sweat beading it, he noted absently. “Yes.”
“You’re telling me he’s not dead?” he muttered through stiff lips. “Anson left Burstall alive—and he didn’t tell me?”
“They chased him, but they had to save you, then he shot some villagers. They couldn’t leave innocent people there to die. Then Burstall hooked up with the rebels in Tumah-ra,” she sighed. “It seems he’s made interesting connections, rendering him useful to people Interpol would like to take down—people with billions in offshore accounts and vested interests in the oil off Tumah-ra’s shore. Too many reasons to keep those dumb rebel kids on the island rigged with weapons and stop the UN taking control.”
He barely heard her. Burstall was alive. Anson didn’t get him! Burstall was alive—the insane bastard lived and breathed, killing and maiming innocent people to feed his mania—and Tal’s rage, cold and flippant for so long, boiled over.
“Anson’s a noble, interfering, self-righteous jerk!” His fists slammed into the hot steel wall so hard it buckled outward and his knuckles scraped raw and bleeding. “Why the hell didn’t Anson tell me all this? Didn’t he know I’d want to go after him myself—and not just for me, but for what he did to Skydancer, Countrygirl and all the poor villagers he shot in Tumah-ra?”
“I don’t know. You’ll have to ask him.” With folded arms, she watched him destroy the hangar wall, her high-lipped rose mouth rimmed with a touch of fastidious distaste.
“So the Iceberg’s wondering what sort of husband she’s got after the sainted Gilbert?” he sneered, baiting her. “Well, look on the bright side, sweetness—it’s all a game of pretend. You can dump me at the end of the mission, guilt-free.”
She didn’t bother to answer his taunts. Instead her lips curved in a slow smile. “I’ve got something more constructive for you to do than breaking walls, Tal,” she breathed, “and I think you’ll agree that it’s a lot more fun.”
She moved a step closer, her eyes dark and slumberous, her body radiant, as if in the afterglow of hours of scorching-hot lovemaking. “It’s something I want—something I wanted so badly for years—but I never found the courage to go after.”
Rage took wings as he watched her move toward him, her eyes alight, her mouth curved in promise. His heart slammed against his ribs. His head spun with the hope his body wouldn’t let him ignore. What was she saying—that for all those years, she wanted him…that even now, looking like he did, she’d—
Uh-huh. He got real turned on looking at himself in the mirror every day. Why wouldn’t she?
But the cynicism wouldn’t take hold. His man’s need, hot and hard and urgent, kept hammering at him, Do it, do it, do it. Ask her. Touch her. Take her. So many years wanting her, needing her, and she’s so close…so damn beautiful it hurts. Do it!
It almost killed him to speak, but he managed to say, “Well?” in a strangled croak.
She moved to him, step by slow, sultry step. She lifted her mouth to his ear and whispered, in the gentlest, most seductive of tones, “Revenge…”
Chapter 3
“I’m on. I’ll take Burstall down—for Linebacker’s sake, if nothing else.”
Mary-Anne—for though the rest of the world saw her as icy Verity West, she never had, could never think of herself as anything but plain old farm girl Mary-Anne—sighed in quiet relief at his words. She’d been pretty sure he was hooked even before she spoke Darren Burstall’s name—but it was hard, so hard, proposing this mission to Tal.
She couldn’t show him how she ached for him, that she had all the empathy in the world for his suffering. Growing up different, plain and overweight but with extraordinary talent, gave her some insight into how he must feel about his injuries. Golden-haired, olive-skinned Tal, handsome, athletic and brilliant, Cowinda’s pride and joy, must be chafing so hard against the physical restrictions he couldn’t change.
But the harsh, dark-souled man in front of her, so unlike the sweet, caring, tongue-tied boy he’d been, could still fire her rebellious body’s response to him like fast-melting honey…
With the exception of her poignant four years with Gil, she’d only ever wanted one man to be her lover—and if anything, his scars made her want Tal more. If he was less of an angel now, he was all male—all strong, dark, tense man. The brooding depth gave him a raw, pulsing sexuality that left her screaming for fulfillment. Tal was her sweetest taboo, the forbidden fruit: her best friend, confidant and rescuer too many times to count, pain and rejection and dark, hot temptation rolled into one man. Fantasy and reality in blue jeans and black T-shirt, his muscles bunching in riveting, superb maleness as he buckled the hangar walls with a punch.
How could she tame her heart or stop the midnight call of her body? Within a year of Gil’s death, the dreams she’d had of Tal all through her teen years started again—and all the guilt in the world couldn’t kill off the wanting. And five years later, Gil was a faint, sweet memory…and she called another name when she woke up at night in a sweat of fevered, aching need, after white-hot erotic dreams of the man she could never have.
“Okay, let’s get out of this sauna and make arrangements. I have the license. Nick faxed it to me last night,” she said crisply to hide her pounding heart and sweating palms.
“He always counts on getting his way,” was all he said. Then he gave her a curious look. “Nick? That’s…unusual. He’s always Ghost or Boss to the rest of us—or sir.”
She shrugged. “We have an unusual relationship, because of my fame. I call him Ghost or sir on missions, of course.”
But he merely shrugged. “Who’s our backup?”
“Ghost is taking this one. It’s been ranked top secret, and apart from Braveheart and Wildman, all the other operatives are coming in from Virginia, hand-picked by the brass and absolutely trustworthy,” she answered, lost between relief and a kind of sick despair. Once upon a time, Tal had always known when she went into hiding and he’d always come to her, made her talk out her fears or pain. He’d made her love him more every time, just by caring so much. But it seemed he’d lost his radar with her. They were drifting further apart every moment, and she couldn’t do a damn thing to stop it, unless she wanted more operatives to die.
He frowned. “I’d have thought Skydancer would want to be in on this. This whole thing started because of a private show between Burstall and Skydancer, right?”
“Skydancer does want in on this—so does Countrygirl—but she’s pregnant and they have kids. Ghost won’t bring them in because Burstall’s primary target’s still Skydancer. Skydancer’s also worked with Jack and Angel in the past. And Burstall has an obsession with Countrygirl. We traced a call he made to her through four computers and two different satellites.”
“Nice complication,” he remarked, frowning in concern. “If Burstall ends up taking one of us, he’s likely to demand hostage exchange to get Countrygirl.”
“You’re right.” She looked in his eyes, willing hers not to show the aching hammer of desire hitting her. She could die and not care, when she looked into his eyes… “This whole assignment will be dangerous, without the complication of being conducted in the public eye. My fame is the only ticket we have to get into where Burstall’s hiding—but it’s a flimsy cover at best. We’ll
