He flipped open his cell phone and dialed Monroe's private number.
"Monroe," answered the colonel on the first ring.
"I've got her, sir. You'll need to send a cleanup team to her house."
"What kind of mess?"
"Five bodies and one van. Still running."
"Did you get all her research?" asked Monroe.
"Think so. Do a sweep to be sure, but she said it's all in her head. She didn't have any notes."
"Damn. I knew she was smart, but that's a little spooky, even for an egghead."
David glanced at Noelle's limp form sleeping in the passenger seat. She didn't look spooky, but he hadn't exactly spent a lot of time talking to her, either. Right now she just looked vulnerable and he kept stealing glances to make sure she was still breathing.
He had no way of knowing what kind of tranquilizer they'd hit her with or how much was in her system. The only comfort he had was the fact that he knew that the Swarm had wanted her alive. If they hadn't, they'd have been using real bullets. He just prayed that their intelligence had been better than his and that the man who had shot her had dosed the tranqs for her small build.
If not, she might never wake up. And if they lost her, they lost their last, best chance for breaking the most complicated bit of ciphertext that had surfaced since the end of the Cold War. That was why both the Swarm and Monroe wanted her alive.
"I want to get her to a hospital," said David.
"No. She'd be too vulnerable there. You've been trained to deal with this situation, so deal with it."
"I don't like this. She'd be better off with professional medical attention."
"You take her to a hospital and she'll be dead before sunrise. You, too. You have your orders, Captain. No hospitals."
David resisted the urge to tell Monroe to shove those orders up his ass and glanced at Noelle. Her red curls had spilled over her eyes, but he could still see the clean line of her cheek. Her skin was too pale and it worried him. If he couldn't take her to a hospital, he needed to get her tucked away at the closest location he'd scoped out during his quick preparation for this op. Not far up ahead was a little motel where he could take the time to check her out more carefully and work on reviving her and getting the drugs out of her system.
"I'll call you when I'm settled and check back in," said David.
"Where are you going?"
David had no idea if anyone was listening to this conversation, so he didn't dare give anything away. "I'll let you know soon. Have a different vehicle ready to switch out with ours, justin case we were followed."
"Is that likely?"
"No, sir. I took out all the Tangos I saw. I think we're clear, but I'd rather be safe than sorry."
"Right. Report in as soon as you can."
"Yes, sir."
David drove until he was a mile away from the closest car behind him on the highway and pulled off at the next exit. After turning off the headlights, he pulled around the corner and waited to see if anyone else took the obscure exit into Nowhere, Kansas. While he waited, he wiped the greasepaint off his face with some wet wipes he'd brought along for just that purpose. When his face was relatively clean and he was satisfied that they were not being followed, David drove down narrow, poorly kept roadways until he reached a cheap, cash-only motel that catered to the desperately horny or the hopelessly lost.
The flashing neon vacancy sign buzzed a lazy rhythm as David pulled into the parking lot and slid the truck up close enough to the office window that he could keep an eye on Noelle while he went inside to get a room.
The man in the office turned away from his staticky black-and-white TV and pressed his nose to the glass to look outside into the darkness.
Daniel glanced at Noelle, who sat slumped in the passenger seat of his Ford truck. He'd seat-belted her in, but during the drive she'd slid down so that she looked more dead than asleep.
There was no way he was getting her into a room without carrying her, which could well raise suspicion on the part of the motel attendant, even if he wasn't the brightest of men. David had picked this location because of its relative privacy and the last thing he needed was to have the local police knocking on his door in a half hour, wanting him to answer questions about why he was toting around an unconscious woman.
Though he had fake ID in his wallet that would fool even the best-equipped police station, his CO wouldn't take kindly to having to cover up the trail of a soldier who bumbled someming as simple as finding a place for Noelle to sleep for a few hours.
David slid across the bench seat and lifted Noelle so that she sat more upright. She let out a soft moan and her head lolled forward and landed on his shoulder. Her mouth pressed against his throat and warm breath swept over his skin like a caress.
David's body responded like the man he was—one who hadn't had a woman in two years. After his last operation with Delta Force, he'd gone into isolation—complete isolation. His lust wasn't going to cause another woman to be harmed—not even one he was simply using for sex.
He clenched his jaw, squeezed his eyes shut and mentally began to field-strip every weapon he'd ever used.
With bis eyes shut, the faint scent of strawberry shampoo and sleeping woman filled his nostrils, scattering his thoughts. His body hardened in a maddening rush of blood—all of it leaking out of his brain.
David cursed as sweat beaded along his hairline.
Why couldn't it have been a man he needed to rescue? Why did it have to be a soft, pretty woman who smelled like spring and felt even warmer?
The motel attendant gave David a curious stare and cupped his hands on the glass to get a better view.
Fitting in with the man's expectations was the only way to keep him from getting suspicious. David's choices were to look horny or lost. He knew without a doubt which one he'd pass for easiest.
With a prayer for strength, David leaned over and made a show of nuzzling Noelle's neck. It sure as hell wasn't the worst thing he'd had to do in his career to look inconspicuous. Her skin was soft and even though it was just pretend, he couldn't keep himself kissing the skin just below her ear.
She tasted as good as fresh strawberries and cream.
David stifled a searing oath and forced his hands to loosen their hold in her hair. He had no idea how they'd gotten there, but the soft, springy texture of her red curls sliding between his fingers made his hands Burn. He wondered if all of her hair was so soft and fiery and whether or not she'd sigh his name as his fingers slid through it.
Noelle let out a contented breath and slumped heavily against him. Her gold-rimmed glasses sat crookedly on her face, the hinges hopelessly tangled in her hair.
With an effort of will, David commanded himself to remember that she was unconscious and what he was doing now—even though it was at least in part done to protect her—was taking advantage of her. Her file confirmed that she wasn't married, but for all he knew, she had a boyfriend, or even a fiance". He had no right to be tasting a woman who surely had to belong to a man—a man who wouldn't get her killed just by sitting next to her in a truck.
That thought was like ice water down his pants. He pulled away from her, adjusting her glasses, then her head so that it was leaning comfortably against the seat, touching her as little as possible in the process.
The man in the window scratched at his stained undershirt and gave David a lecherous grin meant to cheer him on and a thumbs-up sign. He stood there in open anticipation, waiting for the show in the truck to go on.
David moved so that no part of him was touching Noelie. He could still smell her skin, but he was pretty sure that he would remember that scent even if he was halfway around the world.
After several long seconds, he managed to slow his breathing to a normal pace and don the loose jacket that would cover his weapons. He got out of the truck and locked Noelie safely inside—away from him.
Flashing neon light and the smell of strong coffee forced Noelle's brain to reboot. Her head felt as abused as the floor at a Metallica concert and her mouth tasted even worse.
She reached unsteadily for the cup of water she kept on her bedside table, but her clumsy fingers barely moved before they encountered something hard and warm instead.
Panic sparked the residual adrenaline in her system and streaked through her like fire through a fuse. Her eyes flew open and the meager light in the room stabbed her skull and made her groan in pain.
"Easy," said a quiet, deep voice close beside her. Too close.
A wide hand wedged itself under the nape of her neck, helping her to sit up. The cool edge of a glass pressed against her lips.
"Drink."
Cold liquid touched her mouth and she parted her lips to keep it from running down her chin.
She forced her eyes to open again and accept the strobe of a neon sign that flashed through the small slit between dingy hotel drapes. With each flicker of the word vacancy, her temples throbbed.
"The headache will ease off in a bit. These pills will help."
Hard, bitter pills were pushed into her mouth and began dissolving against her tongue. When the cup was once more offered, she welcomed the cold wave of water that passed her lips and washed the pills down.
Noelle squinted against the light of the bedside lamp and the man shifted his body so that his shadow fell across her eyes. Her vision was fuzzy without her glasses, but she could easily see his wide shoulders and the short spike of his military-issue haircut breaking up the sharp light behind him. He sat only inches from her and his arm was still supporting the weight of her shoulders so she could drink. The heat of his hand burned through all three layers of clothing and she could feel his casual strength flowing through his arm—the ease with which he held her up.
Strangely enough, she recognized his scent—leather and man and cordite—and knew without a doubt that he was the one responsible for getting her out of her house alive.
The whole night came flooding back to her in a heartbeat and she barely stifled her panic. With an effort of will, she forced herself to think logically, rationally. If she was in some kind of danger, she needed her wits about her now more than ever.
Slowly, she became calm enough that she could manage a clear thought. She was alive. No one was shooting at her anymore.
Noelle swallowed hard in an effort to find her voice. "Who are you?" she asked first.
"David." His voice was deep and quiet and she wondered if it was in deference to her headache or if he always talked like he didn't want to be overheard.
"Okay. David. Where are we? What am I doing here? And who were those men in my house?"
He ignored her questions and eased her back down to the pillow. She felt boneless and weak, like she was on the third day of a bout of stomach flu. She didn't have the strength to sit up under her own power and suddenly, fear began to slink around in her stomach again.
David must have seen the fear on her face because he laid a soothing hand on her forehead and gently kept her from thrashing about. "The weakness will pass in a little while. It's an aftereffect of the tranquilizer they hit you with."
"Tranquilizer?" Noelle remembered the sharp pain in her arm and jerking out the stinger. She hadn't really processed what had happened at the time, but now it was clear that she'd been shot with some sort of dart like the kind they used on animals.