Risky Surrender

by Robin Bielman

  She shifted a little on her stool, accidentally tapping the light stand with her elbow. Light bounced around for a moment then settled down. She hated the nervous feeling gripping her. She’d worked with a hammer and chisel dozens of times. The slow work guaranteed the artifact protection. The last thing she wanted was the wall crashing in and damaging the gold statue.

  Her arms dropped from fatigue and she took a break before her unsteady hands got back to task. She glanced constantly at her laptop and the footage from Owen’s camera to be sure she worked in the right direction. Minutes ticked by too quickly. Serious doubts she’d get to the sculpture before sunrise and before someone else showed up for it plagued her. Whoever had buried the Tlaloc god didn’t want anyone to find it.

  A high-pitched ping echoed off the walls each time the hammer connected with the chisel. Lucy focused on moving the sharp-edged tool a fraction this way or that, edging deeper into the wall, getting closer to the alcove where the sculpture lay.

  A metallic taste tickled the back of her dry throat. Sweat trickled down her side. Her hand slipped, and the hammer took a small chunk out of the sandstone.

  “Shit.” She brought her hands to her lap.

  “Not what the president of field operations wants to hear.” McCall’s amused voice calmed her overactive nerves. He laid his chin on her shoulder.

  She tilted her head back, which gave him access to her neck. He took it and with a soft touch his mouth grazed.

  “Everything okay out there?”

  “Yeah. The guy’s in custody. Clay’s making a few calls to friends about Malcolm. I missed your beautiful face.”

  A shiver raced through her. She’d missed his. “I’m close.”

  “I can see that.” He nodded toward the monitor at the same time the ground shook and a large rumble sounded. “What the hell?” He raced into the darkness. “Stay here,” he called over his shoulder.

  Lucy recognized the noise and quickly got back to work. Archeologists sometimes used small excavation devices that bulldozed through brick and mortar and sounded like a tiny explosion. Someone else was in the village. Someone who most likely worked for Malcolm and who must have used the trespasser and his arrest as a decoy. Lucky for her, the new trespasser was in the wrong area of the village.

  Panic lanced through Lucy. McCall and Clay would be on whoever it was, but what if they were outnumbered. Outweaponed? The Tlaloc sculpture was worth an estimated two million dollars.

  Plus, McCall and Malcolm knew each other. When McCall had told her about their one-time friendship on the drive over, she’d been floored. And more worried than ever. Ill feelings were like lighting a match to gasoline—explosive and dangerous.

  It explained Malcolm’s threats, and quadrupled the reasons he’d send someone else to look for the sculpture, too.

  She picked up her hammer and swung it at the wall without care. The quicker she got the sculpture, the quicker she’d have a bargaining chip if necessary.

  Three swings and she’d found it. She dug to get close enough to pull it out. Dirt caked underneath her nails, the skin on her knuckles cracked. Once in her hands, she made a run for fresh air.

  The first glow of a new day greeted her. Across the dusty floor of the village, near the entrance to the south side of the buildings, Lucy caught sight of a man who worked for Malcolm. She recognized him from a job they’d done together in Turkey. He didn’t play nice and he had a gun in the waistband of his pants. She scanned the area. McCall stood at his truck, phone at his ear. With his back to the intruder, the guy pulled the gun out and stepped toward McCall.

  Her throat still parched, she couldn’t find her voice to yell loud enough to warn McCall.

  Lucy put the sculpture between her legs, brought her hands to her mouth, and…

  Only a low hum sounded when she tried to whistle. Cold tendrils of fear whipped through her as painful memories swallowed the newfound luster around her heart and her legs almost buckled. She inhaled deeply to stop the stutter in her breathing and tried again. Something low-pitched squeaked out.

  The guy cocked his gun.

  She squeezed her eyes shut for a split second. A second to gather her determination. Her tenacity. McCall loved her. More than his village. More than any artifact. For the first time, she meant more than anything else to someone.

  And he meant more to her.

  Fingers in perfect placement, she tried again. A clear high-pitched sound traveled the distance and both McCall and the man turned. She lifted the sculpture in the air, hoping to lure the man toward her and away from McCall.

  The guy obliged and Lucy walked to meet him. Recognition crossed his face and he lowered the gun.

  That’s when McCall tackled him from behind. Clay came out of nowhere to help. Lucy’s heart raced with sickening speed. The next few moments passed in a flurry of fists and punches until Malcolm’s man went down and stayed down. Clay handcuffed him and dragged him toward his truck.

  She’d done it. She’d kept McCall safe and gotten the sculpture.

  In an instant, McCall had her wrapped in his arms and was planting kisses along her hairline. “Are you okay? What the hell were you doing?”

  Swallowing hard, she sniffed back tears and took a moment to get her voice back. “Distracting him so I could save the man I love.”

  He pulled back to look at her. “You could have been hurt. Or worse. Jesus, Lucy, don’t ever do that again.”

  “Okay.”

  Like they’d done so many times before, they looked into each other’s eyes, saying without words what Lucy knew to be true: they belonged together.

  “Nice whistle, by the way.”

  “Thanks. Some heritage protection guy taught it to me.”

  “I want to teach you a lot of other things, too.” He cradled her face in his hands. “I want to spend the rest of my days with you by his side. I’m on this earth to breathe your air. There’s no one else I want to surrender to, fight for, be with. No one has ever made me feel the way you do.” He paused. “You scare the shit out of me at the same time you make me feel invincible. You are the love of my life.”

  She put the sculpture back between her legs, cupped his jaw, and kissed him. The kind of kiss that said she couldn’t take her next breath without him either. The kind that said she was his forever. She might be reckless and impulsive sometimes, but for the first time in her life, her heart was all in.

  “I want to teach you things, too. I want to build a new life with you and laugh with you and have adventures with you. I didn’t know what true love was until now. I’ve found the best treasure… You.” She pulled back and lifted the sculpture. Pride and relief coursed through her.

  McCall glanced at it. “It’s smaller than I imagined.”

  “Yeah.”

  “So we have ourselves a deal?”

  Lucy looked up, her forehead creasing in confusion. “I don’t know, do we?”

  He took her hands and said, “I love you and want to spend the rest of my days showing you how much.”

  “I’d say we have a deal.”

  Epilogue

  Four months later…

  Lucy licked her way up McCall’s smooth, muscled chest. She’d never tire of tasting him. Never tire of being skin-to-skin with him. Her hands pressed into his shoulders, keeping him in place on the giant, five-star hotel bed, and her very hard nipples slid along his abs.

  She traced her tongue along his collarbone and up and around his neck until she reached his earlobe and nibbled.

  He shifted restlessly beneath her attention. His hands cupped her bare ass and brought her very ready center snug against his very ready arousal. One more inch up and he’d slip inside her.

  But she wanted to prolong this a bit longer. Savor the hot, potent pulses zinging around her every body part. She slowly rotated her hips against him, each stroke taking another piece of his self control. He let out a harsh breath.

  “You’re killing me, you know that?” His husky voice brou
ght a smile to her face.

  With a little more pressure, she kissed his jawline, his chin, the corner of his full lips. He turned his head and caught her mouth with his. He had the art of kissing down pat. He nibbled, teased, and took pleasure from her mouth with each caress of their lips and tongues, his every moan telling her how much he loved it.

  She slid one hand to the soft cotton sheet while the other cupped the side of his face. Their tongues circled, twined, danced with wild abandon until she couldn’t stand it any longer. She pulled back and he knew. He just knew. With one quick move, he flipped her onto her back and positioned himself at her entrance. The smirk that turned her insides to mush and felt like a meteor of love had crash-landed in her heart, took hold of his sexy and talented mouth.

  “Now. I need you inside me now,” she said breathlessly.

  “I thought you’d never ask.” He joined their bodies slowly at first, sinking himself into her just enough to drive her mad and then pulling out to drive her even madder. The whole time, the smirk stayed. His eyes twinkled.

  She thrust her hips up, begging him to fill her completely. “You were amazing today,” he said. And then he guided himself unhurriedly, inch by magnificent inch, inside.

  A cry of pleasure tore from the back of her throat as she finally took all of him in. They moved together in perfect harmony. Everything inside her flooded with so much love for this man that it took only seconds for her to reach a blinding, pulsing release that stretched into long, drawn out moments of satisfaction.

  Keats’s harsh groan of masculine satisfaction followed close behind.

  He rolled off her, taking her with him so he could tuck her against his side. She put her hand over his heart and closed her eyes.

  “Thanks for standing beside me,” she whispered. She’d been so nervous during the presentation at the Museum of American History, but then McCall had taken her hand and all the tension with it.

  “There’s no place else I’d rather be.” His fingertips grazed her side, the curve of her hip. “Thanks for sharing the recognition with World Heritage Fund. I think my boss wants to hire you.”

  Lucy pressed up and looked down at the most gorgeous face on any continent. They’d kept the news about the Tlaloc sculpture to themselves for a while, waiting until Malcolm was held under investigation and there were no ties to her. She’d spent every day with McCall since that awful night when he could have been shot and every day she shared another piece of herself.

  They also talked about the future. She wanted to teach. He wanted to cut back on his workload. She wanted babies. He wanted at least four.

  Starting now.

  Owen had let it slip that McCall had asked for his blessing to ask Lucy to marry him. The old fashioned gesture made her grin every time she thought about it.

  “We’ve talked about what’s next,” Lucy said. Now would be a great time for him to pop the question, but she’d wait until he was ready.

  “You’ve got that mischievous look in your eye again. What’s up?”

  “Nothing. I just have no plans to work for WHF.”

  “I know.” He tugged her back down. “That’s why I’ve decided to take on more of a consulting role so I don’t have to be away from you. Once the house is finished I’ll be able to work from home and cut way back on travel. Connor’s more than willing to take on a larger workload.”

  The house. He was building them a house in Colorado. Tears pricked the back of her eyes, she was so happy.

  “Wait. What?” She lifted her head and put her chin on his chest. “Are you sure that’s what you want?”

  “I’m sure I can’t be away from you for longer than necessary.” He smiled. Her heart melted. “Which reminds me. There’s something I want to—”

  “Yes!”

  Lines creased his forehead and his mouth twisted into an adorable curve. “Ask you.”

  “My answer is yes, Keats.” She said it with tenderness. Devotion. Love.

  “You haven’t heard the question.”

  “A little birdy might have let slip some confidential info.”

  “Oh, he did, did he?”

  She sucked in her bottom lip and nodded. Owen had been at the museum this morning, too. When he’d said goodbye before heading to the airport to catch a plane back to Los Angeles, he’d told her he’d be there to walk her down the aisle. Whenever. Wherever.

  McCall slid out of bed and in all his glorious nakedness got down on one knee. Her breath caught in her throat. She pushed up onto her elbows. He stared into her eyes and she was caught. Forever.

  “I love you,” she said. “I love you so much.”

  A wide smile touched the corner of his eyes. “Lucy Davenport, you would make me the happiest man on earth if you agreed to spend the rest of your life with me. I love you with all my heart. All my soul. Will you marry me?” He lifted his hand and the most brilliant diamond ring she’d ever seen sparkled between his fingers. She had no idea where he’d been hiding it, but it didn’t matter.

  “Yes, Keats. I’ll marry you.”

  “Say that again, would you?”

  “Yes, Keats.”

  Acknowledgments

  To my husband, whose support and love is always unwavering even when I’m attached to my laptop and we’re eating cereal for dinner. Again. You’re the best. My hero. My everything.

  To my editor, Wendy Chen, who made this story better with her amazing input. I am so lucky and grateful to have you on my side and appreciate more than I can say your guidance and love of my work. Thank you!

  To Morgan Maulden and the gang at Entangled - you all rock!

  To my family and friends whose kind words and enthusiasm for my writing mean the world to me. I love you all.

  And last, but not least, to my readers. From the bottom of my heart, thank you for reading my stories!

  About the Author

  Robin Bielman lives in Southern California with her high school sweetheart husband, two sons, and crazy-cute mini Labradoodle, Harry. When not attached to her laptop, she can almost always be found with her nose in a book. She also loves to run, hike, and dip her toes in the ocean. Writing is a dream come true, and she wtill pinches herself to be sure it’s real. She is also the author of Worth the Risk and Yours At Midnight from Entangled’s Ever After line and Kissing the Maid of Honor from Entangled’s Bliss line.

  Visit her online: robinbielman.com; Twitter @RobinBielman; Facebook.com/robinbielmanwirter; goodreads.com/robinbielman

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