HOT SECRETS: A Hostile Operations Team - Book 13

by Lynn Raye Harris

  Sky stood and strolled over to her. “We’ve been ordered to take eight hours rest.”

  “But the code…”

  “Is still being analyzed. It could take days. You know that.”

  She rubbed her forehead. “Yeah. I’d hoped we’d get it soon though.”

  “I hoped so too.” He jerked his head toward the door. “Come on. Let’s get back to our rooms and get some sleep. It’ll go by fast and then we’ll be on the job again.”

  “Unless they figure it out while we’re gone.”

  “If they figure it out, we’ll be working on a patch.”

  Bliss sighed. That much was true. Analyzing the code was only part of the job. She stood, her body aching, her limbs protesting after so long on her ass. That was one bad thing about being a computer geek. You sat on your ass way too much, and that wasn’t healthy. Add in the typical diet—fast food, snacks, and sodas—and it’s a wonder anybody lived a long life in the IT business.

  It didn’t take long to pass through the security checkpoints and get back down to the guest suites. After the things they’d said to each other, her nerves were frayed. What would happen when they reached their destination?

  “How many of these rooms are there?” she asked as they walked down a different hall than they’d been in the last time.

  Sky threw her a glance over his shoulder. “I don’t know exactly. A few. This building is designed to house operations and personnel in the event of war. I’ve never asked how many there are. I just know if we need to use them all, it’s pretty fucking bad out there in the world. As it is, there are always a few in use. Visiting personnel, missions, things like that.”

  He took a turn and led them down a hall she recognized, stopping in front of her room. “Home sweet home,” he declared. He made no move to close the distance between them.

  She stared up at him, part of her not wanting him to leave, her body prickling with heat and longing. Loneliness threatened to suffocate her. But she couldn’t ask him to stay. Not after everything. He’d been the one to kiss her, the one to tell her that he wanted her first. What if he’d gotten that urge under control now? She’d open herself up to hurt and ridicule if he’d changed his mind.

  “Thanks,” she said a bit hoarsely, fingering the key in her back pocket.

  “I’m just next door. If you need anything.”

  All that talk about woke urges and nothing was happening. Nothing was going to happen. Sky was in control of himself.

  “Thanks, Sky. I appreciate it.”

  He hesitated for a long moment. She thought he might break—but instead he backed away. “Message me in the morning when you’re ready. You still need an escort to the secure areas.”

  “I will.” He turned and headed for his door. She slipped the key from her pocket, laid it against the card reader, and went inside.

  Alone.

  Chapter Twelve

  No matter how she tried, she couldn’t sleep. Bliss had showered and gotten into bed. Then she’d turned on the television and flipped through the news channels. There’d been no new information about anything involving Martin or her. She didn’t know if that was due to something Mendez had done or if she’d just missed the stories, but her eyes drooped and she switched the TV off, certain sleep was coming.

  Except it didn’t. Her heart kept pounding and her mind kept racing and all she could think of was Sky kissing her earlier and then Sky following her into the bathroom and telling her he still wanted her. He’d been so angry about it though. Conflicted.

  After another half hour of tossing and turning, she reached for her laptop and flipped it open, pulling herself into a sitting position. If she couldn’t sleep, she might as well lurk. She logged in to Tor, the secure browser used by people who wanted to explore anonymously, and surfed over to the forums she was looking for. She’d only been there about five minutes when a chat window opened.

  Sky: Why are you still awake?

  Why are you? she fired back. She didn’t wonder how he knew she was online. They were on the same Wi-Fi. He could probably see who was logged in to it. She hadn’t been here long enough to have that kind of access. Obviously he had.

  Sky: Keyed up.

  Me too. I tried to sleep. It didn’t happen.

  Sky: You see that door on the wall in the living area when you walked into your room?

  Yes.

  Sky: You know where it leads, right?

  Her heart throbbed a painful beat. Yes.

  Sky: If we both unlock it, we can join our rooms.

  She thought about that. You confuse me, Sky. You say you’re woke, but you didn’t try anything when we were standing in the hall together. And now you are? What’s going on?

  Sky: I just want to talk. I feel like we didn’t do enough of that before, you know?

  She did know. They’d fallen into bed, and then they’d had the most superficial of relationships before they’d fallen into a marriage neither of them were prepared for. They’d talked about where they came from, that kind of thing, but all superficially.

  Can’t we do that here?

  Sky: We could, but these words aren’t as secure as real ones.

  She hesitated. And then she made up her mind. My place or yours?

  Sky: Wherever you want.

  Yours, then. You can fix me a cup of decaf.

  Sky: Deal.

  Bliss slapped the computer closed, then got up and dragged on yoga pants. She didn’t put on shoes and she didn’t put on a bra. Maybe she should, but she’d been married to Sky and she just didn’t care. She was too tired to put it back on again anyway.

  Sucking in a breath, she smoothed her stomach and thighs, then padded to the door in the living room and twisted the lock. She turned the knob… and the door swung open.

  Sky stood in the kitchenette, filling the Keurig coffee maker with water before popping in a decaf K-Cup. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, and her mouth went dry. So much smooth muscle. So many tattoos. He’d gotten several more in the past four years. He looked up, a lock of dark hair falling over his forehead, and smiled.

  Oh God, she didn’t know if she could do this. Bliss pressed a hand to her tummy and crossed the threshold into the living area that adjoined hers. It was identical. Small, furnished with a couch, two chairs, two end tables and a coffee table. There was a television on the wall, identical to the one in the bedroom.

  “Sit wherever you like,” he said as he pressed the button on the Keurig. The machine burbled to life, and she dropped onto the couch, thinking she should have asked for wine instead. Not that he had any. The rooms were supplied with coffee, tea, and basic snacks—but not alcohol.

  When the coffee finished, he brought it to her along with creamer and a stirrer. He had a bottle of water that he twisted the cap off of and took a drink before settling into the chair beside her.

  “Thanks,” she said as she peeled the foil off the creamer. “You remembered.”

  “I’d take credit for it, but I saw what you put in your coffee yesterday in the motel room.”

  She lifted the cup and blew on the steam. “I’m still impressed. You had to pay attention.”

  “I do that pretty well, actually.”

  Yes, he would have to, being Special Ops. “What did you want to talk about?”

  He sighed and leaned his head back on the chair. “I thought I knew, but it’s harder this way, isn’t it? Not as easy to say shit.”

  “True.”

  “I just thought— Hell, I don’t know. I guess I wanted to talk to you about the things you said before. Cricket Hollow, your parents. Why didn’t you tell me about that stuff earlier?”

  “Really, Sky? You don’t know?”

  He shook his head. “No, I don’t. Humor me.”

  She sighed. “You, Harvard educated, so refined—and you have to ask? You know which fork to use, which wineglass goes with which wine, and how to write the perfect thank-you note. Hell, you wear polo shirts for casual wear, and your shirt cuffs are
monogrammed. I noticed the cuffs that first night we met. It intrigued me. I’d seen a lot of monogrammed cuffs in the casinos, but never on a man as young and beautiful as you.”

  He was frowning, but it wasn’t an angry frown. More like puzzled. “Really? You noticed my cuffs? Why?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Sky, honestly. You’re so hot and gorgeous—and there you were, looking like snooty come to town to let his hair down. Yes, I noticed the cuffs. You were in a bar with your military pals. It was chilly enough there were guys in shirtsleeves—but you were the only one with monograms and cuff links.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “You were drawn by the glint of light off the cuff links, weren’t you?”

  “Drawn, no. Intrigued, yes.” She frowned and stared at her coffee. He already knew the truth, though she hadn’t told him everything. “I was there for you, Sky. You were the newest to Tucker’s team, and the best. You were my target. I wasn’t planning to sleep with you though. Get to know you, string you along, get the goods.”

  “Two hours later, we were in bed.”

  “Not what I’d planned.”

  “Back to Cricket Hollow,” he said. “You didn’t tell me where you were from because of my family.”

  “Because of you. You were refined, like I said. I was out of my depth with you. I thought that if you knew where I really came from, you’d think less of me. I was ashamed.”

  “I told you what my dad did. How he cheated people out of their life’s savings. How in the hell was that not worse?”

  “Rich people. Y’all were rich people. My family lives in a mining town and sells meth—there’s no comparison.”

  He sighed. “Bliss—baby. Scumbags are scumbags. Doesn’t matter whether they put on suits and ties or wear faded jeans and T-shirts.”

  “I know. But that didn’t make you any less intimidating. You went to Harvard. Your momma was a debutante. Hell, your brother plays in the NFL—you told me those things and I was in awe. How could I tell you where I came from?”

  He fixed her with a steady gaze. “I don’t know. But I wish you had.”

  “Does it change anything about us? Make it better?”

  His frown was deep. “No, it doesn’t make it better. But I might have understood if I’d known.”

  She set the coffee down and leaned forward to stare into his eyes. “No, you wouldn’t have understood. Your moral compass is black and white. There are no gray areas. I lied to you because I had to, and then I lied to you because I didn’t know how to tell you the truth and keep you at the same time. I was trying to figure it out when you learned I was the one who’d hacked Tucker’s computer.”

  He rubbed a hand over his eyes, closed them for a second and breathed in and out. In and out. “Yeah, okay. Maybe you have a point.”

  “I know I do.”

  “My father—you know he cheated people out of their life’s savings. He’d been entrusted with managing their portfolios, making money for their retirements—and he lied. He invested badly, stole—and a lot of those people were bankrupted beyond their ability to ever recover. Some—” He dragged in a breath. Fixed his gaze on her. His eyes were sad, troubled. Angry. “Some of them committed suicide because they had nothing left. My dad caused that. My dad.”

  Bliss’s belly ached and her throat went dry. “You never told me that. I’m so sorry.”

  “Seems like we never told each other quite a few things, huh?” He tipped the water at her in a mock salute and then took a huge swig.

  She got it now. The anger, the rage, the inability to forgive her. His dad had cheated people out of money and some had lost their lives. She’d exposed Major Tucker’s dirty deals with foreign intelligence and he’d taken his life. They weren’t the same thing, and yet they were in a twisted way. Her actions caused a death. Sky’s father’s actions did the same.

  And both acts had cost him dearly. His life upended both times. Everything he thought he knew exposed for a cruel fiction. No wonder he’d been so furious with her. So unwilling to listen.

  Bliss took a deep breath, digging down into her recesses for all the hurt and anger she’d felt growing up. She kept that hidden because she was ashamed. But Sky deserved the truth. He deserved to know why she was the way she was. What had made her.

  “My parents weren’t married and my father died in prison before I was old enough to remember him,” she began. “And my mother had quotas.”

  He tilted his head as if he didn’t understand. She held up a hand, silencing any questions. She’d get it out in her own way.

  “Quotas for how much we produced in the family business—theft, dealing, didn’t matter. If I didn’t meet them, she threatened to send me to my Uncle Junior. Junior was the pimp in the family. I learned to steal and I kept stealing because of him. Because I didn’t want to be punished with that.”

  He was staring at her, eyes wide and horrified. She kept on going, knowing it was ugly. Knowing he might not ever look at her the same way again. That he might pity her. She would hate that, but maybe it was necessary in order to let him heal.

  “Yes, I can palm wallets. Yes, I’ve haunted casinos and preyed on rich old men with money and healthy senses of entitlement about the women they hit on. But I got out of that life as soon as I could and I haven’t looked back. I never got to go to college—it wasn’t in the cards for me, coming from where I did, even with my test scores. I didn’t take those things seriously and I didn’t know that doing the best I could might get me a full-ride scholarship. When I was old enough, I hired out my skills to the highest bidder and in service to my nation—or so they told me. Do I really know if all I’ve done was in the nation’s best interests? No, I guess I don’t. But I sure hope so. That was my intention.” She sucked in a breath. “All I ever did, I did to escape. I used to dream at night about home—about being under my mother’s control again and being forced to work for Uncle Junior. And you know what? I probably would do anything it took not to go back there, even if I knew that what I was being paid to do was wrong.”

  There, she’d said it. She’d admitted her darkest fears. She believed what she did for the CIA was right, and she believed what she did for private companies was between them and their competitors. She’d never believed it was dangerous or detrimental. But if she did, would she do it anyway?

  Maybe she would if the alternative was returning to Cricket Hollow and being under her mother’s thumb—or Uncle Junior’s.

  He reached over and put his hand on her arm. Squeezed. Let go. “I’m sorry, Bliss. I wish I’d known.”

  She gripped the steaming coffee in both hands. She’d barely drunk any, so she took another sip. “I wouldn’t have told you. I was too embarrassed and certain you were too good for me. I never expected it to last—and I was right, but I didn’t take into account what I did to sabotage us.”

  “You weren’t the only one. It takes two.”

  “I didn’t know how Major Tucker’s exposure and suicide would affect everyone who worked for him. Y’all were collateral damage, but nobody told me that when I was sent in.”

  He gave her a look of mild disbelief. “You didn’t already guess?”

  “No, I really didn’t. I believed that he’d be exposed and removed and you’d get a different commanding officer. I didn’t know they’d shut the program down, or that those of you who worked for him would be viewed with suspicion by the Army. It never occurred to me.”

  He didn’t say anything for a long moment. And then he leaned his head back on the cushion, staring up at the ceiling. “You know something, Bliss? I actually believe you.”

  He couldn’t believe he was saying it after all this time—after four years of anger and bitterness—but he’d finally come to believe that Bliss hadn’t intended for him to get caught up in the maelstrom surrounding Major Tucker’s treason. He still didn’t like that she’d lied about her background, that she’d married him and didn’t tell him the truth of who she worked for or where she came from, but maybe he kinda
understood that too.

  Maybe.

  She didn’t say anything, and he rolled his head on the back of the chair, turning to look at her. She was staring, her jaw slack.

  “What? You didn’t think I could change my mind? Or admit that I might have been wrong?”

  Her mouth closed. “After four years, no, not really. You’ve been pretty adamant in your beliefs.”

  “Yeah, well, I used to believe my dad was a great guy—and look where that got me.” He sounded bitter. Because he was bitter, dammit. Maybe he’d had too much privilege that he took for granted growing up, maybe he’d needed a lesson or two in humility, but he’d have liked to have had them without innocent people getting hurt. Without his family fracturing and falling apart.

  “I’m sorry, Sky. I never believed my parents were great people, so I don’t know what that’s like. I imagine it was rough though.”

  “Yeah, it was. I had no advance warning. I found out the same way everyone else did—the day he was arrested and it made national news. It was like Bernie Madoff all over again, but it was my dad. My mom crying on camera, the media circus surrounding them, the endless questions and speculation. I left school and went home, but there was no home anymore. The government seized everything, including our trust funds, which were supposed to be untouchable. There was nothing left. Needless to say, Harvard was out. I had scholarships, but not a full ride. I gave them up because I was too pissed to go back. Probably not the brightest thing I ever did, but I needed a change after my dad’s arrest. So I joined the Army—upset my mother so much she didn’t speak to me for three months. My brother, Storm, was on a football scholarship to Stanford, so he stayed.”

  Storm was a year older and he’d been in his senior year. He’d been determined to make the NFL, so he’d stayed and worked toward that goal. Sky hadn’t had a concrete goal he’d been pursuing, so when their father was arrested, it was as if the ground beneath his feet was cut away. Everything he thought he’d known was a lie. The people he’d grown up with shunned him. His classmates looked down their noses at him.