Striking Distance

“I want to taste you so bad. I want to bury my tongue inside you.”

She barely had the patience to wait for him to finish, but standing as she was, her balance precarious, his hands between her thighs with a razor, his face so close she felt the heat of his breath on her inner thighs, all she could do was hold on.

When he’d rinsed her one last time, he scooped her into his arms, his mouth coming down on hers as he carried her to her bed in long, fast strides. He tossed her onto the mattress, grabbed her ankles, and dragged her toward him until her hips cleared the edge of the bed, forcing her legs apart. And then his mouth was on her.

“Oh, yes!”

This was the Javier she remembered.

She dug her fingers into his hair, so aroused by these exquisite new sensations that she found herself already hovering on the edge. Bare like this, every inch of her vulva was available for him to lick and nip and taste. He drew her glossy pink labia into the scorching heat of his mouth, tugged and sucked on her aching clit, teased her entrance with the tip of his tongue until she thought she would come apart. And then she shattered, orgasm singing through her, leaving her breathless and trembling.

She felt the mattress shift as Javier stretched out beside her. She opened her eyes, smiled at him, then rolled onto him and slid down his body and off the bed, coming to rest on her knees on the floor. “I want to make you feel good—just as good as you made me feel.”

He sat up, his erect cock bobbing as he shifted, his gaze locked with hers. He reached out, traced a finger down her cheek. “Oh, I know you will.”

Without breaking eye contact, she licked him a few times, base to swollen tip, and heard his breath leave him in a slow exhale. Certain his newly shaved skin would be just as sensitive as hers, she lowered her mouth to the root of his cock, kissing and licking him there. He stiffened, his body jerking when her tongue slid over the bare skin of his testicles, his reaction encouraging her. She took them into her mouth one at a time, teasing their underside with her tongue, feeling them draw tight.

Javier’s breath caught, his fingers sliding into her hair.

She sat up taller and went to work on him with her tongue, circling the engorged head, flicking its satiny tip, her fingers encircling him, stroking him lazily. But he was just as impatient as she had been. She followed his cues, sliding her mouth and hand as one up and down the length of him, moving faster, increasing the pressure, and bringing him to a quick finish in her hand, his hips jerking off the bed as he came.

He fell back onto his pillow, his chest heaving, his fingers still tangled in her hair. And there he lay, spent.

Laura wiped off her hand, then handed him the box of tissues, gratified to see that she’d managed to exhaust him the way he so often exhausted her. There was nothing quite like a sex coma. She was about to lie down beside him when her cell phone rang.

Erik.

The home visit.

She ran to the living room where she’d left her phone, answering on the fourth ring, questions darting through her mind. Had they been able to get Klara’s DNA? Had Klara seemed healthy and well fed? Had they been able to vaccinate her?

“This is Laura.”

“Hi, Laura. Yesterday was the day of the scheduled home visit.”

“How was it? What happened?”

“A consular official and one of our doctors went with two Pakistani officials to the home.” Erik paused. “And they were gone. They had disappeared—the whole extended family. The house was empty.”

“What?” Laura’s heart began to pound, her pulse beating against her eardrums.

“I’m sorry, Laura, but they have vanished. Their neighbors say they haven’t seen them for a few days, and no one knows where they’ve gone. They must have left immediately after our last contact.”

“Can’t the police find them and detain them? They can’t just vanish.”

“You know what it’s like there. It took us more than two years to find them when they were in Islamabad. If they’ve fled to the countryside or crossed into Afghanistan, we might not be able to locate them again.”

“No.” Laura shook her head, panic making her nauseated. “No, that can’t be. I can’t lose her, Erik. I can’t lose her.”

“I’m very sorry, Laura. I know how much this meant to you. You must be devastated. But she is missing, and we don’t have any idea where they took her.”

This couldn’t be happening. It could not be happening.

Laura fought to hold herself together. “I understand. Thank you for all you’ve done.”

“We will start searching at once, of course. We have already filed a complaint with the Pakistani government and are demanding action.”

“Thank you.”

“I told you at the beginning this would be a very hard fight. It seems it will continue to be a fight for some time to come. Good night, Laura.”

Laura disconnected the call and slid slowly to the floor.

* * *

WEARING A PAIR of flannel pajama bottoms, Javier stood in the bedroom door watching. He hadn’t understood a word Laura had said, but he knew the call hadn’t brought good news. He went to her where she sat huddled naked on the floor, took a throw off the couch, and wrapped it around her bare shoulders, reaching over to turn on the fireplace so she wouldn’t get cold.

She looked up at him, tears welling in her eyes, the panic on her face echoing the expression she’d had the night he’d rescued her. “They took my little girl. They disappeared. No one knows where they went or where she is.”

?Puneta! Fuck! Son of a bitch!

The news hit Javier with the force of a bullet. He wanted to hit something, wanted to rip Al-Nassar’s balls off, wanted to kill. What kind of stupid, dick-faced, baby-raping, jihadist piece of shit would kidnap an innocent newborn and do everything possible to keep her from her mother?

Heart thrumming, he drew a couple of deep breaths, fighting to get his shit under control so he could be there for Laura. He drew her onto the couch beside him and held her. “I’m so sorry, bella.”

“They have to find her. If they don’t . . .” She squeezed her eyes shut and pulled away from him. “This is my fault. If I had been stronger . . . If I’d believed what I knew in my heart, that Klara was mine . . . If I’d taken her from Safiya when I’d run or told the SEALs about her . . . But I didn’t. She’s two years old, and she’s lived every one of those days as a captive.”

“Laura, you can’t blame yourself for this.”

But she wasn’t listening.

She stood and took a step toward the fire. “If they don’t find her and bring her back, she might never learn to read. She might spend years of her life hungry. She could get polio or tetanus. I’ve seen little girls married off to men in their thirties and forties when they were only nine years old. Oh, God!”

Javier had spent enough time in Pakistan and Afghanistan to know that Laura’s fears for her child were real. Disease and hunger were a part of life for too many people there. Little girls faced the added burden of child marriage, too many of them forced to have children with men they didn’t love when they themselves were still children. The thought of Laura’s child enduring any of this made him sick.

But he couldn’t let Laura take the blame for this on her shoulders.

He rose, caught her face between his palms, and forced her to meet his gaze, knowing she was on the brink of true panic. “Listen to me. This is not your fault.”

“I left her, Javier. I turned my back on her, and I left her—my own baby!”

“They took her from you the moment she was born. You never got to hold her. They did their best to brainwash you into believing she wasn’t yours. You didn’t even remember you’d had a baby until later. They’re to blame for this, not you.”

She shook her head. “You’re just saying that to make me feel better.”