ANOMALY.MIL (The Conspiracy Series Book One): A Romantic Suspence Novel

by Samantha Saxon

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Ansel yawned. There was something about a dark, rainy night that always made him sleepy. Not like earlier in the day. He had tried to fall asleep somewhere around Missoula. Needed to, but then he had made the mistake of looking at Seneca. She was so damn beautiful. All he could think about after that was her and Drew.

  Fuck! Now he was thinking about it again.

  He cracked his eyes open, hoping to steal a glimpse of her, before she knew he was awak— Ansel bolted upright. "Where is she!"

  "Oh my God, Ansel," Cat yelled. "You scared me to death!"

  Gwen looked back at him, her eyes soft. "We dropped her off at her apartmen—"

  "I told you—" He took a deep breath to control his anger. "—to wake me before you stopped. Anywhere!"

  "Sweetie." Gwen placed her small hand on his knee. "Seneca is a grown woman, and she wanted to go home."

  That stung. Of course she would want to get away from him, but it didn't matter.

  "It's too dangerous."

  "We talked about that when you were asleep," Cat reasoned with him. "As far as these people are concerned, Seneca is simply a colleague of mine. She doesn’t have this DNA anomaly. If she came with us, she’d be in much more danger than living in her own apartment and getting on with her life."

  She was right. Seneca would be far safer if she had never met him, but the panic in his chest disagreed. Strongly.

  "They’ll know she's been out of town," he argued. "They’ll ask themselves why. And they’ll have no problems taking her, and…" Images flashed. Dank rooms. Interrogations. Screams. "…doing whatever it takes to get the information they want."

  "Are you serious?" Cat looked at him in the rear-view mirror.

  "Yes, Cat," he said, through clenched teeth. "Deadly serious."

  "Look, we're almost to the house Joe found for us." Gwen's tone was meant to soothe him. "Why don't you drop us off so that we know Cat is safe, and then if—"

  Ansel was shaking his head. "There's no 'if' about it. I'm getting her."

  "All right, sweetie." Gwen seemed to understand, and he sat back, his heart racing the rest of the way to the safe house.

  Dave was waiting outside when they arrived, and Cat had barely gotten out of the driver's seat before he was in it.

  "I'll call you when I have her."

  Cat nodded, looking worried. "Be careful."

  Ansel raced over to Seneca's apartment. He parked underground and scanned the other cars in the dark garage as he walked to the elevator.

  There was no team waiting for him, so he pushed the button.

  The elevator was taking too long. He shoved the door to the right open, and ran up the four flights of stairs to her apartment, fear propelling him down the empty hall.

  Ansel was breathing heavily by the time he reached the condo and rang her doorbell. He aged ten years in the seconds it took for her say, "Hello?" through the closed door.

  "Seneca, it’s me. Open the door." Ansel placed his hand on the doorknob, ready to go inside. But the door didn't budge. "Is anyone in there with you?" He would kill them. "Are you okay?"

  "Yes." His heart stopped beating, and he pulled out his pistol. "I mean, no. There's nobody with me." He breathed a sigh of relief then holstered his weapon. "And yes, I'm fine."

  "Okay," he told himself. She's okay. "Let me in." He waited. And waited. "Seneca, let me in."

  He knocked on the door. Maybe she couldn't hear him?

  "No," she finally said.

  "What…" He shook his head, confused. "What do you mean 'no'?"

  "I'm fine, Ansel. Thank you for coming."

  'Thank you for coming'? 'Thank you for coming'! "Seneca," he growled, stepping closer. "Open this door."

  "No."

  He was furious and he wanted to kick the door in, but he didn't want to cause a scene. Instead, Ansel pulled out the small set of lock picks that he carried at all times.

  It took him all of ten second to unlock her door and he smiled, extraordinarily pleased with himself. He turned the knob, and was taking a step forward when the chain stopped him dead in his tracks with a loud thunk.

  ***

  "Did you just pick my lock?" Seneca was furious.

  "Yes. Unchain the door." Ansel sounded mad. "Now."

  "No." She didn't want to see him. Couldn't see him. Her eyes were all puffy from crying, even after a hot bath.

  "Seneca." He sounded calm, reasonable. "Unchain this door, or I will be forced to break it down. And if I do that, one of your male neighbors will come out to help you. And if that man takes a swing at me, he will be hurt. Badly. Now, please, Seneca." He took a deep, calming breath. "Unchain the goddamn door."

  She was standing in her entryway, thinking about what to do, when she heard her adorable neighbor Riley ask, "Are you okay, Seneca?" Obviously concerned.

  The chain only allowed her a partial view of Ansel, but the way he was looking back at her made Seneca panic.

  "I'm fine, Riley," she sang, sliding the chain off the door. Ansel stormed into her apartment, leaving her standing halfway in the hall. "I was just in the shower." She pointed inside. "Didn't hear him knock. How are you?""

  "I'm good." Riley glanced at Seneca's apartment, wary of the man who had just stormed into it. "I just wanted to make sure—"

  "All right then, have a great night." Seneca waved, closing the door before Ansel did it for her.

  She turned around, and almost ran into his chest. Ansel had both hands on his hips and was staring down at her, livid.

  Equally angry, Seneca folded her arms across her chest. "What the hell are you doing here?"

  "Why did you get out of the car?"

  "Because I wanted to."

  They stared at each other and then Ansel grabbed her upper arm, pulling her into the bedroom. "You need to be at the safe house. Go pack," he ordered, and Seneca did not like being ordered to do anything.

  "Who the hell do you think you are?" she snapped, wrenching her arm free. "I'll do whatever I want, when I want. I'm not the one they're looking for, remember?"

  "But they will be looking for people who know Cat. So pack!" he yelled, throwing his right arm out as he pointed at her closet.

  "No."

  "God damn it, Seneca," Ansel growled. Flames might as well have been flying out of his nostrils when he said, "Go," on an unsteady breath. "Pack." He stared down at her, whispering, "Now."

  "Or what?" She stared back, incensed. "You'll hold a gun to my head?"

  He flinched, and she instantly regretted saying it when she saw the hurt consume his beautiful eyes. She had wounded him, deeply. And the worst part of it was, Seneca knew she would hurt him when she said it.

  Tears dangled from her lashes as she watched the hardness return to him. "Ansel—"

  "Please, pack." He turned away from her and opened a dresser drawer.

  "Why?" she breathed. "Why do I need to go with you?"

  His hand stilled, and she didn't think he was going to answer. But Ansel turned around and walked toward her, standing so close that she was straining to look up at him.

  "Because," he whispered, "I want you with me," before leaning down and kissing her. Hard, and hungry.

  Ansel took all of her breath and she was getting lightheaded. His tongue stroked and tasted her, an appetizer of what was to come.

  He was out of control, and she let him control her. For now. He relinquished her mouth so he could lift her shirt over her head, and then his was gone too.

  Oh my God. She just stared at him, not knowing where to begin.

  Seneca kissed the muscular mounds covering his chest, then teased his nipple, biting gently. He gave a grunt of approval, and he must have lifted her up because the next thing she knew, she was on the bed, her bra was gone, and he was kissing down her neck. His large hands cupped her breast, then her ass, pulling her flush against him.

  Seneca closed her eyes so she could feel every touch, every She. Seneca ran her hand down his muscula
r back as he kissed between her breasts, claiming both with his hands.

  His mouth was on her nipple, sucking in a rhythm that was preparing her for him. She moaned with pleasure, and then it was his turned to nip at her. Seneca shuddered, pressing against him and he felt her encouragement. Ansel pulled off her jeans and then she heard her panties rip.

  His impatience was so…hot.

  He moaned, running his hands down the smooth skin of her inner thigh as he spread her legs. She leaned her head back, waiting to be devoured, but he teased her instead.

  His heat, the lightest touch of his lips as he breathed her in. He was torturing her, and he knew that she liked it, could see by how wet he was making her. She moved closer, begging him to consume her.

  He chuckled, a masculine satisfaction that made her head spin.

  "Taste me," she whispered to herself, but he listened, and savored her with one long, languid stroke of his tongue.

  Her hips came off the bed, but he held her down with his large hands, laving, licking, and sucking her until she was the one losing control. Her hands were lost in the hair on the back of his head, and she rocked her hips with his rhythm. The internal heat was building, and she was about to come when he stopped feasting.

  Her eyes fluttered open, and he was standing in front of her completely naked. Jesus. He was breathtaking. But she only had a moment to enjoy the sight of him before he was on top of her.

  "The first time you come for me," he whispered against her neck, "I'm going to be inside of you."

  She spread her legs wider, and he settled between them. His weight felt so good on top of her. She grabbed his ass, pulling him closer. He grinned, giving in to her demand and entering her slowly.

  Seneca couldn't breathe as he filled her, but she wanted more. She wrapped her legs around his waist and he closed his eyes, groaning with pleasure.

  He pushed deeper into her with long, languid strokes. Over, and over until she was building, floating. Harder, she thought she said. Harder. She lifted her hips to meet his thrust. Harder. She began moaning and she could feel his hunger building, which only added to her excitement.

  She was so close.

  Oh, God. She was cresting, and with her last ounce of energy, she begged, "Fuck me." And with those words, he was unleashed.

  He grabbed the headboard with both hands, and she held on to his muscular arms as he penetrated her, hard.

  "Come for me," he breathed, grabbing her ass and pushing deeper to send her over the edge in a blinding orgasm that made her leave her body, quivering.

  And then she felt him shake, grunting with each thrust until he made no sound as he filled her. He thrust again, fighting to prolong his pleasure as he held himself deep inside of her, until he had nothing left to give.

  Weak, his arms gave out and he collapsed gently on top of her. Neither of them moved, neither of them wanting to.

  After several deep breaths, Ansel propped himself up on his elbows and brushed a long strand of hair off of her face, so he could look at her when he said, "So, you're a screamer?"

  She blushed. "Not usually," she admitted.

  A lopsided grin spread across his face, and she was startled by the self-satisfaction shining through his bright eyes.

  "Well, you are now." He bent his head and kissed her one last time, before getting off the bed. "Come on." He was pulling on his boxers. "Let's get you packed."

  Seneca sat up, pulling the sheet over her body to protect herself. "No, Ansel."

  His hands were on the zipper of his jeans, but they dropped to his sides. "We have to go, Seneca. Now. I’m not joking."

  "Why? So I can sit around this safe house for a month, or two, while Gwen tries to figure you two out?" She got out of bed. "No thanks. I have a life."

  "They will come here, Seneca. Men like me." She stilled, looking at him in a different light. "They will ask you about my sister. And if they think for one moment that you're lying to them, they will take you to some cell in the middle of nowhere and torture you until they are satisfied that you don't know where she is.

  “And you do know, Seneca. And then what do you think will happen after you tell them where Cat is, because believe me, you will tell them. And then they will kill you, and dump your body in the middle of a desert somewhere before breaching the safe house. Killing Cat, Dave, Gwen and me, because I won't be able to stop all of them."

  He was breathing heavily, short angry breaths that betrayed his calm exterior.

  They stared at each other until she relented, sure he was exaggerating. "Okay. I'll come with you."

  His shoulders relaxed, and Ansel bent down to grab his T-shirt. She stared at his perfect ass and felt…What? Giddy, because she couldn't believe she was grabbing that ass while they had sex. Hell, she couldn't believe they had sex. She wanted to do it again, but she knew he would say no. He wanted to get her to the safe house with Cat, Dave, and Gwen.

  'You're a screamer.' Her heart sank. She wouldn't be able to have sex with him for a while. Not with all those people listening.

  What if he was just curious? What if she was just a notch on his belt?

  She watched his big hand grab a fistful of panties and shove them in her suitcase. No. Ansel was not the kind of guy who needed a conquest. Women came to him. With that face and body, he could crook his finger at the woman he wanted and she would come running.

  Is that what he just did? Seduced her into coming with him to the safe house? Maybe. He might do that, but he genuinely seemed to want her. Seemed to enjoy making her come, and he definitely enjoyed his own orgasm.

  'I need sex to relieve the stress of people trying to kill me.' Damn. Was she just a stress reliever? A pressure release?

  Her heart sank. Yes. She was sure of it, but she totally understood. Since this whole thing started, her emotions felt as though they were hiding just below her skin, ready to bubble to the surface at the smallest provocation.

  So the only question was, could she handle being with Ansel until this was over? Until the stress of the situation was gone, and he realized the truth? That she was just a plain, boring woman who worked then went out with her friends on the weekend. And occasionally, very occasionally, had sex with a guy when she got drunk and stupid.

  Seneca thought about it, deciding. Yes, she could be with Ansel as long as she kept her distance. Didn't get attached emotionally. Because as soon as this was all over, he would be gone.

  Ansel glanced at her, his brows furrowed. "You okay?"

  "Uh-huh," she smiled, and then walked into the bathroom.

  Alone.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Ansel drove back to the house, able to breathe again. Seneca was safe, with him.

  He glanced over at the passenger seat and could not keep himself from smiling. She was wearing jeans and a dark yellow t-shirt, with what could only be described as a prim blue cardigan.

  She wasn't wearing any makeup. She didn't need to. Her flawless skin would have suffocated under all that stuff. Her long hair was pulled back in a damp ponytail, the result of a quick shower.

  A shower Seneca took after he made her scream, until he came so hard he thought he was having a heart attack. Ansel didn't know why he wanted her so much. But he did know, as he stared at that pretty little nose, those luscious lips, he wanted her again.

  "We'll be there in about thirty minutes," Ansel announced. He wanted to hold her hand, but she had them firmly planted in her lap.

  "Okay."

  He glanced at her. She was quiet. In his experience when a woman was quiet, she was upset about something. But what? She was mad when he got to her apartment, but as soon as they were in bed together…

  He thought back. 'Fuck me.' Her words had sent him over the edge, and just thinking about them now sent a deep heat spreading across his chest. No, Seneca had wanted him just as much as he had wanted her.

  Was she embarrassed? She hadn’t seemed embarrassed when he was tasting her. Even spread her legs wider, and the way she ha
d grabbed his ass to pull him deeper…No, Seneca Reed was a woman who knew what she liked, and she liked what he did to her. His breath was getting shallow, because he knew he would do it again. And soon.

  Then what was she pissed about? If she wasn't angry or embarrassed, then why was she so quiet? And then he realized, and he felt horrible.

  Fear. Seneca was afraid.

  "You know I'll protect you until this is all over." Ansel looked at her so she would know that he meant every word.

  "I know you'll protect me." She smiled a polite smile. "Until this is all over."

  Was she making fun of him?

  "I can protect you, Seneca," he snapped, his ego bruised.

  "I know you can."

  Good! Because he could. That's what he had been trained for.

  He glanced at her again, and realized she hadn't looked at him since they got in the car. What was her problem? Jesus, he would never understand women. He pressed his lips together, refusing to ask her what was wrong.

  Fuck, why did he always have to ask women why they were upset? Why couldn't they just tell him? It was infuriating, and he was not going to do—

  "What's the matter with you?" Ansel sounded angry, which made him angrier.

  "Nothing." She shook her head. Godamn it. When they said that there was always something. She looked at him for the first time. "How many bedrooms are there at the house?"

  "In the safe house?" Why was she asking? "Three. Cat and Dave have one. Gwen has another, and we—"

  "I'll stay with Gwen."

  The hell she would.

  "Seneca?" Ansel laughed, but he wasn't amused.

  "I want to." She looked at him, her eyes cold. Distant.

  Well, fuck her then!

  "Fine," he shrugged, then stared out the windshield.

  But it wasn't fine, it wasn't fine at all. He wanted her with him, in his room, and in his bed. Every night. Until this was all over.

  He sped the rest of the way to safe house. And the moment he stopped the Range Rover, Ansel was yanking her luggage out of the backseat, then slamming the car door shut and walking inside.

  His irritation must have shown, because as he was throwing Seneca's clothes on Gwen's bed. Cat walked up to him looking worried.