“Samantha…”
She came awake with a start and a curse when she felt Ozzie’s big, warm hand on her shoulder. She couldn’t believe she had fallen asleep.
“Samantha, sweetheart, I need you to come downstairs with me,” Ozzie said, his voice so smooth, so low and seductive. Too bad she’d never allow herself to be seduced by him again. Despite Donny’s assurances about broken hearts healing, she wasn’t sure hers would survive more time in Ozzie’s arms. In his bed.
“What time is it?” She rolled over, rubbing her eyes. They felt gritty.
“Twenty-hundred hours,” he told her, then put it into civilian terms. “Eight o’clock.”
“Did Washington or Carver call?” Her voice was scratchy. Her throat felt as dry as the white wine Donny liked to drink on their monthly “friend nights,” when just the two of them spent an evening in together.
“No. Not yet. But there have been developments you’re going to want to hear about.”
She sat up. Her head felt like it weighed a hundred pounds. Outside, the sun was sinking low in a tie-dyed sky. It sent golden rays through the leaded-glass window that caught Ozzie’s hair and turned the sandy strands into spun gold. At some point, he’d grabbed a shower and washed away the blood.
Lord, he’s gorgeous. And smart. And brave. And funny. And sexy. Ugh!
“That name Venom gave you?” He offered her a hand to help her stand. She hesitated to take it. After a beat, she placed her fingers in his warm, wide palm and allowed him to pull her out of bed. Just as she’d feared, his touch, the feel of his calluses, affected her in distinctly naughty ways.
“Raheem?” She quickly extracted her hand from Ozzie’s grip, hoping he couldn’t feel her fingers shaking.
“That’s the one.” He nodded. “I’ve been doing some digging. A lot of digging, actually.”
Of course he had. She’d been upstairs feeling sorry for herself and napping. And he’d been digging. Working. Hacking. Doing his best to find all the pieces of this crazy puzzle and put them together. For her.
Double ugh! Why does he have to be so wonderful? And why can’t he be mine?
* * *
“Something Samantha told Washington and Carver struck a chord with me,” Ozzie said, and Christian watched him type madly on the laptop sitting in front of him. The clickety-clack of his fingers across the keyboard echoed around the second floor and into the shop below.
Since the meeting Ozzie and Delilah had called was impromptu, only Christian, Emily, and Samantha were present around the conference table. Becky was on the phone with a client who wanted twenty custom bikes built in the next two months. And the other ladies, having once again received the call that those in the field were right as rain, were back at their respective homes taking care of their children or simply avoiding the shop while Samantha was present. Christian understood. The wives and girlfriends of the Black Knights already had enough to worry about without having to watch every word that came out of their mouths.
“That name, Raheem… I’d seen it before,” Ozzie continued, grabbing a slice of cold pizza from the box on the table. “Good thing Venom was so chatty there at the end.”
“He thought it was going to be my end,” Samantha said. “So he wasn’t too worried about divulging secrets.”
“Don’t remind me,” Ozzie muttered around a mouthful of pizza.
Samantha bit her lip and glanced away.
Oh no, Christian thought, recognizing the change in the atmosphere between the two. He looked over at Ozzie, hoping for a clue to what that was all about. But Ozzie seemed as confused as Christian. Ozzie cocked his head at Samantha, halting mid-chew.
“What’s with them?” Emily leaned close to whisper in Christian’s ear, proving he wasn’t the only one to detect trouble in paradise. Also proving Emily had sweet-smelling breath, like bubble gum and fresh coffee, and that her hair was cool and soft where it brushed against his neck.
Frowning, he leaned away from her. Odd, because what he really wanted to do was lean toward her. “Why does everyone assume I have a ruddy crystal ball capable of seeing people’s motivations?”
“Why do you have to be such a ruddy curmudgeon?” she came back immediately, mimicking his accent.
“Please go on,” Samantha insisted after turning back to Ozzie, interrupting any answer Christian might have given Emily. “I’m all ears.”
Ozzie’s eyes remained narrowed, his expression baffled. But he haltingly continued. “A man named Raheem al-Atrash was the translator with the squad of army infantrymen at Albu Bali.”
“Now that seems like too much of a coincidence,” Emily said, shooting Christian a withering glance. Cad that he was, he felt that look deep in his…crotch.
“I thought so too,” Ozzie said. “So I did a little digging. And guess what I found?”
“He found quite a bit actually,” Delilah piped up. She turned Ozzie’s laptop around so everyone could see the screen where a tall, dark bloke in an Iraqi military uniform proudly posed for a picture. “Meet Colonel Raheem al-Atrash.”
