And this would be the answer to her second question—why he left the SEALs. “He was killed in a training mission.”
“Was he a SEAL, too?”
His jaw clenched and he leaned back, focusing on those amber gold eyes. “Yes. We went through training together.”
“So you were there when he died?”
If he had been, Alix wouldn’t have died. “Not exactly. You know, you are blocking my view. Would you mind moving?”
“One more question.”
He put his hands on her shoulders and moved her to the side. “No more questions. I want to find our boat.” He pulled the throttle back, looking from side to side, now that they’d traveled about ten more miles. Nothing.
“One more. How’d you learn to steal things like you do?”
For a moment, he considered telling her the truth.
Alix taught me how to take everything that wasn’t nailed down, and I got really good at it. So good that I was one of the best thieves in the country. You name it, I’ve stolen it. Right out of your precious museums.
That’d burst her hero-worship bubble in a hurry. And cool the look of lust in her eyes, and shut that sweet little mouth he imagined kissing every time she got close.
“It’s just a talent I have,” he finally said.
She wrapped the blanket around his shoulders, moving between his thighs, her chest just below his chin as he sat and she stood. “It’s a talent that’s come in handy this week.”
“Lots of my talents have come in handy this week.” He tightened his thighs around her hips to punctuate that. “And if you don’t back off and stop looking at me like that, you’re about to find out about a few more.”
Her lips lifted in a slow smile. “Threat or promise, X?”
He was already going to be number one on her shit list when she figured out that he not only wasn’t her superagent here to save the day, but he was working for her sworn enemy. Could he make her hate him even more by taking what she was offering?
Probably. If he let his body do the thinking.
“You’re playing with fire, Lizzie.”
“Is that why I’m feeling so hot right now?”
She didn’t want to be warned. Didn’t want to be told no. Didn’t want to know the truth. “You could get burned.”
“So could you. Singed.” She hissed the last word and added the tiniest rock of her hips toward his.
He was already hard, already pulsing. “I’m asbestos, sweetheart. And you …” He snaked his hand through the blanket to her body, fingering the zipper of her hooded jacket. He dragged it slowly south, his knuckles grazing the rise of her chest on the way down. “ …are not.”
“I can handle the heat,” she said, arching her back to let the blanket fall to the deck with a soft whoosh. “Like I can handle the cold.”
He clicked the zipper at the bottom, then flattened his hand on her stomach, sliding it up over her buttondown shirt. Her gaze widened as he spread his palm over her breast, the nipple budding from his touch and the chilly wind.
“Let’s just be clear, Lizzie Dare.” He popped the first button with ease. “I’m not what or who you think I am.”
She lifted one brow in an almost imperceptible nod of permission. “You don’t scare me, Con Xenakis.”
“I’m not trying to scare you.” Next button, open. “I’m undressing you.”
She smiled. “You think you’re some badass who’s going to break my heart or my spirit.”
“Never your spirit.” Third button, done. Too easy for a thief like him. “It’s unbreakable.”
She liked that, leaning closer, offering access to that last little button. “You forget I already pegged you as one of the good guys.”
He barely blew out a breath, his gaze leveled on the sweet rise of her breasts, the pale flesh pressing against a silky, lacy bra. Blood throbbed in his cock, his throat dry, his fingers itching for the touch he knew he was going to take. All he was about to take.
“Honey, you pegged me wrong.” His voice was gruff, raspy, honest.
He pulled her closer, smashing her body into his and standing slowly, his erection prodding her stomach, their gazes locked on each other’s mouth.
“I don’t think so.” Her eyes were dark with arousal, hooded with surrender. “I know exactly who you are.”
Then she was a fool.
He pushed her back on the console, pressing his hard-on against her crotch as he spread the blouse open completely.
He lowered his face to her breasts, opening his mouth over one and closing his hand over the other. He sucked, caressed, licked. Under him, her body pulsed in an instinctive rhythm, soft sounds cooing from her lips each time her hips hit his, the sound drawing him to her mouth and throat and lower to close his lips over her breasts.
She pulled him right into her, wrapping her legs around him and rolling up and down his erection.
He finally broke the kiss, pulling her to her feet before he stripped her bra off right there.
“Just know that you were warned,” he said, twisting the key to turn the engines off. “Go below. I’m going to anchor the boat here.”
She searched his face, unsure. “You’re not going to change your mind, are you?”
He could. He should. This was his chance to be the man she thought he was, a chance to demonstrate the code of honor that turned her on so much. A chance to do the right goddamned thing, instead of the easy, irresponsible, wrong goddamned thing.
Would he take it?
“Not a chance.”
Lizzie stripped to her bra and underpants, quaking with arousal as she rolled onto the lumpy triangular cushion shoved into the bow of the cuddy. The space was no more than a four-foot-wide envelope, barely big enough for both of them next to each other or on top of each other.
Which they were about to be.
She heard him winching the anchor in place, moving from bow to stern and back, then thudding down the three steps to the darkened cabin. She tucked into the blanket she’d brought down, wet and warm and ready for him.
He barely fit in the tiny space, depositing the backpack on the floor, his hot gaze searing her as he stripped off his jeans. She watched, mesmerized as his shaft released, stiff and dark, glistening at the top.
She wanted him to talk, to say something sweet or funny.
But he didn’t say a word as he crawled toward her.
And maybe that was better. She’d had enough of his cautions. She knew what she was doing—having sex with a man she found staggeringly attractive on every level.
Could she get hurt? Hell, yeah. A rogue wave could come up from nowhere and flip this boat, too.
Still silent, he reached down to his bag and dug in the front pocket, pulling out a foil-wrapped condom.
She couldn’t help smiling. “And you think you’re so bad.”
His gaze grew knifelike, slicing her with purpose. He started to pull down the blanket, exposing her breasts, running a finger over the lace of her bra, leaving a fiery trail in its wake. “I’m not thinking. I’m feeling.”
“Mmmm.” She bowed her back, inviting more. “Feels good.”
He took the blanket all the way down, his gaze following. As it reached her hips she wrapped her hand around his neck, pulling him closer, aching for his mouth on hers.
But he resisted. He ran a slow finger over the peak of her breast, slipping into the front snap and opening it easily, letting the silk slide away.
His jaw slackened as he admired her, thumbing one nipple gently, the touch burning and making her hips rise and fall instinctively.
“You’re beautiful,” he said softly, sending a thousand goose bumps over her.
She dragged her hand from his neck to his chest, fondling him the same way, tweaking his hardened nipple. “So are you.”
His response was a rueful smile, then he leaned in and kissed her. Lifting himself again, he shifted his attention back to her body. When his gaze lingered over her hips, she ran her fing
er over the lace of the pink panties, inviting him to do the same.
He covered her hand, and she pulled it away so that his palm pressed on her mound, the silk already moist. He stared at his fingers splayed from hipbone to hipbone, and her thighs spread in response to the heat in his eyes.
He kissed her mouth as he slid his hand into her panties, his fingers large and hot on her swollen flesh. She captured his tongue deep into her mouth, and rocked to tempt his fingers to do the same in her body.
He did, then inserted another, stroking her, making her clench around him, thrumming with need. What shreds of control she had left disappeared as she kissed him, their tongues tangled, their teeth tapping, his hands taking ownership inside and out.
Sweat tingled her skin while he kissed her throat, licked and nipped down to her breasts, her stomach, gliding his erection out of her hand as he repositioned himself to taste every inch of her. He spread her legs, sliding down to wedge into the tiny floor space at the foot of the cushion.
He pulled at the panties, and she bent her knees until they bumped the ceiling, laughing as they worked to get off her last piece of clothing.
Finally he buried his face in the center of her, inhaling with a moan of appreciation, then sucking softly on her throbbing clitoris. Heat crackled over her, jolting her senses, fracturing her nerves.
She lifted her hips and he covered her with his mouth, licking and flicking his tongue over her flesh, making her moan in delight, digging her fingers into his shoulders as she got closer … and closer … finally falling over the edge as an orgasm surged.
He held her hips and kissed his way back, whispering her name and senseless words until he grabbed the condom. He tried to bite it, tearing ineffectually, his expression dark and consumed.
“Let me,” she offered, taking it from him to put it on, stroking him until he was completely swollen and stiff. “Please.”
He eased inside her, filling her, huge and solid and wholly masculine. All the way in … almost all the way out. Slowly at first, then faster, steadier and harder.
With each thrust, each pulse, each deep connection, he lost more and more control. Her senses smashed together. The sight of his face about to come, his eyes closed, ecstasy on his features. The smell of sex, mixed with the erotic panting of their shallow, excited breaths. The taste of his kiss, the feel of his body.
And finally, he came with so much force it overwhelmed her, driving into her with relentless, pounding, full-body strokes accompanied by a long groan of gratification.
Then all was quiet. Still. Sweltering. Sweet. The only thing moving was the insane beat of their hearts.
“You were right,” she whispered in his ear. “I was playing with fire.”
He turned, his eyes dark. “I tried to warn you.”
She just smiled. “That’s not what you were warning me about. You think I’m going to fall for you and you’re not the man for me.”
“I’m not.”
She stroked his hair, his cheek, his lips. “Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?”
“Because your judgment is skewed. You think I’m something that I’m not.”
She snuggled in closer, loving the scent of him, the feel of his rock-hard body, the warmth of his skin. “You just don’t know yourself that well.”
“That, my dear, is where you’re wrong.”
The way he said it sent a chill up her spine. “A man in your job, with your background? How bad can you be?”
“Bad.”
Lizzie sighed into his neck, the sound of satisfaction and resignation. He had to tell her the truth soon. After what they’d just done, he couldn’t let her find out what he was doing by accident.
He’d tell her before the sun came up, before they got back on the Gold Digger. Before she uttered another mistaken syllable about him.
“Is that your phone?”
He rolled over as his phone vibrated, reaching for it next to the ankle holster, gun, and jeans. He didn’t have to check the ID; the tone told him it was his boss. “Hey, Luce.”
“Where are you?”
“Floating around the Atlantic looking for the missing Gold Digger.”
“It’s not missing anymore. It’s in Port St. Lucie, under Coast Guard investigation, as is every single person on board.”
“What? Why?”
“Standard procedure when there’s a death connected to a vessel at sea.”
A death? He moved away from Lizzie’s warm body. “What happened?”
“One of the divers, Alita Holloway, died during a dive. When the captain called in the death to the Coast Guard, they had him bring the vessel into port immediately to pronounce her. The FBI has already been notified.”
“What happened to her?”
“Carbon monoxide poisoning through the air compressor.”
“That was no accident. The same thing happened to me. Why are we just finding this out now?”
Lizzie sat up, curious.
“No one called Judd Paxton until a half hour ago. They were too concerned with calling the Coast Guard command center and following regs.”
“Was Flynn Paxton on board?”
“He arrived an hour before the accident.”
Con blew out a disgusted breath. Of course. Flynn thought Alita stole the medallion and he killed her. No wonder he’d ditched them on the mainland.
“We’ll go to the investigation now,” he said. “We have critical information and I can tell you…” He looked at Lizzie, hesitating to say Judd Paxton’s name. “The client isn’t going to like it.”
“Why not?”
“Because Flynn Paxton is stealing the treasures as they’re brought up and selling them on the black market. We caught him red-handed. More important, Alita Holloway was not only his lover, but she was also in on the take. And he thinks she betrayed him with the medallion that I recovered a few hours ago. We’ve got motive and opportunity, and I’m sure he had the means to take the air-intake filters off the compressor.”
Lizzie gasped softly, but he ignored it.
“You need to give every bit of this to the Coast Guard and FBI.”
“Will do. Right now. When are you going to tell our client?”
“We both are,” she said. “I’ll fly in for a meeting down there tomorrow.”
He unconsciously closed his fingers around Lizzie’s hand, her skin still warm from the full-body rush he’d given her.
“Once you do that,” Lucy continued, “this assignment is complete. The dive is over. Judd is prepared to file an official claim with the state, and initiate a standard search and recovery of El Falcone at the start of the next diving season.”
Con threaded his fingers through Lizzie’s and gave her a long look. “Anything else, Luce?”
“You will return any treasure you’ve recovered and helped to hide. It rightfully belongs to our client.” There was no arguing with that voice. “After the meeting, we’ll discuss your next assignment as a Bullet Catcher.”
He didn’t answer, still holding Lizzie’s hand and gaze. He lifted their hands and pressed his fingertips to her cheeks, getting a warm, if slightly confused, smile from her.
His heart cracked a little. He’d tried to warn her … but not very hard.
“You do want to continue working for the Bullet Catchers, don’t you, Con?”
“Yes,” he said quietly, holding Lizzie’s gaze as he placed a kiss on her knuckles.
“Then explain to her who you are, what you’ve been doing, and get the scepter and diamond back as you planned to from the beginning. That shouldn’t be too difficult, right?”
“Not at all.”
“And Con?”
“Yes?”
“Excellent work on this assignment. You’ve got all the right stuff.”
“Thanks, Luce.” He hung up, felt a gentle squeeze on his hand, and closed his eyes. That touch was the last act or word of affection he’d ever get from Lizzie Dare.
Because she was about t
o find out that on top of everything else, he was a liar, a traitor, a user, and, of course, a thief.
He’d tried to warn her.
CHAPTER
SIXTEEN
WHOEVER WAS ON the phone and whatever she’d said to Con, everything had changed. His expression, his body language—the whole aura of pleasure had evaporated from the tiny cuddy.
And she’d picked up enough of the conversation to know it was bad, bad news.
“Just tell me,” she said, seeing the pain on his face. “I can handle it.”
He closed his hand tighter over hers. “Alita is dead.”
Lizzie tried to suck in a breath. “What?”
“Carbon monoxide poisoning on her dive this afternoon. The Coast Guard ordered the vessel into port to investigate the diving death, and they’re down in St. Lucie. The FBI’s been called in. And, yes, it happened an hour after that little weasel got back.”
“Flynn killed her. He thinks she gave the medallion to you.”
“That’d be my guess.”
A shock wave rolled over her.
To investigate the diving death.
Those words were all too familiar.
“We have to get down to the port to talk to the investigators and tell them everything, including what happened on our night dive,” Con said.
She nodded, her head finally clearing. “Who called you?”
He hesitated just one second too long. “My boss.”
“Your boss.” She waited for an explanation that didn’t come. “From … where? Aren’t you going to tell me? Even now?”
He said nothing, grabbing her underwear and shirt and handing them to her. “We have to go. Now.”
She took the items, but didn’t move. “Con? Tell me.”
“Lizzie, a woman is dead. We have a lot of information that could help make sure that the right—”
“That’s not what I mean! You talked about a client. Who do you work for?”
“Judd Paxton.”
“What?” The word was more of a croak than a question.
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