Out of Time

by Monica McCarty

  Scott could imagine. There wasn’t a day that went by that he didn’t miss his parents. He’d been furious at his mom when she’d died, but that didn’t mean he’d stopped loving her. Moms were . . . special.

  He glanced over at Natalie, and it was as if it suddenly hit him for the first time. She was going to be a mom. Not just any mom, his child’s mom. The bump was barely visibly, but it was there.

  She might not have wanted the baby, but Scott knew she would love it with the same fierceness that she did her sister and adoptive parents, and that knowledge somehow humbled him.

  Suddenly he was ashamed. He’d been so caught up in his own anger that he’d lost sight of the fact that not only was she defending herself to him and trying to evade the men intent on killing her, she was doing so pregnant. A little over four months pregnant if he was counting right.

  “Are you feeling okay?” he asked.

  She looked at him questioningly.

  “The baby,” he explained. “Do you need anything? We can stop for food if you are hungry. You haven’t eaten anything since lunch, which can’t be good.”

  She looked confused, which didn’t make him feel any better. He hated that she thought he didn’t care.

  “I’m fine. The baby’s fine. I grabbed a protein bar before we left. I can eat that if I get hungry.”

  His frown deepened. “A protein bar isn’t enough. We’ll stop as soon as I see something that doesn’t have arches or a crown.”

  She smiled, knowing his thoughts on fast food. He didn’t train as hard as he did to poison his body with that crap.

  “I think I can survive one hamburger or taco,” she said.

  He gave her a glare that said it all: no fucking way.

  “Where are we going?” she asked.

  He wasn’t sure yet. He needed to talk to Kate. “South. I want to get off the main roads soon to avoid cameras. So see if you can pull up a map on the phone.”

  She sobered, seeming almost upset by his response, but he didn’t have a chance to follow up because at that moment he caught sight of something in the rearview mirror that made his heart pound again. A highway patrol car was coming up on him fast.

  He moved over into the slow lane and heaved a heavy sigh of relief when the car sped by.

  Natalie had managed to pull up a map on the small phone and directed him to a smaller highway that he should see the signs for in a few miles.

  Once they were safely on the old highway, he relaxed. “You told your mom about me?”

  She nodded, with an uneasy glance that told him she thought he was angry about it. “We’re close. She guessed that I was seeing someone. I didn’t tell her anything specific about what you did—just that you were a naval officer.”

  “I’m not mad, just surprised.”

  “If you knew my mother you wouldn’t be. I swear she can tell whether I’m happy or sad from how I answer the phone.” She shrugged. “She knew I was happy, and I told her the reason why.”

  Their eyes held for a long heartbeat. He wanted to probe deeper but wasn’t sure he was ready to hear what she had to say.

  Instead he turned back to the road. When he saw the billboard ahead of them, he asked, “How does Annie’s Country Kitchen sound? It’s open twenty-four hours, and I could use some coffee.”

  He had a long night of driving ahead of him, and he could make his call.

  She smiled. “I’m not sure Vermont qualifies as country, but I never turn down chicken-fried steak or biscuits and gravy.” He didn’t say anything, but she caught herself. “Not anymore at least.”

  The smile fell from her face, and Scott knew she was remembering Mick.

  He hated the power of those memories and swore to himself that he would put that smile back on her face and do everything he could to keep it there.

  Sixteen

  Kate didn’t say much on the drive from the hospital to the hotel. As it was too late to fly back to DC that night, she’d arranged a room for herself at the airport hotel. Colt’s suggestion that they share the room, while not exactly a joke but presented as one, had been met with an icy glare that would have frozen his nuts off if she hadn’t turned away.

  He got the message and booked a second room.

  Figuring she was probably still angry about what he’d said earlier about him wanting to give it another shot, when she said she was tired and was just going to go back to her room to order room service, he didn’t argue.

  He’d given her enough to think about, and he didn’t want to press. He could be patient.

  For one night.

  But it was hard when he was so . . . well, hard. It wasn’t easy being around someone you wanted for hours and not being able to do what you knew would make both of you feel a hell of a lot better.

  The hotel bar was the typical upscale chain trying too hard to look like it was in downtown Manhattan with mood lighting, a few discreetly placed flat-screen TVs, sleek wood surfaces, and chairs that were more for looks than comfort. It was filled with middle-management types—mostly men—and an odd couple or two. The waitresses were all under twenty-five and attractive.

  Colt found a secluded corner where he could see the room—habit—and ordered his eight-dollar Coors Light from one of the waitresses. He hoped to hell the can was gold and not silver at that price. But he was done with whiskey for a while. The waitress tried to chat him up when she brought the beer back, but he made it clear he just wanted the drink and took out one of his burner phones to start checking on a few things.

  Colt was very careful with his electronic fingerprint and used only burners. Most people would be terrified of the amount of information they unwittingly gave off with their devices and how easy it was to find out that information.

  He checked one of his Dark Web e-mail accounts (even those weren’t fail-safe) to see that one of his contacts had gotten back to him. It had taken a circuitous route, but as he and Kate had suspected and the text on Joelle’s phone seemed to confirm, the deposit in the girl’s account had come from a Western Union in Alaska about twenty miles from where Travis had been staying.

  Colt’s contact hadn’t been able to pull the additional cameras Colt wanted near the bar, which was a little unusual, but he hoped Kate would be able to get them. He’d meant to ask her about it, and thought about knocking on her door as he made his way to his own room, but decided that as excuses went to disturb her, it wasn’t a very good one.

  A better one came a few minutes after he entered his room and one of his other burners buzzed.

  Recognizing the number as Taylor’s and assuming he was calling to be filled in on what had happened with Joelle, Colt was surprised by what he had to say. Apparently Taylor and the Russian spy were on the move after having narrowly escaped a hit team who’d tracked them to the farm in Vermont.

  Colt had to admit he’d been shocked when Taylor initially told him he’d found Natalya Petrova (aka Natalie Andersson) and that he wasn’t taking her in right away. Breaking the rules was something Colt did. Taylor had always been such a pain in the ass about it when Colt did something that wasn’t exactly kosher; it was nice to know the kid had it in him. Although, he supposed the “kid” wasn’t much of a kid anymore. But he’d probably always think of him that way, as Scott had been just out of SEAL Qualification Training when they’d first met almost ten years ago, ironically before he’d met Kate.

  Scott didn’t need to explain the implications. Colt understood that if the Russians had found Natalie, it probably had been by tracking him. Scott said he’d tried to call Kate to warn her to be careful, but she wasn’t answering her phone. He’d thought he might find her with Colt.

  Colt heard the unspoken question and the warning but didn’t bite. As he had every intention of being back in his ex-wife’s bed soon, he sure as hell wasn’t going to let her little brother warn him off. Even if her little broth
er happened to be an officer in the most elite SEAL unit in America. Colt might be pushing forty, but he could hold his own with any of his former teammates. Except maybe Spivak. That guy was a beast. But Colt fought dirty, so who knew?

  Colt told Scott that Kate had been tired and had probably just turned her ringer off to sleep. He’d go knock on her door and have her call him.

  Glad of the excuse to check on her, Colt headed down the hallway. Kate’s room was on the same floor about a dozen doors away.

  He knocked and when she didn’t answer right away, he knocked louder.

  He saw the movement of light behind the peephole. She knew better than to make that kind of rookie mistake. “Open up, Kate. I know you are in there.”

  He heard a muffled “Go away.”

  There was something about her voice that bothered him. “I have a message for you—from Scott.”

  She opened the door and the reason her voice had sounded funny was immediately clear. One look at her ravaged face told him that she’d been crying. Hard, and for some time.

  It felt as if there were a hole in his heart that everything suddenly drained out of. Had he done this to her? The emptiness in his chest started to burn.

  He pushed his way into the room and closed the door behind him. “Jesus, Kate. What’s wrong?”

  He wanted to reach out and cup her tearstained cheek in his hand. He’d never seen her look so absolutely eviscerated—as if she’d been torn apart and ripped to shreds.

  He took that back. He had seen her like this once. In the hospital. But he’d been so crazed with jealousy he’d steeled himself against recognizing it. But there was nothing to steel him now, and seeing her like this made him feel eviscerated. Kate was strong. She was tough. She shouldn’t look vulnerable. He didn’t know what to do; he’d never felt so damned helpless.

  It only got worse when she looked up at him with those big blue eyes so filled with pain, it made him feel as if he were wearing a shirt that was two sizes too small and lined with nails.

  “It’s not fair. She doesn’t even want . . . and I . . .”

  The words were caught between choking sobs, but Colt could fill in the blanks. Travis’s girlfriend was pregnant with a baby she didn’t want, while Kate wanted nothing more and couldn’t conceive.

  He cursed himself for not realizing how difficult that meeting at the hospital must have been for her. He should have guessed how she would be feeling. But Kate kept her thoughts so well hidden behind that patrician blond ice-queen exterior that it was hard to remember how deeply she felt.

  He was an insensitive bastard.

  “And Scott, too,” she cried.

  Now he was confused. “What?”

  “The spy is p-r-regnant.” She could barely get the word out before bursting into a fresh wave of tears.

  Christ. Well, that explained Taylor’s uncharacteristic deviation from the officer playbook.

  Poor Kate. It must have seemed like a double whammy. First the news of her brother’s unexpected—and presumably unwanted—impending fatherhood, and then the pregnant Joelle, who clearly had no interest in motherhood right now. Both must have seemed like horrible injustices to someone who wanted a child so desperately.

  The world wasn’t fair—they all knew that—but some injustices were crueler than others.

  Colt didn’t know what to say. He’d never been much good with words—not in saying how he felt. But he was good with action.

  He opened his arms. Before he had a chance to draw her in, she walked right into them as if it was the most natural thing in the world for her to look to him for comfort. As if three years of separation and an ugly divorce were not standing between them.

  The feel of her collapsing against him, melting into his chest and arms, letting him support her . . . it was overwhelming. It was the kind of trust that he’d never thought to have from her again. He felt a rush of fierce and intense emotion that made him want to take on the universe for her.

  He’d do anything to make her pain go away and make her happy again.

  Anything.

  He held her in his arms, keeping her upright as she sobbed against him. He murmured soothing words against the warm, baby-soft silk of her hair, telling her that it was all right. That he was here. That he was sorry. So fucking sorry.

  He stroked her hair. Her back. The slender curve of her hip. All the while savoring the feeling of her weight in his arms, her face buried into his chest, and her hands gripping him as if he were her only lifeline in a torrential storm.

  She needed him, and the physical manifestation of just how much gave him more pleasure than it probably should.

  It might be primitive, but he was a man. Men liked to feel needed, and Kate had always seemed so strong and self-possessed; the confident, independent woman who would be fine on her own.

  She had been fine on her own. He’d left her alone enough to know. Sometimes he thought she got so used to him being deployed that it was harder on her when he came home.

  It probably had been, given his propensity for dark moods and shutting down. He cursed himself again, wondering that she’d put up with him for as long as she had. She should have kicked his ass to the curb well before five years.

  “I’m so sorry,” he said again, apologizing for all of it. For all the things he couldn’t take back but vowed to change if she gave him the chance he didn’t deserve.

  The sobs had ceased enough for her to look up at him. Maybe it was something in his voice, but her eyes scanned his face as if looking for confirmation that he meant it.

  He did. If only she would let him show her how much.

  Suddenly he was aware of the heat flaring between them. Not just the heat of two bodies pressed together, but the heat of two bodies that knew each other intimately pressed together. He was hard, and she was achingly soft, and together . . . God, it was good. It had always been good.

  The best.

  He reached down and gently swept away a strand of hair that had been caught in the dampness of her lashes. How anyone with such blond hair could have lashes that dark and thick, he didn’t know. They looked fake, but they weren’t.

  “Let me make you feel better, Katie.” His voice was thick and husky, as his finger skimmed the velvety soft pillow of her plump bottom lip. Her mouth had always driven him crazy. It was the only trashy-looking thing about her. He could feel the catch of her breath, and it egged him on. His eyes dropped to her mouth as his hand skimmed lower.

  Her nipple was already taut when the pad of his thumb slid over it. He sucked in his breath and swore. His cock jerked a little harder.

  But this wasn’t about him. It was all about her. He was going to make her feel good and show her exactly how he felt.

  Action, not words that he could screw up.

  He covered her mouth with his and took her answering moan as a “yes.”

  Rather than devour as the flames leaping in his body demanded, he kissed her gently. With tenderness he didn’t even know he possessed. He let his lips linger, soften, caress.

  He’d kissed Kate hundreds—thousands—of times, but in many ways it felt like the first time. It was different not because the lust wasn’t there—it was—or because he was holding it back—which he wasn’t used to doing—but because he was different.

  He wasn’t turning away from the closeness and intimacy as he’d always done before; he was embracing it. He was letting himself feel, and maybe even more important, letting himself express those feelings.

  He’d always kept a little bit of himself apart. A little bit of himself protected from disappointment. But look where that had gotten him. Divorced and alone.

  This time he wanted her to know how much he cared about her.

  How much he loved her.

  So he held nothing back. He worshipped her with his mouth, prostrated himself with his tongu
e. He told her with every touch and every caress just how much she meant to him.

  Everything.

  She was so soft. So sweet. So cautious yet eager in her response that he felt the first stirrings of hope.

  Without breaking the kiss, Colt swept her up in his arms and carried her to the bed. A few minutes later they were both naked.

  He knelt over her, his breath catching at the display of feminine perfection beneath him: the slender, toned limbs, the flat stomach, the small round breasts with dusky pink tips, the miles and miles of flawless baby-soft skin.

  For a moment, he didn’t want to touch her. It was as if she were a delicate piece of china that he could break or a pristine canvass of freshly fallen snow that he would somehow sully.

  But he couldn’t do that anymore. He couldn’t put her on that kind of pedestal. He would be good enough for her. He swore it.

  Just give me a chance.

  He touched her then. He let his hands roam all over that flawless canvas. She didn’t break; she shattered.

  He watched her face as his fingers slid up her thighs, as he swept his fingers across her dampness, as she shuddered under his touch.

  “Please, Colt.”

  He heard the agony in her voice and knew what she wanted, but he wouldn’t give it to her. She wanted it hard and fast. She didn’t want to hear what he was telling her.

  But he wouldn’t hide behind lust, and he wouldn’t let her hide, either.

  He kept his eyes on her face the whole time as he brought her to the very peak. He reveled in the power, in the gift of her response.

  And then he took her with his mouth and made her come again. Slowly and deliberately. He dragged out her pleasure, not giving either of them the release they craved. No matter how much she begged. Or how hard she fought to make him lose control.

  She was good at that. She’d always been good at that. But he wouldn’t let the feel of her hands on him, the grip of her body, or the lifting of her hips distract him from his purpose.