by Zoe Dawson
Ashe burst into action, he disarmed the second man who never saw him coming and a brief hand-to-hand combat and the guy was down. Without breaking stride, he pelted up the hill as if the incline was flat ground, his feet throwing dirt and debris behind him. He caught her by the arm and growled, “Move.”
Below them, several shouts sounded, swearing, and pounding feet filled the previously silent night. He picked up his pace. “Is he dead?” she asked in the thin air.
“Nope. But he won’t remember either one of us,” he said spurring her on across a hill and down toward the city at a breakneck pace.
As she ran beside him, growing more breathless and wondering how long she could keep up—and what he’d do when she couldn’t—it occurred to her, ridiculously, that he was some kind of elite operator which made her blood go ice cold. Was he connected with Anderson? Had she missed something?
Lungs burning, heart pounding, she grabbed the rail of the stairs they were going down, Ashe’s hand still firmly around her upper arm. He wasn’t even breathing hard, and she could hardly breathe at all. His hoodie was still unzipped, flapping in the wind, giving her tantalizing glimpses of his six pack and wide, gorgeous chest.
So help her God, who was he? She had to find out once this was over, and they were safely away from the current threat of exposure. If Anderson got wind that someone was snooping around the warehouse, and he’d discovered it was a woman…well, he wasn’t an idiot, just a jerk.
But, no her thinking was muddled. If he was mixed up in this somehow, he wouldn’t be helping her at all, definitely not kissing the hell out of her in the snow in the dark during her clandestine recon.
Behind them on the stairs she could hear someone struggling to keep up. He was big and brawny, like the last gorilla Ashe had flattened. Anderson was big, too, but he was all muscle and horrendous strength, and smart as a whip. If it was him behind them, she couldn’t afford to get caught.
“Faster,” Ashe commanded, doing his best to single-handedly carry her down more than one stair at a time.
They hit the cobblestones, and she stumbled. He caught her against him and kept moving, all steel and speed. He vaulted a concrete wall as she did the same. It was attached to a small church, blocking in a small cemetery. His eyes shone in the meager light from the chapel. He tugged left, and she tugged right, “No, this way,” she insisted.
Without argument, he trusted her and they changed direction. The men chasing them had momentarily lost them, and she could hear shouting. Lights came on in an apartment building as they rushed past.
She’d been here long enough to understand La Paz was all about the geography and the fact that its identity was closely tied to the culture here. The mountains were everywhere, infused by the indigenous people with spirits. She relied on them now, watching over them as they ran.
They hustled down a steep cobblestone street that cascaded down to the main avenue known as the Prado, hoping to get as far away from the pursuit as possible. There were more people here, too. Easier to get lost in the crowd. Traffic was heavy as they passed a small green square, high-rises to the left and shops to the right. As they got deeper into the area, they passed singers and street performers, the aroma of food made her stomach grumble.
She was jerked off her feet, and before she knew what was happening, Ashe had her in a shadowed doorway, his body pressed up against hers so tight, she could barely catch her breath. Her hands went to his bare waist, his skin moist and scorching, the muscles beneath like iron.
In a split second, his mouth slammed into hers. Her body was humming. His lips, damn, were so hot, so soft. He slid his fingers along the back of her neck, beneath her hair, sending a delicious cascade of shivers all the way down her spine.
He lifted his gaze just enough to look into her eyes, his shell-shocked and aroused, his face tight. She held his gaze for what felt like all eternity, then slowly lowered her eyelids as she closed the distance between them and kissed him back. Their pursuers went by, three of them. And she gulped, one of them was Anderson.
His fingers twitched against the back of her neck when she opened her mouth on his, then pressed a bit harder as he accepted the invitation and devoured her. This man was a first-class kisser, and she had the melted body to prove it.
He groaned, raised his head again before taking the kiss deeper.
He was a natural at kissing. She had no doubt about it, and her entire body thrilled at the knowledge that he’d be even better in bed.
He broke the kiss. “Fuck me,” he said softly.
And all she could think was, Oh, God, yes. Over and over again.
Ashe took two quick breaths, made sure the coast was clear and grabbed her hand. They crossed the street and were on the run again, but this time there were no footfalls behind them. As they exited the Prado, she tugged him toward the outskirts of the city.
When she reached a small stucco cottage, she went up the path. Baby blue paint with a darker blue trim set the house apart on the street. The funky windows, an iron grate worked with circles across the top, lacy hearts in the middle and stars beneath, were placed against the glass and painted in the same complimenting baby blue. The multilayer gardens surrounding the place turned it into a gem hidden in a jungle of trees, bushes, and clumps of vegetation.
“Who does this place belong to?”
She grinned and produced the key. Unlocking the door, they hurried inside. As she flicked on the light, he headed toward the kitchen and opened the fridge. Pulling out bottles of water, he threw one to her, then drank three in a row while she polished off one. He threw her another one.
The place smelled wonderful, earthy and female—Paige. He could hear a fountain bubbling and splashing from somewhere around back.
She went to the fire and started it burning. It was white, square stucco, and as she set logs on the beginning spark, it was soon blazing. He was still drenched after that run. He couldn’t keep his eyes off her.
The house was as quaint and well-kept as the outside with colorful striped rugs on the concrete floor. The couch and chairs were all upholstered in a deep red with an abundance of striped throw pillows dotting them. The coffee table was a rich, dark wood and looked handmade.
This is the kind of home Paige made, and he had to admit he liked it a lot. It was clear from the delicious aroma in the kitchen she cooked, too. Something about that set him on edge—in a good way.
The quiet warmth and security of her place settled in him like hot cocoa.
“So, what were you doing up there?” The hoodie was soaked, and he slipped it off his shoulders. She went to a small cabinet and came out with a towel. She tossed it to him, and he wiped off his face and chest, then sent it through his hair.
Her face changed, her eyes caressing him as if he’d somehow distracted her. For the life of him, he couldn’t figure out how drying his hair made her look at him like that. “Walking,” she said, her voice uneven.
“With a gun?” he countered and prowled toward her. That’s how he felt right now, aroused, heat suffusing him inside and out, primal. The fire felt good on his damp skin.
Her chin came up, her eyes flashing. “For protection. You never know when you’ll need to shove a gun under a crazy guy’s chin.”
“Touché.” He gave her a sly grin.
She shook her head. He couldn’t disagree with her.
“Yeah, a Glock 9mm, the kind of gun government agents carry.”
“I think you really need to mind your own business,” she said.
“I was never really good at that.”
“Just because you saved my life, doesn’t mean I have to tell you anything.” She folded her arms across her chest.
“I could eat a bowl of alphabet soup and crap a better argument than that.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Tell me how you downed that big guy. I don’t think the government job you have is pushing papers.”
He looked away his jaw flexing. “I’m a Navy SEAL.”
&nb
sp; Her jaw dropped open, and she just stared at him.” “Seriously? A Navy SEAL? Got the trident and everything?”
He took a breath at her skeptical look. “Yeah, I got the trident and the call name, too.”
Her hands went to her hips. “A call name?”
“Kid Chaos.”
She closed her eyes as if she was remembering every moment he’d spent kissing her. “That I believe,” she whispered. She sighed heavily and look worried. “You’re an active SEAL?” At his nod, she went and folded down on the couch and dropped her head into her hands.
“Yeah, I’m on leave. Why is this a problem?” Damn, was she doing something illegal? He didn’t want to bust her, he wanted to jump her bones.
“It’s not a problem,” she said, but it was clear to him that she was lying.
He strode across the room, his anger and sexual frustration pumping through him. “I don’t appreciate being lied to, Paige. What is going on here?”
She stood up and said, “I have to make a phone call.” She left the room, and he just stood there wondering what the hell was going on.
6
She dialed her boss, Mike and as soon as he answered, she said, “We have a problem.”
“What kind of problem?”
“There’s a guy here claiming to be a Navy SEAL. He saw me doing surveillance on the warehouse.”
“Dammit, Paige.”
“I know. It’s not ideal, but if he’s an active SEAL, I can at least read him in on what is going on.” She sighed. “As you can imagine, he’s very pushy and insistent.”
“What’s his name,” her boss said.
“Ashe with an e Wilder.”
“Just a minute.”
After a few minutes he said, “Yeah, Petty Officer First Class Ashe Wilder. He’s a SEAL all right. Sniper. Highly-decorated badass. Black ops stuff because most of his file is classified.” He sighed. “This might not be too bad. I’ll call you back.”
She waited until fifteen minutes went past and she heard the shower come on. He was bathing? She could use a shower herself.
Her cell rang and she answered. “I just talked to the Director and Wilder’s commanding officer. Put him on the phone.”
“Now,” she squeaked.
“Yes, Paige. Now.”
She walked over to her closet and dug around inside. There were guy’s clothes the previous owner had left. Jeans, underwear, shirts, mostly T-shirts, socks and a nice pair of hiking boots. He must have left in a hurry. She gathered up a set of clothes and took a deep breath. She couldn’t keep her boss and the Director of NCIS waiting. She slipped out of her bedroom and into the hall, the bathroom right in front of her. The door was ajar. She had to take a big, huge breath. Ashe—Kid Chaos—for God’s sake was in her shower—naked. Buck-assed naked. Oh, happy day. Right, Paige, that was so professional. She tamped down her randy thoughts having sunk down into dirtymindland.
She pushed the door open and said, “Ashe, my boss wants to talk to you.”
He slid the curtain aside, and she almost swallowed her tongue. Wet, Wilder and wonderful, he stood there, the curtain barely covering him, so tantalizingly male, she had to work to keep her mind on the professional…business…murdered MP’s and their families…her promotion…missing military grade weapons.
That helped, but didn’t exactly diminish him one iota. Talk about chaos. He should have been called Master of Chaos. She pressed the speaker icon before she held it out.
“Your boss?”
“He’ll explain.”
He frowned, but then stiffened and immediately went to attention. “Kid, can’t you even go on vacation when you go on vacation?”
“LT? What the hell…”
“It seems you’ve fallen into an NCIS undercover operation. Agent Paige Sinclair is working a suspect who is under investigation for the murder of two MP’s and a boatload of weapons and ammunition. She’s going to fill you in on the details, but as of now, you’re working with her.”
“Copy that, sir.” His eyes went to hers and stayed there.
“Kid…don’t get into anything you can’t get out of…is that understood, sailor?”
“Understood, LT.”
Her boss’s voice came back on the line. “The circumstances aren’t ideal, Wilder and you’ve just been dropped into this mission, but Paige is one of my best and she’ll fill you in. You have my agent’s back.” He agreed and his voice was all business, but his eyes… Oh, his eyes gave her a very different message, like he’d have her back, front—every inch of her. “Give me regular updates, Paige.”
“Yes, sir,” she murmured.
She disconnected the call.
“So we’re working together,” he said.
“Looks that way?”
“A you wash my back, and I’ll wash yours kinda thing?”
Had she thought he’d dominated her house when he’d walked in? His presence was so much bigger than life it felt as though he’d been in it far longer than that. But now that he was standing in her tub, the flimsy shower curtain all that was covering him, she realized she had sorely underestimated just how big a presence he truly was.
“Ashe…” She ached to lose herself in his sensual kisses, the knowing stroke of his hands, and the heat of his mouth tempting her beyond thought or reason. And judging by the dark desire smoldering in his gaze, he had already been thinking those thoughts.
He let go of the shower curtain. “You want to come in here with me.” She gasped. It wasn’t a question, and he wasn’t at all arrogant. It was confidence and that made him all the more attractive to her, a strong man who knew what he wanted and had no compunction about saying so. The honesty in his words made her tremble. That and he was just so damn beautiful, the full glorious view of him completely naked was just as gorgeous and magnificent as the man himself. “We both know it.” He was already hard and thick, his erection curving up from his body as if begging for her touch.
She glanced up the length of his ripped torso, watched the rapid rise and fall of his ches, and finally met his gaze. His eyes were dark and intense, hypnotic. “We both feel it. We both want it.”
Her body went fluid at his words. She was very aroused. She did want him. But now everything was a freaking complicated mess. He was now entwined with her job. “Maybe we should heed your commanding officer’s order.”
“Babe, if I heeded all his orders, they wouldn’t call me Kid Chaos, would they?”
His eyes were so dark, so fathomless, it was like drowning in velvet blue, and she wanted to drown, suck in deep lungfuls of him and say to hell with reality, work, common sense, and sanity.
She forced herself to take a step backwards, and he looked down as if he was composing himself. When he looked back up, the fire was banked in his eyes. “Okay, I get it. I’ll back off, but, babe, the invitation is open-ended. Whenever you want me, come get me.”
He flicked the curtain closed over all that tantalizing skin and hard body. She swallowed and clutched her phone in her hand, her determination wavering.
He started to sing, and she jumped. His voice was deep and melodic as he ripped out Earth, Wind & Fire’s “September,” hitting the high notes just perfectly. Unexpectedly, she laughed. He pulled the shower curtain open and said, “What? You need to sing “September” in the shower at least once a week. When I sing it in the locker room, I get applause.” He sang the ba-de-das into the upside-down end of her back scrubber as a makeshift mic, all while keeping a straight face, rocking his body to the rhythm of his voice. He flicked the curtain closed again, then transitioned to “Purple Rain.” Then when it opened, he was wailing on an air guitar, once again using her back scrubber. She’d never be able to use it again without thinking about this. About him and his antics.
“You need some purple lighting in here to make that one work,” she offered. He grinned and nodded. She laughed again. “I didn’t know I was going to get a show here.”
“I am entertaining and take the er off shower an
d what do you have? Am I right?” When she laughed, he flashed her a wicked and debilitating smile, his wet hair so dark and tousled. “Now it’s time to get sultry.” His grin faded, and he went all moody and broody male. “Are you ready for the ballads?”
She nodded, then leaned against the door for support.
He tilted his head in an adorable little boy way. “No, you’re not.” He flashed her another grin. “Are you sure? Maybe.”
He closed the curtain and started with Sam Smith’s, “Stay with Me.” Then segued into “Best Thing I Never Had” which tugged at her heart. The cant to his voice said he’d been hurt before. Paige shifted and there was nothing funny about him getting his heart broken. She couldn’t imagine why any sane woman would let him go once she had him. He was sweet, funny, tough and now that she knew he was a SEAL, lethal fit him as well. The way he took down that big guy had been...lethal. She was well aware that if things hadn’t changed between them, and if he had just been a tourist, she’d be in there with him or tangled in the sheets on her bed. The wanting tugged at her so hard, she wanted to just strip and wrap herself around him. He’d been so understanding, damn him.
He poked his head out again. “You’re still here? I should have sold tickets. So, Beyoncé, right? Girl power to the max?”
He reached out his fist. She shook her head and took the steps required to reach him, thinking this might be a big mistake. She fist-bumped him, then he grabbed her around the back of her neck and gave her a wet, lips-so-soft kiss, lingering just at the end as he tasted her. Letting her go, he disappeared back inside the tub.
When he started on Celine Dion’s “The Power of Love,” she thought her knees were going to give out. Wow, he could really sing, but his rich voice singing those wonderful lyrics every woman wants to hear had the most impact. “Hurry up. I need to get in there, too, and I’m starving,” she groused.
