Breaking Protocol Read online

  She jumped to her feet and started stacking their dirty dishes. “How about I clean up this mess first?”

  Carter stilled her busy hands with a single, lingering touch of his own. Every instinct told him not to let this unwillingness of hers put him off for even a second longer. Keeping her safe was only a part of his reason for bringing her to this private island. The other part was to give her a chance to debrief in a less threatening atmosphere. He needed to get the information out of her now.

  “This isn’t going to get any easier by putting it off, Piper. You know that.”

  “I know,” she said in a voice that was hardly more than a whisper. She let the dishes go and collapsed in her chair. “I figured the mission had been scrubbed.”

  Carter blinked once. That sure as hell wasn’t what he expected to hear. “What made you think that?”

  “I sent enough information to paralyze Escobedo’s cocaine operation: names, dates—” Piper ticked the list off with her fingers, “—shipping manifests, flight plans, even the location of two huge coca plantations and their processing facilities, but after months of nothing happening, what other conclusion could I reach?”

  “International operations of that magnitude aren’t easily organized. You know that. I’m sure the data was analyzed and sent to the enforcement agency for deployment.” He wished he had a more comprehensive answer, but he couldn’t tell her what he didn’t know. There were still huge gaps in what he knew about her time down there.

  “Don’t you think I considered that?” She stared at him like he’d just turned blue. “Tell me something, Riggs, did that accident of yours cause any brain damage, maybe some memory loss?”

  There was something so off-the-wall about the question; Carter wasn’t sure if she was being facetious or serious, or even if he was expected to answer.

  Lucky for him, she was on a roll and didn’t bother to wait for him to formulate an adequate response. “If not, then why are you treating me like I don’t have the first clue how these things work? In case you have forgotten, let me refresh your memory. I’ve been around the block a time or two, several of them with you, as a matter of fact. I know these things take time. I wasn’t expecting a major crackdown overnight. But let me also add that after months and months of nothing happening, I was smart enough to figure out it wasn’t ever going to happen. Do you even know how much of the data I sent was received?”

  He didn’t know, and that bothered him more than he let on. The only thing he was sure about was the absence of communication from her at the end.

  “If that’s what you thought months ago, why didn’t you get out then?” Carter pushed away from the table and went to the kitchen for another beer. He wrenched off the cap, pitched it across the counter and took a hard pull from the longneck.

  He was angry on so many levels he didn’t know where to direct his fury first. The one that prompted his anger the most was her believing she’d been burned by the agency, left to fend for herself in the only ways she knew how, and the worst of it was it could have all been prevented had he not had the accident. By the time he’d regained consciousness, the director had assured him the mission was going as expected, and he’d believed the man. That he hadn’t had much choice at the time didn’t make it any easier to swallow even now.

  “Tell me why you severed all communications those last couple of months,” he said from the doorway.

  “I figured why risk getting caught sending information that wasn’t being used anyway.”

  Piper tossed back the last swallow of wine and spun the delicate stem between her palms in pensive contemplation. Her voice was low and steady when she spoke again. “Carlos had always been security conscious, obsessively so, but after receiving the tip that there was a spy working within his organization he grew hypervigilant. He put his entire compound in lockdown, and he had every employee’s background checked and double-checked.”

  “Did you have reason to believe he suspected you?”

  “Not really, my credentials withstood the scrutiny, but I knew my sudden leaving would have put me at the top of his list and lessened my chances of getting out at all. It was the people who panicked that found Escobedo’s death squads busting down their doors in the middle of the night.” She stopped and rubbed her forehead, as if remembering caused her a great deal of distress. “He murdered whole families simply because he discovered they had relatives living in the States.”

  “My God,” Carter murmured. “We never heard a word about any of that.”

  “A lot of atrocities go on down there that never make the intel files, let alone the ten o’clock news. Now do you understand why I couldn’t leave?” Piper pushed away from the table and started clearing the dishes once more. “Believe it or not, it was safer for me to stay.”

  Carter gripped his plate when she tried to take it. “You don’t need to do this.” Her grip tightened as she stared him down.

  “Yes, I do,” she said as she gave the plate a quick yank. “I lost a part of myself on this mission. What I need most right now is a little bit of normalcy to try and get it back. What could be more normal than doing the dishes? Besides, you cooked. The least I can do is clean up.”

  “Then how about we do it together,” Carter suggested. “I’ll wash.”

  “Deal,” she said as she stacked the plates and carried them toward the efficiency kitchen.

  Carter followed right behind with a fistful of silverware in one hand and his fingers clutching a cluster of dirty glasses in the other.

  Upon entering the kitchen, she began to chuckle. “I should have guessed you were up to something when you offered to wash.”

  The accommodations weren’t luxurious, but they had some basic amenities. He found her standing next to one of them—an ancient, but still serviceable, portable dishwasher.

  The sound of her throaty laughter filled him with distinct pleasure. Her resilience never ceased to amaze him. If nothing else, Piper had always been a survivor. She had proven that to him over and over throughout the years. Maybe her state of mind wasn’t as fragile as he’d first feared.

  * * *

  Startled out of a sound sleep, Carter’s first reaction was to reach for his gun. The second he realized what had jarred him awake, he scrambled from the recliner and hurried to the source of the screams—Piper’s room. He discovered her sitting bolt upright, clutching the bedsheet like a lifeline and gasping for air. Her eyes were wide and sweeping the darkened room.

  At her side in the span of a heartbeat, Carter situated himself on the edge of the bed and gripped her shoulders to steady her agitation.

  “Get away,” she screamed, struggling against him. “You’re hurting me. Let me go.” She shouted and flailed her arms, catching him across the side of his face with her fist.

  The wallop stunned him. “Stop fighting me,” he growled as he clamped his fingers around her wrists to restrain her. “P.J., look at me. It’s Riggs.”

  As abruptly as her screaming had started, it stopped. She blinked once, dark eyes glistening, and blinked again as she focused on his face. “Riggs,” she breathed, burying her face in his shoulder. Her arms crept around his waist and she snuggled tightly against him. It was then Carter made the startling realization she was nude. A distressed groan struggled from his lips as he gently worked to extricate himself from her embrace.

  She tightened her grip. “Carter,” she breathed as she planted desperate little kisses on his neck and chest. “Stay with me, Carter.”

  Her lips were warm with promise. She took his hand and pressed his fingers against her breast, urging him to touch her. She gave a little moan as she arched into his reluctant caress. Her nipple grew taut beneath his palm as the scent of her sex reached his nostrils.

  “Please, Carter,” she begged. “I need you.”

  Sad, regretful eyes swept over he
r when he realized what was happening. She never called him by his given name. It was always Riggs, and this abrupt change told him that to take advantage of these fragile, frightened emotions would make him worse than those who caused the nightmares in the first place. His hand trembled as he tugged it away.

  “No, I can’t.”

  In the blink of an eye Carter witnessed an astonishing transformation. Piper’s desperate pleas erupted into palpable outrage. Fierce defiance flashed in her eyes as she lounged back and thrust her hand between her spread legs to do to herself what he refused to do.

  She writhed and moaned as she touched herself, all the while watching him, searching for a reaction. When none was forthcoming, she cried, “Get out,” as she ceased her erotic performance. “Get out,” she repeated, rolling away and curling into a fetal ball.

  Without another word he left the room, closing the door quietly behind him. Only God and His angels knew how much he wanted that woman, how close he had come to succumbing to her desperate pleas. But he couldn’t do it, not like this. He couldn’t deny he wanted the passion she offered, but he wanted it driven by desire, not as a means to assuage her nightmares.

  After groping for and finally locating the switch for the light over the sink, he dug around in a kitchen drawer for the open pack of cigarettes and partial book of matches he’d come across while preparing dinner.

  He didn’t know how long they had been there, lurking in the back of the drawer behind the sage and thyme, patiently waiting for some unsuspecting ex-smoker needing an emergency late-night fix—and frankly, at that particular moment, he didn’t give a fucking damn. He knew they were there and he wanted one, it was that simple. He hoped they were as old as the building. A nasty, stale cigarette might just be the diversion he needed. There had to be something to take his mind off the decidedly more gratifying temptation down the hall.

  Tamping the filtered end against the counter to tighten the dry tobacco, he placed it between his lips and struck the match. The sudden flare-up briefly blinded him as he brought the flame to the packed tobacco end. The paper burned and curled as the flame took hold and ignited.

  He inhaled, coughed and inhaled again, this time drawing the bitter, biting smoke deep into his lungs before slowly exhaling. He’d quit cold turkey ten years earlier, but he embraced the familiar taste and smell like a long-lost friend.

  Since the sink was the closest thing he had for an ashtray, he placed the cigarette, burning end inward, on an outside corner of the white porcelain while he searched through the overhead cabinet for a bottle of anything distinctly alcoholic. After taking another hard drag, he poured himself three fingers of the first thing his hand touched, a locally produced high-octane rum the color of root beer, and carried both smoke and tumbler through the living room.

  Juggling the glass and cigarette in one hand, he punched the security code into the keypad and slid open the heavy glass door. He left it open as he stepped onto the expansive balcony facing the ocean. Piper’s room, the great room, and the dining area all had sliding doors leading to the beachside vista.

  Bending forward and bracing his forearms across the railing, Carter gazed into the vast blackness that stretched beyond infinity as he took another deep drag.

  He needed to remember the continued care and protection of Piper’s overall well-being rested solely in his hands.

  After one last disgusting puff, he flicked the burned butt onto the beach and watched the flickering ember arch outward then plummet to extinguish itself in the shifting sand below.

  A waning crescent moon dangled like a silver charm in the midnight sky, creating a shadowy deserted beach that was infinitely less dark and desolate than his mood. He heard the continuous cycle of waves crashing to shore, smelled the sharp sea air, felt the warm breeze caress his face, none of which he could see but knew instinctively they existed nevertheless. So why was it so difficult for him to acknowledge something about which he felt strongly but couldn’t clearly define?

  The long swallow of straight-up, unadulterated rum burned from lips to gut. He welcomed the harsh reminder of why he stopped drinking the hard stuff after realizing the older he got, the harder it was to stay in top physical condition, and excessive alcohol made the effort that much harder. He limited himself to light beer and red wine these days and felt better for the effort. But tonight, well, he needed any and all the abuse he could heap on himself to help him refocus and keep his paws off her.

  The crashing surf muffled the softly spoken, “I’m sorry, Riggs.”

  Unsure if he’d imagined what he thought he heard, he turned abruptly and found Piper standing in the doorway dressed in only an oversized T-shirt. He was grateful she hadn’t found him in his room. Turning her down in one bedroom had been difficult enough. He didn’t know if he’d have had the strength or the inclination to do it a second time.

  He tossed back another long dose of reality. The glass was barely away from his lips when he said, “It’s late, Piper. Go back to bed. We’ll talk in the morning.”

  She gave an obedient nod but didn’t immediately move to his command. He sure as hell wasn’t prepared for what she did next. In three quick strides, she wrapped her arms around his waist and gave him a fervent hug. “Thanks for always being there for me, Riggs.”

  An ache so moving and raw took his breath away and left him incapable of finding his voice as his hands hovered and hesitated before gingerly returning the embrace. He reminded himself how wrong it was, but that didn’t stop him from thinking how very right holding her felt.

  “Please stay with me,” she said softly as she pressed her cheek against his shoulder.

  Again, words failed him and he actually welcomed the uncomfortable silence that settled between them as he worked at extricating himself.

  “Not that way, Riggs,” she quickly clarified. “There doesn’t even have to be any touching if you don’t want. It’s just that...well...I know this sounds silly coming from me, but I don’t want to be alone.”

  “Never mind,” she said, then backing away, the whole time waving her palm as if she could eradicate her request from both their minds with the gesture. “I can tell how much the idea bothers you, so I’ll just say goodnight and go back to my room.”

  “Wait,” he said, breathing a weary sigh of defeat as he closed and locked the sliding door and reset the security alarm. He followed her down the hall and into the bedroom, wondering if she had any idea what it cost for him to agree to her request. Even still, he hesitated as she pulled back the sheet and climbed under the rumpled cover.

  “Oh, for chrissake, Riggs... If this is going to be such a big damn deal, forget it.” Piper yanked the sheet under her chin, tucked and rolled, turning her back to him.

  Long moments passed before he finally stretched his considerable length beside her on top of the covers and with a generous gap between them.

  Her voice stirred the darkness. “Riggs...”

  “What is it, P.J.?” he asked, sounding eons older than his years.

  “Thanks.” She scooted closer and nestled her backside against the solid bulk of his body. Shortly after she mumbled her heartfelt gratitude, he heard her breathing settle into sleep.

  Carter fought hard to remain awake. He wanted to not only keep her demons at bay but his own, as well. He knew sleep would strip him of whatever defenses he’d managed to uphold, but the booze he’d recently consumed had too much of a relaxing effect, and soon he, too, slept.

  Chapter Four

  Carter’s eyes flew open with a premonitory jolt. He sat bolt upright and looked around the room. It took his sleep-sodden brain a few additional seconds to catch up and determine where he was and remember why he wasn’t in his own bed.

  “Piper,” he called, his voice gravelly and raw, another harsh reminder as to why he’d quit smoking. He cleared his throat and tried again. �
�Piper!”

  When no response was forthcoming, he listened for any noises that might give him a clue as to her whereabouts. He hoped to hear the pulsing spray of the shower or the gentle perk of the coffeemaker. All he heard was the pounding surf and the rustling palms. Inside was as still and quiet as a tomb.

  He pushed off the bed and began a thorough search of the house. She knew damn well she wasn’t supposed to wander beyond the next room without telling him where she was going. But he knew her proclivity for not only bending the rules, but snapping them clean in two, and his instincts told him he wasn’t going to find her in the next room or anywhere else in the beach house. When he found the cross-trainers missing, he reached the only conclusion he could—being under protective custody hadn’t stopped her from running around on an unsecured island.

  Wearing a scar-pinching scowl, he mumbled a stream of expletives he hadn’t used since his early days in the navy. Piper was good at what she did; he couldn’t take that away from her. It was just that she could be so damn unconventional when doing it.

  “Two days, two fucking days, and she’s right back to thinking she’s invincible. Didn’t the last forty-eight hours teach her anything?” His question fell into the yawning chasm where all rhetorical questions tumbled and died.

  Then something else dawned on him, maybe not as important as her taking off, but definitely worthy of temporarily diverting his attention. He stopped dead in his tracks and stared dumbfounded at the security keypad situated by a slightly ajar sliding door. How in the hell did she get past the security system? He distinctly remembered setting it before following her to the bedroom. He scratched his head, baffled at this latest logic-defying antic of hers, and reminded himself to never, never, never underestimate her abilities again.

  Coffee, he needed coffee, a very large, very strong, very hot pot of unadulterated caffeine to help him think before he started his search for her in earnest. What he discovered when he entered the kitchen was the coffee was already brewed and waiting. It was obvious that it had been made fairly recently since the coffeemaker had an automatic shutoff. He gave the waiting pot an infuriated sideward glance and reached for a mug.