CHAPTER EIGHT

Conor said nothing as they walked through the gardens by the big house. He'd missed this more than just about anything. Except the food. And the people. And, well, almost everything. He took a deep breath, gently running his hands over the tops of the hydrangea bushes.

"This is extraordinary," whispered Sydney. "I don't know a lot about plants, but I've never seen anything like this. Literally. I mean, I've never seen some of these plants before in all my life."

"That's part of what I was talking about. We have plants here that are so rare, so unique, only Mama Irene and Claudette know what they are and what they can be used for. Once in a while, Mama Irene will display her orchids or roses at a horticulture show. She might bring in something rare for others to see and perhaps grow themselves, but all this is her baby."

She nodded, bending down to inhale the fragrance of the jasmine. She shook her head in disbelief. The smell was so pronounced she thought it must be chemically induced. Yet it was as if it cleared her mind of all the junk, and suddenly, there was clarity.

"I think I've lost my job, Conor," she whispered with a tear in her eye. "I don't think I'll get it back."

"I would think with your godfather being the POTUS, that can be fixed," he smiled.

"No. No," she said, shaking her head. "I have always said that if I can't do it on my own, I don't want it. No one knows about him being my godfather except all of you. Besides, that would only create animosity with the other agents. I keep trying to think of someone that would want me out of North Korea other than the North Koreans. I don't like Shatnick. He's an asshole, but I don't think he's betraying his country."

"You don't think he's selling secrets?" he asked.

"No. He was the one who told me where they were holding you. That's why I went back for you. He was pissed that your men, your team here, came in and got you, but not for the reasons you think. He knew that I was going to try and find you, and he was worried that I'd be captured again."

"He was worried that you might get recaptured," nodded Conor. "Did you and him, I mean, did you two…"

"Do not even go there, or you will piss me off. No. Shatnick is old enough to be my father. He knew that someone was feeding information to the North Koreans and that I would be caught right in the middle of it if I weren't careful."

"I know he wasn't feeding anyone information. He was helping me. He played the overanxious asshole, but behind the scenes, we were meeting to discuss what was happening. He helped me to take photos of the jet and then we doctored them, making modifications with a program that my team here developed."

"Did someone help you with that? Maybe someone that would have told someone else?"

"No. I'm pretty tech-savvy. I've learned from the best," he grinned. "We doctored the photos ourselves and did a damn fine job. But someone took the bait and found those doctored photos and gave them to the North Koreans."

"Someone turned me in," she said quietly. "They turned me in and left me to die in a Korean prison. If I hadn't had such a good relationship with my employer, I might still be sitting there."

"Which brings us back to the original question. Why did you come back for me? And don't feed me bullshit about being cute, or the POTUS asking it of you, or whispers." Sydney swallowed, taking a seat on the stone bench.

"It really was all of those reasons, Conor. It was such a stroke of luck, or misfortune, that they picked you up while they had just picked me up. I'd been given your photo and told to watch out for you, but I never thought I'd find you in that damn truck."

"You called me an arrogant American," he smirked.

"I did. And I meant it. You were being a smart-ass, even knowing that they were going to kick the shit out of you. You continued to be a smart-ass and poke at them, even when they were beating you."

"Let's be clear," he smiled, "I let them kick the shit out of me." Sydney laughed, shaking her head at him. He really was arrogant.

"What did you mean when you spoke to me in French? You said, ‘the general is lying.' If it wasn't Shatnick, who was it?"

"Jun Seo Park. General of the North Korean army. Torturer of thousands of political prisoners. The day before we left Pyongyang, he gave a speech in the square. He said that the Americans were planning on attacking North Korea, with their other enemies, South Korea, China, and Japan, as their allies. He's intentionally stirring the pot with the most powerful nations in the world."

"He might think they have an advantage now that they've built their version of the jet," said Sydney.

"Well, he'll be damn surprised when he figures out that he doesn't have an advantage and that his jet is going to fall apart mid-air the first time he attempts to fire a weapon from it," said Conor, pacing back and forth in front of her. She stared at the long, muscular legs flexing as he moved. He reminded Sydney of a big cat prowling for his next meal. Her eyes followed up to the wide, muscular chest, then back down to his feet. Those big, long, impressive feet.

"Damn," she muttered.

"Everything okay?" he asked, staring at her.

"Oh, yes. I'm still just trying to figure out how you're walking around without any problems."

"Come with me," he said, holding out his hand.

She stared into his eyes, then down at the long, lean fingers. Settling her hand in his, he pulled her to her feet, and they walked down the long path, curving and twisting around trees and foliage.

At one point, Sydney thought for sure she saw a gorilla, but that wasn't possible. Was it? As they rounded one of the corners of the path, a beautiful pond came into view. The water was so crystal clear she thought it might be a swimming pool.

"This is beautiful," she said, releasing his hand. It immediately felt wrong. Cold. Lonely. She wiggled her fingers, shaking her hand as if to shake the feeling of his touch. It didn't work.

"This is the pond, Sydney. We don't know why. We can't explain it, but it has tremendous medicinal and healing properties. I came out here early this morning and took a swim."

"A swim? Conor, come on. You swam in the pond, and you were healed?" she asked with a doubtful expression.

"Yep," he grinned. "Check it out for yourself. Are you hurting anywhere?"

"Just my shoulder. They did quite a number on it when they had me tied up in that cell. It hasn't healed right."

"Okay, have at it." She started to walk toward the dock, kicking off her shoes. Conor gripped her arm, shaking his head.

"Naked."

"Nice try, big boy."

"I'm serious, Sydney. You have to get naked to get in. The bin has robes and towels in it. I'll turn my back like a good boy." Sydney stared at him, then back at the pond. What other explanation could it be that he was upright in perfect health? She nodded as he turned.

"Alright," she said. "I'm naked. Now what?"

"Just lower yourself in," he said, trying to control the visions in his head. He heard the splash of water and turned to see her soft, round shoulders above the surface. Swallowing, he couldn't help but see the perfect breasts in the clear water, her legs kicking back and forth.

"Swim back and forth for a minute. Get all the way in," he said. She ducked her head beneath the water and swam to the ledge, then back again. Moving her shoulder in every direction, she looked up at him.

"This can't be. It can't be."

"It can be," he smiled. "Feeling better?"

"I'm feeling perfect. Absolutely perfect," she laughed.

Without thinking, she climbed onto the deck, standing before him naked. Her long black hair clung to her body, strands winding around her curves. Conor looked down at her, then up at her face. The water running down her naked flesh.

"Uh, maybe let me grab you a towel," he said, not moving from his spot.

"Oh, shit. Sorry, Conor," she said, turning her back to him. He just stood there, now staring at her ass. "Conor? Towel, please."

"Right. Towel." He handed her the towel, turning his back so that she could get dressed again.

"I'm dressed," she said quietly.

"Sorry about that. But when I see a beautiful woman standing naked in front of me, I tend to look." She nodded at him, trying to walk past him, but he wouldn't budge.

"Conor," she whispered.

"You said I was cute," he smirked.

"Conor."

"I think you're fucking beautiful. I think you're beautiful, brave, smart, and sexy as shit," he said in a low raspy voice. "And unless you punch the shit out of me, I'm going to kiss you."

Conor bent down, gripping the back of her neck as he pulled her closer. Her lips were soft and warm, molding to his own as she gripped his waist. Pulling her closer, he pressed her body against his own, feeling the curves that he'd seen glistening in the sunlight. Sydney pulled back, staring up at him in a daze.

"You should have kissed me when I was naked," she said without thinking.

"If I had, we'd be in that pond together right now and not coming out any time soon."