Daring Read online

  As the former medical officer for A-Tac, an elite CIA unit masquerading as faculty at an Ivy League college, Lara Prescott saved many lives. But the memory of the one person she couldn’t save has brought her back into harm’s way—and into the sights of a formidable adversary…

  NOWHERE IS SAFE

  Lara thought working a world away would heal her. Yet volunteering to treat the sick and injured in revolution-torn central Africa can’t stop the shattering memories of losing the man she loved. A night with sexy security officer Rafe Winters seems the perfect temporary escape—until insurgents attack her clinic and Rafe becomes her only way to survive…

  Rafe knows all too well that this beautiful young doctor is the insurgents’ real target: Her knowledge of America’s espionage system makes her a valuable prize. Helping her flee jeopardizes his hidden agenda—but her unexpected trust in him sparks a desire to protect that he can’t ignore. Now as their merciless pursuers close in, Rafe and Lara’s only chance for escape will put everything they’ve sworn to protect—and their newfound love—on the line…

  “How much longer?” Lara asked.

  “Not sure. But not too much more. I’ve got the compartment open. Now I’ve just got to figure out the right wire.”

  Her trembling had gotten worse. “Well, I think now would be a good time. My leg is starting to shake.”

  “Okay. Hold still.” Rafe paused, and there was a soft noise as he clipped the wire and then—nothing.

  Relief washed through her, and she stepped off the landmine. They stood for a moment, gazes locked, and then he pulled her to him. For a moment, they simply held the embrace, body to body, heart to heart. And then with a low groan, he slanted his mouth over hers, the kiss hard and possessive. She responded in kind, opening to him, the two of them relishing the simple joy of being alive.

  Somewhere deep inside, she knew that they needed to get moving, but she was incapable of pulling away. She felt a flutter of promise, of something new and potentially wonderful.

  And then almost before she could process the thought, she heard the sound of guns being cocked and leveled. And turned in his arms to see a ring of rebels surrounding them, machine guns at the ready…

  Daring

  Dee Davis

  New York Boston

  Begin Reading

  Table of Contents

  A Preview of Deep Disclosure

  Copyright Page

  For my daughter; may your journey continue to be amazing!

  Sometimes Good Things Come in Small Packages

  Chapter 1

  Central Africa

  “I need more blood. Now.” Lara Prescott pushed back her hair, wishing for instant transport to the high-tech sterile environment of a modern operating theater. Instead, she stood in a cinder block building in the middle of the African rain forest, trying to keep a kid alive with outdated instruments and a critical lack of supplies.

  “This is the last of it,” Kim Milongo said, hanging the bag as Lara struggled to stop the internal bleeding. The child on the table was all of seven or eight, although malnutrition made her look much younger. She had fallen from a tree, an injury that in a healthy child would never have been life threatening. But on a continent where one out of every eight children died before their fifth birthday, any injury had the potential to become life threatening.

  The fall had shattered the right femur, a fragment of bone nicking the femoral artery. With the proper instrumentation, she could have easily located the tear and repaired it. But here, she was working from touch on a child with a compromised immune system. Bottom line—the little girl was bleeding out.

  “We’re losing her,” Kim said, the frustration in his voice mirroring Lara’s own. Kim was an old friend from medical school. A native African, he’d brought his skills back to his people and set up the clinic. He’d been the one to suggest that Lara come here after Jason’s death. “Her BP’s dropping fast.”

  Lara continued to work, knowing that she’d run out of time but unwilling to give up. The little girl had so much life ahead of her. To lose her to a fall was a crime. The pulsing blood slowed and then stopped, life ebbing away without even a whisper.

  “Damn it,” she said, turning her back, tears welling. For every one they managed to save, they lost two more. And if they didn’t lose the child, war and disease often claimed their parents, leaving the children even more exposed. It was a relentless cycle.

  “You did everything you could.” Kim’s voice was gentle, his tone belying his stature. “You always do. There just wasn’t enough time.”

  *****

  The little bar was more of a watering hole than anything else. They served beer and rotgut whiskey, and sometimes, when the trucks were coming from the east and not the west, a little Russian vodka. Not that it mattered. All that was needed was something to numb the brain, to erase, for a moment at least, the memory of pleading eyes in dying faces.

  Lara had come to Africa to forget. And now she’d come here to forget Africa.

  “Hit me again,” she said, tapping the glass in front of her. The barman, a German who’d come to save souls but made better money inebriating them, poured another round. She downed it in one swallow, relishing the burning sensation against her throat, a reminder that she was still alive.

  It had been almost a year since she’d come to Africa. Since she’d lost Jason.

  The decision to leave A-Tac hadn’t been an easy one. She had roots there. Friends. But in the end, it had just been too painful. And so when Kim had offered her the chance to come help with the clinic, she’d jumped at it. After years of fighting the dark side, she’d thought it would be cathartic to save lives. Instead, she’d wound up fighting an even darker foe: Poverty. Along with a good measure of war and pestilence.

  Maybe she was just meant for the front lines. It was hard to say. But at least here, there weren’t constant reminders of all that she’d lost. “Another, please.” She signaled the barman and then leaned her chin against her hands, elbows propped up on the bar.

  “Seems a shame for a woman who looks like you to be drinking all alone.”

  She closed her eyes for a moment, summoning her patience. She wasn’t in the mood for Rafe Winters. The Aussie might be the only thing standing between the clinic and local rebel forces, but he was also a shameless womanizer, and she was bound and determined not to become a conquest.

  Not that the idea wasn’t appealing on some base level. He was easy enough to look at—strong jaw and rich black hair that curled somewhat wildly around his ears and neck. Well-muscled and tall, like Kim, he towered over her. But she was used to that. At five foot three, pretty much everyone was taller than she was. And if Lara were honest, it was his eyes that were most attractive. Deep blue, they were almost black, like a night sky. And there was a spark of intelligence that challenged—and annoyed.

  He was too sure of himself, and definitely too battle hardened to be truly appealing. She’d known men like him most of her adult life. Adrenaline junkies. It had gotten Jason killed. And she wasn’t about to let herself go there again.

  “So what’s got you hitting the bottle? You’re usually a two-drink-limit kind of girl.” His lilting accent was tempered from a life lived at various locales around the world.

  She patted the seat next to her and offered a wan smile. She might not be willing to allow herself to fall for his charms, but this place was sorely lacking in social opportunities. And as drinking partners went, Rafe beat the barman. Gustav wasn’t exactly a conversationalist.

  “So what’s with the whiskey?” He nodded as Gustav produced a second glass and filled them both.

  “Lost a patient today.” Lara took a sip of the fiery liquid, reminding herself that she had to keep up her guard.

  “Not to make lig
ht of it, but that’s hardly an isolated incident here.”

  “Yes, but this one was just a kid. And she’d only broken a leg. But with our ancient equipment, I couldn’t save her. Anywhere else in the world and it would have been a cakewalk.”

  “But this isn’t anywhere else,” he said, his dark eyes probing. “And you’re not any doctor. I’ve seen you at work, and I know that you always give it your best. Sometimes you’re just not going to win the day.”

  “That’s what Kim said”—Lara shrugged and took another sip—“more or less. But it doesn’t help. The child is still dead. And at least indirectly it was my fault.”

  “So you’re here to wallow?”

  “I don’t wallow,” she snapped, her anger quick to surface.

  “Now there’s the Lara I know and love.” His smile was warm and inclusive, as if they shared something more than a grudging friendship. For just a moment, she allowed herself the memory of how good that could feel, but before she let the thought go further, she shut it off.

  “Don’t pretend that you know me, Rafe. You don’t.”

  “I know that you’re a damn good doctor. And that Kim is lucky to have you at the clinic. And I know that you’re carrying around some pretty serious shit, including the death of the man you loved and your subsequent leave of absence from the CIA.”

  Her head jerked up, her eyes wary. “How the hell did you know that?”

  “I’ve been in this business a long time. And I’ve got sources.” He shrugged. “Look, it’s none of my business—” he started, but she cut him off with a wave of her hand.

  “It’s sure as hell not.”

  “But,” he continued, ignoring her words, “I’ve been where you are, and if you don’t let off some of the steam, you’re going to explode. And believe me, it won’t be pretty.”

  “I’m dealing the best I know how,” she said through clenched teeth. “And I don’t need some fly-by-night mercenary telling me different.”

  “Fine.” His jaw tightened, and he drained the whiskey in his glass. “I’ll just be heading out then.”

  “No.” She reached out to circle his wrist with her fingers, the gesture surprising her as much as it surprised him. “I didn’t mean to snap at you. It’s not like I have anything to hide. It just caught me off guard that you knew about Jason, that’s all. It’s not something I talk about.”

  “You don’t talk about anything, Lara,” he said, sitting back down on the barstool. “That’s the point. And I wasn’t trying to meddle. It’s just that I’ve seen a lot of war wounds in my day.”

  “It’s not a war wound.” She shook her head and tipped back the last of the whiskey, Gustav immediately refilling their glasses.

  “Isn’t it? Look, working for the CIA is every bit as much of a battle as the ones the troops in Iraq or Afghanistan engage in. Maybe even more so. I obviously don’t know the details, but I do know that Jason died in the line of duty.”

  “He was murdered by a friend,” she said, the words coming of their own volition. “Duty be damned. But you’re right it is—was—a war. Only I wasn’t the casualty—Jason was.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong,” he said, his gaze gentle. “Sometimes it’s the people left alive who take the hardest hit.”

  “Jason is dead.”

  “And you have to live with it.”

  “Yeah, every minute of every day.” She stared down into the amber glow of her whiskey, twirling the glass idly.

  “So I stand by what I said. You need time to heal. And working here is sure as hell not the way to do that. I mean, all you’ve done is step from one war zone into another.”

  “All right then, so how would you suggest I find release?” The minute the words were out, she wanted them back, and his answering smile indicated the unintentional double entendre had hit its mark.

  “Well, I can think of several obvious suggestions.” He waggled his eyebrows. “But I don’t relish having a drink thrown in my face. You’ve been pretty clear about your feelings for me.”

  She chewed on her lip for a moment and studied him, suddenly not completely sure why she’d judged him so harshly. At least through the haze of the whiskey, he seemed pretty damn appealing. And except for Kim, he was the only one around who had even an inkling of what she’d been going through. The idea of sharing her burden, even if for just a short while, was seductive as hell.

  “So what’s with the name?” she asked, moving the conversation to safer ground but purposefully leaving the door open. “I mean, seriously, who names their kid Rafe?”

  “My mother,” he said with a shrug. “She loves romance novels. What can I say? And it actually gets worse. Rafe is short for Rafael, which considering I grew up in a small town in Australia was a bit of a mouthful. Not to mention a bit on the pretentious side.”

  “I can see where it could have caused problems, but for what it’s worth, Rafe suits you.” She smiled, surprised at how easy it was to sit here with him.

  “Thanks, I think. So what about you? Lara?”

  “Doctor Zhivago. My mother loved the movie. She played ‘Lara’s Theme’ on the piano all the time. Said it was my special song.” She smiled at the memory.

  “You said ‘played,’” he prompted, pulling her from the past. The man didn’t miss much.

  “Yeah. She died when I was in college. An aneurysm. It was really sudden. But I had a lot of wonderful years.”

  “And your dad?”

  “He’s gone, too. But he’s not dead. Last I heard he was living in Arkansas somewhere.” It was her turn to shrug. “What about you? Your mom still reading romance?”

  “Stacks of them, I imagine. I haven’t actually seen her or my father in a couple of years.” A shadow crossed his face. “With my line of work, it’s safer for them that way. They’re great people. They’ve just never been able to understand why I spend my life living on the edge.”

  “And why is that?” she asked, leaning closer, the whiskey giving her courage. He smelled like soap and aftershave, and she could see the white line of a small scar beneath the five o’clock shadow on the right side of his chin.

  “Because I wanted to see if there was life outside of Queensland. And because once you’re in, it’s harder than hell to get out.”

  She nodded, the truth of his words hitting home. “But you’re here. With me. And that means something, right? It’s not like you’re working for the dark side.” She laughed at her choice of words. “Sorry, didn’t mean to go all metaphysical on you.”

  “Well, you’ve got a point. I chose this assignment for the same reason you did.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yeah, I usually go where the money is. But in this case, I chose Africa because I needed to regroup.”

  “So I’m not the only one who stepped out of the frying pan into the fire.”

  “True enough, but from where I’m sitting, the fire’s looking pretty damn good.”

  Lara wasn’t sure when exactly she’d made the decision to give in to him—hell, she wasn’t even completely certain he was asking—but sitting here inches apart, her breath mingling with his, she knew with certainty that she wanted him. And the idea was at once intoxicating and unnerving.

  She lifted her hand to order another round, but Rafe stopped her. “How about we take a walk instead? Give you a chance to clear your head?”

  “What if I don’t want it to clear?” she asked, her voice dropping to a husky whisper. “What if I want something more?”

  “Well then.” He smiled. “The walk will give us time to work on that, too.” He held out his hand, and she took it, knowing in her heart that she was crossing a threshold but not really caring.

  The air outside was cool, a soft breeze cutting through the humidity. Mango trees stood in stands between the cement and clapboard buildings that made up the settlement. There wasn’t much—a few houses and the outpost that housed both the bar and a general store. Beyond that, closer to the river, lay the clinic.

/>   They walked in silence at first, Lara trying hard not to second-guess herself. It was time to move on, she knew that. Everyone needed someone to rebound with. And if she was going to have a one-night stand, she might as well do it with a man like Rafe—a man with experience.

  She could feel his strength even though they weren’t actually touching. He walked like a tiger—sleek and fearsome, a predator with the battle-hardened body of a warrior. Her gut lurched, and her body tightened somewhere deep inside, a delicious sense of anticipation spreading through her. It had been a year, but her sensory memory was working just fine.

  She shifted slightly, her hand brushing against his and a smile tilted the corner of his lips. She smiled back, trying to remember the last time she’d felt this carefree. Of course, it was mostly a product of the whiskey. And pheromones. Her smiled broadened.

  “Penny for your thoughts?” he said, his voice reflecting his smile.

  “I don’t know. Nothing worth sharing really. Just that I’m happy, which considering the day I’ve had is pretty damn surprising.”

  “Alcohol has a way of leveling the emotional playing field.”

  She shook her head, slowing to look up at him. “I don’t think it’s only the whiskey.” She tilted her head, her eyes searching his, and then with a yelp, she tripped on a rock and went flying. For a moment, she saw the ground looming hard and unforgiving, and then Rafe’s hand closed around her upper arm, pulling her upright again.

  She shook her head, her vision swimming. “Okay, so maybe you were right. Maybe it is the whiskey.” She drew in a slow breath and lifted her chin, realizing only then that they were standing inches apart.

  One minute, she was staring into the deep blue of his eyes, and the next, he was kissing her—not with the hesitant exploration of a first-time lover, but with the full-blown passion of someone comfortable taking what he wanted. In any other setting, at any other time, every warning bell in her body would have been clanging, but sensation overrode any chance at clear thought.