by LENA DIAZ,
The low murmur of a deep male voice sounded again, and Heather slumped with relief. Nick. He was in the main room of their hotel suite, talking to the two agents guarding her. A few moments later, she heard the sound of a door closing. The other agents must have left.
She glanced at the bedside clock. Two in the morning. Good grief. What had Nick been doing out this late? Had he helped interview Gonzalez? That thought had her fully awake. If he’d spoken to Gonzalez, he might know where her sister was. The DEA could be on their way right now to rescue her. She fervently hoped so.
She shoved the covers back and hopped out of bed right as her bedroom door flew open. She gasped and pressed her hand to her throat before her mind registered that it was Nick standing in the doorway.
She drew in a shaky breath. “You scared me.” She lowered her hand to her side, grateful the only light in the room was from the moonlight filtering in through the blinds. She was only wearing a T-shirt and panties, and after Nick’s treatment of her back at the dock had reminded her about condition number one, she wasn’t exactly comfortable parading around in her underwear.
“Did you find out anything from Gonzalez? Do you know where my sister is?” She reached for the light blanket at the foot of the bed to wrap around herself.
Nick stalked toward the bed, stopping just short of touching her. The tightness of his jaw and the way his eyes narrowed dangerously had Heather’s survival instincts screaming at her to run. She resisted the cowardly urge because she knew Nick would never hurt her—not physically, anyway—and her pride had taken too much of a beating already tonight. She wasn’t about to let him bully her.
He leaned down toward her, obviously trying to use his size and strength to intimidate her.
It was working.
“What were you thinking?” he bit out, his voice a tight rasp. He grabbed her arms and lightly shook her. “What were you thinking when you stepped onto that boat?”
His shaking her and talking to her in that condescending, sarcastic tone was the proverbial last straw. She was through with his conditions, through with him bullying her, through with him ordering her around. She picked up her feet and dropped right out of his arms. She twisted and threw all her weight at the back of his knees.
He crashed to the floor like a rock.
Heather crouched beside him, ready to lecture him on manners, but the sight of big, tough Nick lying flat on his back, blinking up at her with such a look of astonishment on his face, tugged at her funny bone. A giggle burst between her lips.
Nick’s eyes narrowed in warning.
Another giggle escaped. Heather clasped her hand over her mouth, but it was hopeless. She started laughing so hard tears streamed down her face.
“Oh, oh, my gosh.” She wiped her tears. “The look on your face when you...” She laughed again, so hard her stomach hurt. She clutched at her middle, drawing big gasping breaths between laughs.
Nick grabbed her and suddenly she was the one flat on her back. He covered her body with his. “Stop laughing,” he growled.
“I’m...trying,” she wheezed between giggles. The memory of his shocked look triggered another round of laughter.
Suddenly his mouth was on hers. The crazy man must have thought he could stop her laughter by kissing her.
He was right.
The feel of his lips molding hers stopped her midgiggle, and suddenly all she wanted to do was kiss him back. She poured every ounce of frustration, hunger, even anger into that kiss. She wanted him, desperately, had wanted him for so long. And even though she knew it was probably a mistake, that she’d hate herself for it later, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer, letting him know in every way she could that she wanted this.
He responded to her surrender like a starving man at a banquet. He peppered her with kisses, ran his tongue across her skin, suckled her until she cried out with pleasure. In a whisper of cloth her shirt was gone. A quick tug and her panties disappeared, too. Nick pushed himself off her for the briefest of moments as he tugged off his clothes. And then he was back, his naked skin heating hers, the light matting of hair on his chest scraping across her breasts, his arousal prodding her belly.
She shivered with wanting, longing for him to hurry and make her his. She couldn’t bear the pleasure-pain of his wandering hands and sweltering kisses much longer.
“Nick, please...” she breathed against his neck.
Her urgency was matched by his. He pressed another quick kiss against her lips, then pulled back.
“Give me a minute. I’ll be right back.”
Suddenly, he was gone, leaving her lying there, wondering why he’d run out of the room. But then he was back, and at the sound of a foil packet tearing open, her face turned warm. He was putting on a condom.
And then he was lifting and carrying her to the bed. He pushed her back against the mattress, doing sinful things to her neck, making her want him even more than she ever thought possible.
He suddenly grabbed her hips and pushed himself inside her in a long, deep stroke.
She cried out from the pleasure washing through her. Nick rasped her name and began to move again, building the tension inside her, higher and higher. He praised her, telling her how beautiful she was, how much he wanted her, as he stretched and filled her, bringing her closer and closer to the peak.
When she thought she was about to explode from the pleasure, he slowed his strokes and leaned down and kissed her again. He feathered his hands across her hypersensitive skin, learning every curve. Whenever he found a particularly sensitive spot, and her breath caught, he would pause and lavish her with more attention, as if to wring out every ounce of pleasure he could.
He shuddered, and Heather knew he was close. He kissed her again, then reached down between them, stroking her with his fingers as he thrust harder and faster into her. Heather drew her knees up, shouting his name as her climax washed over her, exploding through her body in a wave of pleasure so intense tears ran down her face.
Nick pushed fully into her, filling her, saying her name as he stiffened against her in his own climax. He shuddered again, collapsing on top of her for the barest of moments, then rolling to the side with her clasped tightly in his arms, as if reluctant to let her go.
As they lay together on the bed, their chests heaving from exertion, his hands stroking her bare back, she realized she’d never felt so complete as when she was in his arms. He couldn’t have made love to her the way he had if he didn’t care about her. He’d only yelled at her on the docks because he was worried about her. She knew that now.
She fell asleep with a smile on her face.
* * *
HEATHER’S DEEP, EVEN breathing told Nick she’d fallen asleep.
He continued to hold her and stroke the velvet-soft skin on her back. As his own skin cooled and the blood began pumping to his brain again, he realized what a terrible mistake he’d just made, in so many ways.
When he’d opened the door to her room, he hadn’t meant to go on the offensive. He’d planned their conversation on the drive back from DEA headquarters. He was going to sit her down and calmly remind her how dangerous this mission was. He was going to remind her they’d had to be extra careful because her barely there outfit wouldn’t allow her to wear a bullet-resistant vest. He was going to remind her how crucial condition two was, that he’d set that condition out of concern for her safety, not because he wanted to boss her around.
But then he’d stepped into their hotel suite and had relived every agonizing moment of the encounter with Gonzalez as he briefed the two agents protecting Heather. He was furious with himself for agreeing to a plan that had put her in danger. A week ago, he wouldn’t have even considered it. But after being with Heather these past few days, after seeing how deeply she cared about her sister, he’d realized she would be devastat
ed if Lily died, and she’d never forgive him if he hadn’t done everything he could to save her. He’d selfishly allowed his emotions to rule his head and had gone along with a far too dangerous plan.
Remembering Heather’s blatant disregard for her own safety, how she’d been only a few feet from that sick, twisted psychopath, how he’d had a gun in his hand and could have easily killed her, all of that had his nerves stretched taut. When the agents stepped out of the suite, he’d been on the edge of desperation to assure himself that Heather was okay. He’d run to her room and had thrown the door open.
Her scantily clad body had been bathed in moonlight, her breasts pressing against her threadbare T-shirt, the lacy edge of her panties peeking at him beneath the hem. All the blood had pumped from his brain to another part of his anatomy. He wanted her, badly, wanted to feel her silky skin rubbing against his, hear her sexy little cries in the back of her throat when he plunged inside her. Wanting her, knowing he couldn’t have her, had him clenching his jaw so tight his teeth ached.
So instead of holding her against him, he’d held her at arm’s length, and his frustration that he couldn’t do more than that had him saying things he shouldn’t have said. Then she’d dropped him on his butt and started laughing, and all he could think about again was how much he wanted to kiss her. Just once, he’d told himself. One kiss, then he’d leave. But one kiss hadn’t been enough, could never be enough.
He let out a deep sigh. The smile that was still on Heather’s face, even in sleep, told him far more than she realized. That smile and the gift of her body tonight told him she’d forgiven him for arresting her and for abandoning her in that cell when he could have easily gotten her out.
But he didn’t deserve her forgiveness, and he shouldn’t have made love to her, because there was no turning back. There was no future for them. There was no way to pretend she’d never been arrested, that she hadn’t broken the law to try to save her sister from going to jail—not without giving up his career. For him, being a DEA agent wasn’t just a job. It was his life. It was who he was. He couldn’t give that up, not if he had a choice.
He tucked the covers around her, then picked his clothes up off the floor and quietly walked to the door.
“Nick?”
He turned at the sound of her sleepy voice. “Yes?”
She propped herself up on her elbows. “You’re leaving?”
He cleared his throat. “I’m going to my room. We both have to get up in just a few hours. We should get some sleep.”
Even in the near-darkness he could tell she was weighing his words, searching for the truth hidden in them. He owed her the truth, and the sooner she knew it, the sooner they could both focus on the case again. And somehow find a way to move on.
He drew a deep, bracing breath.
“Don’t say it.” Heather’s voice was frosty. “You don’t have to say anything about...us.” She laughed bitterly. “Condition number one, right?”
He briefly closed his eyes, hating the sound of hurt in her voice. “I’m sorry. It’s not that I don’t care about you. I—”
“Oh, please. Spare me, okay? I wanted you. I knew it was a mistake, that nothing had changed. My bad. What’s done is done. Just tell me what happened with Gonzalez. Did you interview him? Did you find out where my sister is?”
He hesitated, feeling awkward, despising himself for hurting her. He also wasn’t sure what to tell her. She’d find everything out in the morning, but if he told her what he’d learned, she wouldn’t get any sleep, and she’d make herself sick with worry.
“Nick? You know something. Tell me.” Her brows were drawn down and she was clutching the covers like a lifeline.
He sighed and chose a half truth. “Gonzalez didn’t tell us where Lily’s being held.”
She closed her eyes briefly, as if she was in pain. “But did he at least tell you she’s okay?”
“We don’t know yet.”
“But—”
“I’m sorry. There’s nothing else I can tell you right now.” Coming in here had been a mistake, one that he sorely regretted. He opened the door.
“Because you can’t tell me, or because you won’t?”
He answered without turning around. “Does it matter?”
“Yes.”
“Because I can’t. I honestly don’t know if Lily is okay or not.”
But he had every reason to believe she wasn’t.
The silence stretched out between them. He finally turned around to look at her. She stared at him, as if she was deciding whether or not she could believe him.
“Thank you,” she finally said, her voice firm, cold. “Thank you for telling me the truth.”
He curled his fingers into his palms. He gave her a curt nod and stepped out of the room.
Chapter Twelve
For reasons Heather would understand all too soon, the DEA had taken Gonzalez to a secret location an hour north of Key West. Nick sat in the conference room beside Heather, waiting for Gonzalez to be brought in.
Heather was pale this morning, with dark circles under her eyes. She’d barely eaten anything for breakfast, no matter how much Nick cajoled and tried to talk her into taking care of herself. Knowing this was his fault had guilt eating him up inside.
Unfortunately, once she heard what Gonzalez had to say, she was probably going to go from bad to worse.
Part of what Nick couldn’t tell her last night was that he’d spent several hours at the docks, creating a cover story for what had happened. It was imperative that Gonzalez’s capture be kept secret. But there had been several people who’d seen the swarm of DEA agents converging on that boat. Those people would see a story in the paper this morning that Nick had helped plant, a story that described a fiasco, painting the DEA as having mistakenly targeted a local fisherman thinking he was dealing drugs. But they’d found nothing. Their tip had turned out to be wrong, and there were no arrests to report.
The story would make it look like the DEA had bungled an investigation, a small price to pay for the agency to cover up what had really happened and to keep their original mission intact. Or at least, partly intact.
The true story from last night had changed everything.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Nick asked. “You don’t have to meet with him.”
“I have to find my sister.” She swallowed hard. “Or at least find out what happened to her. I’ll talk to him. Did he...did he say why he wanted to talk to me? I mean, he knows I’m not Lily. So why would he insist on seeing me?”
Nick knew exactly why Gonzalez wanted to speak to her. Originally he’d thought it was kinder not to tell her ahead of time, because it would just drive her crazy hearing it from him, then having to make the long drive to speak to Gonzalez and ask the questions that would be going through her mind. Now Nick was second-guessing that decision. Maybe he should try to soften the blow by telling her himself, now, before Gonzalez came in.
“Look,” he said, turning in his chair to face her. “I couldn’t tell you this last night, but you’re going to find out in a few minutes so I’m going to go ahead and tell you. When we brought Gonzalez in, he insisted that he wasn’t—”
A knock sounded on the door. Before Nick could tell the agent on the other side to wait, the door opened. Two DEA agents came inside, flanking Gonzalez, who had chains dangling from his wrists and legs as he shuffled into the room.
Heather’s complexion turned ashen. Regret curled inside Nick. He definitely should have warned her before they got here. She was in for a shock, and she was already shaking and looking impossibly frail. But there was no going back now.
Gonzalez’s dark brown eyes went straight to Heather and never wavered, even as the agents wove chains from his cuffs to two shiny new steel hooks that had been bolted to the top of the table this mornin
g for this very purpose. That was one of several things Nick had insisted on before allowing Heather anywhere near the man.
Another thing he’d insisted on was that Heather wasn’t going to meet with Gonzalez alone. Gonzalez had been adamant, wanting to talk to her by himself. But Nick had refused to budge an inch, even when Dante had ordered him to do so. Nick had threatened to pull Heather out altogether to make his new boss back down.
Thankfully, Dante hadn’t called his bluff, because Nick wasn’t so sure he had enough influence on Heather right now to make her agree to let him pull her off the case.
“We’ll be right outside if you need anything,” one of the agents said.
Nick nodded his thanks and waited until the agents had left before addressing Gonzalez.
“All right, Mr. Gonzalez. You have your audience with Miss Bannon, as requested. If you threaten or insult her in any way, this meeting is over. Understood?”
Gonzalez’s honey-brown eyes focused on Nick.
“I’m perfectly aware of your conditions, Agent Morgan,” he said, in a thick accent. “And I assure you, I have nothing but Heather’s best interests at heart.”
Heather suddenly reached for Nick’s hand beneath the table. He flicked his gaze up to hers in surprise, but she wasn’t looking at him, so he threaded his fingers through hers and gave her a reassuring squeeze.
“The only thing I want to hear from you,” Heather said, her voice surprisingly strong, “is where my sister is. I want her to be safe and I want to bring her home.”
“We both want the same thing, I assure you. I love Lily very much, and I want nothing more than for her to be safe and as far from Key West as possible.”
“If that’s the truth, why are you holding my sister hostage?”
“You misunderstand, Miss Bannon. I’m not the one holding your sister hostage.”
Heather’s eyes widened. She looked at Nick as if for confirmation. He gave her a slight nod. If anything, her face turned even more pale.
