Chapter 6
They continued on, jogging, for several more miles, heading out of the bustling city center and into a more run-down industrial area. Outwardly serene, inwardly Irina was shaken. The embrace with Jack in the alley, designed to deceive the patrolling soldiers, had been just a little too real for comfort. Jack. She could still feel his lips on hers, his hands roaming her body. Her response. Her step faltered, then recovered.
She had to focus on the mission. It was not much comfort to know that she had been right about Sloane. She knew that he would move heaven and earth to gain access to her Rambaldi knowledge. The brazenness of his earlier attempt meant that he must have strong connections in this city. Sloane would try to encircle them to keep them from escaping. She glanced sideways at the man running next to her. Sloane would kill him in a heart- beat if he captured him again.
Jack appeared to be easily keeping pace with Irina, but it was only pride that kept him going. A long-distance runner in college, he knew he should be in much better shape than she was, locked up in a cell for 6 months. But his chest felt like it was on fire, each deep breath a sharp pain, as his bruised chest rubbed up against the Kevlar which had saved his life. Even so, he wasn't going to be the one that called for a stop. Besides, the pain distracted him from what he knew he would be concentrating on otherwise. Irina. He didn't know what had come over him in the alley - the feel of her in his arms again, the smell of her hair, her hands on his body - but another minute and he would not have been able to stop. He shuddered. He needed to focus on the mission.
Irina slowly swung open the door into an abandoned building on the outskirts of the city. Dust was everywhere. Through the dim light, Jack could see the outlines of broken furniture. Irina wrinkled her nose in distaste. "We should be safe here for the night," she said reluctantly. She carefully picked her way across the room, stumbling once or twice in the gloom. Jack followed and joined her as she eyed a lumpy mattress on the floor with disfavor. "My cell is looking better all the time," she said acerbically.
"Where are we?" asked Jack, surveying their new accommodations. So much for a first-class room, he thought to himself gloomily.
"About 4 miles east of the hotel. I've used this spot before. We won't be disturbed."
Jack passed on the opportunity to ask how and when she had used it before. "The backup extraction plan has us meeting a chopper at dawn tomorrow. About another 2 miles east," he estimated, recalling the map he had memorized. "Looks like we've got about 8 hours in this dum-, uh, place."
Jack carefully lowered himself into a chair that looked only marginally capable of sustaining his weight. He winced. Now that the immediate need to flee was behind them, he became even more aware of his chest, throbbing painfully from the impact of the bullet.
He looked up to see Irina regarding him carefully. "Sorry about that," she said sympathetically. "Are you okay?"
"Fine," he lied. "Thank goodness your aim is good, anyway," he continued lightly. Recognizing that something more might be required he hesitated, then formed the words that were stuck in his throat. "Thanks. For handling Sloane," he finished, inarticulately. He didn't feel comfortably being in her debt, even temporarily.
"I suspect we'll both be off Arvin's Christmas card list," Irina responded drily.
Jack cautiously drew another deep breath and winced again.
"Let me take a look," said Irina briskly, waving at him to take off his shirt.
"I'm *fine*," said Jack, glaring at her.
For heaven's sake, thought Irina, they had slept together for 10 years. "Jack," she said impatiently, "I'm not going to seduce you." She ignored the little voice in her head that speculated on how much fun that might be. He wasn't ready yet. Focus. "We're going to need to work together, and I need to know if there are things you can't do because you're injured. Take off your shirt, or," she finished forcefully, "I'll do it for you."
"Think you could?" Jack challenged wearily. Seeing the answer in her eyes, he sighed and stood up. Stiffly he unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it to one side, then fumbled with the chest shield straps. As he lifted it off, he saw Irina's eyebrows raise. He looked down and saw a large purplish bruise forming across his chest. Irina reached out, gently probing, testing for broken bones. He closed his eyes and swallowed as her cool fingers gently traced the outline of the bruise. Focus. He groaned inwardly.
As Jack closed his eyes, Irina took a moment to gaze admiringly at the man in front of her. He had aged well. How easy it would be to lean down and lightly kiss the bruises. She realized, with a start, that she was stroking his chest. Giving herself a shake, she finished examining him, then announced evenly, "Nothing broken."
Jack opened his eyes, his expression unreadable. He turned away to shrug on his shirt, trying to keep control. He cursed himself for being so vulnerable - where just her touch could arouse him. The next 8 hours seemed impossibly long. Somehow, he hadn't anticipated that the greatest danger on this mission was just being in the same room with Irina Derevko.
They continued on, jogging, for several more miles, heading out of the bustling city center and into a more run-down industrial area. Outwardly serene, inwardly Irina was shaken. The embrace with Jack in the alley, designed to deceive the patrolling soldiers, had been just a little too real for comfort. Jack. She could still feel his lips on hers, his hands roaming her body. Her response. Her step faltered, then recovered.
She had to focus on the mission. It was not much comfort to know that she had been right about Sloane. She knew that he would move heaven and earth to gain access to her Rambaldi knowledge. The brazenness of his earlier attempt meant that he must have strong connections in this city. Sloane would try to encircle them to keep them from escaping. She glanced sideways at the man running next to her. Sloane would kill him in a heart- beat if he captured him again.
Jack appeared to be easily keeping pace with Irina, but it was only pride that kept him going. A long-distance runner in college, he knew he should be in much better shape than she was, locked up in a cell for 6 months. But his chest felt like it was on fire, each deep breath a sharp pain, as his bruised chest rubbed up against the Kevlar which had saved his life. Even so, he wasn't going to be the one that called for a stop. Besides, the pain distracted him from what he knew he would be concentrating on otherwise. Irina. He didn't know what had come over him in the alley - the feel of her in his arms again, the smell of her hair, her hands on his body - but another minute and he would not have been able to stop. He shuddered. He needed to focus on the mission.
Irina slowly swung open the door into an abandoned building on the outskirts of the city. Dust was everywhere. Through the dim light, Jack could see the outlines of broken furniture. Irina wrinkled her nose in distaste. "We should be safe here for the night," she said reluctantly. She carefully picked her way across the room, stumbling once or twice in the gloom. Jack followed and joined her as she eyed a lumpy mattress on the floor with disfavor. "My cell is looking better all the time," she said acerbically.
"Where are we?" asked Jack, surveying their new accommodations. So much for a first-class room, he thought to himself gloomily.
"About 4 miles east of the hotel. I've used this spot before. We won't be disturbed."
Jack passed on the opportunity to ask how and when she had used it before. "The backup extraction plan has us meeting a chopper at dawn tomorrow. About another 2 miles east," he estimated, recalling the map he had memorized. "Looks like we've got about 8 hours in this dum-, uh, place."
Jack carefully lowered himself into a chair that looked only marginally capable of sustaining his weight. He winced. Now that the immediate need to flee was behind them, he became even more aware of his chest, throbbing painfully from the impact of the bullet.
He looked up to see Irina regarding him carefully. "Sorry about that," she said sympathetically. "Are you okay?"
"Fine," he lied. "Thank goodness your aim is good, anyway," he continued lightly. Recognizing that something more might be required he hesitated, then formed the words that were stuck in his throat. "Thanks. For handling Sloane," he finished, inarticulately. He didn't feel comfortably being in her debt, even temporarily.
"I suspect we'll both be off Arvin's Christmas card list," Irina responded drily.
Jack cautiously drew another deep breath and winced again.
"Let me take a look," said Irina briskly, waving at him to take off his shirt.
"I'm *fine*," said Jack, glaring at her.
For heaven's sake, thought Irina, they had slept together for 10 years. "Jack," she said impatiently, "I'm not going to seduce you." She ignored the little voice in her head that speculated on how much fun that might be. He wasn't ready yet. Focus. "We're going to need to work together, and I need to know if there are things you can't do because you're injured. Take off your shirt, or," she finished forcefully, "I'll do it for you."
"Think you could?" Jack challenged wearily. Seeing the answer in her eyes, he sighed and stood up. Stiffly he unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it to one side, then fumbled with the chest shield straps. As he lifted it off, he saw Irina's eyebrows raise. He looked down and saw a large purplish bruise forming across his chest. Irina reached out, gently probing, testing for broken bones. He closed his eyes and swallowed as her cool fingers gently traced the outline of the bruise. Focus. He groaned inwardly.
As Jack closed his eyes, Irina took a moment to gaze admiringly at the man in front of her. He had aged well. How easy it would be to lean down and lightly kiss the bruises. She realized, with a start, that she was stroking his chest. Giving herself a shake, she finished examining him, then announced evenly, "Nothing broken."
Jack opened his eyes, his expression unreadable. He turned away to shrug on his shirt, trying to keep control. He cursed himself for being so vulnerable - where just her touch could arouse him. The next 8 hours seemed impossibly long. Somehow, he hadn't anticipated that the greatest danger on this mission was just being in the same room with Irina Derevko.
