Chapter 3
Fearghas Gordon, a Scotsman and former SAS, and Peter Atkins, another former SAS operative from England, accompanied Dax and Giva to the hotel as their bodyguards.
Dmytro drove the car, seeming to enjoy playing the part of chauffeur to the fake Evan Maas and Sasha Royce. He even wore a flat wool caddy hat to blend into the part.
Dax doubted flat caddy hats were popular anymore, making Dmytro’s cap seem appropriate for his age and personality.
Giva sat in the back seat of the vehicle with Fearghas on one side, Dax on the other and Peter riding shotgun.
At every right turn, her thigh leaned into Dax’s. At every left turn, his leaned into hers. Each time they touched, heat raced through Dax, pooling in his groin.
Why?
The woman was aggravating, condescending and full of herself. She had little respect for him and less desire than he had to spend time in each other’s company. How could they make their masquerade work if they couldn’t get along or even be civil to each other?
The kiss.
Dax had kissed her in front of the others to prove that he could play the part of an infatuated lover, even if he couldn’t stand the lady he was supposed to be in love with.
But that kiss...
The kiss had shaken him to his very core. His very hot, pulsing, suddenly needy core.
And she’d kissed him back.
Granted, she’d also tried to slap his face.
Dax’s lips twitched on the corners as he told himself that she wouldn’t have swung at him if she hadn’t been as affected by that kiss as he had been.
At least, he assumed that was the case.
Then again, maybe she hadn’t liked the kiss and had only responded the way she had to prove she could act the part despite her disdain for him.
He frowned.
If she hadn’t liked the kiss, he needed to up his game.
Challenge accepted.
The hotel wasn’t far from the Brotherhood Protectors Office building. Before Dax realized it, Dmytro pulled the long car up to the curb and waved for them to exit.
He moved quickly, hopping out of the vehicle before he embarrassed himself by laying a hand on that beautiful thigh peeking through the slit in the skirt of the red dress.
He admonished himself for being attracted to the woman who would be his partner in a very dangerous game. It wasn’t like Dax could ignore her. They’d have to be close and pretend to be in love...or at least in lust.
The lust part wouldn’t be a hardship. Giva was beautiful, with a body that didn’t quit.
Dax held open the back door for Giva.
Fearghas exited the other side.
Giva ignored the door Dax held and slid across the seat and out the door where Fearghas stood. “Thank you,” she said to the tall Scotsman.
She walked with Fearghas around the car, gave Dax a glance down the length of her nose, and hooked her hand through the crook of Dax’s elbow. “Shall we?”
“We shall.” Dax laid his hand over the one curled around his elbow and led her into the lobby, past reception and straight to the elevator bank.
Hammer took care of the registration and gave Dax the electronic key to the room. They didn’t have to stop at the reception desk or speak to anyone on the way.
Once inside the elevator car, Dax selected the fifth floor.
With the two bodyguards, Dax and Giva, the elevator car seemed small and tight as they stood in silence, waiting for the doors to open on their floor. They couldn’t speak openly in case the elevator was wired with a camera.
The bell dinged, and the doors slid open.
Fearghas and Peter exited first, taking their bodyguard duties seriously.
Armed with the key to the suite, Fearghas strode ahead.
Peter stood to the side and waited for Dax and Giva to step out in front of him. He would guard their six.
Dax had worked with teams enough to trust his team had his back. These men would not be members of the Brotherhood Protectors if former Navy SEALs Ace Hammer and Hank Patterson didn’t trust them absolutely.
Fearghas let himself into the suite Dax and Giva were to occupy while they remained in the hallway. Several minutes passed before Fearghas reappeared in the doorway. “Clear.” He stood back, allowing Giva and Dax to enter.
Giva stepped across the threshold. “Oh, good, they delivered my things from the office.”
Dax nodded toward the Army green duffel bag. “And mine.”
Once Dax cleared the door, Fearghas stepped back out into the hallway. “If you need us for anything, we have the room beside this one.” He tipped his head to the left. “Yell, call or text if you need us. One of us will be on duty through the night.”
“Thanks,” Dax said and closed the door.
When he turned, he found Giva rolling a suitcase through the shared living area toward the bedroom on the right.
“Are we done for the night?” Dax shot at her retreating form.
Still moving toward the bedroom, she said, “After traveling through the night, you could use some rest. I’m not sure what you’ll retain at this point.”
Dax bristled. “I have a mind like a steel trap, regardless of how much sleep I’ve gotten.”
Giva snorted. “Right. Morning will be here soon enough.” She pushed the case into the bedroom, turned to face him and gave him a brief, tight smile. “Goodnight, Evan.”
It took him a second to realize she’d called him by his undercover persona. Quick to respond, he said, “Don’t you think we should practice the PDA side of this relationship, Sasha?”
Her brow dipped, and her lips pressed into a flat line. “No.” She closed the door firmly between them.
Dax chuckled. “Scared?” he called out.
“Not in the least,” she said through the door panel. “I don’t need the practice.”
“Maybe I do,” he goaded. “Shouldn’t we practice together to give a more authentic performance?”
For a long moment, silence reigned. Then the door swung open, and Giva strode across the sitting room like a model on a runway, coming to a stop directly in front of Dax.
He stood his ground, though the aggressive way she approached him led him to believe she might be on a mission to either slap him again or sink a knife into his gut.
“You need practice?” she asked.
His pulse raced through his veins.
The fiery gleam in Giva’s eyes radiated danger and... passion.
Dax’s groin responded to both, but he couldn’t let her know. “ I know how to kiss and make it look natural.” He raised a hand and ran one of his fingers along the smooth, soft skin of her bare arm. “To convince the casual observers, we need to practice together .”
“Then practice this.” She wrapped her fingers around the back of his neck and pulled him down to press her lips to his.
Dax’s arms came up around her waist, his hands pressing into the small of her back.
Her fingers wove into his hair, urging him closer as she opened to him.
With one hand pressing her against him, he raised the other to grab a handful of her hair. He swept his tongue past her teeth to tangle with hers, caressing it in languorous thrusts.
The more he kissed her, the more he wanted to.
No.
He wanted more. To get closer, to feel her skin against his.
Her calf wrapped around his thigh, and her breasts pressed against his chest.
The hand he held at the small of her back slid lower to cup her ass, and the kiss intensified until he finally had to lift his head to take a breath.
Her leg skimmed over his as she lowered her foot to the floor. She looked up into his face, a devilish smile curling the corners of her lips. “How’s that for convincing?” she whispered.
Then she lowered her arms from around his neck to press against his chest.
Giva stepped back. “Rehearsal’s over. Good night.” With those parting words, she spun on her heel and returned to her room, her hips swaying in that damned red dress.
Dax tugged at the collar of his shirt, then adjusted his trousers to ease his cock straining against the fabric.
He’d hoped to teach her he could easily convince their dangerous audience they were truly Evan Maas and his sexy girlfriend, Sasha Royce.
Instead, Giva had schooled him in his own lesson. Where he’d lost himself in the kiss, she’d made him feel like the kiss was real and that she’d lost control as much as he had. But she hadn’t lost control. She’d been in complete control the entire time and had walked away as if the kiss meant nothing but a great job acting.
Dax ran a hand through his hair. He would have to take a page from Giva’s book and keep it professional. They were headed into treacherous territory. If they were caught, they could be murdered on the spot.
He hefted his duffel bag onto his shoulder and strode into the other bedroom, closing the door behind him. What he needed was a reset. A cold shower, sleep and time to process what he’d walked into when he’d gone into the bar, expecting to meet with Ace Hammerson.
He dropped his bag on the floor, opened it and dug out a clean T-shirt and a pair of gym shorts, figuring he could wear them to sleep in when he usually slept nude. No need to freak out his partner on this mission.
Keep it professional.
He stripped out of the clothes he’d worn, thinking to make a good impression on his new boss, only to meet with his potential new partner instead. They were off-the-rack items he’d picked up in a department store, but he thought he’d looked semi-decent in them.
Shopping wasn’t something he enjoyed. He knew his size and usually spent less than fifteen minutes choosing items. Because he’d moved around so much, he limited his wardrobe to what would fit in his duffel bag.
From the sound of it, he and Giva would spend an inordinate amount of time selecting clothing based on the styles and brands Evan Maas preferred.
Just the thought of being confined inside a store, trying on item after item, made Dax want to hit the pavement outside and run ten miles.
Having Giva with him the entire time might make the effort more bearable. It would also give them more time to get to know each other, not that they would be able to speak freely in front of clerks or concierges. But he’d learned there was more to knowing someone than only words could reveal.
Still rock-hard from that kiss, he adjusted the water temperature in the shower to lukewarm and stepped beneath the spray. He’d hoped the shower would relax his libido, but the water skimming over his skin reminded him of her hands sliding across the back of his neck and weaving into his hair.
He could imagine what those hands would feel like moving further south.
With a groan, he turned the handle on the faucet, adjusting the water temperature to colder.
He forced himself to stand in the chilly spray until his body and mind cooperated.
His skin was covered in goosebumps when he finally shut off the water. He quickly toweled dry, pulled on his shorts and strode into the bedroom.
The muffled sounds of movement came from the sitting room.
Curious, Dax opened the bedroom door to find Giva seated on the sofa, drinking from a teacup.
She turned toward him, her eyes widening briefly. “Hungry?” she asked, her voice sounding a little strained.
His stomach rumbled. “Actually, yes.”
She motioned toward a tray set on a small table in the corner. “Jasmine had it sent up. She thought your stomach might still be on US time.”
“That was nice of her.” He pulled his T-shirt over his head and crossed the floor to the table. Beneath a metal cover, he found a platter full of meats, cheeses and crackers. Beside the platter was a carafe of hot water and a selection of different flavors of tea.
“If tea isn’t what you want, you’ll find beer and wine in the refrigerator,” Giva said.
Dax grabbed a beer from the small refrigerator, twisted off the top and scooped up the platter of food. He carried them to the coffee table in front of the sofa and set the platter down. “Mind if I join you?”
She tipped her head toward the other end of the sofa. “Please.”
He sat on the cushion, selected a couple of pieces of cheese and meats and popped them into his mouth.
Giva had changed out of the red dress into a baggy T-shirt and leggings. Her luxurious black hair was secured in a messy bun on top of her head, and her face was scrubbed clean of all makeup. She sat with one leg tucked beneath her, sipping her tea.
If Dax had thought she was beautiful before, this different side of her was even more appealing.
“So,” he said, “what’s your story?”
Giva’s dark eyebrows wrinkled. “What do you mean?”
“Everyone has a story.” He waved a hand. “Where did you grow up? Do you have siblings? Why did you join the military? Why did you leave the military? You know, the usual casual conversation. We’re going to be living in close quarters for the next week or two. We might as well know more about each other.”
She shook her head. “I don’t think that’s necessary.” As if to end the subject, she took another sip of her tea.
“Okay, I’ll go first to break the ice.” Dax swallowed more of his beer. “My father was a Marine. I was a military brat. We moved around a lot, so I can’t say I grew up in any one place. I have a sister, Virginia, but she’s always been Ginny to me. I joined the military because it was something the men in my family did—my father, his father and his father’s father back several generations. I left the military after the US pulled troops out of Afghanistan.” He lifted his chin. “Your turn.”
Again, she shook her head, staring down into her teacup.
For a long moment, Dax thought she’d refuse to go along with his attempt to get to know each other. “Never mind,” he said, picking out a couple more pieces of cheese and popping them into his mouth for something to fill the awkward silence.
“I grew up in a town south of Tel Aviv with my parents and three siblings, two brothers and a sister. My father was a corporate executive responsible for the company’s global trade. My mother raised us. We went to private schools. I was the oldest daughter. My brother was older than me. Because of his dealings with multiple countries, my father insisted we learn to speak more than one language, starting early in our childhood. I learned English, Russian and Italian.”
“That should come in handy in Dubrovnik,” Dax said.
Giva nodded. “Another reason Jasmine thought of me, besides my resemblance to Sasha Royce.”
“You went to private schools,” Dax prompted. “How did you end up in the military as a Sayeret Matkal?”
“My father wanted his children to go to university, like he and my mother had. He sent my brother to England and me to the US.” She glanced up with a crooked smile. “While my brother went to Oxford, I went to Nebraska. He thought I had a bit of a rebellious tendency, and the Midwest would be someplace I couldn’t get into trouble.”
Dax chuckled. “And did you?”
She nodded. “I’d only been there a year, just getting past my freshman partying ways when I got a call from my aunt who lived in Tel Aviv.” Her glance dropped to the contents of her teacup. “My brother was home from Oxford for a short break. I’d remained in Nebraska, opting out of the return. Hezbollah had launched missiles north toward Tel Aviv.” She looked up, her dark eyes even darker. “The shelling destroyed the entire block where my family lived.”
Dax immediately felt terrible for digging into her background when it obviously caused her distress. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
Giva shrugged. “It’s past. I’ve had years to come to terms with the loss and make peace with myself. But I wasn’t at peace back then. I was angry. I went from being an entitled, spoiled girl with no appreciation for the family I had to being alone. I returned to Israel, joined the military and pushed myself hard to make it into the Sayeret Matkal. I wanted a chance to fight back. I wanted the satisfaction of revenge on those responsible for the deaths of my family.”
“And did you get it?” he asked softly.
She shook her head. “I found a family among my brothers and sisters of the Sayeret Matkal. We fought Hezbollah and Hamas, never seeming to make a difference. I saw the faces of the innocents in the aftermath of the shelling. They reminded me of my younger siblings. They hadn’t asked for the war. Yet they were the ones to suffer the most.”
Dax nodded, still haunted by the faces of the children crying for their mothers, injured, bloodied and homeless next to the rubble that had been their homes.
“I lost several of my new-found family members in skirmishes. When my dearest friend, Jasmine, was driven out of the military on false charges, I lost my stomach for the military and for a war that would never end. I decided it was time to leave as well.”
“I get it,” Dax said. “I felt like we rarely made a difference. I tried being a mercenary for a while, but it wasn’t much better. I was glad when I got the call to join the Brotherhood Protectors. I’d heard from other guys I’d fought with who’d joined Hank Patterson’s organization. It seemed more of a fit.” He shrugged. “And here I am.”
Giva drew in a deep breath. “I bounced around doing odd jobs as an interpreter, a waitress and even as a translator for an advertising company. Then Jasmine called.” She gave a brief smile. “It was good to hear from my old friend. Even better to know she had work she thought I might like better than translating advertisements. I had nothing holding me back. No family, no husband or children. So, here I am.”
“Never married?” he asked.
She shook her head. “I avoided long-term relationships. I loved my family in the special forces, but I couldn’t commit to any one of them. Not after I’d lost friends in battles. I just couldn’t. What about you? Married? Divorced? Kids?”
“Widowed,” he said. “No children.”
Her brow creased. “I’m sorry.”
He echoed her words. “It’s past. Like you, I’ve had years to come to terms with the loss.”
“Yet, you never remarried?” she asked.
He shook his head. “No. As you’re aware, losing someone you love?—”
“—hurts too much,” she finished. “If you don’t love?—”
“—you won’t hurt,” he said, his gaze meeting hers. For a long moment, silence stretched between them as Dax realized they had more in common than he’d originally imagined.
Finally, he forced a laugh. “Look at us bonding over tea, crackers and cheese. It’s good to know we won’t make the mistake of falling in love with each other.”
She nodded. “Not a chance.”
He drank the last of his beer and set the bottle on the table. “Thanks for humoring me. It helps to know more about your partner when you’re going into a tough mission. Especially this one. We won’t be complete strangers trying to pull off being intimate lovers.” He pushed to his feet. “I need rest if we’re shopping tomorrow.”
“Me, too,” she said, setting her teacup on the end table.
Dax held out his hand.
She placed her palm in his and let him pull her to her feet. They stood close enough he could feel the warmth of her body.
They’d shared a moment, talking to each other. The urge to take her into his arms was so overwhelming he gave into it and tugged her hand gently.
She leaned against him, her arms encircling his middle.
He wrapped his arms around her waist and held her close. Nothing sexual. No intention of taking it further. Just one human holding another.
Giva pressed her cheek to his chest and remained there, making no attempt to push back or put distance between them.
Not until he felt dampness on his T-shirt did Dax realize Giva was crying.
He leaned his head back and touched a finger beneath her chin, tipping her face upward.
Her cheeks were soaked, and tears continued to flow. “I’m sorry,” she choked out. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I never cry.”
“It’s okay.” he brushed his thumb across her cheek. “It’ll be our secret.”
“I didn’t cry when I got the call from my aunt. I was in shock. I didn’t believe they were really gone.”
He tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear.
Giva laid her cheek against his chest again, her arms tightening around his waist. “I didn’t cry at their funeral. I was too numb. Then I was in the military, and soldiers don’t cry.” She drew in a shaky breath. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” he said. “I cried enough for both of us when my wife died.”
He held her for another couple of minutes before she drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly.
Giva straightened, letting her arms drop to her sides.
Dax released his hold on her, simultaneously taking a step back. “You okay?”
She nodded, scraping her hands over her face. “Actually, I feel much better. Like a weight has lifted from my chest.”
Dax smiled gently. “Anytime you need a shoulder to cry on, or a chest, you can call on me.”
Her lips twisted wryly. “Thanks. Although you might wish you hadn’t made that offer.”
“Never,” he said. “Now, wash your face and get some rest. I need you in top form to dress me like a billionaire. Never having been one, I wouldn’t know where to start.”
She laughed and graced him with her first genuine smile. “You’re on. Goodnight, Dax.”
“Evan,” he corrected. “Goodnight, Sasha.”
He stood in the sitting room until she’d gone to her bedroom and closed the door.
As he retreated to his room, everything they’d spoken of replayed in his mind. Neither one of them had dared to love again, unwilling to risk the pain of loss ever again. In the process, they hadn’t allowed themselves to be truly happy or experience the joy love could bring.
What was the quote by Lord Alfred Tennyson?
’Tis was better to have loved and lost then never to have loved at all...
Coming to that realization on the veritable eve of embarking on a dangerous mission wasn’t the best timing for Dax.
The thought of loving someone again, like he’d loved Lana, nearly brought him to his knees. Could he? Would he feel guilty allowing himself to move on? Would he be disrespecting the memory of his wife?
The warmth of Giva’s body pressing against his lingered, making him remember what had been so great about having someone in his life. Not just the sex. It was knowing they were there for each other, sharing their hopes and dreams along with their failures and pain. He missed that.
He’d do best to table that realization and keep his heart closed to love, as he had for so long. At least until they made it out of Dubrovnik.
Alive.