by April Hunt
Oblivious to Elle’s inner turmoil, Penny played with a lock of her red hair. “I don’t think it was even on his radar a year ago, but he bought his house a few months back, and there’s really only one reason why a single guy needs that many bedrooms. And then there’s that whole guilt thing, and his mom’s not-so-subtle comments about being the only woman in her kickboxing class without grandkids.”
“Who’s kicking grandkids?” Vince’s question had all three women turning in their seats, but it was Penny’s balance shift that sent her to the floor in a chaos of giggles.
“Looks like someone’s been hitting the sauce a little hard.” Rafe stood next to Trey in the open doorway, smirking at his fiancée.
Penny struggled to her feet and then stumbled toward him, her finger wagging. “Strawberries, not sauce. And fruity margaritas are the beverage of choice when men are being misogynistic douches.”
“Harsh words, Miss Kline,” Rafe teased. “Harsh words.”
“Damn right, they’re harsh. And I’m telling you right now, Mr. Ortega, if you ever think for even a hot second about keeping something from me for my own good, or make a decision on my behalf, you better hide all the pointy objects.”
Rafe effortlessly tossed Penny over his shoulder and didn’t bother smothering his laughter. “Threats and swearing. You’re turning into the regular hard-ass, Red. Let’s go experience this new side of you together in our room.”
Penny’s curses could be heard echoing down the hall. Charlie answered Vince’s low chuckle with a curse and a slam of her bedroom door, and with no one to amuse him, the tattooed operative said his good-byes and disappeared.
Elle was alone at last…
Except she wasn’t.
Chapter Ten
Elle teetered when she stood. It took a good few seconds of clutching the back of the couch to make sure she wouldn’t fall head-over-behind, and then she busied herself taking the empty mugs to the sink.
“Don’t let me prevent you from doing what you need to do. I’m sure it takes a lot of hours to hone the fine art of evasion.” Elle kept her back turned toward Trey but felt the warmth of his stare on her neck.
That was one of her problems—she felt him even when he wasn’t touching her…even when he was clear across the room. Hell, he didn’t even have to be in the room, because the second an image of him popped into her head, her body started revving its engines.
“Is that what this margarita-fest was all about?” Trey asked. “You being under the impression that I was keeping you in the dark somehow?”
Anger spun Elle around, and suddenly, he was inches away. He hadn’t made a noise when he moved, and yet if she took a deep breath, their bodies would touch. His gravity started to draw her even closer until she managed to pull herself together.
Lifting her shoulders back and holding her ground, she stated, “There was no impression about it. It’s taken well over twenty-four hours to finally be told that I may as well make myself comfortable and forward all my mail.”
“When would you have liked me to sit you down and have a heart-to-heart? When you were about to be abducted or when you were unconscious on my lap?”
“How about anytime between sticking your hand down my pants and us walking through the doors of Fort Wilderness? Or better yet, before you even slept with me!”
The muscle in Trey’s jaw flexed wildly. “I already told you that I didn’t know you were my assignment when we met in Thailand.”
“Actually, no, you didn’t. What you did was ask me if I thought you capable of doing such a thing, which led to me saying that I didn’t know you, which led to the whole ‘I’m Trey Michael Hanson. Son. Brother. Taurus. Never been married.’ After all, I needed to know your astrological sign before I was told why I was being threatened with guns every time I turned around.”
“What exactly are you pissed off about? That you think you’ve been getting the information dodge, or the fact that we slept together at all?”
“Yes!” Elle tossed up her hands.
“Yes to what?” Trey asked, his tone patient, as if he were dealing with a petulant child.
“Yes to all of it—for keeping the little woman in the dark and making decisions that involve my future and then expecting me to go along with it, no questions asked. And yes, for sleeping with me when you’ve been off buying big houses with empty rooms that need to be filled. All. Of. It.”
Freaking margaritas.
Trey shuffled closer, obliterating the nearly nonexistent gap between their bodies. Her ass pushed into the edge of the sink as he slipped his arms past her waist and caged her against the counter. In their close proximity, the mini apartment shrank two sizes.
Trey leaned down, stopping when his mouth was a breath away from hers. “If you want to talk about this, then we’re going to talk about it once those damned margaritas are out of your system and not a second before.”
“Why? Are you trying to evade again?” she pushed.
“Nope. What I’m trying to do is make sure you remember everything I have to say to you because, babe, I have quite a bit. The first topic’s going to be that shit about sleeping with you under false pretenses.”
“Why? Because you’re above using people?”
Trey’s eyes flashed, and Elle clamped her mouth shut. She didn’t even know where that had come from, but while the margaritas dropped her walls, they amplified her insecurities. She liked to believe that she’d shed them all when she left for Thailand, but it was obvious that they’d come sneaking back—at least when aided by alcohol.
“I’m giving you a pass on that comment but only because these last few days have really sucked ass—that, and I’ve had the displeasure of meeting your bastard father and ex,” Trey said calmly. “I have a feeling they put you through a hell of a lot more than I know about, but one thing I’ll tell you right the hell now is that I’m not them. I have never been that kind of man, and I’m sure as fuck not going to turn into one anytime in the future.”
“No guy’s going to come right out and admit to being a manipulating jerk.” God Elle. Shut. The hell. Up.
“That’s it.” Trey bent at the waist and pulled her into a fireman’s hold.
“What are you doing?” Elle squealed, giving his butt a smack as she dangled from his shoulder. “Put me down. Right now.”
“No can do. Actually, I could, but I’m not going to. You’re going to sleep this off.” Trey stalked from the room and turned down the hall—and kept walking.
“Great. Sounds good. But my room’s where we just were.” She smacked him again, but he didn’t even break his stride. “Take me back!”
“Nope. Because when you finally sleep this off, we’re going to have a little talk, and I don’t want to have it with Charlie’s ear pressed to the door.”
There was nothing to do but hold on. Elle gave up trying to squirm away and braced her hands against Trey’s lower back. Each up-and-down movement of his steps churned an unpleasant storm in her stomach.
The second her feet hit tiled ground, Elle lost her battle with the nausea. She leapt for the toilet as the margaritas staged a reappearance, and then she prayed for death by toilet water. It felt like a lifetime had passed when the last twist finally ebbed. Her hair, dampened with sweat, stuck to her forehead, and her eyes watered.
“You okay?” Trey asked.
Oh, God. He released her hair—which she hadn’t even noticed he’d been holding away from her face—and handed her a damp washcloth.
She closed her eyes and buried herself in the cool cloth. “I think so.”
“Good.”
Trey lifted her limp body off the floor and deposited her on a bed of clouds. At least it felt like clouds, her suddenly sore muscles nestled by nothing but softness.
Elle buried her face into a downy pillow that still held Trey’s spicy scent. “God, you always smell so freaking good.”
“Glad you think so.”
Elle was too busy trying to get the worl
d to stop spinning to enjoy the humor lacing his words. She groaned and clutched tightly onto the pillow, as if it could anchor her to the ground. “Can you flick the off switch on the carousel?”
“Afraid not, sweetness. Looks like you’re stuck going on the ride.”
Elle groaned again, barely registering that her shoes were being pulled off. Next came her yoga pants, as steady hands began gliding them down her thighs. She tried to help with her shirt, but got brushed away. It was probably for the best, because she could barely manage flipping onto her stomach when the blanket was tucked around her body.
“Tomorrow.” Trey’s mouth brushed against her ear in a low murmur.
Tomorrow.
Ell burrowed into the mattress…If anything happened tomorrow she hoped it would be an incurable case of amnesia.
* * *
Someone dared Elle to eat cotton balls. That was the only explanation for why her tongue was a useless mass of grossness in her mouth. She rolled to her side, gasping when the mattress fell out from beneath her body. A sluggish foot-plant to the floor was the only thing that saved her from breaking her nose.
“I’m dying,” Elle groaned. With her head playing out a tom-tom drumbeat, she pried her eyes open a millimeter at a time and pushed herself upright on the edge of the bed.
Her vision was slow to focus and, when it did, the memories of the night before started slinking their way back—her diarrhea of the mouth, the embarrassing porcelain prayer. There was a vague recollection of being undressed—which must’ve happened, since she was now sporting a dark gray T-shirt that hit her about mid-thigh…and smelled of Trey.
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
Elle slipped from the bed and said a little prayer of thanks for the bottle of water and aspirin left on the table. Her body ached, muscles stiff, as if she’d lain in the same position for a week. But with no clock in sight, there was no way to tell how long she’d actually been out. It could’ve been minutes or hours or even days.
She peeked into the hallway, happy when she found it empty, and hustled as fast as she could to her own room. She made a beeline for the bathroom, and what she saw in the mirror made her cringe. Red-rimmed and bloodshot, her eyes were the only thing on her face that wasn’t an unseemly shade of pale.
She brushed her teeth—twice—and hopped into a shower hot enough to melt skin off bones. Once she could stand her own smell, she changed clothes and retraced her steps from the day before, when Penny had shown her around the compound.
Ten minutes of walking later, she realized she was lost in the maze of corridors. At ten and a half minutes, she realized she’d left behind the damn walkie-talkie.
As she was about to eenie-meenie a direction, a loud metallic echo rang through the hall. Elle followed the sound to find Charlie standing in an indoor shooting range. On a table to her left, an eclectic array of handguns was spread out.
The female operative’s back faced the open door as she aimed a gun at a target and fired off a quick succession of rounds.
When she was finished, she turned with a grin and pulled off her headphones like she’d known she wasn’t alone. “Look at you, all red-eyed and limp-tailed. I thought you’d been exaggerating when you said you’ve never gotten drunk, but you weren’t, were you?”
“There’s a boatload of things I’ve never done.”
At Charlie suggestive eyebrow lift, Elle couldn’t help but laugh. “Except that. I’ve done that before, although I can’t really say I find it as invigorating as some people do.”
“Then you’ve been with some lazy sods. I swear, between you and Penny, I feel like such a worldly woman—or maybe a social deviant.” Charlie chuckled, shaking her head as she turned toward her weapon table and swapped handguns. “That redhead claims to be all fire and spunk, but when I checked on her an hour ago, I got a pillow thrown at my head. Lightweight.”
“And you didn’t check on me,” Elle teased, leaning against the wall. “I’m heartbroken.”
“Oh, I tried checking on you, but then His Royal Moodiness appeared and warned me away. I admit, I caved, but only because I knew you’d come out sooner or later.”
Trey had warned her away? Or more importantly, Trey had been in and out of the room checking on her himself? Elle wasn’t sure if the thought was comforting or if it made her feel even guiltier for the things she’d said.
“You don’t have to worry about running into him for a bit,” Charlie said, as if reading her mind. “He’s making an appearance topside along with a few of the other guys. We have to keep up the pretense of normal lives. Civilian stuff. I’m sure he’ll be back bothering us before you know it. Make good use of the time alone.”
“Then don’t let me stop you.” Elle nodded toward the target. “You looked like you were doing some serious damage.”
“I do my share. Do you want to stick around? That is, if your head’s not playing the bongo drums?”
“Aspirin and water did my body good.”
“Then watch and learn.” Charlie passed Elle a spare set of headphones before placing her own over her ears.
Elle definitely watched—and studied the ease with which Charlie held her gun. Each shot blew a larger hole in the paper target’s chest and, when there wasn’t much left, she aimed for the head.
“And one more for good measure,” Charlie called out before releasing another shot.
“I think you finally missed,” Elle joked.
Charlie flicked the switch to bring the image closer. “Look again.”
Elle looked…and looked. By the time she pulled it from its clip, she couldn’t stop laughing. Instead of aiming for the head or chest, Charlie’s last round had ripped right through Paper Guy’s crotch. “Never mind. Bull’s-eye. Tell me again why you’re not a full-fledged operative yet?”
Charlie tossed her headphones on the table and motioned for Elle to do the same. “Because I have a vagina. Okay, so maybe not entirely because of the lady bits. It boils down to the fact that I’ve never been in the military boys club, and the closest I ever came to being on the police force is riding in the back of the car.”
“So you have more to prove.”
“Exactly. And it didn’t help that Stone hired me as the brains behind the brawn. The guys are the epitome of old dogs and new tricks. They’re used to me being the one behind the computer and their new toys. But I’m getting there. Slower than I’d like, but Stone’s started letting me go on assignments here and there. Actually, Thailand was my first one.”
“You were in Thailand?” Elle asked.
“We were down there for about three days before we finally got the file on you.” Charlie gave her a steady look before shrugging. “I’m saying that because I think it’s something you should know.”
Elle bet there was a bit more reasoning behind her mentioning it. “Thank you, Charlie.”
“Anytime, love.”
“And if it’s any consolation, I’d feel safe as a clam with you watching my back.”
Charlie smiled, an honest-to-God smile that softened her eyes and made her look years younger. “Thank you, but I think you’d much prefer having your dimpled Adonis watching your back, because while I think you’re damn adorable, you and I wouldn’t be snogging in the corners of empty rooms.”
Charlie’s wink stole Elle’s denial and brought a blush to her cheeks. “There’s no snogging…at least not anymore.”
“You’re forgetting that I’m with these guys all the bloody time. No matter what anyone says, the hero types—especially the misunderstood ones—are bloody catnip to anyone lacking a Y chromosome. No one would blame you for partaking of the snog.”
“Does that mean you are, too?” Elle teased, remembering Penny’s good-natured jibing from the night before.
Charlie waved off the comment. “Please. These gorillas love taking care of the damsel in distress, and I haven’t been a damsel in a long, long time.”
Charlie’s words echoed painfully in her head. That’s what Elle
had been, too. A damsel. Someone who let things happen to her. But then she decided that if one slick road could take away a small chunk of her dream, then she was sure as hell going to control everything else within her ability.
In an odd way, the news that biological children would be next to impossible for her had given her the fire to take back her life, and she’d started with ending her engagement to James and accepting the position in Thailand.
And she was going to keep up the trend.
Elle eyed the row of guns sitting on the table. “Do you think you could teach me how to shoot one of these things? At least well enough that I won’t shoot myself in the ass?”
Another smile melted onto Charlie’s face. “Sure thing. I was heading over to the gym afterward. You’re more than welcome to come with me.”
“Will there be kicking and punching?” she asked eagerly.
“And quite possibly maiming. Neither chocolate nor shopping therapy has anything on beating the crap out of a heavy bag. Not only is it cheaper, but you don’t feel guilty afterward.”
Guilt-free stress relief sounded wonderful.
Chapter Eleven
Even on the nights when people blamed the full moon for all the crazy shit they did, Trey enjoyed being topside. He enjoyed having that little slice of normal that didn’t involve memorizing strategic points of entry and exit. But tonight had been an exception and he couldn’t have been happier to be on his way down into the Hole.
After dealing with a malfunctioning tap machine, fending off a dozen lame pick-up lines, and getting caught in the crossfire of a woman trying to verbally castrate her boyfriend, he was on edge and ready to climb into his fucking bed…next to Elle.
The last time he’d checked on her, she’d been out cold and still wearing his shirt. He’d never thought himself a masochist, but trying to be gallant by making sure she was comfortable for what would no doubt be a rough morning anyway had been the sweetest kind of torture.
That didn’t mean he was stupid. He knew his limitations, and sleeping beside her was way too much temptation, so he’d tried grabbing a few winks of shut-eye in the chair, and instead spent most of the night replaying the conversation leading up to him hauling her over his shoulder.
