Rory (In the Company of Snipers Book 6)

by Irish Winters

  With one last shake of her head and a flounce of her hair, Ember Davis smiled back at her again. About damned time she showed up. Being clean and smelling like lavender instead of grime and sweat worked wonders. She felt better. She didn’t look so bad, either.

  This operation had proved tough, but she was tougher. A little thing like a scraped thigh was not going to get her down. Dennison, either. She opened the department store bag he’d left on the counter. And then she didn’t know what to think.

  The unmentionables he’d bought for her were exquisitely feminine without being raunchy. Her cheeks burned. Wow. He’d sized her up quite accurately. The man had a good eye, and the pajamas were just as—nice. And that was the problem. Rory hadn’t always been so damned nice. Why now? Did he or did he not have feelings for her? Maybe he was waiting for her to take the first step? Stowing her rant, she dressed and limped out of the bathroom with a real no-kidding smile.

  Nima squealed to see her, jumping up and down on the bed like a miniature cheerleader. “Mama Ember!”

  Ember did a slow pirouette. She and Nima were wearing identical snowflake-covered, blue flannel tops and bottoms. “These are the cutest pajamas I’ve ever seen. And the other things, too. Thank you.” And if we were alone, I’d show you those other things, too.

  A rosy glow warmed his tanned and rugged features. “It’s a mother and daughter set. I thought you might like it.”

  She limped over to the chair where he sat so smug and sure of himself, but just that fast, the Dennison wall came back up. She couldn’t decipher the feelings she saw shifting through his eyes. Hope, maybe? Tenderness, yes. Too damned much honor and discipline? Absolutely.

  If this were another place and time she’d have taken the chance and kissed him, but he’d leaned back in the chair. When those dark eyes didn’t invite her in, disappointment crushed her. And he was right. The mission was Nima. She alone mattered. Ember had just hoped....

  Oh, hell, she didn’t know what she hoped for. There was no sense hoping for what could never be. There couldn’t be a connection. Not with him. Never. He was just being nice. And she was a fool to think his careful attention was anything else. That’s who he was. Just a nice guy.

  “Thanks for the clothes,” she said brusquely, needing to put more space between him and her. “You’re not as bad as I first thought.”

  And there it was again, that look in his eyes she didn’t understand. Ember pivoted as quickly as her wounded leg would allow. She was too tired to care.

  Nima threw herself into Ember’s arms, giggling. Catching her in one quick armful, Ember sank down onto the bed, her back to Rory. The one thing she could handle was rejection. “I know it’s early, baby girl, but I’m tired. Do you want to go to bed?”

  Nima’s favorite word came without hesitation. “Yep!”

  Instantly, Rory was out of his chair and at her side, helping get Nima under the covers and situated. She pushed his hand away. “I’ve got this, thanks.”

  “Are you sure?”

  He stood there perplexed, his hand in his hair again. The man was as confused as she was, so she decided for the both of them. “I’m tired. Leave me alone.”

  She climbed into bed with her favorite little girl and pulled the blanket up. Rory dimmed the lights, and she was warm and comfortable. It didn’t take long before Nima snored quietly in her arms. Ember refused to feel bad anymore. She had better things to think about than her aggravating agent in charge. Like her one and only true friend.

  Did I leave enough cat food out for Maple Syrup? Enough water? I hope so. Never thought I’d be gone this long. Poor kitty might have to lose a little weight before I get back. I’ll have to make it up to him. I’ll buy him a pound of salmon. He’ll like that.

  When she woke hours later, Nima was gone. Ember pulled the covers back to see Rory’s serious face staring at the happy child seated in front of the television. He must miss Tyler.

  Not my problem. I have one mission and one mission only—Nima. When I’m done she’ll be out of my life and it will be hard, but I’ll get used to it. And everything will go back to normal and Alex better never send me on an op like this again.

  Ember shoved the blankets aside and set her feet on the carpeted floor. Without a word to Rory she limped to the closet, pulled out the hanger with her new outfit and walked into the bathroom. Bed head is not a pretty sight any time of day.

  You look awful.

  Behind the privacy of the closed bathroom door, she had to give Rory credit. The man had good taste. The light tan jeans he’d bought were the perfect size and very soft. Comfortable. She pulled them easily up and over her bandaged thigh. The cotton ramie top made her look sporty. Dark brown definitely brought out the green in her eyes and it wasn’t too tight across her bust either, always a problem area to shop for. She stared at her reflection, fluffed her hair with her hand and went out the door to face another day in the life of a fugitive on the run.

  “What’s the plan?” she asked when she lowered to the bed.

  Rory met her with the same sad stare. Black eyes, black hair, and drop dead gorgeous, he was nothing but a nice companion agent on a mission. They had a job to do. That’s all.

  She stifled her feelings for him because they were obviously a product of her imagination. When they got this child back to safety, he’d go back to the workspace next to hers, eavesdropping on her and Mother’s conversations like he’d done before. Ember would never tell anyone about Tyler because she’d never give Rory the satisfaction of being right about her.

  “Well?”

  “It’s only five a.m. Your thoughts?”

  “Didn’t you sleep at all?”

  He glanced at the adjoining queen-sized bed, its blankets tucked under the pillows but obviously ruffled and used. “I did until Nima decided it was time to get up.”

  She got the message. He’d gotten up with Nima so she could sleep in. Nice. For the first time she noticed he was in pajamas, too. Navy blue and black plaid bottoms with a black T-shirt. Her foolish mind wandered. The reality of two adults in pajamas at the same time in the same hotel room messed with her head. Heat crept up her neck and over her cheeks at the too fast detour her mind had just taken. Damn. Why’d he have to look so good?

  “We haven’t been attacked in what, two whole days now?”

  He raised his pinkie finger along with the next two, his eyes hooded and probably dissecting her again. They were back to square one, guarded with each other and both wanting to be somewhere else; him with Tyler, her with her one true love. Maple Syrup. Good enough.

  “We were on the train for three days?” That was a surprise. She could only recall the first night and part of the next day.

  “No. Two days on the train, one at the hospital. Makes three,” he corrected.

  She didn’t care to play games. “Fine. Whatever. Are we staying or going?”

  “I’m tempted to hang out here while you heal and get a little more rest. How does another day of downtime sound? No sense rushing it.” His dark eyes drilled hers.

  She turned away, filled with the need to get away from this particular alpha male. “I’m going for a walk.”

  “No.” His one word answer was instant and filled with calm authority.

  “Why not? You said it yourself. We’ll hang out here for a couple days. That means you think we’re fairly safe. And I need some air.”

  He shook his head. “No. What I said is that we’d hang out here another day, not a couple days. And you don’t need to go for a walk to get some air. Open the window.”

  Who do you think you are?

  She limped toward the door and unlocked it, intending defiance. His arm blocked her exit before she had a chance to pull the door open any wider than a crack. He forced it shut and locked the dead bolt. And that pissed her off.

  “It’s five in the morning, Dennison. Give me a break. No one—”

  “That little girl glued to the television over there depends on us to act in tande
m, Junior Agent. You stay. I stay. You go. I go.”

  He stood breathing in her face and calling her Junior Agent like he needed to remind her who was in charge?

  “Fine.” Sitting at the desk, she pulled out the new laptop he’d bought the day before. If she couldn’t escape physically, she could mentally. Her fingers itched to escape. Once she went online, the possibilities were endless. Firing up the device, she set up the few programs it came with, enabled the hotel’s Wi-Fi, and forgot he existed.

  Rory quietly closed the laptop with one big hand splayed over the lid. He leaned over her, one hand on the laptop, the other on the back of her chair, his voice rumbling all the way to her toes. “Think about what you’re doing, Junior Agent.”

  There it was again, the reminder that he was the boss.

  “And what would that be, Senior Agent?” she spat back at him, still not sure why she couldn’t be nice to him. He hadn’t deserted her. He’d done nothing but treat her with kindness—well, once the first safe house blew up, anyway. So why was he bugging the hell out of her this morning?

  He gazed at her. “If we access any of our established social network sites, we might jeopardize our location. Is there another way?”

  Ember couldn’t let him have the last word. “I’ll set up an alias, then.”

  “A what?”

  “Another account. Another email address.”

  “You can do that?”

  She rolled her eyes. Duh.

  “And who would you contact? Mother?” Furrowed brows betrayed his doubt.

  “Kelsey. Do you mind? You’re breathing on me.” And I really like it, damn it.

  That raised those smug eyebrows. “Alex’s wife? Why?”

  “Because she’s savvy enough to recognize a hidden message when she sees one. Think about it. I’ll send her a rambling email from her long lost sister in Chicago, only her real sister lives in Oregon.”

  He shifted his weight to his other foot. “Keep talking.”

  And oh, my hell, she wanted to, but those deep blues were directly above her and she was caught in their beam like one of those UFO kooks in an alien force field. Trapped. Willingly trapped. And melting.

  Is it even possible to fall into someone’s eyes when you’re looking up at them? Did he have a clue what he was doing to her right now, that with just his little finger he could command her? She swallowed hard, willing her heart to stop lying. No one commands me. Absolutely freaking no one.

  Ember dropped her chin to break the connection.

  “Kelsey would go straight to Alex with the email I’m going to send her,” she explained, her voice tighter than she expected, her fingers tapping the closed laptop lid because he was still looking down at her. She could feel him. Sense him. Wow, could she.

  Her nose betrayed her. Like it or not, her nostrils flared to pull in more of that beguiling male fragrance. Had to be aftershave. He smelled so—clean. Showered. Him.

  For hell’s sake! He. Does. Not. Want. You!

  I know, but....

  She squeezed her eyes tight to shake the connection. Let him think she was mad enough not to want to look at him. “We could communicate with Alex without making direct contact through The TEAM. At least he’d know we’re still alive.”

  “Are you sure?”

  She gulped before she opened her eyes. The man exuded enough raw male energy to curl her toes, but damn it, she couldn’t think. Am I sure of what?

  “Listen, Dennison.” She opted for his last name to prove she was still strong-willed and capable despite the fact she’d forgotten what she was talking about. Oh, yeah. A message to Kelsey. “Alex isn’t tech savvy, but Kelsey is. Plus she’s a woman. She’ll read between the lines.”

  “You’re relying on feminine intuition?” he asked, a smile tugging the corner of his mouth.

  No, I’m relying on you getting out of my face so my brain will work. Sheesh!

  Rory deliberated a minute too long. She inhaled a deep breath and opened the laptop, fighting for balance.

  He didn’t push it closed. “What will you say?”

  “I don’t know,” she replied honestly, the delectable odor of tall, dark and handsome filling her addled head again. After all, a woman still has to breathe. Deeply. “I have to work that out. What, umm, message do you think we should send?”

  “Something succinct.”

  “Well, duh.” Ember couldn’t help the sarcasm. It helped get her mind off the way his lips and chin probably tasted. His neck. Just a hint of tangy spice. Maybe a little salty. Hmm.

  His fingers raked through his hair. “Is there a way to send GPS coordinates?”

  She rolled her eyes. This man could be so dense. “Are you serious? Why not just open the door and invite the bad guys in for coffee?”

  “No need to be rude, Ember. It was the first thing that came to my mind. You’re right. I’m not as smart at these things as you are.” His lip lifted. He smirked that amused, devil-may-care smirk of his. As angry as he seemed a moment ago, he was relaxed now. Almost playful.

  Her heart swelled with warmth like the fool she was. It was easy to believe he cared for her more that just as Agent in charge, just as easy to be swept up by his confidence in himself and his physical prowess. His hand on the back of her chair and the way he leaned around to see her eyes made her body want to do things she wasn’t proud of. He could pin her in less than a split second—if he wanted to. And like the man he was, he probably didn’t know the effect he had on her.

  She had to concentrate on something else just to breathe. My mother was right. I’m nothing but a slut. That derogatory slur worked. She could breathe just fine.

  Ember concentrated on the keyboard under her sweaty fingertips. “Leave me alone. Let me see what I can come up with.”

  He stepped over to the television where Nima still sat enthralled watching some cartoon.

  Ember’s fingers flew. Within minutes, she’d crafted a gossipy sounding email from Louise Timpson, Kelsey’s sister. Instead of including all the news from Pendleton, Oregon, Louise’s real hometown, Ember filled it with trivia from the Midwest; how her husband, Phil, had to stop in Chicago to see the U.S. Cellular Ballpark where the Chicago White Sox played. My, my, what a train ride. Next time we’re taking the bus. Can’t wait to see you and Alex in Sonora, Mexico. Hope Tyler doesn’t mind the surprise visit. Do you think we should tell him we’re coming?

  “What do you think?” Ember asked, her composure back in place and the letter done.

  He returned, peering over her shoulder, his arm on the back of her chair, his fingers on her shoulder. Just that fast, logic jumped ship. Why did his touch make her tingle like it did? She’d been hugged by the best. Alex. Harley. Zack. Certainly Todd. But with Rory it was different. His touch was—electric. Not shocking, but—magic. Like fireworks kind of—wow.

  “Add one more thing,” he murmured, pointing to the screen, like he needed to get any closer. His bicep bumping hers had already short-circuited her brain. The man was made of steel. Hot sexy steel that she wanted to touch. Rub. Oh, hell. Who was she kidding? She wanted to manhandle every last inch of this guy.

  “Tell Kelsey to watch out for bark scorpions in Mexico,” he instructed.

  “Why? Did you get bit by one?”

  “No, but that’s how Alejandra Ramirez killed her husband on that op last year. I think we’ve peppered this note with enough clues. What do you think?”

  I think I’m an idiot. I could sit here and look at you all day.

  “Well?” He peered into her face when she didn’t respond like she should have.

  “Works for me,” she murmured, tamping down her libido. Damn. What was in that IV at the hospital?

  And just like that they were friends again. She set up her new account and sent the puzzling message. “What’s next?”

  He laid his hand on her shoulder, still standing too close and peering intently down into her eyes. “Do you still want to go for a walk?”

  Ember loo
ked up and her breath got stuck. Every last speck of blood fled her brain, pooling in the nether regions now clothed in the silky panties Rory had bought. Now tell me, does a boring, this-is-just-a-job Agent in charge really buy women’s underwear like those?

  I’m a slut. I’m a slut!

  The memory of her mother’s cruel taunts didn’t work this time. Not one bit. Ember knew better. Taffy had proved it long ago. She wasn’t all bad. She had skills. She just couldn’t think of any at the moment.

  Speak, Ember. Speak!

  He waited for an answer, his fingers gently squeezing her shoulder in the sweetest caress. He probably though he was being encouraging. Not loving. How could he touch her like that and not understand what he was doing to her? Worse, how could she let him? Worst, she couldn’t deny the tenderness welling up in those dark blues. Her heart climbed up her throat and every last muscle in her body clenched to hug and hold this guy.

  Damn him. Damn me! I’m so dumb!

  It’s your shoulder, girlfriend. Only your shoulder. Hell, he’s not even near your bra strap. He thinks of you as a guy. You’re just another agent. Forget him and focus.

  “Sure, why not?” she mumbled because she had to say something.

  “Then grab that little girl over there who can’t take her eyes off Cinderella, and let’s go some place nice for breakfast. I think we’re safe enough.” He pulled her chair out, and like a silly Disney princess, she did as she was told.

  You, Ember Davis, are an idiot.

  “Come on, Nima. Let’s go for a walk.” She held out her hand to the little girl, but the scary blue eyes were back.

  “Remember to use tragedy as a source of strength,” Nima whispered.

  Ember dropped to the floor, her injured leg stretched awkwardly in front of her and the breath knocked out of her. “What?”

  But there was no further explanation. Nima climbed onto Ember’s lap, still holding onto her fingers.