by Kaylea Cross
“So what is it?”
“I have good news and bad news.”
She expelled a breath. She’d had enough bad news to last her three lifetimes. The last news she had received from Tony was that both Montoya and Ruiz were dead. She preferred that kind of news. “Okay. I’ll take the bad news first.”
“Thought you might.”
Her pulse thudded as she watched him, worry creeping into her brain. Please let Brock be okay. Please let Brock be okay.
“Fernando Diaz wasn’t el Escorpion.”
The unease fell away, replaced by shock. “He wasn’t?”
Carruthers shook his head. “No. And as of this moment, we have no idea who is. The head of the cartel is still out there, very much alive, and running business as usual.”
“That’s the bad news?”
“Yes.”
Okay. It didn’t sound so terrible to her. Unless she was missing something. “So what’s the good news?”
He studied her for a long moment, until she had to stem the urge to fidget. “We’ve analyzed your case to death over the past couple of weeks. Going over intel, combing through recent chatter. Looking for possible connections to existing cartel members, trying to figure out the threat level against you.”
“And?”
“And we can’t find one.”
She blinked. “Pardon?”
One side of his mouth twitched in amusement. “As far as we can see, there’s no longer any credible threat against you from anyone inside the cartel. And though el Escorpion might not have been captured, again, as far as we can tell, whoever it is has no reason to target you now that Ruiz, Nieto and Montoya are all dead.”
Blood pulsed in her ears, disbelief holding her immobile. “So you’re saying…what exactly?”
“I’m saying that the risk to your safety is over. You don’t need to be in the program anymore.”
WITSEC. She could leave without worrying? Stop looking over her shoulder all the time? Reclaim what remained of her real life? Could this actually be happening?
“So I’m…free?” she asked, needing him to spell it out.
He nodded, his eyes kind as he smiled at her. “You’re free. Tony wanted to be the one to tell you, but since he couldn’t, I told him I’d come in his place. Hope you don’t mind.”
“No, of course I don’t mind…” She stood, raked her hands through her hair and faced him, a tremulous smile quivering on her lips. “So that’s it. Once I’m out I can leave here anytime and go anywhere I want.” See anyone I want.
Brock. Oh God, Brock… A twisting sensation squeezed her heart.
“Anywhere you want. Although I would stay out of Mexico if I were you, just to play it safe.”
She snorted. “If I never stepped foot on Mexican soil again, it would be too soon.”
Carruthers got to his feet. “Something else you should know.”
There was more? She wasn’t sure if she could take more.
“Oceane Nieto is out of the program too.”
Her eyes widened. But it made sense if Ruiz, Montoya and Nieto were all gone. “She is? Do you know where she went?”
“She’s still in the D.C. area, I believe. Last I heard, government’s fast tracking her citizenship.” He opened his mouth to say something else, stopped when his phone rang. He pulled it from his pocket, glanced at her. “Sorry, I have to take this.” He started for the hallway, finger hovering over the accept button. “Tony will call you when he’s able to, probably sometime tonight. You can let him know what you decide if you’ve made up your mind by then.”
Oh, she’d made it up already. She had lined up a life for herself here, but it meant nothing without Brock, and she could write her book anywhere. All she needed was him. “Sure. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
The moment she let him out and locked the door behind him, she spun back around and let out a laugh of pure joy. “I’m free.” It sounded so strange. Seemed surreal after everything she’d been through.
She couldn’t wait to tell Brock. Couldn’t wait to simply hear his voice again. She missed him so much it hurt.
Racing to her office, she grabbed her phone and dialed his number with a shaking hand, heart thudding as she waited for him to answer.
“The number you have called is no longer in service,” an automated voice said instead.
Her heart sank. Dammit! Of course he had changed his number. His old phone had either been lost or destroyed when he’d been taken prisoner. Who else did she know that might know how to reach him?
Thinking fast, from memory she dialed the number of one of the marshals from her former security detail. Moments later, the same message sounded in her ear.
“Shit,” she breathed, then raced for the front door. Maybe Carruthers could—
She ripped it open just in time to see him driving down the street, phone to his ear. Her shoulders sagged.
No.
Disheartened but determined, she went back inside, dialing Tony. “It’s Tori,” she told his voicemail. “Call me back as soon as you get this. I need a favor.”
Ending the call, she headed for the kitchen and the bottle of wine she had been saving for this weekend, impatient as hell and having no choice but to wait. Her mind was made up. The moment she was free to leave, she was out of here.
And as soon as she left, she was going to Brock.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Nighttime was so quiet out here. Every little sound was heightened.
Instead of the usual rush of traffic in the street out in front of his condo, there was only the chirp of crickets in the air as Brock sat at the end of the dock and stared out at the lake, his bare feet dangling inches above the water. Moonlight rippled on the dark surface, and when he tipped his head back, the sky was a midnight blue velvet blanket, punctuated by a million diamond-bright stars.
Out here his nearest neighbor was a mile down the lake, and they only visited on weekends and in the summer. He had absolute privacy here. All the time and peace he could ever want.
Except peace kept eluding him. He wasn’t sure if he would ever find it again.
He closed his eyes, inhaled a deep breath, thankful that his ribs no longer hurt. His repaired shoulder still bothered him, but not as bad as it had for the first week or two. The stitches in his face were gone as well, leaving an angry red scar that slashed over his nose and upper cheek.
He hadn’t been to Oregon since his SF days, back when he’d done his winter mountaineering training on Mount Hood. He’d never been to Bend before. One of Lockhart’s cousins had set Brock up at this cabin out on the lake for some R&R. The guy had offered Brock a job with a private security startup that he ran if things didn’t pan out the way Brock hoped with his recovery.
Brock wasn’t ready to contemplate that yet. He was too busy torturing himself with thoughts of Tori.
He thought of her constantly. How was she? Was she settling in okay in her new town? She would be lonely. Probably not sleeping.
He missed her so damn much. Wanted to see her. Be with her. As long as it wouldn’t compromise her safety. At one point he’d even considered trying to break into the WITSEC files to find her location, and managed to talk himself down before he’d done something stupid that would end his career.
He’d been talking with his WITSEC contacts to see if anything could be done about their situation. So far, the threat to her safety was still considered credible enough that Brock hadn’t tried to find her. Though he wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold off.
He’d arrived here four days ago after finishing off the latest round of physio appointments for his shoulder. The left one was okay now. The right one had limited range of motion and was still sore, would probably take a good six months to fully heal.
Right now, he was in wait and see mode. If it turned out he couldn’t meet the physical requirements to keep him with FAST Bravo, Taggart had hinted that his job as team commander might be open for Brock to
apply for someday soon.
Right now, he didn’t want to think about any of that. For the moment he couldn’t go back to rejoin the team as an operator and staying at home all by himself had made him nuts, so he was here taking advantage of the downtime. Today it had been warm enough out for a short swim in the lake. Not far, just enough to stretch his muscles and give his shoulder a gentle workout without pushing too hard. He had hoped it would exhaust him enough to help him sleep.
No such luck. So here he was, sitting on this dock.
A sound carried from behind him, out on the road.
He looked over his shoulder, searching for the source. He caught a flash of a vehicle’s headlights on the road out front of the cabin. Then they disappeared and it was only the moonlight and crickets again.
He turned back to stare out at the water, a slight breeze picking up. Taggart had called to check in on him earlier, said something cryptic about a surprise arriving tonight, but nothing had shown up at the cabin door.
Now it was almost midnight. He should be inside trying to sleep, but he slept for shit these days and the thought of lying in bed staring up at the ceiling and trying not to think about either Tori or what had happened to him was about as appealing as having pins stuck in his eyes.
Something moved behind him. He snapped his head around, all his senses on alert. Then it became clearer.
Footsteps. Coming from near the cabin.
He jumped up and started down the dock, cursing himself for not bringing his pistol out here with him. The likelihood of anyone coming after him here was almost zero, but he still felt half-naked without his weapon.
“Brock?”
He stopped dead at the sound of that voice calling for him. For a moment he was convinced he was hearing things. Or maybe dreaming.
Then a silhouette with slender curves appeared around the side of the cabin and stepped into the moonlight.
His heart seized.
Tori.
She stopped when she saw him, a joyous smile breaking over her face. “Oh, you’re here,” she breathed and hurried toward him, her dark brown hair flowing behind her. “I thought I had the wrong place.”
Brock wasn’t even aware of his feet moving. One second he was staring at her like she was a ghost. The next he was running at her, his feet thudding on the wooden dock, his heart racing like it was about to explode.
She met him partway, a laugh spilling out of her as she flung herself into his waiting arms, the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard.
Brock groaned and locked her to him, lifting her off the ground. His throat thickened as he buried his face in her hair. His shoulder protested her weight but he didn’t care if it hurt. He didn’t ever want to let go of her.
“God, what are you doing here?” he rasped out, so grateful to see her that he nearly sank to his knees.
Her arms tightened around him fiercely. “I’m out of WITSEC.”
“What?” He pulled back to stare down at her, keeping her dangling off the ground, hardly able to believe this was really happening. That she was here. That he was actually able to touch her again.
Her teeth flashed white in the moonlight as she smiled up at him. “I heard about Ruiz and Montoya. And that el Escorpion is still out there. It took a while, but the Marshals service finally decided there was no longer any credible threat against me, so I made the call and I’m officially out of the program. I tried contacting you but I didn’t have a new number for you. I was in Bellingham, Washington, so as soon as I got the all clear and found out you were this close, I hopped in the car and drove straight here.”
God, he couldn’t stop drinking in the sight of her. “How did you find me?”
“They put me in touch with Taggart when I left the program. He had Lockhart call me and give me the address.” She tilted her head to the side. “You don’t mind, do you?”
“Are you kidding me?” he said on a laugh and crushed her to him once more. “Oh, God, I missed you.” It meant so much to him that she would come here to be with him. Because he loved her, but also because she was a fellow survivor and understood what he’d been through. Understood what it was like for him now, trying to deal with the aftermath.
“I missed you more.” When he set her down she took his face in her hands and peered up into his eyes. “Your stitches are out.”
He couldn’t let go of her. Felt like he should pinch himself. “Yeah. I look like I went through a windshield or something.”
“No. You were too perfect before. And you’ll always be gorgeous to me, no matter what.” She lifted up on tiptoe and kissed him. Smiled. Then it faded. She traced a finger beneath one of his eyes. “You haven’t been sleeping.”
“No. I…can’t. Not most nights.”
She nodded. “It’s hard. But it will get better once your subconscious starts to believe you’re safe. Baby steps.” She flashed another smile that had his heart knocking against his ribs. “And maybe you’ll sleep better with me beside you.”
Brock plunged his hand into her hair and kissed her until she moaned and grabbed hold of his shoulders for support. The hunger roaring through him was unlike anything he’d ever felt before.
Deeper. More primal. Because there was a darkness inside him now that hadn’t existed before. A constant battle to fight off the sense of helplessness he had been forced to feel during his captivity. The fight to regain his power as a man.
He tried to rein it in, not wanting to frighten her or stir any bad memories but it was so damn hard to think straight with the taste and scent of her making his head spin.
He couldn’t stop. Needed to imprint himself on her in every way. He never should have let her go in the first place. Should have sacrificed whatever it took to be with her.
“I can’t let you go,” he rasped out against the side of her neck, one hand buried in her hair, the other gripping her hip tight. Tighter than he should.
“Shh,” she soothed, kissing his temple as she stroked his hair. “I know. It’s okay.”
But she didn’t know. Couldn’t know or understand the dark need spiraling out of control inside him. The one that made him want to strip her right here and now and take her the way he’d imagined for so many months.
Pinning her. Dominating her.
“Brock,” she whispered, moaned when he nibbled and nipped at the side of her neck, pulled her pelvis tight to his erection and rocked into her.
Her hands slid under the hem of his shirt to touch his abdomen. The instant her palms made contact with his bare skin, a wave of lust crashed over him, so strong it stole his breath.
He should slow down. Carry her into the cabin, his shoulder be damned, build a fire and lay her down in front of it, make love to her there. Make it romantic, show her how much she meant to him.
That she was everything to him.
But he was starving for her. And if he didn’t get inside her soon he might actually die right here on this dock. “Need you,” he muttered, nipping the tender spot where her neck and shoulder met. “Need you so much, angel.”
She gasped and arched into him. “Need you too.”
Holding her close he spun them around, searching for the deck chairs. They were a few yards away, and they had long cushions on them.
He lifted her off her feet with his good arm around her waist and carried her over, his mouth on hers. As soon as her feet touched the dock he reached down and grabbed the cushions, jerking them off onto the wooden planks into a low stack.
He pulled her down on top of them, stretched her out on her back and began taking her clothes off. She sat up and helped, carefully peeled his shirt off. He hid a wince as his right shoulder pulled but he didn’t care about the pain as he sat back on his heels to drink in the sight of her.
She was gorgeous in the moonlight, all that golden skin, her entire body bared to his ravenous gaze. He’d never felt this desperate, this possessive. He wanted to mark her. Claim her in a way that no one ever had or would. She was his and only his.
He wanted her to feel that inside and out. “Should never have let you go,” he muttered. “Ever.”
Her dark eyes gazed up at him, soft with trust, full of arousal. She lifted a hand to cup his cheek, as though she sensed his inner battle. “I’m here now. Don’t stop,” she whispered.
He groaned and surged forward to take her mouth again, covering her with his body. Adjusting his weight on his left arm to take the strain off his healing shoulder. “Can’t slow down,” he bit out between kisses.
She answered by winding her legs around his hips. Something inside him snapped. He stopped thinking, stopped fighting the need lashing him and set about claiming his woman.
He cupped her breasts in his hands and sucked on the taut peaks, reveled in her sighs, the sexy movements she made as he teased one, then the other, before moving down the center of her body. He pushed her knees apart, exposing her glistening folds to his gaze. With a sound somewhere between a moan and a growl, he knelt, gripped her hips hard and buried his face between her legs.
Her choked cry spurred him on even more, the desperate bite of her fingers in his scalp pushing him to make her beg. He focused on making her insane, loving every twist of her hips as he licked and sucked at her softest flesh, drove his tongue into her warmth, his cock throbbing, desperate for the moment when he slid deep inside her.
Only when she was gasping, begging did he ease off and surge up to cover her once more with his weight. Her eyes were heavy-lidded, glazed with pleasure as she gazed up at him.
And then she slowly raised her hands over her head. Surrendering full control of her body to him.
The gesture made his heart explode with tenderness.
He laced his fingers through hers, squeezed in reassurance. She relaxed underneath him, rolled her hips as she held his gaze. Her willingness to surrender control to him turned him inside out, symbolized not only her absolute trust in him, but saying that she was his.
He couldn’t wait a second longer to be inside her.
Unable to hold back, he pulled his wallet out of his back pocket, slid a condom on. Settling most of his weight on his left forearm, he ignored the twinge in his right shoulder and slid home with a single thrust.
