His guilt over her death drove him to the heights of rage and the valleys of sorrow. They'd come for him on that fall afternoon - not her. Not once since that tragic day had he slept soundly, and tonight would be no different. It had been two years since a bomb had destroyed his home on the Chesapeake Bay, killing his wife and the child she was carrying.

Beyond the open balcony doors the waves rolled onto the beach. Candles danced with the breeze and threw a faint light on the slow-turning blades and the dark, stained timber rafters above. Pulling himself away from her, he rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling fan. Forcing him to think about things he wished he could forget, but knew he never would. He could sense it gnawing at the edge of his psyche. He hadn't felt this alive in a long time, though guilt was still hovering in the recesses of his conscience, waiting to come rushing back at any moment. He lay still for a long moment, completely intoxicated by the smell and touch of the beautiful woman lying next to him. Rapp kissed her bare shoulder, nudged a lock of her silky, black hair with his nose and listened to her breathing. The warm, humid air, the crashing surf, the shots of tequila all coalesced to create a situation of overwhelming sexual tension. And then they arrived at the private villa overlooking the tranquil beach. Neither knowing for sure if it would ever go to that next level. The tension had built for the better part of a year. There had been signposts furtive glances, comments made only half in jest. This moment had not been part of the plan, but it shouldn't have surprised him. His body was pressed against hers front to back, her head resting on his arm. Mitch Rapp ran his hand along her smooth, naked thigh, up to her waist, and then down along her flat stomach.

Protect and defend by vince flynn