Virtues (Base Branch Series Book 8)

by Megan Mitcham

  He stroked her hair and clutched her shoulder. “We don’t have much time, Cara.”

  Instinct overrode sorrow. Cara jerked straight, and her head swiveled. No one approached. At the other end of the facility, an old lady sat on a bench in her Sunday best with a metal walker in front of her. Too many cars in the parking lot had tinted windows. Anyone could be lurking. She reached for the gun at the small of her back.

  “Oh, Cara, not because of your enemies. Because of mine.”

  “What?” Her gaze snapped back to her father.

  He tapped the front of his head.

  “Since Rin came to me with questions about you and concerns about the CIA, I’ve had longer stints of awareness. I guess hope and fear pumped this old body with adrenaline. But my wits don’t stick around as long as I’d like.” His cold fingers brushed her cheek. “I knew you’d come back.”

  “You did?”

  “I always thought your working abroad was fishy. After you had come back with a baby yet no pictures or stories to share from your time in Italy, my suspicions grew. When Rin’s father came for her, after you protected her” —his kind way of saying killed— “I knew a man in the business and had him do some digging.”

  A cold sweat broke out over Cara’s upper lip. “He shouldn’t have told you anything. Nothing.”

  “Humanity and secrecy are not kin. Never have been. Never will be.”

  That simple statement held so much truth; Cara gripped the wheelchair to keep from fleeing.

  “I knew you wouldn’t kill yourself. I knew you wouldn’t leave Rin unless it was necessary for her safety.”

  Fresh air filled Cara’s lungs. It soothed the knots in her abdomen from always gasping shallow breaths, as though she didn’t deserve the oxygen. Knowing he’d known all those years, that he’d trusted her to do what was necessary to save her child, didn’t negate her guilt. It made it easier to bear.

  She stared into his hazy, Irish green eyes. He’d given her so much. His unconditional love. His sense of justice. Not quite the value and equality of human life, but no one was perfect. He’d given her daughter stability and the freedom to make her own mistakes. Her father hadn’t done it alone.

  “And Mom?”

  “She wasn’t Irish.” His head shook, and a hint of a smile curved his sunken lips.

  “What does that mean?”

  “Your mother, God rest her soul, wasn’t as hearty as me or you. I told her you weren’t dead. Maybe she knew it all along too.” His skeletal shoulders bobbed. “It was easier for her to mourn your loss than to hope for your return.”

  Tears dripped off the end of her chin. She’d hurt the people she loved so damn much.

  “Oh, girl, don’t cry.” Arthritic, swollen knuckles brushed her cheek.

  Cara clung to his hand and pressed it against her chin, desperate for comfort.

  “Now. Now. Don’t cry. There is so much to be happy about.” He turned her chin toward his smiling face, and then shifted it toward the neatly manicured yard and pouring sunshine. “Isn’t that right?”

  “Yes.” A smile stole her sorrow. Her father held no grudge. She hadn’t been too late for him. And she’d been given the opportunity to stay and help her daughter build the future she deserved. All she had to do was claim it. Senator Cotton Lee was right again. “So much to be happy about.”

  “Wonderful.” He patted her back, and then straightened in his wheelchair in that crooked manner that was now his norm.

  Stiff from kneeling on concrete so long, Cara shifted to stand. Her dad’s hand wrapped around her forearm with surprising muster.

  “Promise me something, won’t you?”

  “If I can.”

  “A spry girl like you shouldn’t have any problem placing flowers on my wife and daughter’s graves.”

  The realization that her father was no longer in full command of his mind knocked the wind from her lungs. She collapsed onto her heels. Only his grip kept her upright.

  “My secretary will give you the flowers. I bought them on my way into the office this morning and planned to do it myself, but the gaps in my schedule filled to the brim. The people count on me, you know.” He slapped her forearm playfully. “It’s no trouble finding them just under the skinny oak in the southeast corner of the cemetery.” His gaze lifted to the sky. “I lay them together. It’s what Miriam wanted. Even though I told her Cara wasn’t dead. My little girl will show up one day. I know it.”

  “And how will you feel when she does?” Cara croaked.

  His green eyes focused on her face and then narrowed. He grinned. “Blessed beyond all measure.”

  Blessed. It should be enough. The time she’d had with him was more than she’d earned. Still, she yearned for more. One more minute to tell him how much she loved him.

  “Dear girl, don’t be sad. It’s a beautiful day. You should take a walk. I wonder if I couldn't impose upon you to stop by the cemetery. My wife deserves some fresh flowers. My daughter too.”

  It was as if he’d been body snatched by a malfunctioning record player. It was too much. Cara tried to stand but stumbled backward. Her palms met the unforgiving concrete.

  The double glass doors flew wide. Her father’s nurse ran down the walkway. Both flaps of Jeanine’s scrub jacket flapped in the wind. An avenging angel. “Senator?”

  “Yes?” Her father’s chest puffed.

  Maybe not so body snatched but certainly jumbled.

  “It’s about that time, sir.” Jeanine didn’t spare Cara a hiked brow while she whipped back the brakes on the wheelchair.

  “Right. The council awaits.” He offered his long-lost daughter a small nod. “Good day, miss… Say, forgive my manners. I didn’t catch your name.”

  Cara picked herself off the ground. She ignored her stinging palms and aching knees, and looked into her father’s Irish eyes. “I love you, Dad.”

  His deflated lips parted on a gasp. Cara’s lungs stalled, waiting for the flood of recognition.

  He licked the bottom of his dry mouth then his gaze slipped away. After reaching left and right, he found Jeanine. “I wonder if I can trouble you for a cup of water?”

  “Yes, Senator.”

  Jeanine pivoted the wheels toward the entrance and set off. Dirt clung to the centerline of the rubber tires. The nurse’s white tennis shoes slanted to one side, where uneven steps had rubbed away the outside tread. She pressed a button next to the door, and the door on the right slowly jerked open. When the thing stood wide, Jeanine lifted her crooked shoe to step but faltered. She set it back on the ground and then looked over her shoulder.

  “Come back tomorrow. It’ll be good for him.”

  The nurse rolled the chair through the door and down the seeming infinite hallway. It would be good for her father. Jeanine didn’t acknowledge it would be hell on Cara. The woman didn’t care about that, which was fine. Cara earned the woman’s scorn, and for all her shortcomings, the nurse cared well for her father. The door closed with a whack.

  Cara would be back tomorrow.

  She turned away from the Onyx-tinted entrance and searched the parking lot for…for the man she knew wouldn’t be there. She shouldn’t want him to be, but she did. So where the fuck was he?

  13

  Coffee had been a shit idea. Tyler drummed a harried beat on his steering wheel and counted the seconds it took the light to turn green and the line of traffic to get their asses in gear. His nerves rattled more than they had when cornered weeks ago by a group of would-be ninjas in the back alley of a disreputable restaurant in Paju.

  It had taken too long. The trip. The light. All of it.

  He blinked through the blinding rays of the rising sun. One of the cars slowed, as though feeling their way around the street. Tyler knew exactly where he was going, and these asshats blocked him from the entrance twenty feet away. With a roar, he jumped the curb into the motel parking lot. It jarred him from the seat and yanked the belt across his lap. The reflection he caught in the rearvie
w was a scraggly, sleep deprived madman. Yep, that about summed him up.

  Done with stealth, he pulled into the space directly in front of her room, tossed the truck into park, killed the engine, and bailed. Not seeing her for two weeks left him as fucked up on the inside as he looked.

  His knock rattled the window on her room and the one next door. Shit. He didn’t even know if she was still here. Regulations mandated that he check in, debrief, and get his ass chewed for going off the reservation. Had he done that, he’d know whether she’d stuck close or given in to instinct and run. He’d also be a day or more behind, and he couldn’t take one more second without seeing for himself that she was okay. He rapped again, harder.

  Slowly, the door opened. The beautiful silver barrel of her CZ greeted him. Odd, but the sight of a gun pointed directly at his heart calmed the bubbling of his gut. The white sheet wrapped around her torso did something else entirely.

  Cara’s bright sky-blue eyes surveilled him boots to belt buckle, continued to rove over his chest, and finally reached his face. Her peach lips parted on a gasp. “What happened to you?”

  “Shoot me if you’re going to.”

  He waited a half beat before shoving the door wide. One step planted his boot between her bare feet. The heat of her thighs burned through the cotton sheet and his well-worn blue jeans. Instead of shooting, Cara lowered the gun to her side and lifted her chin.

  Tyler needed no more invitation. His arms wrapped around her back. One hand buried in her tangled locks, the other clamped her tiny waist, and both yanked hard. He pulled her against his front and held her close. The soft mounds of her breasts mashed against his chest, peeking from behind the sheet. The curving crests and a plunging valley ratcheted his frenzy to have her.

  Their mouths hovered a breath away. Tyler gave her one last chance to protest, without knowing what he’d do if she did. Combust and disintegrate into a pile of ash. Her fevered breathing buffeted him. The opposite of a deterrent. She was as into this, as desperate for it, as he was.

  The time for seduction had passed. Maybe it had the first time they’d met. Cara wasn’t the wine and dinner kind of girl. He didn’t know exactly what type she was, but he wanted to find out what made her tick, got under her skin, made her relent control and succumb to the luxury of her own satisfaction.

  “It’s your last chance to shoot,” he warned.

  “I should. I’d save myself a world of trouble.” Her right hand curled up a fistful of his collar, drawing them within sparking distance.

  “Well?” he growled.

  “I’ve never taken the easy road.”

  “No use in starting now.” Tyler crashed into her as if he’d been running at full speed. He had. From HELOs, between airplanes, continents, and states, he’d sprinted to get back to Cara.

  Her lips met his with equal fervor, molding to his, opening for him, tugging greedily on his tongue as it forayed into the intoxicating flavor of Cara.

  Tyler shoved through the threshold, carrying her along. He kicked the door closed, and darkness enveloped them. Losing sight of her severe cheekbones, striking eyes, and salacious body sucked.

  On the other hand…blindness heightened his other senses.

  Desperation twined with the breaths Cara panted against his lips. It stiffened her biting grip on his nape. It pressed the butt of her pistol against the center of his spine. It rattled between them, served back and forth from one’s frantic heartbeat to the other.

  He locked the bolt and flipped the safety latch before she pulled him completely under the surface. It wasn’t much security, but it was all he had time for. Self-preservation drained south with the roaring of his blood. His rock hard length nestled against her muscled belly and throbbed with every heedless beat.

  Tyler stumbled forward like a rookie after a week of basic. The cap of his already sore knee centered against the dresser he’d thought was a few feet deeper inside the room. He recoiled with a grunt. Fuck, he had no idea where he was, except that he was almost exactly where he needed to be.

  “I moved the dresser.” Cara pressed the words against his lips.

  “Why?” Tyler wrestled the sheet up her legs. When he got to their melded hips, the tugging became futile.

  “Precaution.” Her mouth left his, and she arched away. The bite of metal pressing into his back vanished. A thunk resounded on the hollow wood furniture. Her fingers dug into his waistband, removed his sidearm, and tossed it next to hers with an unceremonious clunk.

  “Is someone following you?”

  Tyler’s hand slid down, grabbed a handful of her tight, covered ass, and lifted. His other hand jerked the sheet from between their hips and bunched it at her waist.

  “You haven’t been.” Cara’s fingers clamped onto the tops of his shoulders.

  Had she been afraid? Confused? He should have told her where he was going. But she would have bolted. No question.

  “I know.” The growl rumbled from deep inside Tyler’s chest. He pivoted and drove her back against the wall. His lips grazed the edge of her chin before finding her mouth. The hard, thin line succumbed to his unrelenting pressure, turning to soft silk and surprising the hell out of him.

  With another urgent yank, the sheet lifted over Cara’s butt. His fingers splayed across the hot, smooth skin. Getting warmer.

  The heavy globes shook under the force of his hands. He pressed them together, imprisoned them for a pile of seconds, and then skimmed his fingertips along the slick flesh swollen between them.

  A telling moue unfurled from Cara’s lips. Her hips struggled in the trap of his hold, his body, and the wall. Their lips and tongues battled. Hands crawled down the back of his shirt, collecting handfuls as they went, exposing his heated skin to the tepid air. She pulled it to the back of his neck and used the ends as leverage to roll her hips. That sweet skin glided back and forth over his fingers. Tyler spread her wide, robbing her of the control she had fought so hard to maintain.

  This wasn’t about control. It was about abandon. He needed her with him, right where he was, totally lost in the bedlam.

  Tyler smacked the flat of his fingers across her pulsating clit and full lips with just enough sting to demand her attention but not enough to get him killed.

  Cara bucked. Their lips severed the electric contact. Her spine arched, shoving her breasts against his chest. Air clogged in her throat. God, he’d kill to see her eyes. The dilated pools of her pupils. The azure sparks of indignation and savage lust.

  She held perfectly still for ten long seconds. Every cell in Tyler’s body screamed for release, demanding that he move. He locked down the desire and waited.

  The reverse noose around his neck loosened. Cara’s hands slipped from the fabric and smoothed over his traps, relinquishing control, giving over to abandon.

  So what’d he do? Lost his mind and went straight for his belt buckle. He’d wanted to play her, show her how he could draw it out, how good he could make it for her.

  Well, shit.

  His pants and boxers hit his boots in a heap, and his dick filled his hand. Thank fuck, he had the presence of mind to rub the crown of his penis over her sex, front to back. The slickness of his pre-cum allowed him to glide easily, teasing her distended nub. Too bad the sleekness of her lower lips opened for him, teasing him right back.

  On any other day, he might have tricked himself into believing he’d push inside just a little and then retreat. Today, he gripped her ass, vised her nape, and plunged deep.

  Tyler rooted to the pelvis and stilled.

  If she cried out, he couldn’t hear it over his own groan, the clamor of his own heartbeat, and the wrack of his shattered nerves. She fit him so perfectly. Too perfectly.

  Cara’s arms looped around the back of his neck, hugging him as tightly to her as she held him inside her. The whoosh of her breaths dueled with the blood coursing through his veins for top billing. Knowing she was with him ripped the little restraint he clung to from his grasp.

&n
bsp; “Fuck, Cara.”

  She whimpered, and that was it.

  He retreated the barest of inches and thrust home. The hot satin of her body squeezed him tightly. She restrained him and freed him all at the same time. It was too much.

  Tyler backed her against the wall. With his hold on her sweet cheek and neck, he pulled her close. His face dove into the crook of her neck. Each deep wave he heaved upon her brought with it the musk of her sex combined with his sweat. It shot up his nostrils like a drug, spurring his excitement.

  All sense of decency fled, taken over by primal instinct. The tempo of his attack rose. Breaths hitched in Cara’s chest. Every impetus jarred a squeaky moan loose.

  “Say my name.” The words sounded like they’d come from someone else. An animal. A man on the verge of devolving into an animal.

  “Tyler.”

  Bless her. She held him close and called his name with the carnal intent that matched his own.

  The pressure she’d built within him weighted his balls and then shot up his hammering cock. His skin stretched. His muscles bulged. He filled her with his hot cum, without fear of the consequences. It was a shitty thing to do, to claim her that way and possibly impregnate her. He knew it. The funny thing was he didn’t care. The only thing he cared about right now was exploring her, seeing her come, and then claiming her again.

  Using his grip on her nape, Tyler dragged her mouth to his and let her kiss work its magic. Easy rolls of her hips helped too. Each movement rebuilt his need as though it had never been sated.

  He walked them toward the bed on quivering legs. When his shins met the mattress, he released Cara’s cheek. Her legs cinched around his hips, drawing him into the limits of her body. A syrupy moan poured from her lips. His fingers fumbled with the lamp switch. Finally, it clicked and brought with it a bright pool of light.

  Starved for the sight of her, Tyler didn’t dare blink.

  Cara's mouth broke contact. Kiss roughened lips formed a bow, and she levered back. His constraining hand at the back of her neck turned to a cradle. He stretched the craving to have her near, along with his arm, giving her the space she needed.