“The last time . . .” Elijah shook his head as his arms dropped against the table.
No way was Jarrett letting that just sit there. “What?”
“She disagreed with how I was handling the operation back when she lived here.”
Jarrett bit the inside of his mouth to keep from yelling that he was not an operation. “Why?”
“Ask her.”
“I’m asking the man who trespassed on my property and lived to talk about it. Which, I would remind you, was by my choice.”
“My shoulder still aches.” Elijah rubbed it as if talking about it reminded him of the pain.
“I don’t care.”
Elijah hit Jarrett head-on with a full push of eye contact. Elijah didn’t even blink. “Here’s the part you’re not going to like.”
“I haven’t enjoyed much of this conversation so far.”
Elijah rubbed his hand up and down his thighs. “Before I could tell Todd my concerns about her cover, he moved up the timetable.”
“Meaning?”
“He fast-forwarded having you dragged off to jail.”
A stark silence followed Elijah’s statement. Jarrett knew the other man was telling him something important, something that incriminated Becca. Rather than jump in and pepper Elijah with questions, Jarrett sat there. Elijah wanted to spill this story and only needed the room to do so.
He waited a full minute before launching into another comment. This time he seethed with anger. It poured out of him and showed in every inch of his tense body. “When you and Becca get together things get fucked up, and that time you messed up my timing.”
“How?”
“I thought you knew everything.”
Jarrett made a hard grasp for his temper. Calling up his control, he kept his expression blank and his voice even. “Elijah, spill.”
“We were off plan and I didn’t know why, or how far up the chain the orders were, but I knew the entire operation could end up with me being sacrificed.”
The plan all fell together in Jarrett’s head. Elijah played hard at not caring and insisting his life was about killing on command, but he’d known something was off back then and tried to derail the operation before it went to hell.
Jarrett felt a punch of admiration. It almost overcame his usual urge to shove Elijah out the window. Almost. “You were planning to take Todd out yourself and end the operation.”
“If necessary, yes.”
“Instead, it blew up on you. My arrest. Your team members dying. Hell, Todd getting attacked. It all meant whatever had you worried should have had your worried.”
“Exactly.”
Jarrett had never gotten this far, never broken through Elijah’s reserves and the layer of silence covering the intricacies of the operation, so Jarrett treaded very carefully. “For some reason you blame Becca for the destruction?”
“For everything. We fought about what was happening with the operation back then, and she snuck out, broke protocol and went to Todd. Next thing I knew, the order came down to take you in.”
Jarrett’s insides shook from the force he exerted to keep his anger from bubbling up and over. “You’re saying she made sure I got arrested.”
“I’m saying I don’t trust her.” Elijah slapped a hand against the table. “And a little advice? You shouldn’t either.”
• • •
Wade walked out of his condo bathroom and slipped a T-shirt over his head. His hair was still damp from a shower as he searched out his coffee mug in the kitchen. When the alarm chirped, he did a quick check over his shoulder.
Elijah came in and slammed the door behind him. He wandered around wearing a furious scowl. He seemed too busy swearing under his breath to notice what was happening around him.
Never a good sign.
“Where have you been?” Wade asked.
Elijah barely spared him a glance as he looked around the family room area with his focus not stopping on any one thing. “Conference room.”
“You okay?”
His head snapped up. “Do I look okay?”
Sounded like they were back to pissing and moaning. Wade grabbed the mug and walked over to stand behind the couch and wait for the storm to hit. “More like half-possessed.”
“That’s about right.”
“I’m guessing that means you found something.” Wade didn’t know whether to be happy or not. Finalizing the investigation meant moving on. Elijah wasn’t one to stay in place.
Wade recognized the type because he’d once been the same way. Then Jarrett yanked him off the street and out of his loan enforcer job. Jarrett went legit and insisted Wade do the same. Being raised in a family of petty thieves, finally finding stability suited him. Wade never looked back and never regretted.
But he would regret Eli.
“Jarrett’s lost his goddamn mind.” Elijah rested his hands on the back of the chair. His fingernails dug into the dark leather.
Wade didn’t need an explanation. Only one thing set Elijah’s anger firing at this level these days. “So, we’re dealing with a Becca issue. Again.”
He pushed off and stood up straight again. Pacing started right after. “What is it about her?”
“Hard truth is that Jarrett wants her. He probably even loves her.” Had from the beginning and always would. Wade was convinced of that now. Really, there was no other explanation for his usually steady boss’s loss of control.
Jarrett ran his business with an iron fist and historically relegated women to the roles of dates and temporary sexual partners, never permanent and always living separately from him. Becca broke that mold, and no amount of crushing his will or wrecking his life seemed to change that.
“That’s fucking ridiculous.” Elijah shook his head. “Jarrett is a grown man, and a smart one.”
Wade didn’t disagree, but Elijah was missing the bigger point “He’s still human.”
“Wait a second.” Elijah stopped walking and grumbling long enough to focus on Wade. “You’re saying Jarrett told you how he feels about her?”
“Didn’t have to. I’ve known him a long time.” Wade had seen Jarrett attracted and intrigued. This thing with Becca was a totally different ballgame.
“The two of you are close.”
It was the way Elijah said it that had Wade leaning against the back of the couch. “As friends.”
“So you’ve said.”
“Not sexual partners.” Though in the midst of an alcohol-induced state after losing Becca, Jarrett wondered aloud, circled the idea. Wade knew the bright light of sobriety would prove that a huge mistake, so he dumped Jarrett in bed and stood watch until morning. He doubted Jarrett even remembered.
“You’ve been together since back when you lived on the streets.” Elijah said the words as he moved across the room. By the time he hit the last syllable, he leaned on the arm of the couch, facing Wade.
He didn’t know where this was going, but he’d shared these pieces of his past in week two or three of having Elijah here, so there was no harm in agreeing now. “Yeah.”
“Back when you did everything to survive.”
“Eli, what are you—”
“Talking about you.” The heated look on his face suggested Eli was done talking about Jarrett.
“Why?”
“You’re more interesting than your boss.”
“I think most people would disagree.”
“You’re the one I want to fuck.” Elijah maneuvered around the edge of the couch so fast he was practically on top of Wade.
That’s all it took to send Wade’s pulse racing. “I thought we were arguing about Jarrett.”
“I have other things on my mind.” Elijah slipped his hands under Wade’s tee and trailed the tips over his stomach.
Not that Wade fought the move. �
��Like?”
Elijah walked around, skimming his hands up and taking Wade’s tee off with them. They shifted until Wade stood next to the armrest with Elijah behind him. Then came the brush of Eli’s lips over Wade’s ear and the fit of his body against Wade’s back.
“Feeling that beard against my cock.” Eli kissed Wade’s neck, scraping the skin with his teeth. “Sliding into you.”
The mix of the words and touching hit Wade like an electric jolt. “I’m not saying no.”
“That’s one of the things I like about you.”
“What?” A hand slid over Wade’s chest while the other traveled lower.
“The way you say yes.” Elijah rubbed the material over Wade’s cock. Back and forth, slow and steady, clenching and unclenching his fingers. “So damn good.”
The friction of Wade’s jeans against skin built into a blinding heat there. He didn’t realize he was holding a breath until it hissed out of him. “Let’s go—”
The words cut off when Elijah pushed. Wade put his hands out to stop the fall and ended up bent over, balanced on the armrest, with Elijah’s cock pressed against his ass. The layers of clothing didn’t matter. Certainly didn’t provide a barrier that couldn’t be shredded in a frenzy to get at each other.
“I’m thinking to take you over the couch. Maybe throw you on the bed and watch your face as I fuck you.” Elijah kissed his way down the side of Wade’s throat and around to the sensitive spot at the base of the back of his neck. “Or do you want to be on your knees with me in your mouth?”
The words rumbled against Wade’s skin. This side of Elijah, a little rough and full of need, broke Wade’s will every time. He didn’t have a shield for this. Couldn’t figure out how to say no and mean it.
“Couch,” he whispered, surprised by the low grumble of his voice.
“Don’t move.” Elijah put his hand on the center of Wade’s back and pressed down. “Not an inch.”
“What are you—”
“You better be in this position when I get back.”
“Or?” Wade forced the words out over the want churning in his gut.
“Be patient and you’ll be rewarded.” The last of Elijah’s words faded as he slipped out of sight and into the bedroom.
Wade shifted, keeping his hands on the arm of the couch. He twisted and turned until he saw Elijah come right back out, having shed his shirt and in the middle of opening his pants.
Wade could barely see, barely hear over the thrashing of excitement inside him. “You going to tell me what we’re doing?”
A tube of lube landed with a thump on the cushion in front of Wade.
Eli laughed. “Guess.”
“Here on the couch?”
“That’s right.” Elijah lifted Wade just enough to undo the button on his jeans and plunge a hand deep inside his fly. “Are you ready for me?”
“Damn.” Wade threw back his head, loving the weight of Eli’s body over his shoulders and the brush of hair against his cheek. “Yes.”
Wade’s jeans dipped on his hips. With a tug and a shove, they fell past his knees. Since he hadn’t bothered to wear underwear, the striptease left him bare and ready. His cock twitched when Elijah ran his palm up and down his length. Then his fingers curled around him and Wade’s vision blurred.
“Are you sure?” Elijah glanced over Wade’s shoulder as his hand pumped up and down. “Well, you do look like you’re getting there.”
His breathing hiccupped as he slipped his palms over the outside of Elijah’s thighs. Anything to touch him and be close. “Damn right.”
“If you’re a very good boy, I’ll let you come.” Eli kissed Wade’s hair. “Then we’ll move to the bed and try it again.”
“Elijah, please.”
“I love how you say my whole name, all drawn out and hot, when you want me inside you. Very sexy.” With a hand pressed on the groove between Wade’s shoulder blades, Elijah pressed down again and didn’t let up until Wade was bent over with his ass in the air. Then Elijah kissed a line down Wade’s bare spine. “In a few minutes you’ll scream it.”
Wade gave up all control in this position. Eli would dominate the tempo and the thrusts. Wade knew from experience he could plead but he’d remain powerless. When he saw Elijah reach for the tube and felt the cool gel rub all over his ass, Wade stopped thinking.
He dropped his head and let the sensations tumble over him. The heat of Elijah’s body. The push of fingers inside him, readying the way for a firm and eager cock. The kick of longing so strong it had Wade’s knees buckling.
When he felt Elijah’s tip move against him everything else washed away, slipping inside.
“Fuck,” Wade said as he forced his muscles to relax.
Elijah bit down on the tight muscle at the back of Wade’s shoulder. “Oh, I’m definitely going to fuck you.”
Pain mixed with pleasure. “Then move.”
Elijah licked the spot he’d bitten. “Ask nicely.”
“Damn it, Eli—”
Firm hands settled on Wade’s hips. The full and intense penetration started a second later.
“Consider this Round One.” Then Elijah finally started to move.
THIRTEEN
The next morning Becca hugged Jarrett’s shirt close to her body. The crisp cloth hung on her, reaching down her thighs.
She’d never been the fanciful type. When other little girls dreamed of big weddings, she worried about having enough food. Instead of poufy white dresses, she practiced how to pack up her few possessions and get back on the road in less than two minutes, per her father’s insistence. The question of whether she’d have to hide from police or nosy neighbors trumped fairy-tale endings.
Becoming a fighting machine followed from her messed-up childhood. She used to beat up anyone who made fun of her and played grand mental games where she created new identities and spun wild tales of what her life would be. Sliding into the role of professional identity-changer as a grown-up actually seemed right. Predestined, even.
When her job had required sex with men to get information, she separated her mind from her body. When she killed, she’d hang on to the knowledge she was doing good. Never mind that she had trouble sleeping or couldn’t trust anyone ever. Well, except one.
Her fingers slipped down the row of tiny white buttons as she stared at Jarrett’s closed bedroom door. This was the last level of privacy she hadn’t breached. He ordered her to keep out and she had. But the door pulled her like some sort of magnetic connection that kept sucking her in.
Even though she knew there could be something important behind that door, she’d waited. Because the idea of going into the room she once shared with Jarrett turned out to be the step too far.
Living in the guest room, she could trick her brain into thinking she’d maintained detachment. Enjoyed the sex and handed over her body but kept her mind her own. But it was all bullshit. They’d mentally raced around each other, shouting their respective positions, each thinking the other committed the greater past wrong. At this point she no longer knew what was right or real.
All those years of killing on command ended with a death squad on her tail. That shifted life back into perspective. The one man she could trust just might be the one she handed over to the CIA. That made her the betrayer, an idea that doubled her over in sidesplitting pain.
Which is why her hand hesitated on the doorknob now. She didn’t want to search the room. She wanted a specific shirt. The one he last wore. The trade would only take a second and she’d be out again.
Before she could think twice, she turned the knob and pushed the door open. Standing on the threshold, she peeked inside. The king-sized bed with the light gray comforter dominated the large room. The furniture fit the rest of the house—clean lines, no clutter, taking up minimal space.
The doorway on the wall to her lef
t led to a massive walk-in closet. The type with drawers and a chair in the center. She knew because she helped him design it. Changed it from a large room with a single bar on each wall to something usable.
Beyond that sat the bathroom with the marble floors and jetted tub. Memories bombarded her brain. The two of them relaxing in there, making love under the water spray.
She shook her head, trying to push out the stray pieces of the life she left behind eight months ago. This was a mission for the comfort of his scent and nothing more.
Tiptoeing across the plush rug, because for some reason that felt right, she looked around for any sign of the clothes he wore the night before. As expected, they’d been put away in whatever place he assigned them. He traditionally used a cleaning service, but she hadn’t seen evidence of it since she got here. Not that the man needed help. He kept the place pristine and likely deserved a kickback from the service he paid.
Anxiety kept welling inside her, spurring her to move quickly. She glanced around when a tingling sensation crept over her. She’d felt the prickling at the base of her neck often enough to heed the warning and not linger.
Unless he changed his habits, and he was not a man prone to change, the laundry and dry-cleaning baskets sat just inside the closet against the wall. She pushed the door open and clicked on the light.
And stopped cold.
“What the hell?” It couldn’t be.
Ignoring her stated task and the possibility of detection, she walked to the right side of the closet as if in a trance. Her feet carried her, but her brain kept misfiring. Starting at one end, she ran her fingers over the item on each hangar. Black pants. A few shirts. That dress Jarrett bought for her to satisfy his fantasy of running his hands up underneath it.
Nothing expensive or fancy.
All of it hers.
He hadn’t changed a thing. Each piece of clothing waited in the same place she’d assigned it. The discovery was right there. She could see the evidence and say the words, but the reality of what it all meant refused to settle in.
Her stuff. None of it moved. She just assumed he sold it or threw it away. Hell, with the way they ended it was conceivable he’d set it all on fire. That’s probably what she would have done had the roles been reversed.
Mercy Page 13
