I Dream of Danger

by Lisa Marie Rice

  He finally lowered her hand to the table, but kept it in his.

  “I never missed a movie of yours. I think I’ve seen every one since you were a kid. You had a rare beauty and a rare talent. But I find you more beautiful now and your talent is one that everyone here appreciates.”

  “I know they appreciate it.” She smiled at him. The compliments on her cooking were frequent and fervent and she understood completely. Before she arrived and reorganized the communal kitchen, Mac had cooked. Every person who told her that had winced.

  He was searching her eyes again, a look so penetrating it was as if he were walking around inside her head. “You don’t believe me when I say I find you more beautiful than before.”

  She kept an easy smile on her face. “Lucius, it’s not necessary for you to say that. I don’t need it.”

  “I know you don’t. But I need to say it. Stella—” he stopped. Licked his lips. Swallowed. Looked down at their linked hands, then back up at her.

  If Stella didn’t know better, she’d say he was nervous. But that was impossible of course. Mac, Nick, and Jon were three of the toughest men on the face of the earth. Capable and brave and determined. They had defied—were still defying—the U.S. government and the entire military. They were unbreakable men and this man, this man holding her hand, was their commanding officer. Had led them into battle. That kind of man didn’t do embarrassment.

  And yet . . .

  “Stella, I have something to say.” His voice, already hoarse, had roughened. “And I’m finding it . . . I’m finding it hard.”

  “I’m listening, Lucius.” She couldn’t imagine it hard for Lucius to say anything.

  He drew in a deep breath. “I’m falling in love with you. No, scratch that. I am in love with you. Since the moment I saw you when we were brought into Haven.”

  Oh God. Tears pricked her eyes. Lucius and the three others had been carried into Haven because they’d been unable to walk. All four of them had been on the verge of death. She remembered Lucius clearly lying on the gurney in the infirmary, a wounded and broken man. It had hurt to look at him, a clearly once-strong man who’d been tortured almost to death. Catherine had had a near-death experience herself and was in a coma, so it had been up to Stella and their two nurses, Pat and Salvatore, to take care of everyone.

  After the attack, Stella had had four surgeries and had spent months in the hospital. With nothing else to do, she’d observed the nurses and had a pretty good handle on what to do.

  Lucius had opened his eyes briefly when she approached him on the gurney. “We’ll take care of you,” she whispered. He’d nodded and passed out.

  That was the first time he set eyes on her.

  Since then, she’d looked after him. Not out of pity, oh no. Partly out of rage. She’d been subjected to insane violence too, just as he had. The violence of the cruel and cowardly. She knew exactly what that was like and the idea of a man like this, a combat hero, who’d dedicated his life to his country, being tied down like an animal and tormented—it drove her half crazy.

  But the real reason she’d looked after him was that she’d seen right through the naked, half-dead man who’d arrived in Haven and saw, very clearly, the extraordinary, strong man he’d been. His courage and strength had been clear to her from the start. He’d been smart and strong and brave. Handsome, even, as she’d been beautiful. And then they’d fallen into the hands of monsters. But she came out of it and he was coming out of it, and in watching him put himself back together, she’d lost her heart to him.

  He reached out a hand to her face, finger trying to trace the worst scar of all, running from her left eyebrow down to the right jaw. The one that had taken sixty-four stitches to close. She was lucky to have a functioning eye.

  Instinctively Stella reared back. No one had touched it since the surgeon had taken out the stitches.

  “No, no,” he whispered. “No, darling. Shhh. Let me touch.” His finger, slightly rough, traced the deep white scar over and over again, slowly, from end to end.

  That had been the first slash, the stalker having taken her completely by surprise. Her entourage had known for years that she had a violent stalker. Nobody told her, the idea being that she’d “lose her focus.” And they’d lose their gravy train. The stalker had sent her menacing letters, horrific gifts, had made threatening phone calls. All intercepted. The man she’d considered her personal assistant was a bodyguard. His dead body had been found just outside her bedroom door, lying in a pool of blood.

  It was the cut that had hurt the most, slicing her face and her life in two.

  Lucius’s touch was so gentle, his eyes so understanding. They just sat there in the quiet room, his finger tracing her worst nightmare from temple to chin. His thumb wiped away the fat tears that welled from her eyes.

  His eyes—they knew her somehow. No one had known her. Her fame had been like a stone wall between her and the rest of humanity. Even her lovers pleasured her body without ever touching her heart. They didn’t want to touch her heart, anyway. That had always been very clear.

  This man, with the ruined face and broken body, this man touched her heart.

  A sob escaped her, quickly stifled. She never cried, ever. The tears were . . . a mistake.

  “Hush, darling,” he said, that deep voice so tender. “I haven’t finished talking yet.”

  She nodded, throat too tight for words.

  “I love you, Stella. I know I have nothing to offer you, not even myself. I can barely stand upright. I have no career, no place to call my own but here. I am a hunted man, together with the others. Should we be caught, we’d be court-martialed, but I don’t think we’d make it to a tribunal. They’d shoot us first. I don’t have anything resembling a future. I’m not even fully a man again. But I swear no one else could ever love you like I do. Someday I’ll be whole. I believe that completely. It won’t be today and it won’t be tomorrow. But, do you think—do you think you could wait for me?”

  That strong, scarred beloved face was open for her to read, to see his anxiety. Those dark eyes were locked onto hers.

  The tears were falling freely now, catching on her upturned lips. She cupped his face with her free hand.

  “I’m not going to wait for you, Lucius.” He flinched and she clutched his hand harder. “I don’t have to wait. I’m already yours.”

  Do you think Jon will find a clue in Elle’s house?” Catherine came out of the bathroom with perfumed steam billowing behind her, like some goddess coming out of the mists of time.

  Billowing steam, goddesses, mists of time. Christ. Mac didn’t recognize the thoughts in his head these days. They were totally unlike the thoughts of Mac BC—Before Catherine. He seemed to be having a lot of those thoughts nowadays, though.

  Everything in his life had changed since Catherine, not least the small bump showing in her belly. When he saw it, when he touched it, his heart gave a huge kick in his chest. His child. Their child. Though Catherine was his heart and life, this child would be his only blood relative in the world. Just thinking about it gave him the shivers.

  Catherine walked to their bed, smiling sadly. If anyone knew what it was like to be hunted down by the goons of Arka Pharmaceuticals, it was Catherine.

  Mac held his arms out and grunted with satisfaction when she went into them. The world was fucked-up almost beyond repair, but when his arms closed around his wife he could almost hear an audible click, as if a piece of sophisticated machinery were working well.

  He ran a hand down her dark, soft hair. “If Jon doesn’t find what we need tonight, we’ll just attack it full bore tomorrow. Everyone will pitch in. We’ll figure it out.”

  Looking down, he could see her smile, felt her head nod against his shoulder.

  She wasn’t quite convinced. True, there were only a few of them against a huge multinational corporation, but they were the best. And they had two secret weapons—Catherine and Elle.

  Between them the two women had about a bil
lion advanced degrees and they were highly motivated.

  “I appreciate what you and Nick and Jon are doing.” She looked up at him, cupped the burn scar on his face. As always, when she touched him there was a sensation of deep warmth and well-being. And something else. Her eyes opened wide because she also got a blast of the surge of lust that took him. It wasn’t anything new, he felt a low-level desire whenever she was around and they were alone.

  Like now.

  She was pregnant and worked hard at the infirmary, so Mac tried really, really hard to keep a lid on it, or at least keep his dick down. If it were up to him or his cock, she’d be flat on her back all night and most of the day. But he loved her too much to act on his lust every time he felt it. She never said no, but he could read her like a book now. If she was tired, faint bruises appeared under her gorgeous silver eyes and that ivory skin became even paler. That was when he really stepped back. And he knew to keep it tucked in his pants when she was absorbed in a task.

  She was worried now, that was clear. He smoothed out the furrow between her eyebrows with his thumb. “We have to do this, honey,” he said gently. “For Nick, if nothing else. Because he’d go it alone if he had to and we simply can’t let him do that.”

  He could understand her worry. They would risk their lives for strangers. If the three of them got caught they’d be executed. They were all real clear on that. But more important than that, if they got caught or if they died, Haven would die, and not well. The small community they’d gathered around them was precious to him and to all of them. They were moving toward complete self-sufficiency, but it was still dependent on what Ghost Ops could steal or liberate from the outside world. It was dependent on Ghost Ops for protection and direction. If the three of them were gone, Haven would die.

  And his child would grow up fatherless.

  Mac squelched that thought immediately. Catherine was way too perceptive for him to allow something like that in his head.

  “I know we need to rescue them,” Catherine said quietly. “No question. And not just for Nick, for us.” She searched his face. “We need to do this. I feel it very strongly.”

  Man, when Catherine felt something strongly it was as true as true could be. But what she felt wasn’t making her happy. The lines between her brows were back and her mouth was turned down.

  Well, Mac had a cure for that. “You feel it strongly, huh?”

  His tone must have tipped her off because her head tilted and eyes narrowed as she studied him. “Mac,” she said.

  He waggled his eyebrows. “I feel something strongly too. Here.” He grabbed her hand and placed it right over his dick and ah, man. It happened again. He’d been semi hard and at her touch, at that massive warmth he always felt when she touched him, he turned hard as steel. “You can feel it.”

  Her hand cupped him. “It’s quite a . . . sensation,” she murmured.

  Mac thrust himself further into her hand. “Yeah. I have a strong feeling you should be doing something about this. Forget about those other guys. Rescue me.”

  Catherine laughed and pulled him down for a kiss. She looked excited and happy, just what he wanted.

  Mission accomplished.

  We’ll get her back,” Nick said quietly and Elle looked at him in surprise. Knowing how protective he was, she imagined he’d try to distract her, with sex probably, because she was apparently easily distractible that way. With him, at least. But Nick went right to the heart of what she felt.

  “God, I hope so.” She twined her hands and pulled them apart, an old trick. “I can’t bear the thought of her in their hands. Sophie’s nice. Good and gentle, you know?” She looked up at him.

  His face was tender. “I know. Like you, like Catherine. Would it help you to know that Jon and Mac and I haven’t failed a mission yet? Except for the one where we were betrayed.”

  Elle smiled. “Actually, it does help.” And it did. If anyone in the world could rescue her colleagues and her best friend, it was Nick, with the help of his friends. Lines of friendship becoming lines of salvation.

  They were sitting up in bed, Elle leaning against Nick’s strong shoulder. Finding comfort from just the physical contact. He placed his hand over hers, lacing his fingers through hers.

  “Let me show you something,” he said quietly in her ear.

  “To distract me?”

  “Yeah, that too. But also because it’s beautiful and we should take time to notice beautiful things.”

  Elle twisted her head around to look into his face, eyes wide. Nick, a philosopher?

  His mouth quirked. “You don’t have to look at me like that. I’m not an animal.”

  She cupped his face with her free hand. “No, you’re not.” As a matter of fact, he had being a full human being down pat. It was a new way of looking at him, and it hit her heart with the force of a blow. He looked tired, new lines in his face. He, Mac, and Jon were hunted men and yet instead of thinking of keeping themselves safe, they protected an entire community.

  He had taken her problems entirely upon his shoulders so naturally that only now she realized he’d done so.

  Elle had been almost blinded by her sexual attraction to him and the very strong emotions he evoked in her. She’d seen him as almost superhuman, something more than a man. And he was, but he was also a man. Who presumably felt tired and despondent, who might be sad that his life as a soldier had been trashed, who felt the weight of responsibility for the many souls in Haven who depended on him and his teammates.

  But he never let that show.

  She saw the full man now. With all his many strengths and very few weaknesses. She was one of his weaknesses.

  “Show me,” she whispered. If there was something beautiful he wanted her to see, she wanted to see it.

  “Okay. Brace yourself.”

  Nick reached for something, pressed something, and Elle’s breath caught in her lungs.

  The walls of the room simply . . . disappeared. It was as if the bed had been magically transported into the forest by a benevolent wizard. All around them was deep snow in the moonlight, a bright moon barely visible among the clouds. It had snowed earlier and the forecast was for more snow. For now, though, the scene was calm and gentle. Picture-postcard perfect in an imperfect world.

  “Like it?” Nick’s deep voice was right against her ear and she shivered. Everything felt so . . . magnified. The beauty of the scene—their bed magically transported to an enchanted forest—the love she felt for the man beside her. The intense affection she was starting to nurture for the outlaw community she’d joined.

  “I love it. How did you—” Her voice caught because he was kissing the oh-so-sensitive skin behind her ear and because his hand was smoothing up her thigh, taking her nightgown with it.

  “Hmm?” he purred. She felt the vibration of his naked chest against her back. Nick slept naked, which she thought was a bit of overkill. He was a temptation dressed. Naked, he was simply irresistible.

  “How did you manage to make the walls disappear?” Because that was a bit much, even for Nick. Even for Haven.

  “They didn’t disappear. They turned into monitors. What you’re seeing comes from remote cameras we have ringing Haven. It’s one specific spot, one of my favorites. But later we’ll program it to other spots you might like. This scene is real time, but we could show a recording. Sunrise or sunset.” His hand found her core, one rough finger circling her opening. Her head fell back against his shoulder. “Anything you want, honey.”

  “Oh God, Nick.”

  “Yeah? Is this what you want?” One big finger slid inside her and she shuddered. Ten minutes ago if anyone had asked her, she’d have said she wasn’t up for sex. Too tired, too tense, too scared. But that was then and this was now. All her troubles and worries coalesced somewhere outside her. Maybe swirling in that glorious landscape outside. They were still there, but far away. They’d come back of course, but for now, she was concentrated on her body. On the feel of a naked Nick aga
inst her back, his finger stroking heat inside her.

  He bit her. Lightly. Not enough to hurt but certainly enough to galvanize her, like a jolt of electricity. She broke out in goose bumps and could feel her sex become wet, more open to him.

  “That’s right, honey,” he murmured directly in her ear and she shivered. “Think about this. Think about me doing this to you.” The finger slid in deeper, slid out, slid even further in. “Don’t think of anything but this.”

  “Speaking of thinking . . .”

  She jumped when his thumb circled her clitoris and his hold on her tightened. She could feel his erect penis against her back, but he made no move to enter her. Just held her and touched her and bit her and licked her, all the while his finger moving in her now-slick folds with a light sucking sound and everything she was, all her senses swirled inward in an ever tightening circle until with one last stroke of his thumb, she fell over the edge, tightening around him endlessly as her climax took over.

  “Oh,” she sighed.

  “Thinking what?” That deep voice in her ear. She shivered.

  “What?”

  “Thinking. You said speaking of thinking . . .”

  Mmm. Thinking. Now that was a pointless activity right now, when every cell in her body felt replete and swollen. She sighed again.

  Nick nudged her shoulder with his. “You were going to say something.”

  “I was. I got distracted.”

  “Focus.”

  Focus. Easier said than done while he was cupping her breast. But the thought had been important— “Oh.”

  “Yeah?”

  She turned to face him, placing a hand against his cheek. The slight bristle of stubble tickled her hand. “I should shave.”

  “Yes, you should, but that’s not what I wanted to say. Catherine told me that she suspected that sex, really, really good sex, which I gather is the kind she and Mac have, increases her power. That she thinks sex made her slightly telepathic, more so with Mac.”

  The smile broadened. “Sex, huh?”