.
Tucker spoke first. “That’s—”
“The emergency line.” She snatched the phone up and jabbed the screen. “Hello?”
A man spoke in rapid Arabic over the sound of horns honking.
“They took my family,” the man said.
“They? They who?” Zora stared into Tucker’s face. This close he had to hear some of the conversation. “Ahmad?”
“Yes. It’s me.”
Shit.
Tucker rocked back on his heels, giving her space.
Zora didn’t move. She couldn’t lose the signal and service was spotty inside. She waved Tucker toward the door.
If Ahmad was in trouble, if he was calling Americans for help then…
She didn’t want to consider what that meant.
“I’ll call you back,” Ahmad said.
“No, don’t—”
He ended the call.
Zora shot to her feet and rushed for the sliding glass door.
The man she’d known only as Ahmad had another, longer name, but Ahmad was the only one that mattered in the beginning. She’d come to Saudi Arabia to meet him and cultivate him as an asset.
If she’d known then what she knew now about the man, someone much higher up in the food chain would have taken over.
Ahmad landed on Zora’s radar when she identified him as the person providing illegal, uncensored internet access to people in Riyadh and beyond. That alone had been enough of a reason to support him, off the books of course. But then Zora had figured out who Ahmad really was.
In his day job, Ahmad ran one of the divisions of the Saudi intelligence agency. He was playing both sides in a deadly game, and if he got caught so did Zora.
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