by J. Kenner
Thankfully, I soon learn that he wants to go exactly where I do, and he gives my ass another smack, this one harder and followed by his own low moan before he rubs his palm over my skin to soothe me, then slides his hand between my legs to tease my clit.
I wiggle, wanting so much more, and he satisfies me with another spank, then murmurs something about the sweet pink stain marking my pretty pale ass, and how he can’t decide if he should keep it pink or go for deep red.
I bite my lip, my breasts aching against the mattress and my sex throbbing with need as he spanks me twice more, then says, “Fuck red. I can’t take it anymore.”
And then—oh, God, yes—his cock is right there, one hand on my hip and the other sliding between the bed and my body to find my clit as he thrusts into me, fucking me so hard the bed slams against the wall and I think that it’s very good that he doesn’t share a wall with his neighbor. But that’s all I think before passion takes over and I’m incapable of thought. Of anything other than pleasure and sensation and the satisfaction of a spiraling intensity that zooms out to every cell in my body, heating me to boiling as he takes me harder and harder until—finally—I spin up and out, everything inside me ripping apart from my physical body to go whirling off into space, where I finally explode in a fountain of pure pleasure as hot and powerful as a super nova.
I’m breathing hard when I crash back down to earth, and I barely even notice when he gently uncuffs me. He gets onto the bed beside me, and I realize that somehow he’d moved me fully onto the mattress.
“That was insane,” I murmur, easing against him. “That was freaking fabulous.”
I feel his gentle laughter reverberate through me, and snuggle closer, my hand flat against his chest so that I can feel his heartbeat. For a moment, I simply lie there listening to the sound of our breathing and our hearts beating in the same rhythm. I want to sleep but I’m not tired. I want to know more, I want to know everything. And although I know that Liam does not want to tell me, I push myself up on my elbow and ask very simply, “Will you tell me about her?”
“Who?”
“The woman you loved. The woman who’s the reason that you don’t do relationships. Did she break your heart?”
For a moment I think he’s going to ignore my question and silence hangs heavy between us. When he finally speaks, his voice is so low that I can barely hear him. “No,” he says, rolling onto his side. “She’s dead. She’s dead because of me.”
Chapter Twenty-One
I let his words hang there for at least a minute, then I roll onto my side, spooning against his back. “Tell me the story,” I say.
“It’s not something I talk about.”
“All the more reason. Don’t tell it because I’m asking you too. Tell me because you owe it to her to talk about it.”
He’s quiet, and I press my hand on his bicep, feeling his strength, and I can’t help but be struck by the irony that a man this strong can be felled by the weight of horrible memories. But why not? Don’t I know better than anyone how the past can affect you?
“It was a long time ago,” he says as he turns to face me, his head on the pillow only inches from mine. “But sometimes it feels like yesterday.”
A small smile touches his mouth, and it warms me. I’m glad that at least part of this memory brings him a little bit of joy.
“She worked at the makeup department in the Sykes Department Store in London. These were in my early days out of the Army, and I was working a covert job in military intelligence. I had the Sykes job as a cover, though the work was real enough.”
I nod, wondering if he understands how much he’s sharing with me. How much he’s opening up, even though he says he doesn’t want to. But I don’t say anything. I don’t want him to stop talking.
He rolls onto his back, as if he’s talking to the ceiling. “Dion was a sweet girl,” he says. “Smart, funny, great with the customers. Everybody loved her. She lit up a room when she walked in, and I never heard her say a harsh word to anybody. The moment I met her, I knew I wanted to be around her. Everyone did. She had that kind of personality. I think you would’ve liked her.”
“I bet I would have. What happened?”
“Tragedy. That’s always the way it is with these stories, isn’t it? There’s always tragedy and pain and heartbreak and horror, and it’s all a goddamn mess.” He pushes himself up so that he’s sitting against the headboard. I shift as well, sitting up with my legs crossed, and pulling the blanket up around me so that I’m covered as I face him. “Are you sure you want to hear this?” he asks.
“You know I do.”
He nods. “We started going out, first as friends, and then it got serious. I loved her. It boils down to that. We moved in together, bought furniture, and every day she made me smile.” He waits as if expecting me to ask a question, but I hold my tongue. This is his story to tell now.
“While that simple, sweet life was going on in our small flat in London, on my off days, I was doing intelligence work, tracking down a man named Anatole Franklin. Definitely not a nice man. He would probably remind you a lot of Noyce.”
I shudder simply from the mention of Noyce’s name.
“I was getting close to Franklin, and somehow he found out. I don’t know how. To this day I have no idea what set him off or how he found out about Dion, but he waited for her outside of the department store, followed her home, and shot her on our front porch stoop.” His voice is flat, as if he’s giving a police report, and I realize that he’s fighting to control the anger and pain.
“Everyone who came by the building saw her splayed out on the stairs as emergency services tried to revive her. They couldn’t. She was dead before I got there. I didn’t even have a chance to say goodbye.”
“Oh God, Liam. I’m so sorry. How did they know it was him?”
“It was a message to me. I knew it was him even before confirmation. But I guess he was afraid that I might miss the point. He made sure he was seen, and there were plenty of witnesses. Three different people identified him from mug shots. But I knew where to find the son of a bitch. He hadn’t counted on that.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t think that Franklin realized how close we were on his trail. We knew where he was holed up, we knew what his next move was going to be. He’d been a high placed US official based in the embassy in London, which he’d used as a doorway to other countries we weren’t so friendly with. He’d been trading government secrets and he was willing to kill to protect his ass.”
“You killed him.”
“I did. The government wanted him—badly. They wanted what was in his head. But goddamn it, I didn’t care. I was wild with rage, crazed. I forced open his door, raised my weapon, and shot him in the head.” He turns now to meet my eyes. “And I don’t regret it.”
I lick my lips. “What happened?”
“Well, as I’m here, I obviously didn’t end up in prison, military or otherwise. He was selling very serious state secrets, after all. And although the government wasn’t impressed with my decision to take him out before they were ready, they ended up simply discharging me. Thankfully not dishonorably.”
“You were lucky,” I say, and he nods.
“My superiors spoke up for me. They knew well enough what I’d been through. And that nothing they could do to me would be worse than what Franklin had already done.”
For a moment, I’m quiet. Then I move to sit next to him, leaning against him, wanting to feel his warmth against my body. I take his hand and hold it, our fingers twined. “You know it wasn’t your fault, right? You didn’t kill her.”
“If I hadn’t loved her, she would still be alive. He killed her because she was important to me.”
If I hadn’t loved her...
That’s what he’s thinking of course, that’s why he can’t be in a relationship. It’s the fear that anyone he gets close to will be taken from him. I understand it. My whole life was taken from me and God knows
I’m scared of getting involved too. But I’m hoping that the man sitting next to me will be able to exorcise my demons and clear a path for me to have a normal life and normal relationships.
I don’t know if I can be of any help to him, though. All I can do is try to let him see that he has strength enough within himself already to survive whatever life throws at him.
“If I hadn’t loved her,” he repeats. Then he turns to me, his eyes dark. So dark that they almost scare me. “Please,” he says, his voice tight with emotion. “Please don’t ask me to love you.”
I stay silent, fighting tears. But the truth is, I know that he already does.
Chapter Twenty-Two
He knew she didn’t truly understand. They were both alike in that they were avoiding relationships, but she was avoiding them because she was the one at risk. He cut himself off because being close to him put others at risk. His job was his life, and his life was dangerous.
“I know what you’re thinking,” she said.
“Do you?”
“You’re thinking that you’re a magnet. Not just that you attract women with your amazing charm and incredible looks, but that you’re a magnet for pain and for suffering. After what happened to Dion, who could blame you?”
He said nothing. He had already said everything he wanted to say.
“But the truth is, there are a lot of things in this world that are scarier than being in the cross hairs because I’m your girlfriend.”
His body tightened at her use of the word girlfriend. But that wasn’t someplace they could go.
“Scarier things,” he said, trying to lighten the mood. “Like what?”
“Like being without you, dummy.” She smiled, as if to underscore that she was teasing. But then she bit her lower lip, drew in a breath, and said, “I’m falling in love with you, you know.”
Such simple, common words. Words he hadn’t heard for a long time, and that he’d told himself he would never want to hear again.
And he didn’t. He shouldn’t.
Because those were dangerous words. Those were words that could get a woman killed. And yet at the same time, those gentle, wonderful words lit her from within, making her more beautiful than she already was.
“It’s too soon for words like that,” he said, wanting to dull the moment. To take away some of its shine. To make it not be something wonderful and precious that he wanted to hold close to his heart.
If she was offended or hurt by his seemingly casual brush-off, there was no sign. She just shook her head gently and said, “No, it’s not. It’s never too soon for truth. But if you need time to say it back, I understand. In the meantime, I want you to know that I do love you. And nothing you can say or do will flip off that switch inside me.”
He searched her face, looking for any hesitation. But all he saw was love. And damned if he didn’t have a clue what to do with it.
She yawned, then flashed an apologetic smile as she slid under the covers and curled up against him. “You made a horrible day wonderful,” she said. “Now I just want to sleep and pretend like the time between leaving Ella’s and walking through this condo’s door never happened.”
He couldn’t argue with that. After almost being killed, there was nothing else he’d needed except her. And they’d made love wildly and with so much feeling, that he felt as if some core part of him had changed forever. But not changed enough to confess something as dangerous as love.
Hell, even knowing the way that she felt about him seemed dangerous. As if she was courting trouble. As if she’d opened a magic box and let all the evil spirits free.
At the same time he couldn’t deny the unexpected, amazing truth. Her confession of love had filled him with a sense of warmth unlike anything he had felt in years. It was uplifting and incredible. It was everything he wanted and everything he needed, and it was everything he wanted to run from.
Except that he didn’t want to run. Not really. He fit so well with this woman that it felt like a miracle. And the irony of it was that she couldn’t be his miracle. Not now; not ever. Because while he might have a reputation as a badass, the one thing he knew would destroy him was losing her.
He could have lost her tonight, and she wasn’t even his yet. Not really. And knowing that she might have gone over in the car, that she might have died, that she might have been lost to him forever…
Well, that was something that ate at his soul.
He would protect her. That was the mission. That was what he’d been hired to do.
He would fall in love with her because he couldn’t help it.
But in the end, he would leave her, because he had to.
Because the bottom line was that he would do whatever it took to protect the woman he loved. And that included doing something that hurt her.
Beside him, her breathing had slowed. She’d fallen asleep, and he knew that he should do the same. It had been one hell of a long day. Wonderful in many respects, trying in so many others. And now he just wanted to slide underneath the covers and let sleep settle over him.
But just as that sweet curtain was about to fall, his own thoughts came back to him—He would do anything for her. Anything to protect her.
He bolted out of bed, grabbed his phone, and hurried into the other room so he wouldn’t wake her. He dialed, then waited impatiently before Winston picked up the phone.
“I heard about the accident,” the Texan said. “You okay? I was going to call earlier but I figured you needed the rest.”
“We’re both a bit shook up, but no permanent damage. What were you going to call about?”
“The coincidence, my friend. Don’t tell me you haven’t been thinking about it, too.”
“Xena and I being followed so soon after we left Ella’s house? And our New York suspect avoiding his very own Manhattan apartment?”
“You read my mind.” Liam could hear Winston sigh on the other end of the phone line. “I keep running new checks on this house, thinking maybe I missed a bug, maybe the phone is tapped, but nothing pops.”
“I think we need to take a closer look at Rye,“ Liam said.
“I don’t argue with your line of thinking, but I don’t see him as our perp. He’s too invested in Ella. Either that or he’s the world’s greatest actor. And I’ve checked his phone. Calls, text messages, even Facebook posts. So how’s he communicating?”
“I don’t know. But he’s our guy. I’m sure of it. But I’ll say his motives are pure.”
“What the hell do you mean by that?” Winston asked.
“He’s protecting Ella. You said it yourself, he would do anything for her.”
“And somewhere along the way, they threatened to hurt her if he didn’t help them. You think he’s been helping them since the cabin.” It wasn’t a question, Winston knew exactly what Liam was thinking. “You think he knows where Noyce is.”
“I don’t think it matters if he knows where Noyce is. All that matters is that he can get Square Jaw to where I’ll be. Once I have Square Jaw, I’m sure I can convince him to contact Noyce for me.”
Winston snorts. “I’m sure you can. So where are you heading.”
“I’m heading to New York, and I want you to make sure Rye knows that. He’ll get information to our good friend.”
“And if he doesn’t?”
“Then we have to decide if we misjudged our buddy Rye. But you and I both know we haven’t.”
“That’s a complicated sting you’re constructing. You run it by Ryan? And how do you plan to handle it?”
“I will. And I’m pulling in someone with skills to help me.”
“Dallas Sykes,” Winston said.
”He’ll work with me on this. And I also think that Noyce will come after us himself.”
“You mean if Xena is the bait, don’t you? Are you willing to take that risk?”
“I’ll talk to her about it, of course. But if we don’t take the risk, she’ll never have a normal life. And I want to end this. I wan
t to see her safe.”
And, he thought to himself, he would do whatever it took to make sure that she was.
Chapter Twenty-Three
I step from the portable staircase into the open door of a private jet. A woman with short golden hair stands there in a white blouse and freshly pressed slacks holding a highball glass with what I think is bourbon and a flute with something that looks sparkly and cool with a piece of fruit in the bottom.
“Good morning, Ms. Morgan. I’m Talia, and I’ll be taking care of you and Mr. Foster on the flight. Can I offer you a glass of sparkling water with a hint of raspberry? Or perhaps lime?”
I glance back at Liam, amazed that with everything else he had to arrange to make this trip happen so quickly that he’d thought to tell the staff I wouldn’t want alcohol. “Thank you,” I say. “I’d love to try it with raspberry.”
“My pleasure,” she says, handing me the flute. “Sit anywhere, and I’ll bring some fruit and cheese after takeoff.”
“Right. Thank you.” I’m certain I seem overwhelmed by my surroundings, but that’s only because I’m overwhelmed by my surroundings.
I step further into the cabin, and then simply pause as I take everything in. As Liam talks to Talia behind me, I take the time to look around the jet. I have no idea what type it is. As far as I know, it is simply a vehicle that flies through the sky and is fancy as hell.
The cylindrical interior is the epitome of comfort, and the furnishings are such to put an airline’s first class to shame. Not that I’ve ever flown first class, but I do watch movies, and so I’ve seen a lot of airplane interiors. This interior looks like a contemporary furniture showroom with rich wood and soft, supple leather.
In the front there are several individual chairs arranged opposite a tan sofa of the same leather, making the area look like a cozy living room. At the back of the plane I see four chairs grouped together around a table, and I assume that’s used as an in-flight work area. I choose the sofa, hoping that Liam takes the seat beside me.
