by Cynthia Eden
He packed up his weapon and hurried down to her. Because lately, it was always about her.
Day and night. Whether he was awake or asleep, he was obsessed with the woman.
Cale and Logan had secured the scene by the time he got down to the front of the house, and Cale was leading some sobbing redhead from the cabin. So Sydney had been right. Hall had already taken his next victim. If they hadn’t moved then, would she have been dead by nightfall?
“Good shot.” Sydney’s voice was quiet.
Gunner’s body tensed. He knew he should hold on to his control, but...the gun had been at her temple. If Hall hadn’t hesitated, Gunner would have watched while the man put a hole in her head.
So he ignored the wide stare that Logan gave him and stalked to Sydney. He grabbed her wrist, pulled her against him. “You took too much of a risk.”
Her short blond hair shone in the light. Her cheeks stained red—he didn’t know if that red was from fury or embarrassment.
“I did my job,” Sydney said through gritted teeth, lifting her chin. “I told you that my intel indicated a new hostage. She was hidden in the closet. If I hadn’t moved in—”
He pulled her even closer. “He could have killed you.” Then what would I have done?
Her voice dropped. “You say it like that matters to you.” Her words were whispered, carrying only to his ears.
Damn it, she did matter. “Sydney...”
“You’re the one who wants to be hands-off,” she snapped with a hard flash of her green eyes. “So why are you holding on to me so tightly?”
He was. Too tightly. He dropped her wrist as if he’d been burned.
“I’m not waiting any longer,” Sydney told him as she straightened her shoulders. “Death can come at any moment, and I told you once...I’m not crawling into the grave with Slade.”
Yes, she’d told him that, when he’d made the mistake of getting too close to Sydney on their last case. They’d been trapped during a storm, forced together in a small cabin, and all he’d been able to think was...
I want her.
But he’d—barely—managed to stop himself from taking what he wanted. He did have some self-control. Unfortunately, with her, that self-control was growing weaker every day.
“I’m going to start living my life on my terms,” Sydney told him. “Consider yourself warned.”
Then she spun away. Sydney headed toward Cale and the redhead. More backup had swarmed the scene. Other EOD agents who’d come to lend their support for the rescue-and-takedown operation.
Gunner stared after Sydney, feeling...lost.
Then Logan cleared his throat. “I’ve seen that look before.”
Gunner glared at him. Logan might be the team leader for the Shadow Agents, and Gunner considered him as a friend most days, but the man should know not to—
“Better watch yourself, or you might just lose something important.”
Sydney had already walked away. Logan didn’t understand.
She was never mine to lose.
* * *
THE BAR WAS too loud. The place was packed with too many people, and coming there, well, it had been a serious mistake.
Sydney huffed out a hard breath and pushed her barely sipped drink away. She’d gotten back to the States just hours before—finally gotten a break for some serious R & R time, and she’d gone home to Baton Rouge.
But it didn’t feel like home anymore.
So many missions. So many places.
They were all blending together into a hail of gunfire and death.
“A pretty lady like you shouldn’t be sitting alone.” The voice, marked with the Cajun that she loved, came from her right.
Sydney’s gaze rose, and she found herself staring at a tall, blond man. He was handsome, with the kind of good looks that probably drew women all the time.
So why isn’t he drawing me?
She’d come to that bar to find someone like him. It seemed as if she’d been living in a void for the past two years of her life, and she wanted—so desperately wanted—to start feeling again.
The blond glanced at her drink. “Don’t you like it?”
Sydney shook her head. “It’s not what I wanted.”
He pulled up the bar stool next to her, leaned in close. “Why don’t you tell me what you want?”
A stranger, a guy who didn’t know her at all, and he looked at her with more warmth than Gunner did.
Don’t think about him. This was not supposed to be another Gunner night.
She forced a smile on her face. Gunner was miles away. He always had been. This man, he was right in front of her. She wanted to live, and here was her chance. “I’m really not sure,” she said softly. The words were the truth.
What did she want?
Gunner.
That wasn’t happening. Time to consider other options.
The guy leaned toward her. “How about we start with a dance, then? Maybe that will help you figure out just what you want.”
How long had it been since she’d danced with someone? Too long.
“I’m Colin,” he said, giving her a broad smile. “And I promise, I’m a good guy.”
As if she could believe a promise from a stranger. She’d met far too many dangerous, lying men for that.
“I’m Sydney.” She took the hand that he offered to her. “I guess one dance—”
She broke off, her words stuttering to a halt because she’d just met the dark gaze of the man who’d entered the bar. A man who should not have been there.
A man whose stare was hot enough to burn.
Colin stiffened beside her as he followed her gaze. “Problem?”
Yes. No. Maybe. If Gunner was there, then there could be a new mission. There had to be a new mission. There was no other reason for Gunner to be in Baton Rouge instead of up in D.C.
But why hadn’t Logan just called her?
Gunner was stalking toward her.
“I thought you were here alone,” Colin said softly.
“I am.” He still had her hand, and that felt wrong all of a sudden.
Maybe because Gunner’s gaze had dipped to their hands. Hardened.
“Then you want to tell me why that guy looks like he’s about to rip me apart?”
Gunner did look that way. But Gunner usually looked tough. It was his face. Not handsome like Colin’s. Not perfect. It was full of hard angles and dangerous edges. With his golden skin and that jet-black hair, he always looked like walking, talking danger to Sydney.
Danger wasn’t supposed to draw you in, but Gunner seemed to draw her more and more.
Even as he kept pushing her away.
“He’s a friend,” Sydney said, giving a shrug that she hoped looked careless. “An old friend.”
Then Gunner was in front of them. “Sydney.” His voice was a deep, rumbling growl when Colin’s voice had been soft and flirtatious. Did Gunner even know how to flirt? She doubted it. “We need to talk.”
A mission. Right. Just as she’d suspected. Sydney cleared her throat and glanced at Colin. His hold was light on her wrist. “Can you give us just a minute?”
One blond eyebrow rose, but he nodded. “I’ll wait for you.” She noticed that when he glanced back at Gunner, Colin’s face hardened, losing some of its easygoing appeal.
Gunner didn’t wait for the guy to back away. He grabbed Sydney’s hand—his grip much tighter than Colin’s—and pulled her into the nearest dark corner.
“Gunner!” His name burst from her. “What are you doing?”
He caged her with his body. “What are you doing?”
“Getting a drink? Getting ready to dance?” Some things should be obvious to a superagent like him.
His teeth snapped together as he leaned in, even closer. The wooden wall was behind her, and Gunner’s muscled form wasn’t leaving much space in front of her. “You know what he wants.”
She was in some kind of weird alternate reality. Sydney shook her head. “Wha
t’s the mission? Why didn’t Logan call—”
“There is no mission.”
She didn’t have any kind of comeback. She couldn’t think of what to say. If there was no mission, then Gunner shouldn’t be in Louisiana. Her family’s old home was there, but Gunner had a place in D.C. Not here.
“I could see it in your eyes,” he growled.
“See what?” Her voice came out huskier than she’d intended.
Gunner flinched. “After the last mission, I knew you’d do something like this.” He glanced over his shoulder. Since Gunner was big, easily six foot three, with wide shoulders, she couldn’t see what he was looking at when he glared behind him.
But she had a pretty good idea.
Colin.
“Any man?” Gunner asked as that hard, dark gaze came back to her. “Is that what you’re—”
Her cheeks felt numb. “Don’t say another word.” She wanted to slug him. “You don’t have the right to say anything to me, to judge me.” She’d wanted Gunner, had let him become too important to her in the past few years, but enough. “Slade is gone. I’ve moved on.” She pushed at him.
Gunner stepped back.
Good. She marched away from him and didn’t look back.
Colin stood as she approached. “I want that dance,” Sydney said, and she pretty much dragged him onto the small floor.
She didn’t know what Gunner’s game was. But he wasn’t controlling her. He didn’t want her. He’d made that clear when she’d tried to kiss him on that case in Texas.
Colin’s hands settled along her hips. She was wearing a pair of jeans, a top that was a little low and strappy sandals that pushed her a bit higher than her normal five-foot-six height. Colin was big, not as tall or muscled as Gunner, and—
“You don’t want to come between us.”
Gunner was there. Again. On the dance floor. And he’d just pulled Colin away from her.
This was insane.
“Sydney, come with me,” Gunner said in that low growl of his.
Colin shook his head. “Look, buddy, I don’t care if you are her friend, you don’t—”
“Is that what I am, Sydney?” Gunner asked, his voice flat. “Your friend?
He had been. After that nightmare two years ago, he’d become her rock. The man she depended on. The one who’d pulled her through her darkest time.
But she wanted him to be more than that.
She wanted more.
He didn’t.
“I don’t know what you are,” she told him. “But you should leave.” Because she was tired of living only for the job. She’d find happiness. Everyone else did. She wanted to have a real home one day. A family.
Not just mission after mission.
Why couldn’t someone be waiting on her when she came home? Someone who loved her? Wanted her?
“You heard the lady,” Colin muttered.
But Gunner wasn’t moving. He had started to give Colin a killing glare.
Colin made the mistake of stepping toward Gunner. Of shoving against his chest. “You need to back off—” Colin began.
Definitely a mistake.
Gunner grabbed that shoving hand and twisted it. Colin’s words choked off, and the dancers around them froze as they realized what was happening.
In less than three seconds, Gunner had Colin on his knees...all from that hold that Gunner had on Colin’s hand. Sydney knew the twist that Gunner was using could be incredibly painful, and if Gunner just pulled a little more, Colin’s bones would snap.
This scene was turning into a nightmare.
“Gunner, let him go!” Sydney grabbed his arm. “You’re making a scene!”
“No, he did that when he shoved me.” But Gunner let the other man go.
Colin scrambled away, eyes wide, cheeks flushed. He headed for the door as fast as he could.
Well, so much for that dance. So much for the whole night. Sydney turned from Gunner and started marching for the door. The plan had been stupid, anyway. As if she was going to find some kind of Prince Charming in a bar like this.
She pushed open the front door, and the night air rushed over her. Sydney took two more steps, then...
She stopped. “Tell me that you aren’t following me home.” Because she knew he was behind her. As a rule, Gunner could move pretty soundlessly. That was one of the reasons he’d been so good during his time as a SEAL sharpshooter. But she could feel him, so she knew he was trailing her.
“We need to talk.”
Fabulous. “I thought there wasn’t anything to say. I mean, you had your chance at Whiskey Ridge...” When she’d ditched her pride and told him that she needed him.
But he’d stayed aloof.
Gunner always held back with her. Always saw the ghost of her fiancé, his half brother, between them.
She knew now that he wasn’t ever going to let that ghost go. She might want Gunner. Want him so badly that her heart had seemed to break when he kept pulling away, but she’d survive his rejection.
She’d survived much worse than not being wanted by Gunner Ortez.
“What do you want from me?” Gunner asked her.
Everything.
Sydney turned toward him. “I want you to look at me and just see a woman. Not a ghost.”
A muscle jerked in his jaw. “You’re pushing me too much.”
She shook her head. “I’m not pushing you at all. You’re the one who came here, to my town. You’re the one who showed up in the bar.” Frustrated, she demanded, “How did you even find me here? Did you follow my GPS location?” All of the EOD agents had trackers installed on their phones. But if he’d used that tracking system... Stalker much. “Now I’m the one walking away.”
Only she didn’t get to walk far. Four steps was all she took. Then Gunner’s hands were on her shoulders. He spun her back around and lifted her up on her tiptoes.
“When I close my eyes, I see your face.”
His words, so gravel-rough, had her heart racing.
“I don’t see a ghost, I just see you.” His eyes were on her mouth. “You’re driving me crazy, taking over every moment of my life.”
She couldn’t breathe. Because what he was saying—that was the way she felt. As if he’d taken over her life.
“I tried to walk away. I tried to be strong.” His head lowered. “But I don’t want you to be with anyone else.”
Sydney didn’t want to be with any other man. “Gunner...”
“There are some lines that if you cross them, you can’t ever go back.”
“I don’t want to go back.” There was nothing in her past to go back to. Only death.
Gunner was life.
“I won’t be able to let you go.”
She wouldn’t let him go. Before Gunner could say anything else, Sydney wrapped her hands around his neck and she pulled his head down toward her.
The kiss wasn’t easy or gentle. Wasn’t the tentative kiss of soon-to-be lovers.
It was hard and deep—consuming. The touch of his lips sent need spiraling through her. Then she was crushed against him. Holding on as tight as she could as he tasted her, and she tasted him, and all of the longing that she’d held inside so tightly broke from her control.
This was Gunner. This wasn’t a dream. This was real.
And there was no going back.
* * *
HE SHOULD LET her go. Gunner knew he shouldn’t have followed her to Baton Rouge, but he’d been afraid.
I don’t want to lose her.
Sydney Sloan. The woman he’d wanted since the moment he first met her. Even when she’d been planning to marry his brother, Gunner had wanted her.
They were back at her house. He’d followed her from the bar, feeling the hunger for her burn just beneath his skin.
She stood on the porch now. The swamp waited behind her, and the sound of crickets filled the air.
He was closing in on her. There was still time to pull back, still time to do the right thing.
She knew about his darkness. About the sins that marked his soul, but she still wanted him.
He would die for her.
So he followed her up the steps to the home that she’d once loved so much, before her family had passed away and left her alone. She opened the door for him. Light spilled out onto the porch.
Onto her.
There would be no going back.
The wooden porch creaked beneath his feet. Her hand was up, reaching for him, and Gunner was pretty sure he’d had this same dream before. Only then, he’d wakened alone, sweating and tangled in his sheets, with her name on his lips.
Make this good for her. Give her pleasure.
Because he only wanted Sydney to know pleasure. She’d known too much pain in her life.
He crossed the threshold with her. Pushed the door shut behind them.
Her breath came a little too fast, and she shifted from her right foot to her left. He’d been in this house before. It carried her sweet scent, light vanilla, and he knew just where her bedroom waited.
Down the hallway, second door on the right.
Could he make it that far?
“Gunner...”
He loved the way she said his name. Breathless. Eager.
Can’t make it that far. He’d done well to make it out of the street and into her house.
Gunner pulled Sydney against him, breathed in that vanilla scent and locked his hands around her waist. Those jeans had been driving him crazy. “I—I can’t go slow.”
“Good.”
She surprised him. Always.
Then his mouth was on hers. He thrust his tongue past her lips, and she was the sweetest thing he’d ever tasted.
Before, he’d told himself to stay hands-off, but in Mexico, when she’d walked away and hadn’t looked back, he’d realized that she was too important to lose.
Now his hands were most definitely on her.
Her breasts were pressed against his chest. Her hips arched against him. He wanted her naked. He wanted to kiss every inch of her.
And he would. The second time.
The first time—the time that should have been perfect—need was controlling him. Raw lust.
