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They kept talking about being together, but how was that going to work? The cards were stacked against them. Yes, absolutely, she would not return to Qaram. And yes, absolutely, he would find a way to deal with the men who had harmed her. But it was hard enough to find happy endings in today’s world even when there were no obvious barriers in the way…
“Whatever you’re thinking,” Annie said, “stop thinking it.”
Annie’s arms were folded over her chest. Her eyes were narrowed. She was all determination and intensity.
He laughed and pulled her onto his lap.
“Kiss me,” he said, “and then get that lovely ass in gear because we have work to do.”
She gave him the kind of smile that would have melted iron. “Is that what you think? That I have a lovely ass?”
He grinned and set her on her feet.
“I’ll answer that question later—but only if you’ve been a very, very good girl.”
“How good?” she said, batting her lashes.
Dec nipped the side of her throat. “Extremely good,” he said in a sexy whisper. Then he slapped her lightly on her backside and they got to work, straightening things up and packing their gear.
* * *
Annie had hoped to find a currycomb in the lean-to, but none turned up
so she used a couple of rough rags to rub down the horse.
The horse didn’t have any objections. In fact, after a few minutes, it snorted, lowered its head and rubbed it against hers.
She paused and stroked his neck. “I agree,” she whispered. “It’s good we’re not on the road just yet. I don’t know why, but my head’s starting to hurt.”
“What’s hurting?”
Annie turned around. “Declan.” She smiled. “I thought Big Boy here could do with a little TLC.”
“What did you say about something hurting?”
“Nothing.” She sighed when Dec raised his eyebrows. “I have a little headache. Don’t look at me like that. It’s nothing.”
“I have some ibuprofen in my gear.”
“I don’t need ibuprofen. Really. I’m…” Her gaze went to the satphone in his hand and her smile faded. If the phone worked, that would be the good news and the bad news. They had been so happy here…
“The phone. Does it work now?”
“We’re about to find out.” He sat down on a wooden bench by the door and gestured to her to come sit next to him. Once she had, he activated the phone.
A click. A hum. And Dec heard the voice of the Recovery Mission COM OP in his ear.
“Lieutenant Sanchez? Jesus. I mean, heck, sir, is that you?”
“Who is this?”
“Billy Taylor, sir. Ensign William B. Taylor. Sir.”
“Taylor. Can the ‘sir’ crap and put me through to Captain Black.”
“Yessir. I mean, jeez, sir, we’ve been goin’ nuts here, wondering what happened to you and the lady. I mean—”
“Goddammit, Taylor. Put me through.”
