Gasping, Liam shot up straight in bed. His heart jackhammered in his ears.
“Liam?” Rachel called out groggily.
She was right next to him in bed.
His hand shook as he cupped the gentle curve of her hip. “Sorry, everything’s okay. No need to get up.”
Rolling to her back, she flung her arm over her eyes. “Hmmm… can’t remember when I was this tired.”
“Huh?” he grunted.
“Are you okay?” She sat up, her hand rubbing the middle of his back.
“Fine, just dreaming.” Dreaming bizarre shit Freud would have a field day dissecting. Of course with Freud, it was always about the mama. “Thought I heard something. It’s nothing.”
“Are you sure? Should we get dressed and check?”
He shook his head. “I’m certain. Go back to sleep. We need to get up in about an hour.”
She rested her cheek on his shoulder blade. “I’m already awake. We could hit the road early.”
“Yeah, I guess.” He scrubbed his hands over his close-shorn hair, wishing they could hang out here all day and make love. Being with Rachel in a rat trap motel beat having anyone else in five-star accommodations.
“You can have the shower first.” She swung her feet to the ground. “I should probably get dressed and take the dogs out anyway. Poor puppy is probably ready to explode—if she hasn’t already. If nothing else, she’s gotta be going stir-crazy.”
She padded across the room naked, and God help him, he went hard in a way that had nothing to do with morning wood. The swish of her hair along the sleek line of her spine hypnotized him. And the curve of her bottom… Damn. Just damn. She grabbed his T-shirt off the top of the television and tugged it over her head. The sight of her in his clothes was almost as hot as seeing her naked. Almost.
At the bathroom door, she stopped sharp, clapped a hand over her mouth. Then sank to her knees. “No Fang. No!”
What now? He rolled out of bed and lumbered over to the bathroom door. “What’s wrong?”
She rocked back onto her butt, playing tug-of-war with the puppy and the prepaid cell phone. Liam sank to one knee, met the puppy’s large brown eyes, and snapped, “Drop it.”
Fang’s mouth snapped open on command. The cell clanked onto the tile floor.
Rachel rolled her eyes. “Figures the dog would recognize the biggest alpha in the room.”
He cradled the phone in his hand, wiping off the dog spit with a dry washcloth. “She doesn’t appear to have done any permanent damage.” He polished the slobbery LED screen, and damn it, the missed call light was flashing. When had that happened? “Did you hear the phone ring?”
She placed a finger on the light. “Of course not. I would have told you. And we’ve been with the phone the whole time.”
His eyes slid closed as the realization crept over him. “Except for when we went to get supper in the bar.”
After that, they’d been too distracted to think straight. He had been too distracted and he should have known better. He thumbed quickly through the commands to find the phone number that had tried to contact them, and there couldn’t be many, since he hadn’t been passing the number out on any street corners.
The screen scrolled a number he recognized all too well. He looked from the cell to Rachel. “It was Cuervo. He must have found Brandon Harris.”
***
General Sullivan strode down the corridor, taking in the update from Captain Bernard and Agent Cramer. Sullivan focused on steady breaths, projecting calm. For now, they’d been able to keep the base commander, Colonel Zogby, out of the loop on this. More importantly, the center commander—the only person to outrank him here—was still clueless.
Although how in the hell had Brandon Harris figured out what was going on?
Ted locked down his anger. He needed to keep this situation as contained and low profile as possible until the satellite summit. Just a few more days to hold back the tide.
A few more days until he leaked top-secret military information on U.S. satellite positioning and taskings to Internet news outlets. The world would label it a cyberattack. They would pin it on some foreign agency. A faceless crime. Damaging to the United States in the short term, but of great personal advantage to him.
But the center commander would take the fall for such a critical security breach happening on his watch. The man would lose his job, retire quietly—opening up a primo promotion for General Ted Sullivan. His career path straight to the top of the U.S. space community would be secured.