Free Sniper Fire (Love in the Crosshairs) by Kathy Lane Page A

crotch it caused him to jerk in her direction. He ran his hands up her thighs to those hips, holding her in place. If they were doing this, he wanted to live in this moment, savor it, draw it out ’til the end of time. He never wanted it to end.
    Farrah leaned down and pressed her lips to his. Even as he groaned and reached for more, a hated voice started up in his head accompanied by a warning siren.
    She’s not yours. She’ll never be yours. She belongs to Joshua. You’re betraying him. You’re betraying them both!
    Guilt, heavy and relentless, rose like an oily tide, wiping out his desire between one breath and the next. As usual, anger followed. Why did he have to stand silently by while Joshua romanced the one woman in the world who set him on fire? True, he and Joshua were as close as any brothers born, but did that mean he had to step aside without a fight? He wanted Farrah, needed her, like clover needed sunshine.
    The warning siren grew louder. He might want Farrah, but there was no guarantee she wanted him in return, was there? No sure way to know if, back in high school, if Kyle had asked her out first instead of Joshua, her heart would lean more toward him than his best friend.
    Besides, he thought bitterly as reality began blotting out his dream, she didn’t like soldiers. Soldiers, killers, they were all the same to her.
    Above him, the woman of his dreams gave him a sad smile before fading to mist.
    A thump and bump, followed by a stab of physical pain jolted Kyle awake. He grimaced, partly because of the pain, and partly because the shrill siren of his dream became all too real. The noise drilled into his head, making it throb. A soft, cool hand slipped across his forehead, gentle fingers smoothing away the wrinkles gathered there. The hand slid its way to his cheek and he turned his face into its soothing presence. He breathed in. Alcohol, latex, some kind of strong soap, and…Farrah?
    “Hey, you awake?”
    Yeah…Farrah. He’d know that sweet voice anywhere. Even if he could barely hear her over the annoying siren. Kyle forced his eyes open. Darkness surrounded him. He was in a vehicle. Dim light from the dashboard came from somewhere over his head. The constant glow was augmented by a periodic flash that seemed to come from the rooftop. Why was he in an ambulance?
    He let the puzzle go as Farrah leaned over him, just like in his dream. Lingering guilt made a last push at his conscience, but he shoved back hard, squelching it ruthlessly. His or not, she was a damn fine sight to wake up to.
    “Hey,” she said. “You back with us? Joshua says we’re almost at the pickup point.”
    Pickup point?
    The gates to his memory popped open, spilling out the last couple of shitty days in a mad flood. And like flood waters, some of the memories weren’t very clear at all.
    “Where…” His voice came out a croak and he stopped.
    She quickly slipped her hand beneath his head and raised it so he could sip water from the bottle she held. Déjà vu. They’d done his before, and recently. Ah, yes, the safe room. But they weren’t in the safe room under the WHO clinic now. They were in a vehicle, an ambulance by the sound of it. For some reason, the fact Farrah was beside him bothered him, but he wasn’t sure why. Things were still a bit fuzzy.
    He let the thought go for the moment, concentrating on the water bottle pressed to his lips. He rolled the tepid liquid around in his mouth, wetting every dry spot before letting it slide down his throat. When he’d had enough, Farrah lowered his head gently. She leaned back a little and Kyle finally looked past the beautiful woman busy taking his pulse. A sense of safety settled over him like a comfy warm blanket. Nothing like waking up surrounded by NightHawks.
    He met Joshua’s concerned gaze and gave his friend a weak smile. Habit had him counting the others he could see like a damn mother hen with her chicks. Finishing his count, he muttered a few quiet swear