She blinked. "Mission? Final orders?"
Aware he'd let slip too much, he snatched her arm to stifle the questions and escorted her to the door. "Our five minutes should be about up. We better leave."
She couldn't argue. He let her loose to open the door, then hovered over her shoulder as she removed the data disk and rebooted the monitoring system. Kaljin's hand shook so hard she fumbled the disk. Only his quick reflexes kept it from bouncing off the console and on to the floor.
When he offered the disk back to her, she only stared at it. Her poise finally had worn too thin.
Less worried than moved to sympathy, he cupped her hand in his and laid the disk in her palm. When she looked at him in surprise, he forced a wan smile. "Knowing what I do about your mother and sister, I realize seeing Jarrit in that condition wasn't easy."
His attempt at kindness brought the snap of anger to her eyes, and she twisted away from him. "Is that so?"
The snide edge to her voice cut at his pride. "Yes, that's so. I understand. More than you realize."
She jammed the disk into her pocket and opened her mouth to reply. But she stopped herself just as fast and stiffened to attention.
"What is it?" he coaxed.
She put her finger to her mouth, demanding silence. He listened and, by degrees, heard it, too--a shuffle of feet in the corridor perpendicular to where they stood. When he took a bearing on the noise his gut clenched. They'd never make it back to the stairway entrance before the intruders turned the corner.
Pivoting, he scanned the length of the corridor and pointed to a door panel less than ten paces across the way. "Where does that lead?"
"It looks like a storage unit."
"Can you access the security lock with your code?"
"I ... I don't know."
He grabbed her right arm and dragged her after him to the door. "Let's find out before someone finds us."
This time, when he lifted her hand as he'd done in the interrogation room, he made sure her palm fit precisely over the identity plate. After an eternal moment, the plate glowed green. The digital readout asked politely for a personal security code.
Kaljin shook off his grip to enter a series of six numbers. The screen flashed a line of red letters: "Access Denied."
"That can't be," she groaned. "Not if the plate went green with my palm print."
"Try again. Maybe you keyed wrong."
She did so, choosing the numbers more carefully.
As the intruder's footsteps grew more distinct he knew they'd soon be discovered, and he panicked more for Kaljin than for himself. He'd count himself lucky if he saw another few days of existence. She risked her career, her reputation, and possibly her freedom for this folly.
With two thundering heartbeats to spare, the panel slid open. He gripped Kaljin by the waist and whisked her inside the room.
Dull, amber security lights winked on as the panel closed behind them. Breathing hard, he collapsed against the wall just inside the door. Only when he felt Kaljin's fingers clutching the front of his baggy shirt did he realize he'd swept her into a snug embrace.
She buried her face into the hollow between his shoulder and chest. Her fragrance--a vibrant, vital contrast to the stench of Jarrit's charred flesh--filled the air. With his left arm about her narrow waist, he held her intimately to his body. Somehow, his right hand had come to rest on her delicate nape. The heat of her exquisite satin-smooth skin against his roughed palm sent prickles up his arm, and chills down his spine. Fine, springy tendrils of her fiery hair teased his cheek.
As she trembled in the circle of his arms, her sweet vulnerability flooded him with a powerful new urgency to keep her safe. Unlike just minutes before, this time he had no will to flee or fight the instinct.
Briefly he wondered if her head whirled and her insides clenched with arousal, too. He should push her away.
He banished the thought as soon as it formed.
She loosened her grip on his shirt and leaned back just enough to look up at him. In the amber light, her eyes shimmered iridescent green-gold. Emotions flickered in her gaze, but changed before he could pin them down. He clearly recognized relief and bemusement.
What else did he see? Fear?
Yes, fear. He saw it in her eyes, and sensed it at the same moment in himself.
But fear of what? That they might be found? Discovery wasn't likely, concealed as they were inside the storage room.
"Tynan?"
The quiver in her voice reflected his own whipsaw emotions. What did she ask of him? What should he answer?
"We're safe, Kaljin."
But her eyes widened, the dusky pupils overwhelming all but a narrow edge of glimmering irises. Her mouth blossomed with a warm, pulsating color. "Are we?"
"Yes."
But he lied, because he did sense danger. From her. From himself. In that moment, he needed more from her than an intimate embrace. He needed to kiss her--hard and with feeling. He needed to drink from her as a man too long in the desert needs to drink of cool, life-giving water.
)
A woman dedicated to peace. A man trained to fight. Two hearts bound by love and torn part by war. The year is AD 2364. On planet Serraine, civil war rages between the two continent nations of Albia and Krillia. Earth is a neutral party in the conflict, but maintains a powerful presence in both regions. Marista Kaljin is a member of the Terran Diplomatic Corps, bound by Earth's neutrality, dedicated to peace, and nonviolent by choice. Tynan is a former Albian military officer, trained to act and obey without question, and driven by guilt over a personal tragedy that caused him to defect to the Krillians. A war they both despise entangles Marista's and Tynan's lives. Marista must employ negotiating skills that Tynan mistrusts to save his life. Later she must find the means to save his agonized soul. Tynan uses the warrior training Marista rejects to protect her from the realities of violent conflict. But he finds he can't protect and defend the wall he's built around his heart from her persistent and compassionate assaults. Before their love becomes a casualty of the war that surrounds them, Marista and Tynan must find a way to breach their differences in a struggle to fulfill the heart's greatest duty ...to love.
