by Kris Norris
He’d made his way to the car and had stopped as he’d grabbed the handle, his gaze finally meeting hers across the distance. Her fingers pressed the button a moment before the camera slipped from her grasp and swung against her chest. Pain sparked through her ribs, but all she could do was sink back against the rusted metal. She’d wished for a ghost, and it looked as if she’d gotten far more than she’d bargained for.
Special Agent Brogan Johnson climbed into the car, slamming the door shut as he ran his fingers through his cropped hair. The ends rubbed across his palms, soothing some of his pent-up tension. Leo glared at him from the driver’s side, grunting so Brogan would do more than look at him out of the corner of his eye.
He turned, returning the man’s sneer. “What?”
“We just made the deal of the century. Why the hell do you look so fucking pissed off?”
Brogan motioned toward the back before looking out the window. “Tate said we were making the drop tonight…that it’d all be tied up by midnight. Now he’s decided to make the transfer tomorrow. It’s bad enough he changes meeting times at the drop of a hat, now we’re stuck here for another day. I’m getting a bit…impatient.”
Leo shrugged as he shoved the gearshift into reverse and backed up. “So it’s one more night. Who cares? We stand to make a killing on this shipment. Besides, Tate’s just covering his ass. Ever since that photojournalist—Paige Sommers—started poking her nose into his business, he’s been more cautious.” Leo grinned and turned onto the main road. “I’ve heard she’s a lone ranger of sorts…always gets her man.” He chuckled, a deep sound that immediately put Brogan on the defensive. “From the pictures I’ve seen of her, she can get this man anytime.”
Anger flared through his veins and it was all he could do not to reach over and slam Leo’s head through the window. Instead, he laughed back and slapped the man on the shoulder. “She’s way out of your league, buddy.”
“How do you know?” Leo rubbed his arm as he glowered at Brogan. “You hiding something?”
Leo had meant it as a joke, but there’d been a slight waver in his tone that sent a chill down Brogan’s spine. He couldn’t let what would look like irrational jealousy blow his cover…not after all he’d given up to get this close to Tate.
He smirked as he pushed back against the seat. “You’re kidding me, right? If you’ve seen pictures of her then you know she’s hot, and well you, buddy…you’re not the prettiest thing walking around.”
Leo laughed, hitting the breaks as the light changed in front of him. “Hey, I might not be pretty, but I could give her the fucking of a lifetime, and she looks like she needs a man to fuck some of that goodness out of her.” He smiled at Brogan. “One night with me, and she’d be finding buyers for us.”
Not in a million years, asshole.
Brogan bit back the comment before he said it aloud. There was absolutely no harm in letting Leo think he’d have a chance with Paige, not when Brogan knew differently. She’d never allow someone who worked for scum like Tate to touch her—not that she wasn’t a hellcat in bed—she just had certain lines she wouldn’t cross. And fucking weapons dealers was one of them.
“You just keep telling yourself that, Leo.” He smiled at the man’s growl. “Maybe your fairy godmother will grant your wish.”
“Or maybe I’ll just look her up and invite myself over,” he said, cursing the next light that brought the car to a stop. “What the fuck is it with these damn lights? I swear, we’ve caught every one.”
Brogan chose to ignore his taunting and took a soothing breath. “Relax. It’s not like we’ve got anywhere to go now…Tate’s secured our services for another night. Might as well—”
His voice cut off as the whine of a motorcycle drowned out even the radio. He shot Leo a puzzled look and turned to glare out the window. Whoever was driving that machine was way too close. Brogan stared through the glass as the driver rolled into view, the mirror on the bike knocking theirs. Irritation he’d been holding back resurfaced and he lowered the window to tell the idiot to learn how to drive, when the driver turned toward him. Brogan’s reflection shimmered back at him through the tinted visor, but he knew he was being scrutinized. Fear gripped his gut as the hidden eyes continued to stare at him, as if looking into his soul. A name stuck on his tongue a second before the cycle’s engine revved and the bike took off, skidding through the intersection as the driver dodged the moving traffic, narrowly missing a bumper. Horns and squealing tires blasted the air as motorcycle barreled down the street, disappearing around the next corner.
“What the fuck?” yelled Leo.
Brogan forced down a swallow, praying to god he was wrong. He turned to speak when the glass behind them lowered. He looked in the rearview, hating the sight of Tate’s beady little eyes staring back at him.
Tate raised an eyebrow. “I don’t suppose either of you got the license plate of that motorcycle?”
Brogan glanced at Leo, cursing under his breath when the man handed Tate a slip of paper through the opening. Tate took the offering, his lips curling into a feral smile.
“Excellent. We’ll have our friends at the station run this. I have a feeling that was more than just a coincidence.” He thumbed the paper, chuckling. “I can’t wait to see who this belongs to.”
His face faded into black as the glass rolled into place, shutting him out. Brogan glared at his reflection before looking back at where the bike had vanished from view. He didn’t need to run the plate to know who’d just driven off. He’d recognize that leather jacket and that sexy ass anywhere. Hell, he’d spent over a year watching it wiggle in front of him as he’d followed behind on his own bike. The only question was…what the hell was he going to do now?
Chapter Two
“Fuck!”
Paige killed the engine and glided into a driveway a few houses down from hers. She’d taken every back street home but still wasn’t convinced Tate hadn’t somehow had her followed. She should have gone straight to a hotel, but she needed to grab her laptop.
Tears mixed with anger as she swung her leg off her Honda and parked it beside the garage. Of all the stupid ass stunts to pull…
She cursed her impetuous nature as she darted through yards, hiding behind bushes and plants. She’d been set—had all the evidence she needed to hand Tate over on the proverbial silver platter, but apparently, that hadn’t been enough. She’d spent what had felt like forever staring at the image she’d taken with the camera, trying to decide if it really was Brogan. Then she’d caught up with their car and had all but kicked the door in to get the guy to lower the window. The resemblance was uncanny, though the cropped hair and haunting look in the guy’s eyes had made her think twice. But just the possibility that it could actually be him had pushed her over the edge. How she’d missed hitting that truck as she’d plowed through the intersection was a mystery.
Paige set her jaw and hopped the last fence, keeping her body cloaked in the shadows. The house looked deserted, but that didn’t mean anything. She crept toward the set of French doors on the left side. She’d left her computer on her desk. All she had to do was sneak in, grab it and leave.
She shook her head. She wouldn’t have to worry if she hadn’t been so damn determined to look into his eyes without the camera lens between them.
Pain flared again, but she pushed it away. She could break down at the hotel. Right now, she needed to stay focused. She sprinted across the grass and pressed her back against the wall as she inched her way toward the doors. She fumbled with her keys, cringing at the way they jingled in the still air, before slipping one into the lock, sighing when the bolt disengaged. Paige slowly rotated the handle, praying the door wouldn’t creak, and slipped inside. She groped her way across the floor, finally reaching the oak desk. A noise sounded from somewhere in the house, making her jump.
Shit.
More sounds echoed through the silent room as she moved her hands along the top of the desk, breathing a sigh of relief
when the laptop’s smooth surface grazed her fingertips. She wrapped her fingers around the edge and dragged it back when a rough hand snaked around her mouth.
A scream caught in her throat but vanished with her breath when she slammed into her attacker’s hard body. White dots flitted across her vision as his other hand wrapped around her waist, his lips caressing her ear.
“If you want to live, you’ll grab that computer, keep your mouth shut and follow me.”
The voice was darker and deeper than Brogan’s, with a slight Irish accent she’d never heard before. Her stomach dropped when the hopes that she’d actually seen him vanished, replaced by the ever-present emptiness. Paige nodded, praying she’d have one moment when she could kick this guy in the crotch and make a run for it.
A gravelly chuckle sounded in her ear. “I know what you’re thinking, but anything you try will only slow me down, and I’m already angry enough to paddle your ass ‘til it glows red.” He blew a heated breath across her earlobe coiling a knot in her belly. “Now do as I say and let’s move. Tate’s men are already in the house.”
Paige thought about resisting until a boot scuffed on the hardwood floor outside the office. She grabbed the computer, shoved it in the backpack lying beside the desk and headed for the doors, her mystery man hot on her heels. She wanted to see his face, but when she twisted around, he plastered his chest to her back, holding her tight.
“Soon. Now go.”
The urgent quality in his voice had her darting out the door and across the lawn. She vaulted over the fence, the pack slung across her back and ran to the motorcycle, skidding to a halt when she found him already seated on it, helmet on, engine idling.
“How…?”
“Get on!” he said, tossing her another helmet.
Paige caught it and glanced back across her shoulder in the direction of the house, indecision weighing heavy in her chest. Her instincts told her she could trust the guy, but the situation screamed for her just to run. She looked over at him, wishing she could see through the dark visor, before slipping on the helmet and jumping on the bike behind him. The scent of wood and leather filtered through the air, stealing her breath. She reached behind her to grab the small bar when he revved the machine and took off, hurtling through the night air.
Paige muffled a scream and wrapped her arms around his waist, plastering her body against his. She thought she heard him moan, but the sound mixed with the howling of the wind.
“What the hell have I just done?” She squeezed tighter when he banked the Honda into a hard turn, nearly touching their knees to the pavement.
The guy was large, more muscular than Brogan had been, and another pang moved through her.
“Hold on. It’s going to get bumpy.”
His voice sounded irritated, and she couldn’t help but wonder why he’d bothered to help her when the prospect obviously angered him. She shifted back, determined to loosen her grip when he left the pavement behind and steered them onto an old gravel road. The cycle bounced around on the uneven ground and Paige had to squeeze his chest for balance. He made another groaning noise, but all she could do was close her eyes and hold on tight.
Brogan pulled up to the old cabin, cursing with every breath. He could feel Paige shaking behind him, whether from fear or the rough ride, he wasn’t sure, but the tiny movements were like knives to his soul. He shouldn’t be there, not with her…not when he’d vowed to take down Tate at any expense. Hell, hadn’t he already suffered through losing her once? Indecision curdled his gut, but it was too late now. No matter what the cost of his actions, he couldn’t stand by and allow Tate to kill her…or worse.
Shivers ignited along his arm as she used it to lever herself off the bike, grabbing the case strung on the back and stumbling a few steps away as she fought to regain her balance. He watched her through the tinted glass, wondering how he’d ever had the strength to walk away all those months before, when she took off the helmet and shook her head. He could just see her features in the reflected glow of the headlights. She was beautiful, with two spiky pigtails on each side of her head, and her mouth pulled in to a delectable pout. He loved the way she furrowed her brow when she was irritated and instantly wanted to smooth the crinkly lines away with his lips.
A moan ignited deep in his chest and he had to fight to keep it from bubbling free. He could tell from the way she pushed one hip out to the side and cocked her head slightly, that she was waiting for him to remove his helmet, but he wasn’t sure what to do. He thought about revving the engine and leaving, praying she wouldn’t be able to find a way back until the deal was over, but all it took was one look into her eyes to realize he wasn’t going anywhere.
Brogan took a deep breath and pulled the helmet over his head. Anticipation warred with fear as he clenched his jaw and turned to face her, his gaze clashing with hers. She watched him, her eyes drinking in every detail until a single tear pooled and slipped free. Pain erupted in his chest and he pushed to his feet, tossing the helmet to the ground.
“It is…” Her voice faded as she watched him dismount, shaking her head as she clutched the case to her chest.
Brogan stilled and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Paige—”
She raised her hand, and glared at him, a hint of the wildcat back in her eyes. A deep blush flushed her skin, accentuating her high cheekbones and the long line of her throat as the red color laced down her neck and across the top of her chest, disappearing beneath the open vee of her shirt. He tried to concentrate on the anger glittering in her eyes, but he couldn’t take his gaze off the sensual swell of creamy skin. It felt like a lifetime since he’d caressed that soft skin and he wanted nothing more than to run his hands over her body and rediscover every delicious dip and curve.
Paige simply stared at him, betrayal marring her expression. She finally walked toward the cabin, holding up her hand again when he stepped in the same direction.
“I need some time.” She rubbed the tears from her cheek. “It’s the least you owe me.”
Brogan could only nod as she stomped up the three steps and disappeared inside, slamming the old door shut with enough force that the entire porch creaked in protest. He moved back to the bike and shut the thing down, feeling his heart die along with the sound of the engine. He’d most likely blown his cover, ruined six months of deep undercover work and all he could think about was how the hell he was going to get Paige to forgive him.
He looked at the cabin, watching her shadow move around the small space. There were only two rooms, the bathroom and everything else. He drew a deep breath and headed for the door. She was going to rip a strip off him no matter how long he waited, and he couldn’t afford to lose one more moment without her wrapped in his arms. He had one last night with her, and he wasn’t going to waste it.
He fisted the handle and pulled, stepping into the room in one determined stride, only to duck as a book flew at his head, impacting the door with a resounding thud. Another hit him square in the chest, and he reeled backwards into the wall before regaining his balance.
“Jesus, Paige, what the hell?”
He looked up and his anger died on his tongue. She was standing beside her computer, his image covering the screen. Tears marred her pale blue eyes and he could see her hands trembling at her sides. She reached for another book, but stomped her foot instead and turned away. Her back trembled once as she choked back a sob, before he heard her draw a shuddering breath.
Brogan sighed. He’d never been the romantic type, and if ever he needed soothing words and sultry advances, it was now. He crossed his arms on his chest, gauging if she was done throwing things at him, as he tried to ignore the way his dick jumped in his pants. He hadn’t given himself so much as a hand-job since leaving her, and the damn thing seemed ready to burst. The light scent of her perfume drifted across the room, edging his arousal higher. It was the same brand she’d always worn, and the instant reminder of their life together stole the last of his good sense.
> Brogan set his jaw and covered the distance between them, grabbing her by the shoulders and spinning her around. Her surprised gasp was all he needed to gain entry to her mouth as he palmed his other hand across the back of her neck and pulled her tight, molding her lips to his.
A mixture of chocolate and berry-flavored tea flirted with his tongue as he traced every contour, swallowing the soft murmurs that matched the rapid beating of his heart. Her fingers scratched his scalp as she traced one hand across his head while the other closed around his shirt.
He ravaged her mouth, wanting to go gently but too caught up in his need to hold back. He’d spent every day wishing the circumstances could have be different…that he could have taken her with him, but completely aware that the only way to save her was to hurt her.
Paige drew a deep breath when he finally released her. He didn’t want to waste what little time they had talking, not when he could smell the sweet, earthy scent of her arousal drifting up to him.
“Brogan, we—”
He silenced her with a brush of his tongue. “I know you want answers.” He inhaled, moaning at the combined aroma that had plagued his dreams for months. “Please, Paige. Just let me love you—just once—then I’ll tell you everything.”
Paige glanced over at her computer, staring at his image before looking back, new tears glistening in her eyes. She quirked her lips into a sexy half smile as she drew a solitary finger along his jaw. “How am I supposed to say no when it’s all I’ve wished for?”
He dropped a kiss on her nose, brushing some stray hairs back from her face. “You’re not.” He traced a line down her arm. “Now why don’t I show you all the naughty ways I’ve dreamt of fucking you?”
Paige moaned as he picked her up and carried her to a large table a few steps away. The bed looked slightly more comfortable, but he didn’t think his cock could wait the extra five steps. The wood groaned as he slid her ass across the surface, wedging her thighs around his. His fingers worked her zipper down before moving to her shoulders. The leather felt smooth against his hands as he brushed the material back until it pooled around her wrists.
