His breath left him in a rush. He gently pulled down the tab to the base of her spine. He kissed the exposed skin, being sure to be gentle with the purple bruises that dotted her shoulders and back.

He pushed the wide shoulder straps down, and the dress fell to the floor. He pressed his forehead to the skin at the base of her neck and whispered, “I’m so sorry.”

She shifted, and he stood straight. She turned to face him. She wore a white strapless bra and matching panties and a thousand bruises and scrapes. Her ribs were purple with red centers. And now he knew the last blows she’d received, the ones that had her making sharp pained sounds, had probably been kicks to her ribs.

He gently touched the purple skin. “I’m going to kill him.”

She stepped back. Out of his reach. “No. I will not lose you to a Maltese prison.” She nodded toward the head. “Now, I need to clean my wounds. Help me?”

She unhooked the bra on her way across the room. She dropped her panties on the threshold to the head. Rand followed, stripping along the way. He had more layers, so it took longer, especially since he had to sit to remove his boots. 

At last, he stepped into the shower, where Kira stood with her face in the hot spray. Rand took a bar of soap and a soft cloth and set to work, gently cleaning her shoulders and back.

Before tackling the cuts coated with dried blood on her thighs, he filled his hands with shampoo and massaged her scalp, then worked the soap into a lather. She moaned softly with pleasure.

The shower head was a wand, and he used it to rinse her hair, then applied conditioner. While it soaked in, he lathered her breasts, belly, and bruised ribs. He had no intention of arousing her; he just wanted to wash away the pain.

“I love you,” he whispered in her ear, then reached for the nozzle and rinsed the conditioner from her hair. She made another soft moan. He was getting harder by the moment, but that wasn’t what this was about.

“Ready for me to clean the cuts?” he asked.

She braced her hands against the shower wall and nodded.

He changed the setting on the nozzle to a gentle spray and dropped to his knees. There were at least six cuts that were long and deep, and another dozen that were small. Of the six, three were inflamed. He had oral antibiotics in his kit. He’d give them to her right after he applied ointment to the cleaned cuts.

He cleaned slowly and gently, washing away the crusted blood and dirt that had caked the wounds.

At last, she was cleaned of all dirt and blood, and he rose to his feet and replaced the showerhead. He reached to turn off the water, but she brushed his hand aside. “Please. Touch me.”

“You’re bruised—everywhere. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Please. I’ll stop you if it hurts.” She took his hand and brought it to her breast. He cupped her, but then she pulled his hand lower. 

His fingers touched her folds and he stroked her clit, then slid down and dipped inside her. She was swollen and ready.

He let out a soft groan.

She turned and faced him. He kissed her deeply, then dropped to his knees and put his mouth on her. This was the best way to give her pleasure without hurting her.

She groaned and ran her fingers through his wet hair as the water splashed on his face and he stroked her clit with his tongue.

How close had they come to not having this moment? What would have happened if he hadn’t followed her to Malta? If Freya hadn’t given him the spider drone?

The fingers in his hair curled tight and pulled. He stroked harder, determined to give her the best orgasm of her life.

But she pulled his mouth from her. “Rand. I need you inside me.”

“This way, I won’t hurt you⁠—”

“I need to feel you inside me. Please. Love me, Rand. Please love me.”

He was helpless against that plea. He stood and lifted her, spreading her legs, his heavy erection nudging against her opening. “I do love you, Kira.” He slid deep.

She closed her eyes and tilted her head back against the shower wall as he groaned. He wouldn’t last long, but that was probably good given that he worried that with each movement, he might hurt her.

Water sprayed on his shoulder as he thrust, holding her against the tile wall, hands on her butt, above the cuts he’d just carefully cleaned.

She clenched tight as they both climaxed. He covered her mouth with his, muffling the sound of their groans and kissing her deeply. The SEALs likely guessed what they were doing, but no point in making it obvious.

He held her there in the spray, his cock still deep inside her as he gazed into her eyes. She stroked his cheek. “I finally got my shower sex.”

He leaned his forehead to hers. “You can have me anywhere, any way you want. I’m yours as long as you want me.”

Her smile was beautiful and lit the shower stall with its own light. “I’m never going to stop wanting you. I love you, Rand.” She kissed him. “My one and only love.”

He grinned, his chest filling with a warmth that was somehow different from everything that had come before.

She kissed him softly. “I can’t wait to explore the future with you. But first, we need to face the past and pay a visit to my dear brother. And no, you aren’t allowed to kill him. I have a better idea.”

Chapter Fifty-Eight

A cheer rang out in the office when one of the SEALs in Malta radioed that they’d found Dr. Hanson and she would be okay. Everyone had been on edge since watching and hearing her fight with her brother the day before, but Lieutenant Chris Flyte had been especially so. He was the only person in the room who had known Hanson personally before the shooting on Tuesday.

It was no surprise to Teague that Flyte slipped from the room to call his girlfriend, Diana, to give her the good news.

After that, they settled in to figure out their defensive strategy. It was 1100 in Malta and 0500 in Virginia. The clock continued to tick down to showtime at 2050.

They all believed the attack would be aimed at a minimum of five targets, potentially on two bases, with the focus of the firepower on Little Creek. From the text conversations they had on Kinder’s computer, analysts believed bombs would be placed in key areas of the base.

Today, the search would continue for the five men with base access who’d likely been scouting and planning for months.

Were the explosives already planted on Little Creek and Dam Neck and just needed to be moved into position? Or would they attempt to get five—or more—bombs onto the base with heightened security after the shooting last week?

Little Creek didn’t always have explosive-detecting dogs at the gates, but they did this week, although they could get false positives with illegal fireworks being brought on base by dumbass sailors.

Last week’s shooting might have seriously disrupted the planned attack, but the team was operating under the assumption that it was still a go, even though Kinder was dead.

Of the remaining conspirators, three were federal employees and two were civilian contractors. Like Kinder, one worked for Fleet and Family Readiness. Another was a civilian who worked for the maintenance department. The third worked at the base gym. The contractors worked for the base housing program and had access to all the bases in the region.

The maintenance worker was their top priority. He had access inside buildings others wouldn’t have. Ben Kinder had likely handled the IT component, but Max Byrd would be the man who was hands on with explosives and wiring.

Teague and his team spent the earliest hours of the day learning everything they could about the fireworks barge. Setup for the show would begin at 0700 and was expected to take a minimum of seven hours. The setup area was secure, with a highly visible but nonmilitary presence.

They wouldn’t tip their hand by going in hard early.

After setup was complete, there would be a lengthy safety inspection, then the barge would be towed into place, which would take about two hours. The tug would then hold the barge in place. All vessels would be prohibited from entering a 1000-foot zone around the barge.