by Liliana Hart
“You can’t tell me you don’t want me,” she said. “Your body never has been able to lie as well as the rest of you.”
“I’ll always want you. There’s never been any question of that. But I’m not going to be a substitute for whatever the hell is going on with you. I want to know what happened back there. I thought you were dead.”
The color drained from her face. “My health isn’t any of your damned business.” She pulled the shirt back on, inside out.
“Has it happened before? Have you seen a doctor?”
Grace laughed bitterly and moved past him, with short, agitated strides. She grabbed a bottle of water out of the fridge and drank deep. “A doctor can’t fix me, Gabe. I’m fucked up. Broken. And there’s nothing that can put me back together again.”
“Cut yourself a break, Grace. We lost a child. It’s going to take some time.” He tried to go to her. To comfort her. And himself. But she jerked out of his arms.
“Really, Gabe? We lost a child. There was barely a we before she died, much less after. Did you even care?” she yelled. “I needed you. But your job was always more fucking important than your family. You didn’t even come to her funeral.”
“I couldn’t, goddammit, and you know it. Bennett put me in isolation so fast after my cover was blown that I didn’t even get a chance to see her. Do you think I didn’t want to hold her again? To touch her face one last time?” He rubbed his burning eyes and then ran his fingers through his hair roughly. “Do you think I didn’t try to fight my way through the agents who had me under lock and key?”
“How the hell should I know, Gabe? All I know is that you weren’t there, and if you’d paid more attention to what was going on in your other life, then she’d still be alive. You’ve always been good at keeping your thoughts to yourself. This is the most emotion I’ve seen from you in all the years I’ve known you.”
Her words cut fast and deep, and his heart was bleeding. Gabe punched his fist through the door leading into the bedroom. “Is that enough emotion for you?” He walked toward her, a predator stalking his prey, but she didn’t back away. “There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t wish that Tussad had killed me instead. I know she’s dead because of me. And I know you’ll never forgive me, but I wasn’t the only one who wasn’t there, Grace. I needed you, too.”
She turned her head so she wouldn’t have to maintain eye contact, but he took her chin and forced her to look at him—to see the pain that raged deep inside of him and know that it wasn’t hers alone to bear.
“I needed you too,” he repeated. “But when things died down and they released me, you were already gone. The first thing I did was visit her grave. The second was to come find you. But you’d already left the country and sold yourself to the highest bidder like a…”
He welcomed the sting from her hand as she slapped him hard across the cheek, and he grabbed her wrist as she tried to follow through with a punch to the stomach.
“Enough,” he said as they struggled against each other.
“Nothing you can say or do will ever be enough. As far as I’m concerned, you’re as dead to me as she is.”
“Damn you, then. Damn us both.”
All he wanted was for the pain to go away. At least for a little while.
Gabe pressed her back against the sidewall of the plane, his body hard and hungry for hers. Her eyes went wide, but she didn’t push him away. Their racing breaths mingled, and his heart pounded desperately in his chest as his mouth crashed down on hers.
It wasn’t a kiss filled with tenderness or affection. It was a kiss full of pain and longing—a desperate attempt to fill the aching emptiness that consumed them both and to claim what had once been his.
Grace bit his lip, and the metallic taste of blood filled his mouth. She ran her hands under his shirt and across the hard planes of muscle, and he gripped her hips and pressed her against his straining cock, grinding against her sweet spot until she whimpered into his mouth. They’d both be sore tomorrow.
Their breathing was harsh, and Gabe lifted her shirt over her head, ripping it in his haste. He inhaled the muskiness of her scent. Her arousal was potent—the sweetest aphrodisiac, calling to his animal nature. He trailed his lips down her neck and laved his tongue across the groove of her collarbone. He flicked open the front clasp of her bra with two fingers, and her breasts spilled free. They were small, but they filled his hands completely and swelled under his attention.
She pulled off his shirt and raked her nails across his chest and abdomen, and he shuddered at her touch. Her hands trembled in excitement as she worked at the buttons of his pants and found him large and heavy in her palm.
“Mmmm,” she purred as she stroked him, spreading the liquid that seeped from the tip of his cock over his plump head.
Gabe turned his attention to the pert nipples that stood up and begged for his attention. She’d always been sensitive there. He bit down gently, and she went crazy with desire, her hips arching and her moans turning into demands.
“Inside me,” she panted.
He watched her from under his lashes, continuing his assault on her nipples with his teeth and then soothing the sting immediately with the flat of his tongue. Her face was flushed with desire, and her hand continued to stroke him to the point that he hand to concentrate not to come. He wanted to be deep inside of her when he orgasmed.
“Fuck me, Gabe. I can’t wait any longer.”
Grace kicked off her boots, and he tugged at her pants. She lifted up so he could strip them down her legs, and he tossed them to the floor. Her fingers were relentless as they worked him back and forth, and he knew he wouldn’t last much longer if she kept it up. He bound her wrists with one hand and kept them imprisoned above her head, and he plunged his fingers into the wet heat of her pussy. She immediately tightened around him, spasming as she came with a gush of liquid cream into his hand.
“Christ.”
“Let my hands go. I need to touch you.”
He did as she asked, and her nails trailed down his chest and stomach until she held him in her hands.
“Now, now,” she chanted as she guided his cock inside her.
Gabe closed his eyes as he pushed into her. She was tight, and the spasms from her last orgasm pulled him deeper inside. He gritted his teeth at the agony of prolonging the inevitable, but he wanted to give her more before he found his own fulfillment. He grasped her hips and hitched her higher so the angle would allow him to hit the spot that always made her scream. He ignored the scrape of her fingernails down his back and took her mouth in a savage kiss as he felt the last dregs of his control fade away.
He slammed into her to the hilt and swallowed her cries of pleasure, thrusting again and again even as she tightened around him once more. Heat gathered at the base of his spine, and his balls tightened against his body. He felt her contract against him with a new wave of liquid heat, squeezing his cock to the point where pleasure almost turned into pain. She screamed her release into his mouth, and he swallowed every sound before thrusting into her one last time and filling her with his come.
Their breaths came in rapid pants, and they sagged against each other in exhaustion—two warriors at the losing end of a fight.
They’d both found fulfillment, but neither of them had found satisfaction.
CHAPTER TWELVE
London
The bartender’s name was Lucinda. Or maybe it was Lorraine. Jack couldn’t quite remember which, but she’d been a welcome distraction for the last couple of nights. She’d also been creative as hell in bed, which he appreciated in a woman.
It was close to 4 a.m., and his cock was already beginning to stir again. The woman was insatiable.
“Yeah, sugar. You get on top this time. You’ve worn me out.”
She laughed, low and husky, and his blood ran a little faster. She straddled his hips and he was just about to get his own little piece of heaven on Earth when his phone buzzed on the nightstand beside him.
“Shit,” Jack said.
“Just ignore it, baby.” She pushed down on him so just the tip of his cock was inside, and he groaned in frustration.
“I can’t, sugar. But give me a few minutes and we’ll start right back where we left off.”
She huffed out a sigh and shoved herself off him, grabbing her robe as she stalked out of the room and slammed the door behind her.
“This better be good,” Jack said as he answered the phone.
“Better than good,” Logan said. “I found out some very interesting things while visiting Mexico. Things that I can’t share over an open phone line.”
“Any trouble?”
“No more than usual, though I ran into a couple of goons who didn’t care for my questions.”
“You always did have trouble keeping your mouth shut. How soon can you get back to London?”
“I’m about to fly out of Mexico City. I’ll be there by midafternoon.”
“See you then.” Jack disconnected and went to search out Leanne. He’d never met a woman he couldn’t talk out of her mad, and he was in the mood to finish what they’d started.
* * *
Gabe felt like he’d been run over by a truck. He and Grace were standing upright against the wall, their bodies still joined and the sweat cooling on their skin. She shivered as chill bumps covered her skin.
“You’re cold.” He didn’t recognize the sound of his voice. It was raspy—lethargic—and then he cursed himself for speaking at all as she stiffened in his arms.
He pulled out of her slowly and watched her face as their bodies separated. She closed her eyes and covered her breasts with her arms. Gabe fell back into the chair, his legs weak and his mind muddled. An apology was on the tip of his tongue just as his phone chimed a series of beeps.
“I have to get that. It’s Ethan.”
Grace passed him his phone and said, “I’m going to take a shower and get some sleep.” Her voice was steady, but he could feel the emotion vibrating just under the surface.
He let the phone continue to beep as he watched her. “Grace, I…”
“Don’t apologize, Gabe. We both know we would have ended up here eventually.”
“We still have things unsettled between us.”
“Answer the phone, Gabe. You’ve always been able to have my body. I accept that. But my mind is my own. Nothing will ever be settled between us.” She walked out of the room—gloriously naked—the impression of his fingers already showing up on her skin as pale blue bruises.
“What?” Gabe growled into the phone.
“Is this a bad time?” Ethan asked.
“No more than usual. What’s going on?”
“Standridge is in Boston. I figured you’d like to take an impromptu trip to pay him a little visit.”
“Yeah, we’ll take care of it.” Gabe rubbed his eyes with his thumb and first finger and thought of sleep.
“I’ll send his address and a map to your phone.”
“Thanks. Has Logan checked in with you guys?”
“Not with me, but he might have called Jack.”
Gabe raised his brows at the way Ethan said Jack’s name. “Is there a problem with Jack?”
“Everything’s great. He’s screwing himself across London last I checked.”
Gabe laughed at Ethan’s obvious disgruntlement. “He doesn’t mean anything by it. It’s just the way he is. You’ll get used to him.”
“Yeah, like a hole in the head. Let me know what happens with Standridge. Are you going to try and bring him back with you?”
“We’ll play it by ear.”
“How’s the mercenary? Has she had any more lucrative offers while you’ve been gone?”
“Lay off, Ethan. She’s doing what she’s supposed to.” He knew he sounded harsher than he should have, and Ethan was a smart enough guy to pick up on it. The silence on the other end of the line told him Ethan understood he’d gone too far.
“I apologize, sir.” Gabe rolled his eyes at the formal title and the sullen attitude. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m expected online for a Call of Duty tournament. Unless you have more orders for me. Sir.”
The line went dead, and Gabe was left alone with his thoughts.
“Shit.” Alone with his thoughts was the last place he wanted to be. He put his clothes back on and went to talk to the pilot. It looked like they were headed to Boston.
* * *
Jack whistled tunelessly as he made his way through the dark streets of Westminster. His body was relaxed and his muscles thoroughly stretched. That woman could fuck like a thoroughbred and had the stamina to match. But it was time to cut her loose. In his mind, after a couple of nights together, a woman started to think in terms of relationships. And he didn’t do relationships. At least not anymore. He’d learned his lesson. And he’d be damned if he repeated his mistakes.
Unlike Gabe and Grace. He shook his head as he thought of his friends. They were both just begging for more heartache, and by the looks of Grace, he didn’t think she could take too much more. Jack had told Gabe they were being too obvious about their involvement, and damned if Ethan hadn’t already picked up on it. It would be best for everyone if Gabe and Grace could put their problems on hold until after the mission was over, but Jack knew them too well. He just hoped they were both still standing once the dust cleared.
He breathed in the night air. His thoughts were clear and his eyes alert. Sex didn’t muddle his brain—it made everything come into sharp focus. So he noticed immediately when he picked up the two tails. They weren’t trying to be subtle. They were big bruisers, but he’d faced down bigger.
He kept his pace steady, and his eyes saw everything. He was only a couple of blocks from headquarters, and he had to assume the Worthington Financial cover had been compromised.
One of the men split off, and Jack assumed he was going to try to loop around and take him from the front. Jack kept his hands loose at his sides and almost welcomed the fight. It had been a long time since he’d gotten into a good brawl. His fists ached for the contact.
He turned off the main street into a narrow alleyway. The smell of rotten garbage was overwhelming, and rats scurried from dumpster to dumpster, looking for food. Jack leaned back against a brick wall and waited patiently.
The two men didn’t disappoint him. They blocked his escape, one on each end of the alley, and moved toward him. They were scruffy and sported black leather jackets. The one on his left was just shy of six feet, but was thickly muscled. He had a tattoo that snaked up his neck and scrolled around his eye. The other guy was taller and leaner. He had dirty-blond hair tied back in a tail and carried a crowbar like he knew how to use it.
“What can I do for you boys?” Jack asked with a lazy smile. He made sure his posture was relaxed but kept his feet spread for balance. “I don’t think we’ve had the pleasure of meeting before.”
“We’re going to ask you a couple of questions, mate,” Tattoo said. “If we don’t like the answers, then you’re going to suffer.” Brass knuckles gleamed in the streetlight, and he flexed his meaty fingers. His accent was thick enough that some of his words were unintelligible, but Jack got the gist.
“Well, you’re certainly welcome to ask. When you’re done, I’d like to ask you guys some questions too.”
The guy with the ponytail came up on him fast. The crowbar grazed his ribs just before Jack grabbed the guy’s wrist and squeezed. He felt the bone give beneath his fingers, and the guy sucked in a silent scream. The crowbar fell to the ground with a clatter.
Tattoo rushed him from the opposite side, and a fist in the gut with those brass knuckles stole Jack’s breath. The flash of silver had him dodging on instinct, and a wicked blade cut into the flesh of his arm instead of burying itself straight into his heart.
“This was my favorite shirt, asshole.” He gave two short jabs to the guy who’d stabbed him, bringing him to his knees. Jack snapped his neck with a quick twist of his hands and watche
d the guy slump into the garbage where he belonged.
Jack put his foot on the neck of the other guy and grabbed his broken wrist. His eyes were pain filled, and his breath came in shallow pants. “Now, I’m going to ask you a couple of questions, mate, and you’re going to answer me. Do we understand each other?”
The guy nodded, and his eyes glazed over as Jack squeezed his wrist. “Yeah, man. But I swear I don’t know anything.”
“Wrong answer.” Jack squeezed a little harder, and the man squealed. “Who hired you?”
“He’ll kill me.”
“I’m going to kill you a lot slower if you don’t answer, so you might as well tell me.”
“His name’s Kimball. He’s American.”
“Description.”
“I don’t know.”
Jack squeezed again, and the man blacked out for a few minutes. He slapped him across the face until the man came to, and Jack waited until his eyes gained focus before asking again.
“Please, man. I need a doctor.”
“You’re about to need an undertaker. Give me a description of Kimball.”
“Big guy. About your size. Military. Or at least he looks that way. Scary son of a bitch.”
“How does he pay you?”
“Electronic transfer.”
“Good boy. You’re finally starting to learn.” Jack tapped his cheek a couple more times as the guy started to drift off. “You can pass out in a minute. Tell me what information you were supposed to get from me.”
“We were supposed to find out about the package some bloke sent to the place you’re living.”
Chills ran down Jack’s spine. Whoever was behind The Passover Project had a longer reach than he’d thought. “And what if I didn’t tell you?”
“Then we were supposed to knock you out and take you with us. If we couldn’t get the information out of you, then Kimball thought he could.”
