Beneath the Surface

by Amy McKinley

  Her lips opened immediately as his caressed them, and their breath mingled. Their tongues dueled, and he ground into her. Slipping his arm around her back, he pulled her closer. She arched, her head still against the wall as he continued to invade her mouth. He held her tightly, and she lifted her leg, braced her toes on the opposite wall of the hallway, and with her added leverage returned the pressure. She was open to him, but he wanted—needed—more. All of her.

  Straightening, he spun her in his arms again, and her hands went flat against the wall in front of her. With her back to his front, he ran his hands up her sides and around to her chest. He teased, sucked, and bit the curve of her neck. As she moaned, he cupped her full breasts, kneading them before he worked on removing her clothes. He lifted her shirt over her head and dropped it to the floor, followed by her bra. The rest of her clothes were gone in a matter of seconds. He needed to touch her.

  Her skin was like silk. She turned and yanked at his shirt. With one hand, he grasped the back of the material behind his head and quickly pulled it off while she undid his jeans. As they dropped, she pushed his boxers down, and he lifted her. Her legs wrapped around him, and he groaned when her heat pressed against him.

  Their mouths crashed into each other again. She threaded her hands through his hair, and he gripped the backs of her thighs, moving her against the wall once more. The added leverage freed up his ability to use one of his hands to touch her.

  Her legs were tight. Her hands roamed his shoulders, chest, and back to his hair. In one hand, he cupped her ass, grinding his length against her core. He rolled one nipple between his fingers before filling his palm with the plump weight of her breast. Their mouths tore apart, and their labored breath intermingled.

  Eyes dilated, Hannah moaned, “Now, Jack.”

  That’s all he needed. He shifted them so she aligned against the head of his cock, and in one thrust seated himself fully in her tight channel. Heaven. Her wet warmth squeezed him, robbing him of all thought.

  Hannah cried out with her head against the wall, back arched, and neck exposed. He dropped his mouth to her neck, taking the exposed tendon between his teeth as he pumped in and out. The heat of her breath caressed the side of his face. Her body tightened around him.

  Moonlight filtered through the only window, stretching its silvery fingers to highlight the sheen of sweat that covered Hannah as she writhed against him.

  With each thrust, he felt their connection solidify, grow stronger. There would be no turning back for him—for either of them.

  “Jack,” Hannah pleaded.

  He dropped his hand from her breast and slipped it between her thighs. He applied pressure to her clit, and her moans escalated, her body clamping around him like a vise.

  “I’m close,” she moaned.

  He knew what she needed. He always would. He reached down between their bodies to caress her most sensitive spot. With a swirl and slight pressure, she screamed, and he followed her over the edge. When they finished riding the wave of their orgasm, her body went limp against him. He wrapped an arm around her back and another beneath her to carry her to bed.

  Being with her was like coming home. He never wanted to let go.

  Chapter 31

  Hannah

  The hotel room contained a standard king-sized bed, a desk, and a TV. It wasn’t anything special. The only thing that was special was who she lay next to during the night. Hannah rose when Jack did, her stomach tight with restless energy over what they would find. Thirty minutes later, they were both showered, dressed, and ignoring the fact that they’d woken in a tangled mess of limbs, with her head resting on his well-developed chest.

  It was still too early in their reconciliation to go too deep.

  The heady scent of coffee filled the room as Jack returned from grabbing them bagels for breakfast while she finished blow-drying her hair. “Thanks.” She gratefully accepted the brew that would kick-start her morning.

  Jack opened his mouth to say something, but a sharp rap on their door froze them both. He pulled his gun out and checked the peephole. “It’s Connor.”

  After he lowered his gun, he unlocked and opened the door to let Connor in. He wasn’t alone. Several others followed. Each slapped Jack on the shoulder or nodded in greeting. She scanned the men, who were military, given the looks of their builds. Roughness clung to a few of them that she guessed was bred from prior experience instead of being ingrained while they were in the military.

  Jack made quick introductions then glanced at his watch. “We need to get moving. Hannah, you and I will go inside the building and check for the best vantage points for firing a weapon before you’re to attend the meeting with Henry. Remember, the sonic weapon Chris designed is meant to be fired from no more than ten feet away, and five is preferred.”

  “We’re sure on the intended target?” Connor asked.

  “Quite sure.” Hannah’s response was curt.

  “Did we learn anything from Sergei’s interrogation yet?” Jack asked Connor.

  “Nothing, except what you mentioned he said in the alleyway. He’s a vault and will take any knowledge he has to the grave.”

  Hannah raised her chin, determined to get them onboard. It was simple. Things had changed in more ways than one when the Prime Minister grew closer to their president. “It’s Prime Minister Boris Nikolaev. Killing him and throwing enough doubt on the cause of death would send Russia in an uproar, casting blame and suspicion on the friendly relations formed with the US. And the error of doing away with the old ways isn’t widely accepted. There’s a lot of controversy. This would open the door to reinstate some of the prior methods the government supported.”

  Jack nodded. “That seems to make the most sense.”

  Hannah smoothed out her black dress pants then slipped a gun and knife into her bag. “We’re all set?”

  “Yes. I checked in with Rich when you were in the shower. Keegan has a contact who’ll replace the guard on the left when you enter and pass through security. He’ll make sure your bag goes through the scan without setting off any alarms. I’m going in as security, so nothing to do there.”

  She thought she’d met Keegan once before. He appeared to be of European descent of some sort with dark-brown hair that fell to his shoulders in loose curls. Hayden, the heartthrob, had similar hair, but he was approachable where Keegan was not. Broody and intense, Keegan had stared at her with unwavering eyes the color of clear whisky—a stone-cold killer. She’d lifted her chin in challenge. He didn’t scare her. No one did. But she took note of the leashed violence that surrounded him. Connor too. He had a similar lethal and dangerous vibe, that of an assassin. But Connor made a small effort to put her at ease.

  All business, Mike pushed off the wall. “Hayden and I will recheck the grounds around the UN Headquarters. Cameras are active. If there’s nothing else, we’ll head out.”

  Again, Hannah scanned the men, and her gaze snapped back to Connor. “Were you able to crack the encryption code?” She had to know—her parents’ and sister’s killer was on there somewhere.

  He wasn’t the tech guy on the team, but Jack had said he would do in a pinch.

  Chilly, somber eyes met and held hers, and her stomach cramped. Jack must have told him. She frowned as Connor answered. “Yes. A copy of the drive is stashed in a secure spot for when this mess is done.”

  “Good. We need to hold on to that for later.” Jack crossed his arms over his chest. “What did you find out?”

  Connor dropped his bag on their bed and withdrew a slim laptop. He booted it up and clicked on a file, and Hannah stepped forward on one side, Jack on the other. Connor backed away to let them read it. “There are at least twenty people on here. We’ve been able to locate half of them already and are keeping close tabs.”

  The room buzzed, or maybe it was her ears. She swayed into Jack, and his arm immediately came around her. Holy hell. It can’t be true. Her focus narrowed on the name at the very top, and a tremor went th
rough her. How can he be alive? The room ceased to exist. An indiscernible pounding rang through her head. Pain and longing clashed, and she fought her inner child. It wasn’t good. She couldn’t allow herself to be naïve, despite her world crashing around her feet—again. “This doesn’t make sense. How could…” It changed everything.

  And nothing.

  Strong hands gripped her shoulders as tears attempted to breach her lower lids. He pulled her away from the screen, and the world snapped back into focus with a sharp clang. Brows furrowed, Jack said her name over and over again.

  “I’m fine. I’m fine. Just a shock.” Lifting a shaky hand, she flattened it on his chest. “I’m good.”

  But she wasn’t. Everything had been a lie. And she vowed to discover why.

  Chapter 32

  Russia

  Hannah—17 years old

  I rolled over and willed whatever had disturbed me to go away. It was dark, and my bed was so comfortable. I hugged my pillow tighter, unwilling to fully wake from the dream.

  “You did so well, baby!” Mom wrapped her arms around me, and I burrowed into her warmth. Thunderous applause funneled into a quiet splattering after my score flashed overhead and the audience looked on to the next gymnast ready to compete. “I’m proud of you.”

  I squeezed her closer, and her familiar floral scent was a comfort. We were in public, so she’d spoken in Russian. I loved the comfort of our mom and our language. She made everything better. Always.

  The large gym was filled with people: gymnasts, their coaches, and audience members. The dusty scent of chalk tickled my noise. I wanted to stay there forever with Mom and Elsa.

  Dad’s work kept him away a lot. But he enjoyed coming to see us as well. That was how he met Mom, from what they’d told us. Just before she went to the Olympics, he’d seen her at a competition, and it was love at first sight. She said he swept her off her feet. We adored hearing their story and witnessing the love they shared for one another.

  Lately, they’d been fighting. I hated that.

  We turned to watch as Elsa waited on the gymnastics floor for the judges to acknowledge they were ready. Once they looked at her and gave a nod, she saluted them and was good to go. I clung to my mom as Elsa began her routine. I loved watching my sister do the floor event. Naturally graceful, Elsa was thrilling to observe.

  The noise around us grew after her first run and perfectly executed layout. As the audience leaned forward as one, we held our breath as she danced from one corner of the mat to the next. Mom squeezed my shoulder. “Here she goes.”

  I felt the same pride I heard in Mom’s voice.

  I never wanted the dream to end, but another voice kept breaking in insistently. I hadn’t noticed at first, as the words were Russian. The panic that laced the rapid-fire sentences didn’t fit with the memory I was reliving. I pulled my covers tighter around my ears. Being with Mom in my dreams made my waking reality easier to bear. I didn’t want to let her go.

  A scream sent alarm spiraling through my tired body and jolted me awake. With breath sawing in and out, I blinked and looked around the room. Dawn stretched tentative fingers through the slit in our curtains, lightening the room enough to see. A string of Russian words screeched through the air.

  No, no, no! I shoved the covers back and dropped my bare feet to the cold floor. Elsa tossed and turned in a mess of blankets that were tangled around her legs. Her face was scrunched up as she screamed again in Russian.

  I grabbed her shoulder and shook her, hard. There was no time to wake her slowly. How long had I fought to stay asleep?

  They could hear her. Terror tightened my grip on my sister. I can’t lose you.

  “Elsa, wake up!” I whisper-shouted in between shaking her. The sound of a key being inserted into our door caused nausea to almost overwhelm me. My legs shook, and I slapped my sister awake.

  She blinked just as the doorknob turned. I launched myself into my bed and faked waking. They were inside. My heart raced. Sitting up, I opened my mouth to ask why the two trainers were there.

  “What’s going on?” Elsa rubbed her eyes.

  Fear lanced my heart. Her words had been in Russian.

  I dropped my books on my desk and got ready for combat training. It’d been days, and nothing had happened since Elsa had spoken in her sleep. There were rules. Speaking in our sleep in Russian was grounds for dismissal. They’d told us we wouldn’t be subject to that one for the first six months. After that, we’d had enough time to acclimate and wouldn’t get special privileges.

  Six years was way past the six-month grace period.

  The door opened, and Elsa breezed in. “Hey.” She smiled.

  I continued to swap my school uniform of white shirt and black skirt for my gray sweats and matching T-shirt. Grabbing a sweatshirt in the same color, I tossed it on the bed. Elsa was putting on her dance clothes.

  No matter how much things seemed to have returned to normal, I couldn’t shake the feeling that they weren’t. “Has anyone questioned you about the other night. You know, the dream?”

  Her face momentarily paled. “No. What about you?”

  “Nothing so far. But that doesn’t mean they’ve let it go. I can’t lose you, El. You need to be more careful.”

  “I know.” She stopped pulling on her tights and sat on her bed. “I don’t know why I was dreaming about the car accident.”

  “I think we should watch an American program or movie right before we go to sleep. That could help.”

  She nodded. “Okay. Let’s do that, and maybe they’ll let it go?”

  No. They wouldn’t do that.

  Chapter 33

  Hannah

  Present day

  They’d been immersed in a discussion for at least an hour in the small confines of Hannah and Jack’s hotel room. His team didn’t trust her. They were smart. They shouldn’t. What they did do was treat her with manners, even though they were arctic in their delivery. It didn’t bother her. They behaved because she was Jack’s. He’d made it clear when he slipped an arm around her waist as he’d made introductions. She just wanted to get to work. She had answers to uncover despite the guys’ agenda.

  Jack and his team had gone over the mission at the UN Security Council meeting in detail already and had moved on to flesh out who needed to be where.

  A few of the guys gave her pause. Their intense scrutiny made her very aware that they would be trouble if they thought she stepped out of line. Even so, they didn’t cast her out of the plans.

  She waved away the earbuds Connor offered. She turned her head to show him the flesh-colored device already in her ears. “Henry gave them to me on the plane.”

  He grunted, the aura of danger surrounding him intact, then dropped the tiny devices in everyone else’s palms. “Then you know what they’re for.”

  Jack slipped his into his ears, as did the rest, and they filed out of the room.

  She and Jack took the elevator, while the other guys split into different directions, no doubt taking the stairs so that they wouldn’t all exit the hotel together and draw unwanted attention. In the silence that fell between them, she let her mind wander to the name on the list that’d caused her such alarm.

  It was a name she recognized.

  Someone who wasn’t dead.

  Her father.

  How is this possible? He’s alive? Jack’s hand fell to the small of her back as they stepped into the empty elevator. As the doors closed, she drummed her fingers against the leather of her bag. Ice crawled through her veins as she prepared to take down anyone who stood in her way.

  For all those years, she and Elsa had thought they were orphaned. They’d mourned the loss of their parents. What they went through had been horrible. Would he be there? Her father owed her an explanation.

  “Is everything okay?” Jack leaned toward her, his voice low. “You’ve been distant since seeing the list.”

  “Yeah, I’m fine.” That was a lie. “Actually, I’m not, but I wi
ll be.” She rolled her bottom lip between her teeth, contemplating how much to tell him. The weapon and assassination attempt would be top priority to him. To her, her father was the priority. Her stomach clenched, and she swallowed the lump that had risen in her throat. “I recognized a name. Someone I thought was dead. It changes things.”

  The noise, movement, and air around them seemed to freeze as Jack’s intense focus zeroed in on her. “What’s changed?”

  She faked a small smile. It wasn’t the time to let him know that her agenda was very different than what they’d discussed. How—how could this have happened? She and her sister had been raised in that hellhole instead of at their home with their father. It didn’t make sense. “Not the mission.”

  “Are you reconsidering our plan for you to stay in the States? Are you contemplating returning to Russia?”

  Her head knocked back that he’d even think that. There was no way. A sneer pulled at her lips. “Never.”

  He studied her for another quiet moment before his scrutiny eased. The doors to the elevator slid open, and they stepped into the lobby. They didn’t have far to go before they were almost at their designated spot to separate. A chill hit her back as Jack removed his hand. They’d gone over it.

  She turned to the morning coffee station the hotel provided while he left to walk several blocks to the designated building. Pushing out a steady breath, she filled the cup halfway before encircling it with the cardboard sleeve and popping on the plastic top. Coffee in hand, she clicked through the lobby in heels that would be exchanged once she passed through security.

  Cool air slapped her in the face as she cleared the hotel’s front doors. She walked with purpose, ignoring the brief glimpse of Jack as he turned the corner. The United Nations headquarters wasn’t terribly far ahead—it was in the Turtle Bay neighborhood of Manhattan. The building overlooked the East River.