Jennifer Morey

The Secret Soldier


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      “Hello up there,” a woman called in Dorian Greek from below the balcony.

      Cullen dropped his feet from the railing and leaned forward to see her better, sending her an answering smile. It was the same woman who’d told him where to find this pension and an available room to rent. Today she wore a white embroidered dress with gold coins draped around her neck. She was a nice enough lady, but she was way too curious about him and Sabine. All it would take was an awestruck villager like her to pick up the phone and talk to the press. The thought nearly made him break into a cold sweat. All he needed was the media to catch up to them.

      The woman lifted a basket. “Makarounes for you and your lady.”

      He kept his smile in place as he straightened. “I’ll come down.”

      He turned before she could respond and moved through the room, checking on Sabine before he left her still sleeping. He made his way to the lower level. The pension owner, Alec, looked up and smiled with a nod.

      “Good morning,” Cullen said in Greek, and Alec answered in kind.

      The wrinkled woman stood outside the door of the pension and smiled when he appeared in the doorway. She extended the basket, its contents wrapped in a red cloth. He took it from her.

      “Thank you,” he said.

      She nodded graciously. “You must bring your lady to my taverna when she is rested. We have fresh seafood every night, and it is very quiet.” Her dark eyes held a secretive glint.

      The notion of having a romantic dinner with Sabine tantalized him too much for his comfort. “We just might have to take you up on that,” he said anyway.

      “Alec told me about your crash, and that you were on your honeymoon. You come. Have dinner at my taverna.” She told him where it was.

      Cullen said nothing. She was just an old woman swept up by the intrigue of a plane crash and the couple who’d survived it. Alec had questioned Cullen on the crashed airplane, and Cullen had come up with the quickest explanation he could think of without revealing his and Sabine’s identities. They’d come to Greece on their honeymoon and crashed before they’d reached Athens.

      The woman waved and turned to go. Cullen squinted as he leaned his head out the door and caught rays of sunlight, watching her walk down the narrow street.

      He wasn’t sure why being known as a newlywed bothered him. Maybe it was the shower, and Sabine’s determination to see it done. The woman had grit. She also had a body made for his hands and eyes that beckoned with green fire. She flared an instinctual response in him. The degree of his interest made him nervous. He liked his relationships comfortable, not out of control. He didn’t need that kind of intensity with a woman. His job gave him plenty of that. If he ever got married, it’d be to Mrs. Compatible and Good in Bed, not Mrs. Take My Heart and Twist It into a Pretzel of Agonizing Love. He’d seen what that could do to a man.

      Back in the room, Sabine was as he’d left her, rumpled covers enveloping her, red hair tangled over the pillow. She looked very snug and content. He didn’t want to explore the other “verys” he thought she was. Knew she was, now that he’d seen her naked.

      Taking the basket out to the balcony, he set it on the table. At almost eleven, it was close to lunch.

      An hour passed before he heard the sound of Sabine stirring inside the room again. He listened to the toilet flush, and moments later her bare feet trudged toward the balcony. He started to rise to help her but stopped when he saw that she was moving all right on her own, limping but all right. The T-shirt fell to just above her knees, exposing the bandages he’d wrapped around her tender shins. Her legs were skinny but spectacular. He bet they’d look even better once she healed and put on some weight. Just like the rest of her.

      Cullen raised his gaze to her face as she looked across the Aegean Sea. Her mouth was slightly parted and her green eyes were the brightest he’d seen them since getting her out of Afghanistan. Their whites were healthy and the green color sparkled in the Mediterranean sunlight. The swelling on her lip had gone down, and the cut on her cheek was healing, though bruises still colored her skin and would for a while. She’d used the comb he’d bought in the village. Her hair was naturally curly, but it looked like soft, woven silk and fell to the top of her breasts. Even skinny, she was an extremely beautiful woman. All Irish with smooth, pale skin and striking features. Especially her eyes.

      “Where are we?” she asked without looking at him.

      He was glad she hadn’t noticed his scrutiny. “A village called Olympos. The north end of Kárpathos. It’s near Crete.”

      “Wow.”

      Cullen had experienced a similar reaction, despite his constant vigilance for someone with a camera or a gun.

      He caught her furtive glance when she became aware of him watching her. She sat and reached for one of the bottles of water on the table, careful not to look at him. He had to agree it was strange being in a place like this with someone he’d just rescued. Especially at the cost of his team, the few that he’d dared bring on this mission.

      The reminder of what he’d lost punched him again. Nothing had gone according to plan. Who had betrayed their mission and why? None of the men he’d hired were married, but the pilot and medic had parents Cullen would have to face when he returned to the States. He wasn’t looking forward to that, especially since he was going to have to lie about where their sons had died.

      Sabine’s reaching for the basket diverted his attention. He welcomed it and watched her.

      She glanced from the basket to him in question.

      “Homemade pasta with cheese and onions. A local favorite.”

      “Mmm.” She parted the cloth and lifted the ceramic bowl covered with a matching lid. Next came the bread.

      “They make their own bread in outdoor ovens. You can smell it every once in a while.” The appeal of this place had penetrated his vigil more than once. But then, he’d always liked Greece.

      “Mmm,” she murmured again, finding a plastic fork and starting to dig into the pasta.

      It disturbed him how much he liked watching her. Her vibrancy. The look in her eyes, as if everything were new to her now.

      When she sighed and put the bowl back into the basket, he knew she was full. She’d eaten less than half the makarounes and bread.

      “How do you feel?”

      She nodded, looking at the sea. “Better.”

      A moment passed with only the sound of waves washing ashore in the distance.

      “I want to walk down to the ocean,” she announced.

      “Now?”

      She nodded with a look of pure bliss on her face. How could he deny her after what she’d been through? “Are you sure you’re up for that?” It wasn’t far, but it would take a good hike to get there.

      A smile spread on her face. The transformation hit him like a fist to the gut.

      Then those green eyes so full of new life met his. “I want to walk on a beach. I really do.”

      Cullen struggled with the inclination to do anything she asked as long as she kept smiling like that. The feeling was a bit too strong for his liking. But a walk on the beach wouldn’t hurt. “Okay. I went down there while you were asleep. There’s a small beach down the hill from here.” Secluded and easy to watch for anyone pointing a gun, too. He could plug them off the hillside if they tried to come after them. He ignored the fleeting thought that instead of going to the beach he should get a cab so they could leave the island that afternoon.

      Sabine went into the bathroom to change. While she was in there, he stuffed a pistol good for a thousand yards in the waist of his jeans, letting his short-sleeved shirt hang over to conceal it. Then he waited for her at the door. She emerged in the dark blue lounge pants