Brutally Beautiful

by Lynne Connolly

  Caution drove her to say, “As long as we inform the people we need to the minute we need them.” They could arrange a basic raid, for instance, but not a full-scale takedown. They didn’t have the manpower for that.

  “Of course.” Yes, he would. Nolan had a rock-solid record for the cases he had helped on. If he had more patience, he’d probably get the promotion he badly wanted in the fullness of time, but this would give him the jump start he needed. But if he blew it, the results for them both could be catastrophic.

  He gave her his trademark avuncular smile. “What do you say? Another visit, or do you have another date with Taylor?”

  “I arranged to see him again, yes,” she admitted. “But he’s hardly going to trust me after two dates, is he?”

  “It might be worth waiting until he does.”

  Was he asking her to fuck Nick for the cause? Maybe, but he wouldn’t expect it of her. Only if she wanted to, and he couldn’t know she’d done it already.

  But at lunchtime, she took her electronic tablet and went to a coffee shop in Times Square. Surrounded by tourists, nursing a tepid cup of coffee, she used their free Internet connection to do some investigating of her own.

  She never trusted someone who made a point of meeting her eyes before he lied to her, and if she wasn’t mistaken, Nolan Bennick had either lied or withheld some of the truth.

  A few things made her uncomfortable. Nolan’s request that she go back to the club, for one thing. The undercover work she did was very routine—discovering where a subject worked, verifying some of the facts on his claim, sometimes watching from an unmarked vehicle to see if an applicant for citizenship was telling the truth. She spent most of her time checking that everything was in order and stamping applications.

  None of it included this kind of work. And Nolan knew it was dangerous—someone had tried to kill her. Kill her. That meant someone might have recognized her. Now Nolan wanted her to go back. Would Nick ask her to do that? No, she was sure he wouldn’t.

  Something else was wrong here. She’d memorized some of the names in the manila folder. Now she looked them up. Some of the names were unusual enough for there to be only a few people in the city. She could link them with their photos. Most had joined social networks, and following them showed her normal-seeming posts. They were going out, buying shit, and a couple of them were students as far as she could tell, bona fide. She made notes, in pen in a notebook. Nothing on a screen. Then she could look up the educational establishments they went to.

  As she’d half suspected, these people raised no red flags for her. Still, Nolan was a competent and thorough investigator, and he could have spotted a pattern others, including Gen, had missed.

  She had to make a choice. Who to believe? She felt drawn to Nick as she’d been to nobody else, ever. Not even the man who’d effectively railroaded her out of her home. Nick had charisma by the bucketload, but that wasn’t it.

  Besides, if Nick had wanted it, she’d be dead by now. She’d given him plenty of opportunity. Instinct screamed at her that he was telling the truth. He was protective of her, treated her with care and consideration. He cared.

  Or maybe he wanted something else from her.

  Shit.

  The best would be to trust nobody for now. Not completely, anyway. She had reason to trust both Nick and Nolan. She’d wait on events—see what developed.

  At least she had the best sex she’d had for years. No, belay that. The best sex she’d ever had in her life.

  * * * *

  Gen nearly gave that resolution up when she went to his apartment and found Nick waiting for her as the elevator doors opened. Her smile didn’t last long as he pulled her into his arms and kissed her like they’d been apart for months. “You,” he said when they finally came up for air.

  “Me,” she agreed. “Glad you noticed.” Already she softened, warmed and comforted by him. She’d find it amazing to come home to someone like this every night.

  She heard the elevator doors close. Then he grabbed another kiss. “Hungry?”

  “Not yet. Not for…food, anyhow.”

  That was as far as she got. He swept his arm under her knees, lifted her off her feet, and strolled toward the bedroom, pausing at the sofa so she could dump her bag on it. Okay, so she’d tell him later.

  In the bedroom, he lowered her to her feet, letting her body slide against his. She felt every ridge, every bulge, especially the large one filling the front of his jeans. His eyes held no shadows today, only smiles. Desperation to have him, to feel his skin against hers, filled her to the exclusion of anything else.

  He stripped her of her clothing, and she helped him get rid of his, glorying at the sight of his hard, strong body. Too eager to feel him inside her to take any notice of the doubts that crowded into her mind, she rubbed her nipples against him to bring herself some much-needed ease. He picked her up as if she weighed nothing and tossed her on the bed before coming down on top of her to take her in another long kiss. He tasted her as if they had weeks to spend on just kissing.

  She tunneled her hands into his hair, the silky strands caressing her fingers and the backs of her hands. He half closed his eyes, purring low in the back of his throat. “You feel good. I missed you.”

  “If this is your version of ‘Honey, I’m home,’ I’m all for it.”

  Laughing he pressed closer, then delved one big hand under a pillow and returned with a condom. “Just in case,” he murmured. “Sweetheart, I don’t want to wait. This is ‘Honey, I’m home. Let’s fuck.’ Our version.”

  She joined in his laughter, but it ended in a long sigh as he sheathed his cock and sank inside her welcoming body, the joining natural and right. She lifted her legs to hug his sides with her thighs. “Shortest foreplay I’ve ever known,” she murmured.

  He stopped, already deep inside her. “Sorry, I just wanted you so much. Should I stop?”

  “Fuck, no!” No way she’d let him withdraw now. She needed this as much as he did. More. His heat branded her, his powerful body surrounded hers with delicious intent.

  His smile warmed her from the inside out as he began to thrust sure and powerful inside her, and a different kind of heat began to rise from the inside out. She wound her legs around his waist and lifted her lower body up to him as he drove her to complete distraction. She wanted him deep, touching every part of her channel, owning it.

  Her body responded, almost as if she had nothing to do with it. He touched her inside, but it wasn’t just the mechanics of orgasm; there was so much more. Intimacy never had such meaning for her before. He kissed her, caressed her breasts, already knowing how she liked her nipples rubbed and tugged, nibbled her ear and licked her lobe when she shuddered. He was making this as good for her as he could. It couldn’t get much better.

  She wanted to do it for him, but she didn’t know how. She had a lot to learn, a journey to take with him. Cupping his ass, she set her fingers to play over his perineum, the soft spot of skin behind his balls, and he moaned softly, let her know he liked it, so she did it some more, scratching lightly this time.

  He plunged harder, dislodging her hands, but by then they were both on fire, their bodies burning, and they clung to each other. Her head went back against the pillows, her breath coming in short gasps, unable to do anything but let him take her to oblivion and beyond.

  His cry sounded like triumph.

  * * * *

  After he’d gone to the bathroom and cleaned up, he returned to the bed just as she was about to join him and suggest a shower. “Not yet,” he said, easing her back against the sheets. “I want to hold you for a while. Just be with you.”

  “Wow. Unexpectedly romantic.”

  He laughed. “Straightforward. I tell it how it is.” He traced one finger around her nipple, then down to the crease under her breast. “Soft, gorgeous skin,” he said as if discovering her for the first time.

  Tonight the drapes were open, revealing the city in all its early-evening glory. He le
aned over and switched on one of the bedside lights, and as he moved, she saw it. His skin was a gorgeous shade, bronzed as if permanently tanned, but as he turned she caught sight of a mark on his shoulder. And another, on his chest. She hadn’t realized he had so many scars. “Were you hurt?”

  He glanced down, grimaced. “I’ve had an interesting life.” He tapped his shoulder. “And a few appalling tattoos. I had them removed.”

  Fear clutched her, and her eyes went wide. She blurted the first thing that came into her head. “Gangs?”

  “Does every tattoo have to be a gangland one?” His expression turned cool, distant, and she realized she’d stepped over a mark. He wasn’t ready to tell her everything. She didn’t want to trespass where she wasn’t wanted.

  He cupped her cheek, his face relaxing. “Sorry. A painful memory. I told you I had a rough childhood, didn’t I? So you assumed that about the tats. Yes, kind of gangland but not how you’re thinking. Some of them were just plain ugly. My football team, for instance. Stupid thing to have done.” She touched a faint line on his chest, and he covered her hand with his. “I survived. I’m here.”

  She caressed his cock, which was already half-erect. “So you are.”

  Laughing, he rolled onto his back, taking her with him. “So I’m just me now. No ink, no piercings.” Immediately she glanced at his ear and saw a faint dimple.

  “I’d have liked you with an earring. Kind of pirate-y.”

  “Fashions change, and if I’d gone into poetry classes with a ring in my ear, they’d have called me Byron. See, nearly every male student had an ear piercing, so I thought I’d be different and not have one.” His hair clung to the pillow, so silky she wanted to bury her face in it. But she wanted to watch him as well. Blue eyes, near-black hair, bronzed body. He reminded her of the heroes of old.

  “Hungry now?” he suggested.

  She should tell him what she did, what her boss had said, but she couldn’t. Not now, when he’d let her further into his life. “Yes. Somehow I’ve worked up an appetite.” She might be able to confess once they were dressed. Already she was falling, in far too deep.

  * * * *

  Like Jim had said, Nick should just ask her. But he couldn’t ask her like this, when they were naked in bed together, so he found robes for both of them. He wrapped her in his spare bathrobe, the white one, and kept the navy for himself. She looked adorable swamped in the fabric, the belt cinched tightly around her waist. It came down to the middle of her calves. Well, he didn’t want her to get cold.

  He slapped a couple of steaks in a pan, and she prepared a salad in a big glass bowl. The domesticity felt natural, and he craved it as much as he’d craved her body as soon as she’d stepped out of that elevator.

  He’d have something for her too. While he couldn’t tell her everything, not yet, he could inform her that he’d applied for citizenship, and he wanted to stay in this country as long as he could. What had started from necessity had ended with a genuine love for this place and the people he met on a daily basis. There really was no place quite like New York, and it suited him better than anywhere else he’d ever lived. He loved the big windows in his apartment, loved the views. Sometimes he’d stand at the windows and just watch. Unlike Gen, he preferred the glass room with no rug, and he’d stand on the floor, staring down at the ground and the people passing under him. Just as well that glass was privacy, because one of the things he liked most of all was to stand there naked, hiding nothing. It gave him a kick to put himself on display like that, even though it was fake. Because he never took unnecessary chances. Except that one time in the library.

  With Gen.

  As soon as he’d seen this room he’d known he wanted to share it with someone special, and as soon as she’d stepped into his apartment, he knew it was Gen he wanted to share it with. Once this clusterfuck was over, he’d see if he could persuade her.

  Well, he had to start somewhere.

  They cleared up in domestic harmony, scraping, rinsing, and stacking the plates, putting the leftover salad away for later. Then he took her to the big, squashy sofa in front of the TV and casually mentioned there was a game on. Not his beloved Liverpool, but a Real Madrid game; they were always worth watching. Besides, she might not like the side of him that emerged when Liverpool was losing. This was his second TV, after he’d learned to hurl his beer bottles under the set, against the wall, where he could repair it. A near miss by Gerrard in the closing minutes of a vital match had made Nick lose his cool, and his previous TV.

  She happily curled up in the shelter of his arm, and he put on the match. Settled like this, he could kiss her, hold her safe, and after the scare with the poison, that was exactly where he wanted her. They murmured endearments, and he laughingly tried to explain the offside rule, something so convoluted even referees had problems understanding it, until she batted him away. The mood was right, the intimacy new and wonderful.

  They broke for advertisements at half-time, and he offered her a beer. After he brought them both back a cold one, he twisted off the caps, and casually said, “You never did tell me where you work. I want to pick you up tomorrow, if that’s okay, as much for my sake as for yours. I nearly—” He broke off as he turned to look at her.

  She’d frozen, her eyes fixed on the screen he knew she wasn’t seeing. He picked up the remote and muted it. Players continued without his help, fluidly passing the ball up the field. He ignored it and turned his body, crowding her so she couldn’t get away without pushing him. “What is it? I thought you had a boring office job? Wasn’t that what you told me?”

  “Yes, it is. I did.” She pressed a hand over her heart and tried a watery smile. “I’m sorry. I should have said something. I shouldn’t have let you let me in like this. It’s my fault. I’ll go home if you call me a cab.”

  He put his hand over hers. “You haven’t told me yet,” he said, keeping his voice gentle. From past experience with jittery females, he knew that would work best. She had a secret, and it sounded like one he needed to know. “Is it to do with where you work? You’re an FBI agent?”

  Her expression made him more alarmed. “No, yes. That is, no, I’m not.” She took a deep breath. “I work for Homeland Security. Immigration to be precise.”

  “I see.” He kept his voice low and steady, but even he heard the coolness absent a moment before. He’d put in his application for his citizenship last month, in anticipation of his upcoming fifth year of residency in the USA. “What do you do there?”

  She shrank back, but he’d been careful to give her nowhere to go. He decided not to encroach on her space any further, at least for now, but he wouldn’t back off either. “I process applications.”

  “Including mine?”

  Her throat moved as she swallowed. “Yes.”

  His heart seized, and cold ice ran through his veins. He had to know everything now; he couldn’t retreat. After he’d shown her this side of himself, she might never want him back. He wasn’t sure he wanted her after this. It depended on what she told him. “Spill.”

  He didn’t have to say any more. “I went to Bared to observe you. That’s all I do, process the forms plus a little undercover work, which isn’t usually complicated.”

  “Why not the university? Are you even a real student there?” Undercover. That would explain the fencing around her.

  She tried to retreat again, so he stopped her by planting his hand by the side of her head, over her shoulder. “Yes, yes I am. That’s why they chose me. I got a promotion when I agreed, and-and I was curious.”

  “About me?”

  “About the club. I knew about you, of course, but I hadn’t…met you.”

  He regarded her, trying to remove his involvement with her, to see her as she was. Never had he found it so hard, never had his whole body ached just to let it be, not ask any more questions. Always in the past he could withdraw himself from friends or lovers to do what he deemed necessary. Even his brother, when he’d sent Larry away to un
iversity, and he’d gone from Larry O’Donnell to Lawrence Cavendish. But not this woman.

  “I need to keep you close,” he said. “I might as well use you while you’re here.” He tried to ignore her flinch and failed miserably. “I need to know why they’re interested in me. And who is ‘they’?”

  “My boss, Nolan Bennick,” she said, faltering now. “I should have told you.”

  “Too fucking right you should. So all this is an act? You set out to get in here?” He waved a hand, indicating the apartment, a vicious desire for revenge taking hold of him. She had no idea what he could do to her. Like she said, she hadn’t met him. “Have you done your search yet?”

  “What search?”

  “Wasn’t that why you came here?”

  Tears misted her eyes, made the depths into crystal, but they didn’t fall. He watched her determination, her attempt to harden herself. “No, it wasn’t. I came here because you asked me to. I didn’t want to, but you asked.” She blinked, and a single drop tipped out of the outer corner of her left eye and trickled down her cheek.

  What the fuck was happening to him? When had he gone so soft? He needed to get away from this woman before he did something really stupid. Pain lanced through him, agonizing and unexpected. Women had betrayed him before. Hell, he’d expected it and acted accordingly once upon a time. Never told them anything, never let them into his life.

  He wanted to punish her. Women did as he wanted, or they used to, and although he’d spent the last five years relearning how to treat people, old habits still remained. Even when they shouldn’t, even when they meant hurting a woman he cared for more than any other. Instinct drove him to make her tell him. But she’d end up hating herself. Which was kind of the idea, wasn’t it?

  Trouble was, these days he’d hate himself more. Letting other people in meant caring about them. He wasn’t a natural psychopath. He’d learned how to not care the hard way, by caring too much and knowing he had to conquer it if he was to live and take care of Larry. He’d made the decision to drop it five years ago, and now here it was, roaring back, the urge to cut himself off and close down.