Elite Ops Complete Series

by Lora Leigh

She let her nail tap against the table as she considered that. No doubt Noah would be worrying that whatever he was up to would slap back at her, as it nearly had Toby. Which didn’t make sense, because as far as she could tell, Noah wasn’t actually doing anything. He worked on cars. Spent his evenings torturing her, and other than a few nights a week that he disappeared with Nik, she couldn’t find a single clue that he was anything other than what he pretended to be. A mechanic. One that liked to get into knife fights, obviously.

  She lifted her beer and sipped at it, almost grimacing at the bitter taste. Maybe tomorrow, she’d crack open another of those vintage heirloom wines Nathan had once been so fond of. Not that he had ever drunk the damned things. He’d just collected them.

  Like he had collected his truck and his wife.

  “Hey, Belle. Dance with me.” Jason Dugall, one of the Malone cowboys, stepped up to her as the music picked up its beat again. “Come on. You don’t wanna just sit here all night.”

  His brown eyes sparkled with fun, his blond hair was sweat dampened and falling over his brow.

  “One dance.” She picked up her beer, took a large drink, then rose to her feet and let him take her hand and lead her out to the dance floor.

  She hadn’t danced in years, but the steps came back to her naturally. Within minutes she was laughing, twisting. Jason was a good dancer. A fun dancer. He didn’t touch below the waist, they laughed when she screwed up the steps and he would swing her around to get her back in step.

  They finished the song and moved into another, then another. She let her mind drift, remembering the nights she and Nathan had spent dancing here when they went out with friends. And it was fun. It was something she hadn’t done since she and Nathan had been married, for one reason or another.

  Finally, her legs weak and her mouth dry, she waved off another dance and headed for the table. From the corner of her eye she saw movement and turned.

  A path opened to the door and Noah Blake came striding in like the biker bad boy from hell. Leather chaps over snug jeans. Kick-ass boots on his feet. A leather jacket over a black T-shirt. His blue eyes blazed like hell on fire in his dark face and his black hair was windblown, mussed, and lying to his shoulders in erotic disarray. As though the wind had loved his hair as he rode. Combed invisible fingers through it and left it lying in just the right way to reveal the rugged savagery of the reformed bones and angles of his face.

  And he was heading straight for her.

  The music drifted away, a slow sensual tune heated up the dance floor, and she felt her breathing become harder, deeper.

  Two days. She had been without him for two days. And it had been hell. How was she going to make it without him when he left to sort-things-out?

  He strode to her, that loose-hipped dangerous swagger that made her mouth dry and her pulse pound. And before she realized his intention, his arms went around her and he pulled her into the softly swaying crowd.

  It was like making love. Like long, slow sex.

  His hands gripped her hips, hers pressed against his chest, fingers curling beneath the vest as they moved to the music.

  “Having fun?” His eyes raged, his voice deepened, darkened.

  “Of course.” She let her hands slide up his chest to his shoulders, moved in closer, and let herself feel him.

  Oh God, how was she supposed to do without him again? How was she supposed to go on when he went off to sort his little things out?

  She was married. She wasn’t a widow, she wasn’t a divorcee. She was married and she still loved her husband, even if somehow, somewhere, his love for her had died.

  She let her head fall against his chest, her eyes close. A memory, she told herself. Something to hold on to when he was gone again. And his arms folded around her, held her close until her bare legs were sliding against the leather chaps, reminding her of the leather seats of the pickup and the scent of sex that infused it now.

  She could feel her body warming, her breasts and clit swelling. Flesh became overly sensitized, and when his hands dipped beneath the short hem of her blouse and touched the bare flesh of her back, she drew in a hard, deep breath.

  “I’ve missed you,” he breathed against her ear and she felt herself flinch at the admission.

  Eyes closed, her face buried against him, she didn’t worry about anyone seeing the pain in her face, or her eyes. He hid her, sheltered her.

  “There’s nothing to miss,” she finally answered, forcing herself to remember that he was going to leave her, walk away from her again.

  He caressed the side of her head with his jaw.

  “I want you, Sabella. I want back in that big bed with you. I want to feel you hot and wet beneath me.”

  “For how long?” She shook her head against his chest. “How long, Noah? A night? Two? A week? What do you want from me? What makes you think you can just breeze into town, breeze into my bed, and then ride into the sunset and I’m just going to accept it?”

  Noah could hear the hurt in her voice, he could feel it. Jealousy over the memory of the man who had spoiled her into seeing exactly how much she was worth, and the knowledge of what he was now, tearing through him.

  She deserved so much better. Deserved a man who didn’t face those nights that, for whatever reason, pumped the remnants of the damned drug back into his senses. When the lust and the hunger consumed him to the point that he was terrified to be around any woman. Especially his Sabella.

  And he couldn’t tell her that. He couldn’t tell her about the animal that raged inside him. He couldn’t tell her his agreement with Elite Ops, and he couldn’t forget that for eighteen months he had refused to let her know her husband was alive.

  The truth would destroy her as surely as the lie eventually would. And at least with the lie, she would have that memory of her husband and what she had meant to him.

  “There’s so much you don’t know,” he finally sighed against the shell of her ear. “Why I’m here. What has to be done.”

  “Then tell me, Noah.” She lifted her head and stared back at him, her gray eyes dove soft, filled with anger and with need. “I’m not a child. I’m not some little ditz that can’t understand or handle the realities of life.”

  Noah stared back at her, feeling the wild pulse of hunger tightening between them, and the need for answers blazing in her eyes.

  “I already know part of it,” she said softly. “You can sleep with me? Torture me with everything I can’t have, but you can’t tell me the truth?”

  Only so much of it, and he knew it. But parts of it, considering what was coming tomorrow, parts of it she had to understand. When this operation started moving, it would move fast. He needed to know she could protect herself, she had to know she needed to stay safe. For him. For his sanity.

  “Ride with me,” he invited her, knowing that the partial truths would have to come tonight. Who he was, what he had been, would have to remain a secret, forever.

  “I wore shorts.”

  He shook his head. “I’ll be careful. Come on.” He pulled back as the music stopped. “We’ll ride.”

  Sabella took his hand, her heart thudding in her chest, a feeling of hope rising inside her, though a part of her knew, a part of her accepted, he wasn’t going to tell her who he was.

  But she couldn’t stop hoping.

  She was aware of the eyes watching them as they left that bar. Rory and Toby stood as they passed. She took a second to shoot Rory a narrow-eyed look. The day was going to come when they were going to talk. Hard and deep. And that day wasn’t far off.

  She didn’t confront him now, wouldn’t confront him until Noah left, because she needed to know. She had to know what had happened to her husband, why he hadn’t come back to her as he should have. But even more, she needed to know that he wasn’t leaving her. That no matter the things he needed to sort out, that he intended to stay. That he intended to claim her again.

  “Rory called you, didn’t he?” she asked as he helped her on the b
ack of the Harley before straddling the machine himself.

  “Rory called.” His voice was harder now. Cool. “How do you feel about a ride to the city park?”

  He pulled off his jacket before turning and helping her into it.

  She nodded slowly. “The park sounds fine.”

  The Harley throbbed to life. The motor vibrated with throttled power before Noah kicked up the stand, kicked it in gear, and pulled out of the parking lot.

  The summer air whipped through her hair. The remembered sense of freedom that overcame her brought a smile to her face as she wrapped her arms around Noah’s lean waist and held on as he headed to the small park.

  Medina Park was small, beautifully kept. Noah pulled into the deserted parking lot and helped her off the motorcycle.

  Holding her hand, he led her along a narrow walkway until they turned into a small sheltered picnic area. A lone table sat in the shadowed area, together with the dim outline of an iron barbecue grill.

  Sabella shoved her hands into the pockets of the jacket as she stepped up on the seat of the table and sat on the wide bench of the table itself.

  “Why here?”

  “No ears to listen,” he said, sighing. “And if there were, I’d know it.”

  His head turned as though probing the shadows.

  “You can see that well in the dark then?” Nathan had always had exceptional sight, even in the dark.

  “You know I’m here for a reason, Sabella,” he finally bit out, moving until he was sitting behind her, his powerful legs bracketing hers, his arms looping around her as he pulled her back against his chest.

  “Have you heard about the bodies they found in the national park?” he asked her then.

  Sabella nodded carefully.

  “Legals and illegal aliens alike, as well as three FBI agents, have died over the past year or so, victims of a vicious hunt. I’m trying to track the men who did this, get the evidence needed, and turn it over to the federal agents working the case.”

  “You’re not an agent?” Something inside her tightened into a hard knot of pain.

  “I’m independent. Contracted,” he told her, brushing his lips against her ear. “It doesn’t stop here, Sabella. The link to this goes much further than this little county. It’s growing, and it’s a security threat to the nation. I don’t have a choice about where I go from here.”

  She nodded jerkily. “So you really won’t be staying?”

  She was shaking on the inside. She couldn’t understand how she was managing to stay calm, collected, on the outside.

  She felt him behind her then, the question hanging between them, filling the heated air with tension and with regret.

  “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me,” he finally said. “In my life, touching you, holding you, is the best thing I’ve ever done. But shit happens, baby. And shit blew up in my face a long damned time ago.”

  She felt the first tear fall, and made sure it was the last.

  She could feel the pain inside her though. It was clawing, vicious, digging out her heart as she fought against the sobs that wanted to tear through her. Her lips trembled, but she held them back. She didn’t know how she held them back.

  “I want you safe,” he continued. “From here on out, I want you to stay out of the bars, out of town. Stay where I can keep an eye on you, where I can keep you safe in the event that anyone has managed to suspect why I’m here, or what I’m doing.”

  “Something’s going to happen then?”

  “Something could happen at any time,” he said. “But this case is moving now. Once it blows to hell and back, I don’t want the fallout at your doorstep.”

  She nodded, then froze, her eyes closing tight as his lips took a slow, gentle sip of her bare neck. How could she have not known those lips the first time they touched her, the first time sensation had slammed into her. Only her husband, the man she had given her soul to, could do this to her.

  Before Sabella could help herself, she leaned her head to the side, inviting more, needing more. God help her, he was going to leave her again. She should be screaming. Kicking. She should be crying. But the hope wouldn’t still inside her ragged heart.

  He had told her this much. He was just waiting, just preparing her for what could happen. Noah wouldn’t actually walk away from her again. Not her Noah. Not the man whose hands were tightening on her now, whose breath was growing ragged, and whose hunger was flaming over her.

  Her Noah would never walk out of her life like that. Never by choice. Not her husband.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  “Who are you chasing, Noah?”

  She asked the question he was hoping she wouldn’t ask.

  “You’re as safe as I can make you right now.” He let his lips feather over her jawline. “The less you know, the safer I can keep you.”

  “Knowledge is power.” She tilted her head for him, letting his lips and tongue caress the sensitive little path down the side of her neck.

  “Not in this case.” He nipped at her neck. “In this case, for you, innocence is your best weapon. And I’ll keep it that way, Sabella.”

  He felt her soften then. As though he had given her something she needed. What could it have been other than an assurance that he cared for her, wanted her safe?

  God in heaven knew he wanted her safe. He could live without sex. He could living without Sabella in his life. But he couldn’t live without Sabella living. His heart would stop beating. All will to live would flow out of his body.

  He had known that before he ever married her. The night he had realized that his heart beat for this one tiny little woman, Nathan had known he would give up the free and easy lifestyle he had held on to for so long, and marry her.

  And now, letting go of her again, it would rip his soul out. It would tear him into so many pieces he was certain he would only be a living shell of what he was tonight.

  “I missed you in the bed with me.” He pulled the jacket from her shoulders and laid it beside them before caressing her bare shoulders, her arms.

  His hands smoothed over the silver armband he had bought her. Damn, she looked good in that. Like a savage princess decked out for a sensual battle.

  “This isn’t going to solve anything.” Her voice was weak, filled with hurt and with desire.

  That vein of hurt in her voice broke his heart. It tore something in his chest and left him burying his face in her neck, fighting to hold back the pain ravaging him.

  And he couldn’t stop touching her. Having her against him, in his arms, he couldn’t help it. It was like an addiction, a craving he couldn’t control. He needed this, needed her. When the time came to walk away, he wanted as many memories as possible to take with him. Enough to help him survive the lost, lonely nights he knew he was going to face.

  “You deserve so much more,” he whispered, his hands sliding beneath her blouse, cupping her side, caressing over silken flesh to the heavy weight of her breasts. “A man that’s whole. That’s what you deserve, Sabella. And I’m not whole any longer. I haven’t been in a long time.”

  Her breath hitched and he knew it was a sob that shuddered through her body.

  “My Sabella.” He turned her to him, pulling her legs over his thigh and cradling her in his arms as he stared down at the tear tracks on her face. “I won’t lie to you. I can’t do that. I can’t tell you I’m going to stay and that we’re going to fulfill the dreams we each have.” He touched the tears on her face. “We can’t do that to each other, or for each other. I’m not your husband, Sabella. And we both know no one else is going to fill your heart but your husband.”

  He pushed her, he had to push her. She had to realize what could happen. She had to face it.

  Her eyes flashed.

  He caught the hand that aimed at his face as surprise stuttered through him.

  He stared at the hand, then at the anger flushing her face.

  “Sabella, did you just try to smack me?” he asked her carefu
lly.

  It had been one of their rules during their marriage. She could throw anything she pleased, she could scream, cuss, she could call him a dirty son of a bitch, but she was never to try to hit him. Or to surprise him. No running up to goose him, or jumping out from corners.

  His reflexes were too well honed, that survival instinct inside him too well developed to allow her to know any fear of him.

  He wouldn’t hurt her, but he’d be damned if he wanted her afraid he would hurt her when he had his hand around her neck and had her on the floor before either of them thought.

  “You’re lucky I don’t try to shoot you!” She scrambled off his lap, stumbled on the bench below, and would have fallen if he hadn’t caught her.

  He stared back at her in surprise. One second she was sweet and soft in his arms, now she was spitting at him like a little cat.

  “Where the hell are you going?” He grabbed his jacket and followed after her as she began striding, almost running, along the path back to the parking lot. “Dammit, Sabella.”

  “Go to hell!”

  “I’ve been there, thank you,” he retorted. “I opt not to return, if you don’t mind.”

  “Then go wherever the hell you go when you drive off in the evenings.” She waved a hand back at him, her expression, the set of her body, flat furious. “I told you the other night, Noah Blake. I’ve had enough.”

  “Well, maybe I haven’t,” he muttered.

  He hadn’t had enough of her sweet touch and he sure as hell hadn’t had enough of her laughter, her kisses, or her presence next to him.

  “Well, maybe that’s too damned bad. Because I don’t like your rules and I don’t like the game you’re playing with me.” She turned in the middle of the parking lot then, turned to face him, and Noah came to a hard stop.

  If he hadn’t seen the determination in her eyes the other night, he saw it now. Naked pain, anger, and self-confidence.

  He asked himself again, Where was the woman he had married? This wasn’t the helpless little blonde, but damned if she didn’t turn him on more than she ever had.

  “I’m trying damned hard not to play games with you.” He propped his fists on his hips and glared back at her. “Dammit, Sabella, I’m trying to be honest here. I don’t want to hurt you.”