by Katie Reus
“I know, I already talked to my boss. You’re going to have to go in disguise, but you’re attending.” His expression wasn’t exactly happy, but he seemed resigned that she was going. Which was good because at least he wasn’t arguing with her.
The thought of going in a disguise sucked, but it was better than nothing. She wanted to argue, but she couldn’t stand the thought of bringing danger to anyone at the funeral, and if someone truly wanted her dead, it would make sense that they would look for her there. Since most of the bodies—including her mother’s—hadn’t yet been recovered from the rubble, it was just going to be a ceremony at her parents’ church. No urn, no casket, nothing. There was no guarantee all the bodies would be discovered anyway. Many had been obliterated in the blast. That thought brought up another wave of grief.
“Okay,” she rasped out. Her throat tightened, making it impossible to speak more, so she just picked up her bag and headed for the bathroom.
Once inside, she stripped and turned the shower to hot. Even though she’d brought her own things, there was shampoo, conditioner, a razor, and shower gel in the tiled stall. Cade hadn’t been kidding. This place was stocked. Once the water turned hot, she stepped inside and let the jets pummel her tense shoulders. It didn’t help any and when her fingers started to prune from being in the water so long, she got out and made a half-ass attempt to towel-dry her hair.
Next she pulled out the simple black dress she would be wearing in the morning and hung it up to get out the wrinkles. Actual ironing was so not one of her priorities at the moment. The closet was surprisingly large, made even more so with her lone dress hanging there.
Sighing, she tugged on panties, set the alarm on her phone so she’d wake up in plenty of time to get ready, then crawled under the covers. The sheets were cool against her skin, a sharp contrast to the hot shower she’d just taken. Feeling as if she were on a giant cloud, she closed her eyes and tried to block out the images of fire and rubble that appeared each time she did. The scene from when she’d woken with paramedics looking down at her worriedly just wouldn’t disappear. The terror, the confusion—it was as if it was seared into her pores and she couldn’t shake those feelings or the ever-growing fear inside her. As more thoughts continued to race through her mind, she squeezed her eyes shut, willing sleep to come.
• • •
I’ve got to tell someone. Find a phone. Like, yesterday. Urgency bombarded Maria as she raced over the grass and across the expansive property. Why wasn’t anyone here? Where were the guards? She couldn’t go back through the house or else they might see her.
Even thinking of those men’s words terrified her. The Freedom Tower. Lord, it sounded as if they wanted to target places all over Miami. But why? Okay, she didn’t care why. She just wanted to stop them.
Beneath her the earth began to rumble. Fire and destruction burst through the night sky. . . .
“Maria . . . Maria.”
Opening her eyes, Maria realized Cade was staring down at her, his handsome face a mask of concern.
Light from the adjacent bathroom streamed in, giving her enough illumination to make out her surroundings.
His hand was on her shoulder and he’d been lightly shaking her. She glanced down and realized her sheet was pulled over her breasts, covering her. She blinked, trying to orient herself from the nightmare. Sweat dotted her upper lip, and her palms were damp. She wiped at her face as she tried to will her racing heart to slow down. “The Freedom Tower.”
“What?” His piercing eyes narrowed a fraction. “Are you okay?”
They had to do something. “Someone is going to bomb the Freedom Tower. I don’t know when or . . . anything else. I just know they are.” It scared her that she didn’t know how she possessed that knowledge or who was behind it, but she had no doubt that something was going to happen there if she didn’t stop it.
Cade looked torn for a moment as he stood, but he remained at the edge of the bed. “You’re sure?”
She nodded. “I dreamed about the explosion. Well, before it. Most of that night is still a blank, but I remember that.”
“Do you know who?”
Fury surged through her at the unknown men. Why couldn’t she remember more? “No.”
“Give me a second.” He disappeared from her room but returned five minutes later, still looking tense. “I’ve informed my boss. Someone’s going to look into it. They’re also following up on a lead—the one you gave them about Clay Ervin. Looks like you might have been right.”
Before she could ask who the man was, Cade shook his head. “I don’t know more than that and the truth is, I might not be able to tell you more even when I do have details.”
That pissed her off, but she actually understood. She wanted to help as much as she could, but she also knew they had national security to worry about. Her own curiosity didn’t matter when weighed against finding the terrorists behind the bombing and apparent new murder. “I get it,” she murmured.
Cade stood there for a long moment, watching her, as if unsure whether he should go or not. Wearing plain black boxers and nothing else, the man looked delicious. Not that she should be noticing him like that. Especially not now.
But it was hard not to when all those muscles, tattoos, and raw sexuality were right in front of her face. It was as if he’d been cut from marble. His body was exquisite, though something told her that if he knew what she was thinking it would embarrass him. But the man had a body that artists or photographers would kill to mold or photograph. There was such a raw sexual vibe he put off.
He exuded a quiet strength and undeniable power. It was one of the things that had originally drawn her to him years ago, part of why she’d decided to start e-mailing him. She swallowed hard, hating how weak she felt at the moment. But she was human and decided to ask for what she wanted. Even if he rejected her. “Will you stay with me? Just until I fall asleep?” She’d been tossing and turning and even though she’d finally fallen into a fitful doze, her eyes were gritty and she felt as if she’d run a marathon instead of sleeping.
His eyebrows rose in surprise, but he immediately nodded. “Yeah, just give me a sec.” Once again he disappeared from the room, returning moments later with a gun, phone, and pillow. After placing them on the small nightstand, he started to stretch out onto the floor, but she frowned and pulled back the comforter, still keeping herself mostly covered with the sheet.
“You can sleep on top of the sheet if it makes you feel better,” she muttered. Maria was too damn tired to think of sex right now. She just wanted someone to hold her. If that made her weak, then she didn’t care.
After a longer pause this time, he slid in behind her. Maria turned her back to him, hoping he’d wrap his arm around her. The bed depressed a little and shook as he settled in. Seconds later, he did what she’d hoped. Pulling her close, his chin resting on the top of her head as he wrapped his strong arm around her middle, he sighed. “This isn’t protocol for an NSA agent.”
It was hard to read his tone, but he didn’t sound put out by holding her. “I don’t care.” She laid her own arm over his and settled back against his strong chest. The man was so warm he was like a furnace. Considering how chilled and shaky she’d been, this was heavenly comfort. She wished the sheet wasn’t between them, but even with it covering her back, she still savored his embrace.
“Neither do I.” His voice was almost a whisper, his warm breath teasing her hair.
An unexpected frisson of awareness curled through her at his words, but she ignored it and closed her eyes. She wasn’t sure how much time passed as they lay there in the near darkness, but she knew he wasn’t asleep. His breathing was steady and reassuring, but he was tense. And . . . she could feel his erection even though he’d tried to move his hips away from her. Apparently the man was huge all over.
Something she didn’t want to know because it made her thi
nk all sorts of things. Like how that thick length would feel thrusting inside her. Her nipples strained against the thin sheet as heat slowly built between her legs. Cade was turned on. Because of her. Finally she couldn’t stand it anymore. “Are you . . .”
“Yeah,” he said through gritted teeth. Even though his breathing was steady, his voice certainly wasn’t.
“You don’t have to stay.” Even though it was selfish, she still wanted him to. She might not be able to sleep yet, but she felt safe. All because of him.
“I want to.”
If she was completely honest with herself, she wanted him with her but not just because of the comfort factor. It had been a long time since she’d had sex or any sort of relationship, but right now the thought of . . . No. She didn’t need to do anything stupid. Lord, the man had cut communication with her years ago as if she meant nothing. The thought made her go cold, the iciness invading her veins as she remembered how much she’d cried, not only over the loss of her brother, but of her friendship with Cade.
As if he sensed her train of thought, his grip tightened. “What are you thinking?”
“Why did you stop writing me? The truth.” It was like dropping a bomb into the quiet.
He went still, but finally he answered, “When Riel and the rest of my team died, I didn’t handle it well. You were a reminder of my best friend, so instead of bringing you down with me, I cut contact. It was a shitty thing to do, I know that. But it was the only way I could deal at the time. I wish I could say it was a youthful thing to do, but I wasn’t that young. I was just mourning. If I could go back . . . fuck, I don’t know what I’d do, Maria.”
When he laid it out in such blunt terms, she actually understood. Still, they’d been friends, with the possibility of more, and she couldn’t get rid of the feeling that he was holding something back. She turned over so she could face him. Her sheet slid down, and cool air rushed over her breasts, but she didn’t make a move to cover herself. Even with the bathroom light his face was cast in shadows, but she could see enough and she knew he could too. His gaze dipped to her breasts for a moment, and he swallowed hard, but he quickly met her gaze.
“You hurt me.” She wanted him to know. “I cried over you and Riel. I lost both of you at once.”
His jaw tightened. “I know and I’m so damn sorry. More than you know.” His hand settled on her hip, his fingers flexing slightly as his gaze dipped to her chest again. “You deserved better than that. Better than me.”
Her nipples tightened even harder, the peaks becoming almost painfully aroused. She didn’t just want him looking at her. It didn’t matter that he’d hurt her. Okay, it did matter, but some primal part of her wanted the release she knew he could give her. She wanted his mouth on her breasts, teasing them until she was begging for more.
Cade sucked in a deep breath, his nostrils slightly flaring, but he didn’t say anything else or make a move to touch her. And she wanted him to. Sex should be the last thing on her mind, but she could lose herself in him for just a little while and feel no regret.
“No,” he said quietly, correctly reading her thoughts.
“No, what?”
“I know what you’re thinking. You’ll regret it in the morning.”
“How do you know what I’m thinking?” she whispered. And what made him think she’d regret it later?
“Because I’m thinking the same thing.”
Oh, damn. Now he was just trying to make it harder on her. He wanted her and she wanted him. The awareness sparking between them made her entire body flush with heat. They might have history and baggage between them, but it didn’t take away from the attraction simmering. It had always been there too, even when she was younger. But it hadn’t been as potent as it was now.
He let out a low curse, then pulled her to him. Her breasts pressed against his chest as she curved into the strength of his long, muscular body. Maybe she should be angrier at him, and she still was for the way he’d up and cut her out of his life, but damn, she was exhausted and had just lost her mom. She didn’t have the energy to hold on to any more anger right now. “Just go to sleep,” he murmured in a soothing voice that belied the tension she felt humming through him.
Oh, how she wanted to. But with the press of his erection against her belly, she had a feeling it was going to be damn hard to rest.
• • •
Mihails’s hands tightened on the wheel of the newest SUV he and his crew had acquired. He didn’t think anyone had witnessed them leaving Mullen’s home and Kristaps had deleted the video surveillance at the guardhouse, but they all believed in being careful. So they’d ditched the vehicle and found a new one. This was an older model blue Suburban and big enough for his crew.
Before killing Scott Mullen, they’d gleaned more information through torture. Mihails understood that things gained that way were not always reliable, but Mullen had been weak and they’d barely done anything to him before he started talking. They’d only pulled one tooth before he turned on his friends. Pathetic.
Of course, what could one expect from a man who preyed on the innocent? They already had a few names, including Clay Ervin, whose home they were on their way to now. But they’d gained more than that as well. The pain they’d inflicted after Mullen had given up everything he knew had been pure pleasure on Mihails’s part. The man deserved everything they’d done to him and more.
But there wasn’t time to dwell on that. He had a job to do. After killing Ervin, then the hotel hit, they would hunt down their newest acquired targets.
Oto sat next to him, speaking in rapid-fire Latvian, his expression rigid. Eventually he disconnected and glanced at Mihails. “The woman wasn’t there, but there was an SUV with government plates in the driveway. They believe they just missed her and that she likely packed a bag. Her closet was disturbed and she had no makeup or hairbrush in her bathroom.”
Mihails knew enough about women to realize if those items were missing, she was gone for the time being. But she could be at her father’s house. It would make sense, considering that her mother had died. Something Mihails tried not to think about. His victims had been collateral damage. Nothing more. “What about—”
Already knowing what he was going to ask, Oto shook his head. “They already tried her parents’ home. Her father is wealthy and has excellent security. Not the kind our men are equipped to infiltrate on such short notice. But . . . there was also a team of government agents watching the home. They were trying to blend in, but our men saw them. They don’t know if she is there.”
“She likely knows nothing.” How could she? Mihails didn’t like wasting resources. It had nothing to do with the woman’s haunting amber eyes. Because he felt no guilt over hunting her down. At least that was what he told himself.
“Then why is the government guarding her? And our contact said she deserves to die anyway.”
Digesting Oto’s words, Mihails was silent as he steered through the gated entrance to Ervin’s neighborhood. Unlike Mullen’s place, this one didn’t have a guardhouse. Just a large open gate that had malfunctioned a week ago—thanks to a member of Mihails’s crew—and hadn’t been repaired yet. “He has his own motives.” Motives Mihails hadn’t yet figured out. He would soon, though.
Oto shrugged. “We all do, yes? He says the woman isn’t who she seems and does more harm than good for her neighborhood.”
Mihails knew what the man had said. But it didn’t mean he believed him. He grunted in response, not willing to continue this conversation until after Clay Ervin was dead. Oto was acting edgier and that in turn was putting Mihails on alert. Oto had already lost control at Mullen’s house, hurting the man’s wife when it hadn’t been necessary. A couple of broken fingers weren’t a big deal, but he didn’t like the uncontrollable rage he saw in Oto’s eyes sometimes. They had a plan and would stick to it. As they crept down the quiet street of the upper-class ne
ighborhood, he frowned at the sight of an unfamiliar SUV in the driveway. The house had a three-car garage and from the previous recon they’d done, there was never a vehicle parked outside. Not at Ervin’s house or any in the large neighborhood.
“I don’t like this,” he murmured.
There was a murmur of agreement from Oto and the others in the back. As he slowly cruised by, his eyes widened when he saw the government plates on the SUV. Without a word, he continued past the house and exited the neighborhood as quickly as possible.
There wasn’t an overt connection between Mullen and Ervin. The government shouldn’t have been able to link the two men. Not so quickly. It had taken Mihails and Oto years to hunt down the men involved in the ring that had taken his sisters from him. And even though Ieva was still alive, she was so broken she might as well have been dead.
“What now?” Oto asked quietly.
“We return to base and put out feelers, see how much the government knows. And what branch was at Ervin’s home.” There were many agencies involved in the Westwood case, which Mihails believed would work to their advantage. There was a greater chance for miscommunication.
“What about the hotel?”
Mihails shot Oto a sharp look, not liking the doubt he heard in his friend’s voice. “The plan is still on.” They would burn that building of evil to the ground, and he didn’t care how many people were in it when they did.
Chapter 9
Interrogation: questioning/interviewing suspects, victims, or witnesses with the purpose of gaining information or a confession.
Under most circumstances Wesley would have felt bad about waking up some random guy in the predawn hours, but he didn’t give a shit if he had to wake up the freaking president right now. Clay Ervin might have a link to Scott Mullen, and after the file Karen had sent him on Mihails Balodis and Oto Ozols, Wesley wasn’t taking any chances with Ervin’s safety if he was somehow connected to all this.
