Instinct and years of experience glossing over the details of his past wanted him to say, I’ve heard and didn’t see any reason to risk it. He didn’t have to do that with her, though. Though he didn’t completely trust her motives, there was a lot he was okay with her knowing. More than most people ever learned about him. The realization struck him. “I grew up in Elmhurst. It’s a suburb of Chicago.”
A tiny smile played on her face, and she twisted her head in his direction. “Will we drive through there on our way?”
“Probably not. It’s not directly off the freeway.”
“Do you miss it?”
“Do you miss home?”
“Sometimes.” A frown flickered in before vanishing. “But it never felt like home after Alex was gone. It’s as if... Never mind.”
Ice pelted the windows, and the lights dimmed before staying on bright and strong.
Blake brushed a strand of hair off Reagan’s forehead. “As if what?”
“You’ll think it’s stupid or that I’m broken, or something.”
“I doubt that.”
She pushed into a sitting position, crossed her legs, and looked at him. “Sometimes I feel, until six months ago, I was wandering lost, not really belonging anywhere. I’m not saying I love the life I live now, but at least I’m the guiding force, rather than being tossed about by the wind.”
“I get that.” He gave her a sad smile. “And no, I don’t miss home. I miss the memory of what it was when I was younger, but that place doesn’t exist. Maybe it never did, the way childhood-me sees it.”
Wind whistled through cracks in the door, shrill and icy. Fortunately, the extra blankets the hotel gave them sat tucked at the foot of the bed, waiting for use.
“Did you really want to be Spiderman when you grew up?” she asked.
He’d forgotten he told her that. Those first days in the diner, when he was still a double agent, seemed like a lifetime ago. “I did. Though it turns out I’m allergic to spiders, so I might not have survived that first step toward great power.”
“I never liked Spiderman. No offense.”
“None taken. I’m not him. You more of a Wonder Woman girl?”
She rolled her eyes, but it didn’t mar her smile. “I tended toward Spawn. Azrael. Constantine. The Crow.”
“Avenging angels?”
“And damned souls. They always felt more real to me.” Her laugh was tinged with something dark. “As real as a guy returning from the dead to wreak havoc on those who wronged him can be.”
“We’re actively trying to destroy a man who named himself after a fictional character from a children’s book. I don’t see why they can’t be real.”
She crawled forward on the mattress, to sit next to him. When she leaned her head against his shoulder, he wrapped an arm around her. He wasn’t sure why this always felt natural, but she never pulled away, and he never second-guessed it.
Silence descended over the room, interrupted by the occasional shrill of the storm trying to get at them.
“Is that why you enlisted in the Marines?” she asked. “Closest you could get to being Spiderman?”
“More or less. I’m not drawing the same parallel for you. Code-breaking and hacking don’t fall in line with avenging angels.”
“Really?” She glanced up at him from under her eyelashes. “After everything I’ve seen and said and done, you don’t think vengeance is involved?”
He did. It was the biggest concern he had, and what kept him from placing more faith in her. The knowledge knocked his thoughts off kilter. “Do you want my super hero response?”
“No. But go ahead.”
“If getting back at Jabberwock is the only thing keeping you going, what do you do when he’s gone?”
“How did you go from Marine to NSA?” she asked.
He bit the inside of his cheek at the way she dodged his question without hesitation. He wouldn’t push, because that would make her close off further. “The scars on my shoulder? I caught stray friendly fire when I was in Afghanistan. It sent me home, earned me a discharge, and cost me my direction.”
Saying the words clenched around his heart in a way he didn’t expect. It had been years since he talked about this. It shouldn’t still bother him. He forced down the reaction. “I was lost and spending a lot of time online, and I discovered the deep web. I’d seen evil before. Hell—I fought it face to face.
But then I saw things for sale. Drugs, money, guns, people...” He shook his head, but it didn’t clear out the creeping darkness. “I started figuring out how to track it. Digging. Pretending to be someone I wasn’t. Learning to trace IP addresses. Setting them up to be arrested. I sucked at hiding myself, though.”
“You?” Teasing lined her question.
“Give me a sniper rifle and a good spotter, and no one will see me. The NSA watched my activity. I inadvertently made it easier for them because I did a lot of it from VA computers. They approached me. Told me they had resources if I was willing to learn. I was.”
“Your cause sounds a lot nobler than mine.” She snuggled closer and pulled his arm tighter around her.
It had been. Until he figured out the bad guys walked both sides of the line. Until he saw what some of his colleagues were willing to do for results—the lines they crossed and the collateral damage they caused. “I guess that’s one way to look at it.”
Chapter Eighteen
“Do you know why I slept with you in Las Vegas?” Reagan’s question caught Blake off guard.
“I’m a smooth-talking bastard?”
She laughed and ducked her head. “That didn’t hurt. Nor did that you’re attractive, intelligent, s—” She cringed.
“Don’t let me stop you from listing my amazing qualities,” he said playfully. He wanted the cloud that had moved into the room to clear out and take the less pleasant aspects of the past with it.
“Safe. I was going to say safe, which contradicts the rest of the story, and now you’ve ruined it.” Her pout was exaggerated and teasing, but a shadow lay under her gaze.
He didn’t know how to deal with the confession. It sank deep, soothing and incinerating at the same time. “I didn’t mean to interrupt the narrative. Forget I asked for clarification.”
She frowned, but it vanished under a blank mask. “Anyway. All that other stuff aside, you approached me right after Wayne...” A pained look crossed her face, and she drew in a shaky breath. “After the last time he freaked out because he thought we were in danger, and I didn’t believe him. You and I were in a public place. There was the rush of getting caught. The thrill of doing this naughty thing. The fact that you were a stranger. It was so much about the adrenaline.”
On some level, he’d expected her confession to sound deep and heartfelt, but not be sincere. His brain wasn’t prepared for something like, I did it for the high. Then again, it was a motive he understood. He didn’t like all this waiting-to-see-if-it-was-safe-to-take-the-next-step stuff. He’d rather look whatever they were dealing with in the eye, through a high-powered scope, and see if this was the one time he didn’t get the shot off first. “I’m glad I could be there for you.”
“Did you really think I knew who you were?” she asked.
He wanted to be offended that she still questioned his word on that, but then he’d have to admit how much of what she said he still didn’t take at face value. “Yes. Wayne swore on a number of occasions that he’d told you he was working with someone on the inside, and who I was.”
“I wonder why he never said anything.”
“He was Wayne. He lived and died by his paranoia.” Blake cringed. “Sorry. Poor choice of words.”
“Appropriate.”
“Why did you do it, in Salt Lake?” he asked. It might not be something he wanted to hear, but if they were going to traipse through their sex life, might as well go in deep.
She pulled from his grasp and knelt, studying him. “I think... I think I needed to know something was real.” Sh
e poked him in the shoulder, where his scars sat under his shirt. “There’s this nagging doubt that’s been there since I started digging into Jabberwock, five years ago, that maybe none of it is real. Even now.”
“Funny. You feel like you’re trapped in a nightmare, and every morning, when I wake up, I hope the better part of the last decade was just a dream. All of it, except...”
She tilted her head to the side, curiosity breaking through the melancholy. “Except what?”
“You.” It was an odd thing to admit. As strange as hearing that she saw him as being safe. But he was unwilling to take it back.
The pink that spread across her cheeks was alluring. “Shameless flatterer.”
“I’ve been called worse.” He settled a hand on her face and leaned in to brush his lips over hers. White-hot sparks sped through him, banishing the chill, and he deepened the kiss.
Her groan and the tingle of her mouth against his, were like a finely aged brandy—smooth, intense, and carrying a hard burn through him. He knotted his fingers in her hair and held her captive, needing to vanish into the moment.
Her mewl drove to his core, sucking him further into now. “Don’t start this if you’re not prepared to finish it.” There was a pleading in her voice. A quiet desperation that made him think she was talking about more than the sex.
He broke away to clear his thoughts, but looking at the smattering of freckles on her nose that were only noticeable up close, the flush on her lips, and the chaos in her eyes that matched his own, did the opposite.
He brushed his lips up the side of her neck, and she tilted her head back, exposing more skin. If he let go, would this all evaporate? No. He refused to let that happen.
He pushed her sweater up, to settle his palm on her waist. Sharp bursts of desire and memory flowed between them. He shoved her top and bra out of the way, then kissed a path down to her breast.
She arched her back when he reached her nipple. He flicked his tongue over the hard nub, and her squeal of delight traveled over him to tug at his cock. With a quick push and twist, he rolled her onto her back and knelt above her, straddling her.
The wicked smile she treated him to danced over his senses. When he lowered his head to her breast again and scrapped his teeth across her nipple, she twisted under him, hips coming off the ground, her pelvis colliding with his.
He dropped his hand to her stomach, and then slid lower. He didn’t pause when he reached jeans, popping the button open and yanking the fabric apart to split the zipper.
She sighed when he dipped below her panties and glided over her lower lips. Her soft sounds and the way she yielded beneath him, when she so often refused to budge in daily life, thrummed in his veins.
“Fuck. You’re amazing.” He spoke against her skin, not wanting to pull away from the intoxication of tasting her.
When he slid his hand between her wet folds, she bucked her hips and moaned. She ground against his fingers when he placed one on either side of her clit and stroked. “Harder.”
He wasn’t sure what she wanted more of, but he was willing to give her everything. He nibbled and massaged her aching center.
Her rhythmic writhing taunted him with memories of what it was like to be buried inside her. His erection strained against his pants, aching and almost raw.
He increased his pace, and she bucked against his hand. The incredible noises she made grew to staccato cries, pulsing against his shaft. He adored the way her face scrunched up, her lips slightly parted and her eyes closed, when she was near orgasm.
Blake pushed harder, and she lifted her ass off the mattress when she came, pressing into his touch until she dropped away with a shuddering sigh.
Her screams shredded his control. He moved his mouth back to hers, lightly stroking her but not touching the swollen nub between her legs. The way she returned the kiss begged for her to be devoured. He tangled his fingers in her hair and held her captive, while he glided his lips to her ear, to nip at her lobe.
“Fuck me, please?” Her soft question washed over him with lust.
He nodded, not sure he could manage more than a grunt in response, as he yanked off his sweatshirt. He unsnapped her bra and dragged it down her arms.
His desire surged when he took in her bare nipples, red and swollen from the attention he’d given them.
She wriggled out of her jeans and panties, each new twist of her hips scraping friction across his thighs.
He stood to strip off the rest of his clothes, his cock springing free the moment it found a way out of his boxers. He trailed his gaze over figure on the bed, drinking in every inch and curve and delicious glint of temptation.
Condom. Right.
Tearing it from the foil and rolling it on wasted precious seconds Blake didn’t want to surrender.
He straddled her again, and she reached between his legs to grip his shaft and move her hand in a steady stroke. He half-closed his eyes, moaning at her tender touch. “So good. So amazing.”
She guided him toward her slick tunnel, teasing him by brushing the head of his cock along her slit. When she dipped near her opening, he couldn’t hold back. He thrust forward.
She withdrew her hand, leaving him free to plunge deep inside her.
He fell into the sensation of her wrapped around him—her legs around his waist, her arms over his shoulders, and her pussy gripping his shaft.
They rocked against each other. He tried to set a slow pace, but she pushed back, and he didn’t have the willpower to resist. A sharp bolt of arousal sparked through him at the heat between them, and he pounded harder and faster.
He used one hand beside her head to hold himself up, and used the other to massage her breast, pinching her nipple and rolling it between his fingers.
The assault on his senses, from her moans to her warmth, to the joy lingering on her lips, tore through him, and he couldn’t hold back. His balls tightened, begging for release. He tried to draw the moment out, wanting to stay here forever, but he didn’t have that kind of willpower. Climax rushed over him.
His grunts—or maybe it was the fact he pounded harder—seemed to nudge her over the edge again. She dug her nails into his back and gasped as she came, clenching around his spasming cock and drawing his orgasm toward uncomfortable, but leaving him on this side of incredible.
He slammed insider her, until he couldn’t any more, then slowed to a stop. When he opened his eyes, she was looking up at him, a sweet smile teasing her lips. The deceptive innocence, mischief lurking beneath, was almost enough to make him hard again.
He stripped off and disposed of the condom, then dropped onto the bed and pulled her to him.
Blake sank into the warmth and weight of Reagan lying next to him, the way he did so many nights. He always told himself it was a matter of comfort—two people with the same goal, who needed someone to lean on.
He didn’t believe that lie anymore. This was about her. Keeping her safe. Falling for her—God help him, he was. And when it all crumbled, it was going to hurt like hell. Knowing that didn’t give him the power to change what he felt.
Chapter Nineteen
Waking up to Reagan gone was becoming as familiar to Blake as falling asleep next to her. It took him a couple of years and some serious narcotics to get past his insomnia and nightmares. She didn’t take that route, so he wouldn’t complain.
He showered and dressed, and she still hadn’t returned. Might as well step outside and see how badly they were snowed in.
When he opened the motel room door, the early sun glared off snow and made him wince. He stepped back to grab his sunglasses. Despite the blinding light, the chill bit into his cheeks.
Snow was pushed toward the edges of the parking lot, reaching more than a foot over his head. It looked like the storm wasn’t as bad as he feared, but with the clouds gone, it would have gotten icy overnight, so roads would still be treacherous.
A flash of color in the midst of grays caught his attention, and he turned to see Reag
an standing several feet from the back of the building. She was gazing out over an empty field.
He approached, not trying to mask the crunch of his boots, but she didn’t turn.
“What are you looking at?” he asked when he reached her.
She nodded at the Chicago skyline. Buildings raced toward the sky, jutting from the horizon. “It’s so flat.”
“Are you missing the mountains?”
She shook her head. “Just making an observation.”
“How long have you been up?”
She finally looked at him. “A few hours. Someday you’ll have to teach me how to sleep the way you do.”
“Someday I hope I can.” It was an odd thing to wish for, but with their situation as topsy-turvy as it was, it seemed as good as anything.
She nodded toward the car. “Do you feel better about getting back on the road this morning?”
“Yes. The roads should still be mostly empty. We’ll have to drive slowly, but the sky is clear and so is the forecast. We should be fine.”
She handed him the keys. “You drive. I want to read you something from Alex’s journal and get your opinion on it.”
“Sure.” Now he was curious.
Half an hour later, they’d checked out and were on their way to Minnesota again. Blake was right about the traffic—very few people were braving the ice- and snow-packed freeway. The driving was slow but doable, and better than waiting in a room.
Reagan hadn’t said much beyond basic yeses and nos.
Blake tried to be patient, to let her bring up the journal topic again, but a little nudge wouldn’t hurt. “What did you want to read me?”
“Oh right.” She leaned forward in her seat, to grab something from the bag between her legs, then sat up again. “I found a passage this morning. Most of what’s in here is Alex talking to the book or leaving notes to himself. Musings. But this one... Kitten, I don’t know if you ever found this, but if you did, I pray to God you’re all right.”
“Are you kitten?” The passage was easy to make sense of, in a basic way. But what was hidden behind it?
The Hatter and The Hare (Hacking Wonderland Book 2) Page 9
