"Can you imagine what it would be like if I didn't have to worry about anyone but you?"
Her eyes shot open, but before Tessa could respond, the faraway sound of tires crushing gravel flittered through the parking lot. She tensed in his arms, rigid as the brick wall he leaned against.
"Did you hear that?" she asked.
"I've got it. Don't you worry about a thing."
"You're not taking this seriously."
He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. "Believe me. I am." He would fight and maim, whatever it took to end up alone and safe with her.
The vehicle moved to the far side of the lot and idled. "That's our guy. Just relax and stay with me."
She froze up. "I can't. I don't know what to do."
"Yes, you do."
Her eyes darted toward the night sky, panicked, and her muscles morphed into cement slabs.
"You handled yourself just fine earlier." He watched their enemy over her shoulder and gave her a squeeze. It's in you to pull this off. "You were a fighter. Just do what you did before."
"Tell me what's going on, Drake."
"You want a line by line?" Knowledge was control. That made sense. He fingered the tear in the fabric at the top of her shirt, playing his part as a distracted drunk.
She nodded. "Yes."
His ears strained to hear an engine cut off.
"Two guys. They see us."
She tensed again.
"Come on, girl. Relax with me. They can't know we see them."
His hands ran down her back, massaging her not-so-imaginary knots. Her tense muscles began to relax, melting all over again.
"There you go. We're going to walk around the corner soon and disappear from their line of sight after they get out of their car. I need you to play it up. Remember. I'm seducing you. You're caving. When we round the corner, I'll have to let you go to take care of this."
"Don't get hurt." She locked eyes with him, complete seriousness clouding her face.
Really? She didn't mean to lob insults, right? He choked out a harsh laugh and shook his head. "Tessa, I'm taking offense to that, just so you know. You need to say something like go get 'em, killer or my, your muscles are big."
She moved her palms over his arms. "My, your muscles are so big."
Her nervous laughter electrified him, making him want to prove she was protected. Nothing would harm her. Ever.
"Now, you're getting the idea."
"Just don't forget you're not invincible." Her smile faltered. "Okay?"
What was up with the challenges? Her timing wasn't spectacular. He'd have to bring that up when a better moment presented itself.
"I'm a lot of things, doll. But worried about getting hurt ain't one of them. Now, if you don't mind, feed me macho junk or seal that pretty mouth." She had to be crazy to question and worry over him. "It's time. Here we go."
"Okay," she whispered.
He pushed them from the wall. "Time to convince our audience we're headed to bed."
She took a step back, pulling from him, batting at his bicep. He mirrored her dance, tugged on her shirt, and tried to close the distance toward the corner of the motel.
It wasn't a hard role to play. He wanted in that motel room, behind closed doors more than he knew was possible.
Her head dropped back. Fake, flirtatious laughter floated in the air as she played her role well. Their game ignited McKay's contempt for the men watching them. Watching her. She was a sight to see, and he'd hurt them for their mere enjoyment.
He lifted her in one fluid motion, her bare feet fluttering inches over the ground, and he walked backward, one slow step at a time, nuzzling the rasp of his cheek against her skin.
Training was his savior as she let out a throaty sigh. If he didn't have a pinpoint focus on the enemy, he'd be out of control, attempting anything and everything to hear that sound again and again.
They rounded the corner, and McKay pinned Tessa against the wall, caging her. She had nowhere to go, yet his breath caught in his throat at the sheer power she held over him.
"You are—" He placed a finger over her mouth in a show of silence. "Amazing."
His rough finger looked harsh against her lips, but then Tessa untangled herself from his hold as McKay heard enemy footsteps fast approaching.
He held his hand up to her, reissuing the order to stay put and mum.
The first man came broadside. McKay struck out at him, fist balled with lightning-like wrath. Like a shot of caffeine, it rushed through him with energizing satisfaction.
The second man rushed into the fight, uncoordinated. McKay's punch plowed into doughy flesh. It gave a dull thud as the man stumbled back and dropped.
Man number one reappeared, and McKay grabbed his throat, forcing his carotid artery closed. He needed another ten seconds until the man would go limp. It'd be great if man number two would take longer than that to rebound. Trying to keep the other man down, McKay heeled number two's face onto the pavement. Just a little more time.
Five. Four. Three. Go to sleep, dude.
Man one gasped against McKay's hold, eyes bulging and veins popping. Sweat poured off him, strings of saliva running out the side of his open mouth. Man number two rolled loose and jumped back to his feet, jabbing with a knife.
McKay kept his hand on the man's throat. Waiting for lights out. He evaded a stab, jumping to the side in this game of Swiss Army hopscotch. The need to maim crawled through him. He wanted them to pay but didn't need the overkill. Tessa shouldn't witness the aftereffects of it.
And goodnight. Man one was definitely out. His legs stopped flailing. His arms hung limp. McKay dropped him onto the ground. One down, one to go.
Man number two tried for another stab. McKay snagged the offending hand, twisting an arm back and up. The knife clattered to the parking lot. The man's shoulder popped. He howled. McKay landed a punch to his head, knocking him silent, then dropped him on top of the other. You shouldn't have messed with my girl.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
McKay toed the bodies, rummaged through their pockets, and pulled out a set of car keys before he turned to Tessa. Frozen in place, she hadn't moved from the wall, stuck in her assigned spot. Her jaw was tight, her lips pressed into a straight line, and her eyes as round as the backlit 'O' in the motel sign high overhead. Her skin had paled in the dark night.
Ah, man. He'd worked so hard to make her trust him. To make her think he was safe. Now, her face screamed stranger danger, and her stance said the woman was about to beat feet. All in all, she'd reverted back to when he pulled the shoulder toss move on her post-airport.
"Tessa, honey."
Her jaw dropped and hung wordlessly. Not good. Not. Good. At. All.
"It's a terrible time for you to go into shock."
"Not. Shock."
"Whatever it is, I need you to snap out of it."
"I'm safe. You… Took care of them, just like you said."
He jangled the keys to catch her attention. Tessa focused on him, dazed. He lofted the keyring her way. She caught them one-handed while still plastered against the wall. Not a bad catch.
"Get their car and drive it over here."
She nodded, peeled away from her brick support, and obeyed without question, pulling the car around and parking it in the unlit spot he pointed at. McKay popped the trunk and tossed the first man in, then the second. He eyed the parking lot in a quick sweep. No other cars struck him as suspicious. No one exited the karaoke bar. They were all alone.
Violence had never had this effect on him before. But protecting her, isolating her from dangerous men, made him feel savagely possessive.
Her dark eyes flicked over him, and she hissed. "I told you to be careful. You could've been hurt."
He was by her side in an instant, pinning her against the wall again. He should be careful with her. But the temptation on her face, the flash in her gaze, promised it'd be impossible.
"You doubted me?"
"No, no. I didn't doubt
you. I just didn't know what else to say just then."
Not giving her a second to make the same mistake twice, he took her hands in his. It'd been too long since she had his sole attention. Everything in the parking lot was a game. All part of the dance.
He needed her embrace to wash away the violence coursing through him. The need to battle dissolved as soon as she melted into his arms. Tessa was drawn to him as he was to her, and if that wasn't one of the sweetest things ever… Miss Khakis-and-Cardigan had been so deceptive. He couldn't have predicted how, within hours, she could change from an aggravation to a temptation. Not only that, but he never would've guessed her internal strength and fortitude. She might look sugary sweet, but she was a force to be reckoned with.
"Maybe I am invincible. What'd you call me, GI Joe?"
"Would you stop!"
"Come on." He wanted to spend time with her without the threat of danger. Whatever might come of this connection, whether they could talk or touch, he didn't care. As long as they were alone. McKay pushed the door open, swooping her inside the motel room, and then kicked it shut. Finally, privacy.
But he paused, wondering what lay in this cheap, dark room. He slid his fingers along the wallpaper until he found a light switch and flicked it on. Two amber-colored bedside lamps illuminated the motel room in a dingy glow. He bet she'd never set foot in a place this dismal and seedy, and even if it was just for the moment, to regroup and plan their next move, or maybe get to know more of this mysterious, shrouded woman, she deserved better than this.
"This isn't so bad," she said as though she could read his mind and wanted to obscure her honest opinion.
"Not so great either, but there's nothing we can do to change where we are now." He hesitated, not wanting to act as though something more might happen. "We'll power down, recharge and…" He lifted a shoulder, hating that the thought of the unknown future.
McKay guided her toward the bed, encouraging her to take a load off. Given the circumstances, it wasn't a tender moment.
McKay eased onto the far corner of the bed. She scooted closer, tucking her legs underneath her. Their distance wasn't small enough that he could throw his arm over her shoulder without an awkward reach. When she laid her hand on the bed between them, he covered it with his own, letting his fingers curve over her soft skin.
Tessa let a long breath before she turned her head, facing him with trepidation highlighting her features. She turned her palm over, threading his fingers with his.
He squeezed—because he had no idea what else to do.
There was something special about Tessa. Something he didn't want to mess up, and if he moved too quickly, she was liable to smack him. Or worse, the magic bubble they'd found themselves in might pop. He didn't want to lose this feeling that ached in his chest.
Or maybe he should just take everything he could, anything she would offer, and relish it. This would all go away too soon. She was too good for him. He was too dark and dangerous for her. His world, his lifestyle. Everything said they weren't a good fit, when he never wondered before what a good fit might be.
Either way. Their time together would end, no matter if it were now or when they arrived home. He needed to make the most of it and get her out of his system. Out of his head.
McKay let go of her hand and slid his arm around her shoulder. The simple touch, one he might never have noticed before, short-circuited his head.
Tessa leaned into his hold, then she bit her lip as if she were treading in unfamiliar water as well. She glanced sideways at him and then smiled. It wasn't the reaction he expected. It was so much better.
"Don't look at me like that, Drake."
"I'm not giving you a look, doll." But there was no question that he was. He couldn't stop staring, wondering what it might be like to have a woman like Tessa on his arm.
She softly giggled and glanced away. "Yes, you are, and we both know that's not fair."
He couldn't help but smile, loving that she called him out, even if her cheeks had a pink hue to them, and she wouldn't hold his eye. Or, maybe, especially because of that. "You know there's a little saying in my line of work."
She glanced back, finally giving him her direct attention. "What's that?"
"If you find yourself in a fair fight, then you didn't plan your job correctly." He arched his brows until she laughed.
"Oh, you think you're so cute."
"I don't know about cute, but I'm something, that's for sure."
Tessa rolled her lips together. "Cute."
Then she nodded as if to certify the designation she'd given him. He was a thousand things, and cute wasn't one of them. But at that moment, listening to her certainty, it was as if he hit the slow-motion button. His chest tightened. "If you're sure."
"I am," she said.
He couldn't help but laugh. "Promise me that you won't tell anyone."
"Promise." She made a cross over her chest.
"Well." He cleared his throat. "Now that you know my secret."
"You want one of mine?"
He winked. "Tell me one that I don't know."
"Well…" She blushed. "I have a tattoo."
"No way." He shook his head. "Something true. Try again."
"I do!" She pointed down her side. "It's over here."
McKay chewed the inside of his mouth. She caught him off guard, and every time he thought he knew the woman next to him, he realized he was a thousand degrees from the truth. "What is it?"
"A symbol."
She drew her fingers over the clothes as though she was outlining the ink below.
Once he could pull his gaze from where her fingers had been, he asked, "What's it mean?"
"It means Survivor." She clasped her hands tougher in her lap, then her chin inched up. "Because that's me. I'm a survivor."
Another unanticipated fact about Tessa. "I didn't expect that."
She gave a small smile. It wasn't a soft one, nor one that she was hiding from, but more like a proud one only meant for her to feel. "I don't think you've correctly expected anything about me."
"Maybe so." And given that, perhaps she could read his mind. Though she couldn't know how taken with her he might be. Sharing secrets and close embraces in a private room weren't his typical style, but she deserved better than a man like him.
If only McKay could erase their attraction. He couldn't though. His logic took a beating as he became unable to ignore Tessa.
He grumbled and reverted to mental gymnastics instead of asking her more personal questions. McKay recounted the steps of cleaning his rifle then silently barked the phonetic alphabet. But, neither mental chore distracted him from Tessa.
She repositioned on the edge of the bed, not adding a lick of distance, but angling to face him better. "Are we even now?" she asked. "Or do you need something more?"
More. Much, much more. But he couldn't tell her that, and he attacked the phonetic alphabet again, but this time, backward. Zeta. Yankee. X-ray. Nothing helped.
"We're good, doll," he managed, though the truth was that he was far from good, and the sweetness in her smile did something barbaric to his need for her. "Promise."
CHAPTER TWELVE
Tessa zoned out next to Drake. She allowed herself no thinking or worrying. Nothing. But that didn't last long.
Her mind wandered to a place that made shivers run down her spine, even though she couldn't recall a time when she'd felt safer. The juxtaposition made her batty.
And, more than the highs and lows, beyond their chemistry and the distinct sensation of safety, she understood that they had found trust. Somehow, he wasn't a stranger anymore.
Tessa stole another glance of Drake as she needlessly repositioned, not adding a millimeter of distance between them. He seemed superhuman. Almost a figure of her imagination with his chiseled stature but with scars and battle-worn harshness. She didn't know anything like him could exist. Drake was the most handsome man to ever lay eyes on her, and if they stayed in this absurd world o
f danger and intrigue, she bet he could ask her to take down a bad guy, and she'd follow his directions, no questions asked.
"Come here," he ordered.
She ducked back under his arm as though that was where she was supposed to be. His harsh stubble grazed the side of her face, almost like he needed to nuzzle near her temple but thought she might shatter like glass if he came too close. The air was hard to breathe, and this is too much like…something more—and she didn't want something more.
She could let her mind run with this unbelievable man, but more with Drake would be impossible and unrealistic. He was simply too much.
"Are you okay, Tessa?" His voice raked a notch lower than a rumble.
"Ha," she managed. Then added, "Of course I am. I'm a survivor, remember?"
"Sarcasm," he noted.
Absolutely. Before tonight, surviving had been a mental fete more than it had been to endure physical pain. Escaping from this day forward now involved living through gunfights and saving a secret cipher. Explaining that would be impossible, and instead, she shrugged.
His eyes narrowed. "I'm sure that's part of why you've survived."
Again, absolutely, but she wouldn't admit to that. Drake was a different type of survivor, and for men like him, enduring likely yielded a far more of a physical celebration than sitting on the edge of a bed.
She just wished he wouldn't ask about her feelings while searching her face for an unspoken answer. Their breaths and the hum of the air conditioning served up the white noise. A quiet intensity. The calm after the storm. Heck, the calm after the hurricane.
Deep within that wild ride, Drake continued to say a million things without sharing a word. He locked eyes with hers. Their fire, the deep brooding that burned in his irises, ignited a heated tremor in her all over again. Shivers ran across her skin, and for a terrifying, hopeful second, she thought he might lean close and try to kiss her.
He broke away and stood, then paced until he stopped in front of her, looming like an ominous mountain.
She couldn't have tried to avoid his scrutiny but fell victim to her wandering mind as she recalled the compact definition of his shoulders and the corded muscles that crawled up his forearms. Drake was a warrior's warrior. Awareness curled down her spine.
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