"I do," he said, pulling out his second phone. "It's worth a shot." He read off the number to her, and she punched it into her phone.
She put the call on speaker again. The number rang four times, and then Neil answered. Her heart quickened. She hadn't really thought he'd pick up.
"It's Parisa," she said. "Please don't hang up."
"Do you know what you've done?" Neil asked, anger in his voice.
"I know that Ben is probably the only one who can save Jasmine, and you're not letting him talk to the FBI. I don't understand why."
"As I told Raj, Ben doesn’t know who took Jasmine. He was being threatened by an unknown person. All the information he had, he gave to you."
"He knows more, Neil. He knows about an explosion in Paris that's tied to a group called Brothers of the Earth."
"I'm aware of the group. It started as a peaceful group of protesters in Bezikstan, who were working toward changing policies that would be beneficial for the country. Unfortunately, extremists took over and turned it into a terror group. Ben is not a part of that."
"But the girl he was seeing, Sara Pillai—her stepbrother, Isaac Naru, is in the group. And they are both in New York City. They're probably involved in Jasmine's kidnapping, and Ben may know where Sara and Isaac are."
"He doesn't know."
"When I asked about Ben's romance in Paris, you acted like you didn't know, but you do know, don't you?"
"Ben gave me a bit more information after I spoke to you," Neil said. "He told me that Sara had gotten into some trouble, and he might be caught up in it as well."
"That's why he needs to talk to the FBI. There may be some small detail that he knows that can help."
"My lawyer has advised against it."
"Your lawyer?" she echoed. "Why are you letting a lawyer tell you what to do when you already know what's right? You taught me to think for myself, to stand up for what I believe in, to risk everything for a friend. And you didn't just tell me, you showed me, when you saved my life at great peril to your own. Please, Neil, help Jasmine. She doesn't have much time left."
"I want to help her," he said, his voice filled with pain. "But my son—I have to protect him."
"If Ben helps find Jasmine, everything will be easier for him. And I'm pretty sure Ben wants to do the right thing. When I saw him earlier, he was scared, but he was also torn up about Jasmine. He genuinely loves her. And, so do you."
Neil didn't say anything for a moment. "You're very persuasive, Parisa. No wonder Elizabeth told you where Ben was."
"I'm only telling you what you already know. Give your son a chance to prove he's the man you know him to be. Save him the way you saved me."
"I'll think about it," he grumbled. "I have to go."
The call disconnected, and she turned off her phone, feeling like she'd failed. "Well, that's that."
"You might have gotten through to him."
"I doubt it. He can't see past Ben. He's afraid for his son."
"But his son has more to fear than just the FBI."
"I know. Neil said the Brothers of the Earth started out as a group of peaceful protesters. I wonder what turned them from wanting a better life for people in Bezikstan to wanting to end the lives of people they don't even know."
"Greed—and not just for money: for power, for control, for respect."
"I should have asked Neil if he knows any members of the group still in Bezikstan."
"That's a good question for another day. The players we're interested in are already here. We just have to find them."
"I wish we could do that before tomorrow, but I don't see how." She let out a sigh.
"Tired?"
"And frustrated. There are too many missing puzzle pieces." She paused, giving him a speculative look. "Why haven't you checked in with your contact at the CIA?"
"I sent him a text when we were riding back. He hasn't answered yet."
"Interesting that you did that on the sly while I've been putting every call on speaker."
"It was just the easiest way to do it. I promise if I get a text back, I will read it to you."
"Or let me see your phone," she said.
He tipped his head. "Sure."
"Do you think we should go back to the city, Jared?"
"No. I think your friend, Damon, was right when he told you to stay off the grid."
She frowned. "I didn't join the FBI to be safe. And I can take care of myself."
"What would you do if we went back to Manhattan?"
"I don't know. I just hate waiting."
"Believe me, I share your impatience. I've been running through all the things I could have done differently so that we didn't end up here, but like I said before, regrets don't change anything. We can only move forward. Tomorrow we'll do that."
"I was really hoping we could find Jasmine before the ransom drop."
"The FBI might still find her. It sounds like there are a lot of people working around the clock."
"I hope so. At any rate, I want to go to the consulate in the morning, before the drop. If I can't be a part of the operation, I can at least stay with Anika and Kenisha."
"We'll go back to the city when the sun comes up."
"That's a long time from now."
He gave her a sexy smile. "We can play cards again. I'm sure there's a pack around here somewhere."
"Maybe." As she rolled her neck around on her shoulders, she felt a twinge of pain in her neck.
Jared's gaze narrowed. "Let me check your wound."
"It's fine."
"I want to make sure of that." He got up from his chair and switched on the light.
"You keep the lights on even though you're never here?"
He shrugged. "I like knowing the house is ready in case I need a place to go." He grabbed the bag he'd picked up from the drugstore earlier and brought it over to the table.
She took off her coat, already feeling warmer, and he hadn't even touched her yet. "When were you last here?" she asked curiously, as he pulled a chair close to her and lifted her hair off her neck.
"When I transferred the property into the trust three years ago." He paused. "I'm going to change the bandage."
"I'm sure it's fine."
"Well, I don't want you to get an infection on my watch."
"I promise not to sue you."
He smiled as he gently removed her bandage. "It looks good. No more bleeding. I'll just put a little more antiseptic cream on it."
"That stuff stings," she complained, as he opened the tube.
"You're a badass FBI agent. You can take it."
"Well, now I have to take it."
She winced as he applied the ointment but knew it was the best way to keep the wound clean. He applied a new Band-Aid, his fingers stroking the area around her neck a few seconds too long, stirring up all kinds of other feelings.
He was so damn close to her. It wouldn't take much to fall into another kiss.
But where would that lead?
She didn't want to give herself permission to answer that question. Clearing her throat, she tried to get back to what they'd been talking about. "So, three years—that's a lot of utility bills to pay for a place no one lives in. It's not just that you want to have a place to stay in if you need it, it's because you need the lights to be on at home. You need to imagine this place as it was, filled with family—your family."
He gazed into her eyes. "Maybe that's part of it."
"I told you I don't have a place that's home anymore, but there was one Christmas a year after my mom married Harry when we went to a cabin in Aspen for the holidays. And it felt like I was living inside a holiday card. There was a roaring fire, a live Christmas tree that smelled amazing, presents under a huge tree, and hot chocolate with marshmallows. But it wasn't just all those things that made me smile—it was that my mom was so happy. She and Harry would kiss under the mistletoe, accidentally getting caught there dozens of times." She smiled at the memory. "I hadn't seen her smile or
laugh like that in years. I felt the love between them and also the love they had for me. It still stands out in my mind as the perfect holiday. And sometimes when I'm far from home, or I haven't talked to my mom in a while, I let myself go there in my head."
"Have you ever actually been back?"
"No. I'm afraid to ruin my favorite daydream. I guess what I'm saying is that I can understand why you want to keep this place as it is, or as it was, even if you never come back."
"I don't want to ruin the daydream, either," he admitted.
"But you brought me here. Why?"
He thought for a moment. "Because I wanted to show it to you. And don't ask me to explain that."
She smiled as she impulsively brushed a strand of hair away from his eyes. "You don't have to explain. I know why. I'm just a little…afraid, Jared."
"The woman who never backs down from a challenge? You're afraid? Of what?"
"I don't want to hurt you."
"Or you don't want to get hurt?" he countered, his knowing gaze clinging to hers.
"Maybe a little of both. You and I—we have nowhere to go."
"I've been telling myself that since I met you. It doesn’t seem to make me want you less." He paused. "But the real question is—what do you want?"
She licked her lips and knew she had only one answer to give, one response that was honest and true and terrifying. "You, Jared. I want you."
Twenty
Parisa expected Jared to react with a kiss, not a long, contemplative stare. "Maybe the real question is what do you want?" she said, turning things around.
"I want you, too."
"Then why are you just staring at me…"
A smile slowly spread across his mouth. "I'm building anticipation."
Relief ran through her that she hadn't completely misread him. "We've had enough anticipation." She stood up and held out her hands.
He slipped his hands into hers as he rose.
"I think you'll like this even more than anticipation." She pulled him closer, then let go of his hands, so she could wrap her arms around his neck and pull his head down to hers.
As soon as their lips touched, she felt as if a thousand firecrackers went off in her head. Her blood thundered through her veins. Her heart pounded against her chest and tingles of desire ran through every nerve ending. It was like a giant ocean wave had swept her up, and she might either wipe out or have the ride of her life.
She wanted that ride. She wanted Jared with a need that was thrilling and terrifying.
With the physical connection would come emotions, and those emotions could make her vulnerable. But she wasn't thinking about what would come later, only about what would come next.
She wanted to be with Jared. She wanted to know this man even more intimately than she already did.
And Jared seemed to want the same. His hands ran under her shirt, bringing more delicious heat, as his fingers stroked her spine, sending shivers through her.
His tongue swept into her mouth, a beautiful, joyful, intimate dance.
They tasted and took what they pleased, until they both finally had to come up for air.
"Damn," he murmured, gazing down at her. "You're something else, Parisa."
"We're something else. This—us—it feels different."
"I know. I want to go fast and slow—at the same time."
She felt much the same, but right now need was driving her actions. "Take off your jacket and your shirt."
"I see we're heading for fast," he teased. He took off his black leather jacket and pulled his shirt up over his head and tossed it on the table.
She swallowed hard at the stunningly broad, flat, muscled chest in front of her, with just a smattering of dark hair. He was tan, too, as if he'd spent quite a bit of time without a shirt on. What a gorgeous man he was, but the long scar running under his right rib cage and another across his shoulder reminded her that he was also a man of many layers.
She ran her fingers along the rib cage scar. "How did you get this?"
He shrugged, as she met his gaze. "Does it matter?"
"It looks like it was serious."
"I survived."
"It doesn't look as old as the one on your shoulder."
"It was last year. I'm hoping the scars make me sexier."
"I'm not sure you could get any sexier," she said with a laugh, loving how easy it was to be with him, how real and honest it felt.
"Your turn, Parisa. I'd like to see some of the curves you're hiding under that sweater."
She licked her lips, then took off her sweater, shaking out her hair as she did so. She threw it on top of Jared's shirt, watching his gaze narrow on her breasts, as she played with the front clasp of her lacy, cream-colored bra.
"You're killing me," he said, a somewhat tortured note in his voice.
"Oh, I don't think so. We're nowhere near that."
He put his hands on her bare waist, and the heat sent another thrill of desire through her. She flicked open the clasp on her bra and then pulled it off, tossing it on the growing pile of clothes.
Jared's gaze on her breasts was filled with pure male pleasure, and whatever shyness she might have had evaporated under his hot, needy look. She took his hands and lifted them to her breasts.
Jared didn't have to be told twice what she wanted him to do, his fingers spreading across her skin, his thumbs teasing her nipples as another surge of heat swept over her. And then he kissed her again, and she felt like her insides were melting away.
"Let's go upstairs," he murmured.
"Too far away," she returned, pressing him back against the counter. "I like it here." She looked into his eyes. "In the light. I want to see you, Jared. No shadows for us tonight. You and me, out in the open, who we really are, scars and all."
His gaze darkened. "I haven't been who I really am in a long time."
"I haven't, either. But I want to be tonight. I feel like I can be myself with you. No judgment."
"No judgment," he echoed. He followed his words with a kiss, and then his lips slid down the side of her neck.
She sighed with pleasure, wanting his mouth, his hands on every part of her body.
As they kicked off their clothes, she realized the rest of Jared's body was also magnificent. He was honed, fit, powerful and very, very male.
She caught her breath as his gaze made the same appreciative trip down her body.
"Lucky me," he muttered.
"Lucky me," she said.
And then there was no more time for words, only for touching, tasting, loving…
It was wild and raw and honest—exactly what she needed. She'd been in the shadows too long, but the light was glorious, freeing…earth-shattering.
Jared made love the way he did everything: with intensity, enthusiasm, confidence, and generosity. They fell into a pace, a rhythm, that seemed as if it was theirs alone, the perfect symphony, the perfect climax, the perfect everything…
At some point, they made their way into the living room, sinking into the soft pillows of the couch, talking and laughing, and then kissing again as desire sparked once more.
* * *
Jared woke up with two thoughts: he had a beautiful woman in his arms, and the couch was damned uncomfortable. But as he tightened his arms around Parisa, the discomfort faded away. He was exactly where he wanted to be…maybe even needed to be.
He frowned at that thought, not liking the serious weight of it. He didn't want to think beyond right now. He just wanted to enjoy being in the moment.
Parisa was a mix of toughness and tenderness, cautiousness and fearlessness, optimism and pragmatism. He very much liked how she thought, how her hopes overrode her fears and her passion for her job, her friends, what was right, what was just, drove her actions. She was a force of nature, a whirlwind of beauty, and he couldn't imagine not seeing her every day, not talking to her, or laughing or competing—not sharing…everything.
But time was running out…in so many ways. The
lights of the room still bathed them in a brilliant glow that had been so important to Parisa and surprisingly important to him, too. But there was also sunlight coming in through the window blinds. Morning was rapidly approaching, and their escape from reality was almost at an end.
As if Parisa had read his mind, she moved against him, her dark eyes flickering open. She gave him a sleepy, happy look, another expression he'd like to see every morning.
"Is it morning?" she asked.
"Not quite, but soon."
"Good. I'm not ready to get up yet." She snuggled back against him.
He wasn't ready yet, either. He didn't want to move, didn't want to let her go, because he didn't know if he'd ever get her back. It was strange to be worried about that. He was usually the one who didn't know when or if he'd return. But with Parisa…she was just like him. She could be gone in the blink of an eye and that was disturbing.
"Jared?"
He looked down at her and caught her questioning gaze.
"You just got stiff," she said. "And not in a good way."
He smiled. "It's all good."
"Better than good. Last night was…real."
He nodded, knowing that he'd needed it to be as real, in the light, completely honest, because he couldn't remember the last time it had been like that. "Unfortunately, there's a lot more real stuff coming in a few hours."
"I know. But we're not there yet."
"You want to catch another hour of sleep?"
"Or…" she asked with a lift of her brow.
"Or we could test out the new mattress I have upstairs that I've never slept on."
"I like the second option."
"Me, too," he said, pulling her off the couch.
"By the way," she said, as they ran naked up the stairs. "Having seen what those pool-goers saw all those years ago, I'd have to agree that you really do have a very nice ass."
He laughed as she reminded him of the story he'd told her. "Good to know."
"You know what else I know," she said, as she pulled him down on the bed with her.
"What?"
"I'm about to blow your mind."
Elusive Promise GO PL 2 Page 19
