After Midnight

by Elle Kennedy

  But at least the man was smart enough to make use of Noelle’s limitless network of resources, even though it clearly killed him to need something from her. The female assassin had ways of producing information from thin air—she seemed to know every scumbag on the planet.

  Kane finished his coffee and dropped the cracked mug in the sink. The hotel definitely wasn’t the nicest, but they’d stayed in worse. “What do you want us to do until the intel comes in?”

  “Nothing we can do.” Morgan grumbled in frustration. “Grab a shower and some grub if you want. I’ll call you when we have something.” He shot Noelle an icy glare. “And you, baby, can take off now. We’ve got things covered.”

  “Really? Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like you’re spinning your wheels.”

  Stifling an inward groan, Kane glanced at his wife. “Ready to go?” He was desperate to leave Morgan and Noelle to their own devices. The suffocating hostility hanging in the air was beginning to choke him.

  After a beat, Abby nodded and slid off the chair. Either he was imagining it, or she was actually reluctant to follow him. As if she’d rather stay in the land of veiled threats and combustible sexual tension than be alone with her husband.

  He had to have imagined that.

  Kane banished his misgivings as they headed back to their room. After he’d closed the door, he turned to Abby and searched her expression, but those yellow eyes revealed nothing. She was a master of hiding her thoughts and emotions, thanks to years of training, and years of emotional detachment.

  “I need a shower,” she said in an absentminded tone. “I’ve been walking around in long sleeves all day.”

  Kane’s breath lodged in his throat as she proceeded to strip, giving him a hell of a show. Her shirt came off first, which left her in a black bra that hugged her full breasts. Fucking hell. He loved her tits. Loved her body. Loved her.

  She bent down to unzip her boots then wiggled out of her tight pants. He continued to stand there and watch, his mouth going dry when her underwear and bra hit the floor. Her naked body had successfully distracted him from voicing the questions on his mind, and she seemed to know it, because her lips quirked.

  “Wanna shower with me?” she drawled.

  “Sweetheart, I’m a red-blooded man and you’re naked. You don’t even need to ask.”

  He shrugged out of his clothes on the way to the bathroom. Christ. His cock was already rock hard, eagerly rising up to slap his navel as he ducked into the shower stall after her.

  Abby smiled when he joined her. Lukewarm water sluiced down her body, dripping off the ends of her long red hair. He watched in fascination as droplets slid over her firm ass and clung to her golden skin, absolutely floored that this beautiful, addictive creature belonged to him.

  She stepped aside to give him his turn under the spray. He quickly dunked his head, then shifted around in time to see Abby working a bar of soap over her spectacular curves.

  “Oh yeah, keep doing that,” he rasped.

  “You sound like you’re in a porno movie.”

  He smirked. “You look like you’re in a porno movie.”

  Rolling her eyes, she glided the soap over her belly and toward the juncture of her thighs. Tiny white bubbles dotted her skin as she worked the soap into a lather. His gaze followed her every move, which might’ve creeped out some women, but not Abby. No, she kept her eyes locked on his as she washed herself, and then, without a word, she handed him the soap and moved back under the spray to rinse off. After he’d lathered up, he stepped in behind her, his cock nestling between her ass cheeks.

  He dipped his head so he could kiss her shoulder. “I love you.”

  For a second he wondered if she’d heard him over the running water, because she didn’t answer. But then her breathy voice broke through the steady rush of the spray.

  “I love you too.”

  Fuck, maybe it made him the biggest sap on the planet, but hearing those words leave her mouth sent his heart soaring. He’d known what he’d signed up for when he’d married her. Abby Sinclair didn’t do feelings, and she shut down whenever she felt too exposed. It had taken three years of painstaking work to chip away at her hard outer shell and reveal the soft, willing woman inside. And damn, it had been worth the effort.

  Truth was, she’d changed him too. After he’d lost his college girlfriend to suicide, he’d thought he’d never fall in love again.

  Until he’d met Abby.

  With a husky sigh, he rested his hands on her slick hips and brought his mouth to her neck. Her head promptly tilted to the side, allowing him better access, and she moaned when his lips teased her sensitive flesh.

  “I need you,” she whispered.

  His brows furrowed at the desperate note in her voice. He tugged on her hair, trying to twist her around so he could see her eyes, but she leaned forward and braced both hands against the tiled wall. All but presenting her sweet ass to him.

  The wicked sight hardened his cock to a whole new level, drawing a groan from his lips.

  “Get inside me.” Desperation again, but her voice was also thick with emotion.

  Kane fisted his cock, giving it a slow jerk before guiding it to her pussy. One thrust of the hips and he was buried inside her, a hot rush of pleasure sizzling through his body and settling in his groin. He slid out, then in again, keeping his pace nice and slow as her inner muscles rippled around him.

  Her choked plea echoed in the stall. “Harder. Fuck me harder.”

  Another groan broke free. “I’m trying to make it last, sweetheart.”

  “I don’t want it to last. I want to come.” She thrust backward, and he swayed on his feet, the pleasure was so intense. “Please, Kane. Hard and fast.”

  Like he could ever say no to that.

  He gripped her hips and drove deep again, nothing lazy about the tempo anymore. Water coursed over them, streaming down their bodies as he fucked her like an animal with deep, relentless strokes. He grabbed a hunk of her hair and fisted the wet strands as his hips pistoned hard, the slapping noises of their bodies coming together mingling with his low groans and her throaty cries. There was something raw and dangerous about the encounter, and when Abby shuddered in release, he was hit by a wave of male satisfaction that summoned a low growl from his throat. He wished he could see her face, but it was enough to witness her uncontrollable shivers, knowing that he’d caused them. That he’d taken her to a place where she felt safe enough to drop her guard and let him in.

  “Fuck. Coming,” he ground out, his fingers tightening over her wet hips.

  Stars danced in front of his eyes as the climax ripped free. Her still-spasming pussy milked him dry, bearing down on his cock as white-hot pulses surged through him.

  Breathing hard, he went still and rested his chin on her shoulder. “Goddamn, sweetheart. I can barely stay upright.”

  Soft laughter wrapped around him like a warm blanket. Lord, it was the sweetest sound in the world.

  “I needed that.” She sounded almost embarrassed to admit it, and this time he wasted no time turning her around.

  When he glimpsed the troubled crease in her forehead, he gently smoothed it with his thumb. “What’s going on?”

  Her throat bobbed as she swallowed. “I . . .”

  The loud chime of his cell phone interrupted her, and his hand quickly fell from her face. “Hold that thought.”

  He ducked out of the stall, reached for a towel so he could dry his hands, and picked up the phone he’d left on the sink counter in case Morgan called. When he checked the screen, he found an incoming text message, but not from the boss. Kane looped the towel around his hips as he scanned the message, then burst out laughing.

  “Who’s it from?” Abby came up behind him, still naked and dripping wet.

  “My mother,” he told her. “God. You’re going to get a
kick out of this.”

  “Yeah?” Sounding curious, she tucked a towel around her body. “What did she say?”

  “She wants my advice on what to get you for your birthday. She and Dad have narrowed it down to two options.”

  He wasn’t surprised when Abby’s eyes flickered with discomfort. Although she’d gone to Michigan several times with him to visit his parents, he knew his wholesome upbringing and cozy childhood home still freaked her out sometimes.

  During their very first visit, he’d figured she’d act shy and quiet around his folks, but she’d surprised him by being amazingly open. She and his dad had hit it off immediately, and even though his mom was more of a June Cleaver type to Abby’s Lara Croft, the two women were very friendly.

  Birthdays, however, always seemed to make her ill at ease. He knew she’d never celebrated hers before she’d married Kane, but his parents were all about birthdays. No matter how much Abby protested, they still bought her a gift every year.

  “Do I even want to know what the options are?” she said in alarm.

  “Well, they’re torn between a sweater, and a knife that once belonged to a Union general from the Civil War. Apparently he killed hundreds of Confederate soldiers with that knife.”

  “Hey, look at that, your mother is learning,” she teased. “Either of those is way better than the make-your-own-potpourri kit she got me last year.”

  Kane quickly typed out a text in reply before turning to grin at his wife. “I told her to get both. You can wear the sweater while you’re slicing someone up with the knife.”

  “Good plan.” Then, as if a switch had been flicked, her amusement faded, replaced by the uneasy glimmer he’d been noticing far too often lately.

  “Okay. Enough.” He narrowed his eyes. “What’s gotten into you?”

  The hysterical laugh that popped out of her mouth made him frown. “I’m serious,” he insisted. “You’re distracted, edgy as hell. Something’s going on, and you’re going to tell me what it is. Right now.”

  She toyed with the knot on her towel before slowly meeting his eyes. “You’re right. We need to talk about this.”

  A pang of concern tugged on his gut. “Okay, then let’s talk. What’s—”

  He groaned when his phone rang again. Not a text this time, but a call from Morgan. Shit. The boss had the worst timing.

  Swallowing his frustration, Kane answered with a quick, “What’s up?”

  “Noelle’s contact searched the property records, and Nazara’s name is listed as the coowner of a house in a little rural village just south of Beni Suef. The other owner is a woman named Eshe Salib—apparently she was a good friend of Nazara’s mother. Salib would babysit him when his mother was at work.”

  “They must be pretty damn close if he cosigned her house. Do you think she’s helping him hide the kid?”

  “Maybe, maybe not. It wouldn’t hurt to check it out, though. At this point, we’ve got nothing to lose.” Morgan’s tone went brisk. “We’re just waiting for Noelle’s guy to get back to us with an address. Right now we only have the name of the village. You and Abby gather your gear. I’ll call you back when we have something.”

  “Recon gear or assault?”

  “Both. If we stake out the house and get visual confirmation that the Aberdeen boy is there, we move in.”

  “Roger that.” Kane disconnected the call and glanced at Abby. “Possible location where the kid is being held. We’re on standby until we have an address, but Morgan says to be prepared for an assault.”

  Her expression promptly turned grave.

  “What’s wrong?” he said instantly.

  Abby didn’t answer. She shifted her feet. Fidgeted with her hands.

  Kane didn’t think he’d ever seen her fidget, which only confirmed his suspicion that something was seriously wrong.

  Fuck. He was kicking himself for not seeing it sooner. Hound dog that he was, he’d kept getting distracted by the sex, and now he felt like the shittiest husband on the planet for not picking up on his wife’s distress.

  But he also knew better than to push her, so when she didn’t respond, he let out a sigh and said, “All right. We can talk whenever you’re ready, sweetheart.”

  He headed into the bedroom and grabbed fresh clothes from his bag, proceeding to dress in a hurry. It took a moment to register that Abby had lingered in the bathroom doorway, and was still wearing her towel.

  “Babe, we have to get ready,” he said firmly.

  “I can’t.”

  His fingers froze in the middle of pulling up his zipper. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “I can’t be part of an assault team.” A tortured look marred her face.

  “Why the hell not?”

  She drew a breath, and he could sense her hesitation, see her struggling for words.

  And then she blurted out something he never expected to hear.

  “Because I’m pregnant.”

  Chapter Five

  Abby braced herself for Kane’s reaction. A part of her expected him to respond in anger, yell at her for not telling him sooner, rail about the importance of the mission and how her absence might cause the whole thing to blow up in their faces.

  But the anger didn’t come. His face conveyed nothing but pure shock, followed by a burst of happiness that had his eyes lighting up like a Christmas tree.

  “You’re pregnant?” he echoed.

  She nodded weakly. Ever since Noelle had held up the plastic stick to show her that glaring pink plus sign, she’d been battling wave after wave of panic. She’d tried not to think about it as they’d headed to the next location on the list. Pushed it right out of her mind, and Noelle hadn’t brought it up either. They’d returned to the hotel and continued to focus on business, and the shower she’d just taken with Kane had been a nice distraction too.

  But she couldn’t ignore it any longer.

  The test had been positive.

  She was pregnant.

  And the only emotion she seemed capable of feeling was . . . dread. Bone-deep dread that not even Kane’s overjoyed expression could alleviate.

  The next thing she knew, her husband hurried over and threw his arms around her, his stubble-covered chin scratching her neck as he buried his face in the crook of it. “Fucking hell.” His lips brushed her ear. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner? This is the best news ever.”

  Off the top of her head, she could think of at least a hundred things that would be better—at the top of that list: not being pregnant—but Kane sounded so thrilled she couldn’t bring herself to ruin the moment for him.

  He knew her well, though. In the blink of an eye, he’d pulled back to assess her face. Then he frowned. “You’re not happy.” The frown deepened. “Why aren’t you happy?”

  Abby swallowed. “I . . . don’t know.”

  “You don’t know what?” An edge crept into his voice.

  He released her and took a step back, those shrewd green eyes continuing to study her. She suddenly felt self-conscious and vulnerable wearing nothing but a towel, and her vocal cords couldn’t seem to formulate the right words. She walked over to her bag and fumbled for some clothes, then dressed quickly while her husband’s gaze bore a hole into her back.

  “Talk to me, sweetheart,” he said sternly. “Tell me what’s going on inside that head of yours.”

  She buttoned up her black jeans and turned with a miserable look. “I’m not sure I can do this.”

  Kane went silent. A flicker of disbelief entered his eyes, and then he spoke in a calm, even voice. “When we got married, you said you were open to the idea of having kids.”

  “Yes, in the future. The very distant future.” She fought to speak past the massive lump in her throat. “I don’t know if I’m ready for it now. The thought of having a baby is . . . overwhelming. We didn’
t plan this.”

  “I imagine it’s overwhelming whether you plan it or not.” His wry expression gave way to disappointment. “You’re really not the slightest bit excited? Because I am. I’m thirty-three, babe. I’m kinda ready to be a dad. God knows my parents ask me about it every time I talk to them.”

  “I’m not having a child because your parents expect it of us!” she burst out.

  “No, you’re having one because you’re pregnant,” he shot back. “You may not be ready for it, but it’s happening. We’re already in this.”

  “We don’t have to be.” The words popped out before she could stop them.

  It was like a thundercloud had formed over Kane’s head. His breath sucked in sharply, hands curling into fists at his sides. “Are you kidding me?”

  “It’s an option,” she said quietly.

  Now he staggered back as if she’d slapped him. “And to hell with what I want, right?” His bitterness hung in the air like a thick canopy. “Your body, your choice. I get it. My input means nothing, huh?”

  “That’s not true,” she protested. “Your input matters. It does, Kane.”

  “Yeah, it sure feels like it.” He stalked over to the bed and grabbed the shoulder holster he’d left there, his body language stiff and unresponsive.

  She wanted to go to him, but he looked so hurt and so angry that she didn’t dare.

  “Kane . . .” Her tone was timid. “We’re mercenaries. How can we expect to be good parents?” She paused as the truth dawned. “No, that’s not true. You’d be a good father, no matter what your line of work is. But me? You know how hard it is for me to open up to people. To love people. What if . . .” An awful thought crawled into her head, and she forced herself to voice it. “What if I don’t feel anything for our child? What if I can’t give it the kind of love and comfort it deserves?”

  His breath hitched again. He glanced over with torment swimming in his eyes. “Three years of marriage, and you still doubt your ability to love.”