Afraid of hurting her more than she’d been hurt.
Chapter Eighteen
An hour after her breakthrough, with her mind still racing, Drea watched the door to her hotel bedroom open, slowly. A hand stuck in, raised into the air with a palm up in the “don’t shoot” position. Her heart leaped and then Jem was all the way in the room, looking exhausted, bruised and very, very much alive.
She couldn’t help it—she threw herself at him. Literally. She semiknocked him back against the wall, but he caught his balance immediately, turned so she was the one pressed there, trapped between him and the wall at her back. “This isn’t a dream, right?”
He smiled. “What? I’m not your dream?”
“You’re so impossible, Jeremiah. Completely, totally impossible, from the time you forced me out of the hospital to when you thought I wouldn’t notice you were running my name in the Army database on the computer in that damned hotel room …”
He was staring at her strangely. “What?” she demanded. “You were, right?”
“You … remember?”
She opened her mouth, then closed it. That memory, all those memories, had flooded back, and when Jem pressed her to the wall, they’d integrated themselves so well in her mind it seemed they’d been there forever, never missing. Like there had never been a void.
But without Jem … there would be a giant void. One she’d never be able to fill. “I remember,” she said, her voice husky. “I remember what I wanted to do with you from the night I met you. Do you think maybe now I can get laid again? Since you’re not a stranger anymore.”
Jem sighed. Pretended to think about it. “I mean, I guess. It’ll be a complete and total sacrifice, but I’m used to doing stuff like that for my country.”
“The bed, Jeremiah,” she prompted.
“Oh, honey, what kind of sex have you been having? Beds are great and all, but they’re pretty overrated.”
Suddenly, he was slipping her nightshirt over her head. With a quick, painless rip, her panties were on the floor. “I’ll buy you new ones. Better yet, stop wearing them, because that’s going to happen a lot.”
She grinned. Then laughed. Because they were all safe. For now.
Don’t think beyond the moment. She wasn’t sure if that was in her head or Jem was saying it, because then she fell down the rabbit hole of sensation, where nothing mattered but Jem’s hands, his kisses … his tongue. Oh God, his tongue.
He knelt between her legs, tugged her calves so they were over his shoulders. She had her palms pressed to the wall for support while Jem held her hips fast, forced her legs wide and took her sex with long, broad licks that each ended with him sucking her clit into his mouth. The pleasure was nearly unbearable, the orgasm coiled in her belly beginning the familiar tightening. Except this time, she wasn’t just thinking about him—he was here, looking up at her, watching her take the pleasure he gave her.
But he didn’t let her come. Not at that point and he backed away for what seemed like too long. She heard the crinkle of a condom wrapper and then he was sliding inside her—slowly.
“So good,” she moaned.
“So tight …”
“It’s been a long time, Jem. Been waiting. For you.” She gasped as the head of his cock entered her. There was the delicious burn that she knew would wear away and become fraught with pleasure soon enough, so she pushed back, forcing him deeper, faster.
“Don’t want to hurt you,” he said through gritted teeth, but she wrapped her legs around his ass, dug her heels in, forcing him to slide all the way inside her.
She cried out his name, pain and pleasure floating together, as he took her. She wrapped around him, legs and arms, and held on until she came.
His climax followed quickly, his entire body stiffening, and then he pumped his hips hard several times before groaning out her name, as if it were being ripped from his throat.
There was no turning back. Then again, Drea had known there never really was.
*
Drea lay there, in Jem’s arms, drained and happy. She wrapped around him so he couldn’t move without alerting her. She noted he did the same to her.
“Everything okay?” he murmured.
“More than. Because I really remember everything.”
His expression hardened for a second, like he was prepared for her anger. When instead she told him, “You saved me,” some of his tension softened.
“I fucked up your life,” he said hoarsely.
“You saved me,” she repeated firmly. “There’s no way around that.”
“Maybe,” he said, sounding completely unconvinced.
“I knew it wouldn’t be easy once I got back my memories—getting them back partially made me brace for it. But I’m glad I got them back—don’t get me wrong.” One minute, she’d been at Carolina’s thinking Danny was her savior, as he’d once been, and the next she was reliving the nightmare of him betraying her all over again. It was the same hurt, the same pain. The same realizations that he still had the power to completely fuck up her life.
She remembered waking up, sitting in the dark, sobbing. As if Carolina knew, she’d come in with some brandy and chocolate and they’d stayed up late. By the end, Drea had been more than a little drunk—and much happier too—and they’d watched reruns of reality TV shows until she nodded off.
In the morning, she’d paged through the photo album of S8. And all of those memories had filtered back too, not just the scary ones when she’d been kidnapped and had gone into shock.
She’d remembered feeling the shock come on and trying to will her body not to give in. Damned doctors all hated being sick.
And now her whole past was laid out in front of her. She’d made the right choice coming here with Jem. There were no maybes.
“I told you I stayed with my grandmother until she died, right?” When Jem nodded, she continued. “My mom was a real fuckup. I’m assuming she’s dead by now, but who knows? Sometimes junkies do live to a ripe old age.” God, she hated the venom in her own voice, but anytime she thought about the woman who’d given birth to her, the one who was supposed to love and protect her no matter what, she felt murderous.
“Drea, you don’t have to—”
“I definitely do. And it was her boyfriends who hurt me. They were scumbags. They all touched me when she wasn’t looking. But there was one of them who took it way further than that.”
“That’s why you kept pushing the rape kit on Avery that night you saved her life.”
“Every woman has the right to be safe. To feel safe. If it had been either you or Gunner who’d hurt her, I would’ve found a way to take you both down. Even if it meant calling the OA.”
“Now, that I believe.” He leaned back against the pillows. “Next to all that, Danny and his father must’ve looked like Jesus Christ himself coming down from the cross.”
She smiled in spite of herself. “Something like that. I knew they weren’t perfect. And that Danny was pretty fucked up too. He was failing school, he did some drugs and he fought a lot. But he was hot, and all the girls wanted to sleep with him. And he picked me. But I guess the most important thing was that I picked him. I made the choice, and for the first time in my life I was able to follow through on one. After that, the choices were easier—getting into the Army. Getting away from Danny, even if it meant working in small clinics. And then choosing to go with you. Both times.”
Jem smiled. “I’m always going to be grateful for those last ones.”
She leaned over and kissed him. “Me too, Jem. Me too.”
Chapter Nineteen
They were all back—and after everyone had their reunions, and their sleep, they were all supposed to converge in the main suite area, where Key had ordered a large breakfast for all of them.
He heard Key wheeling in the room service carts in himself, and then he’d heard his brother say, “We’ve got trouble.”
“With breakfast?” Gunner asked.
“We�
�ve always got trouble—trust me, it keeps,” Jem called out sleepily through the half-open door. He was sitting half up in bed, Drea’s head on his shoulder, her face buried against his chest, her long hair splayed along him. He mentally traced the tattoos on her arm, as he’d been up for a while, unable to sleep. Wanting to wake her again but realizing she’d been up for three days straight.
Key, of course, walked in like he owned the place. Jem sighed. “Privacy?”
“Gone the second you chose the military.”
“I’m not in the military,” Jem told him through clenched teeth.
“The feds are circling the hotel.”
“For who?”
Key pointed to Drea.
“How the hell?”
Key shrugged. “Her picture’s plastered everywhere. Someone must’ve seen her. Or else someone’s following her and we didn’t notice.”
“I’d have noticed.” Jem shrugged, and Key threw his hands in the air.
“Not fighting with you, but you weren’t here the whole time. And we’ve got to get ourselves the fuck out of Dodge.”
Jem narrowed his eyes. “You’re turning into me. Does that mean I’m turning into you?”
“Don’t sound so goddamned horrified, asshole. I’m a better shot than you are.”
“I just believe in using as many bullets as possible to get the job done. It’s way more fun that way.”
“You’re insane,” Key muttered. “We’re out in ten minutes.”
“How many feds are here?”
Key went to the window and looked out. “We’re pretty much surrounded, so it’ll be interesting.”
“Definitely getting more and more like me,” Jem muttered. Drea had started to stir a little. Jem slipped out from under her. They’d gotten in the shower at some point last night or early this morning—his hair was still a little damp, like hers, so he slid into clothes, shoved his bag into hers and put his weapons back on, threading the various knives into their hiding places, the phones and the guns too.
Finally, he gave Drea’s shoulder a rub and kissed her bare skin and she rolled over sleepily. “Hey, babe. Sorry to do this, but you’ve got five minutes to be up and at ’em.”
“What’s wrong? Emma?” She was literally on her feet, looking like she could perform surgery if they rolled a willing body in front of her.
“Emma’s good. She’s with her father on a plane to a secure location. With bodyguards. Remember?”
She blinked. “Right. Yes. So what’s wrong?”
His voice was gentle when he said, “Now we’re dealing with your past.”
“The OA?”
“The feds.”
“They’re here for me? How did they find you?”
“Hell if I know. Questioning that myself,” he admitted. “Something’s not right, but that doesn’t matter. We’ve still gotta go.”
She was in the bathroom, brushing her teeth, splashing water on her face. And in four minutes, she was ready—the habit of being a doctor on constant call. Her skin was flushed from sex and she just looked … so fucking beautiful.
“You melt me, Drea.”
“We’re surrounded by FBI agents and that’s what you’re thinking about?”
“Yep. That’s the important shit. They don’t matter. They never will.”
She smiled, a real smile, with zero worry. It was replaced when Key stormed back in and said, “They’re going room to room.”
“The roof, then?”
“Think they’re not going to notice that all of us in this block of rooms have checked out?” Key asked.
“None of us can stay,” Dare said from behind him. “We’re all too known at this point. Good and bad.”
“I’ll distract them,” Jem said. “You guys just get to the hospital across the street.”
“We can do that,” Key agreed. “What about you?”
“Wait in the hospital to hear from me. I’ll direct you then,” Jem said. “For now, hang out in the staircase—I’ll make sure the FBI doesn’t go that way. They only have so many men, and I’m about to make them all very busy. Drea, honey, go with them and I’ll meet you.”
“You sure you can distract them?” Dare asked.
“I’ve got an idea, yes, and you’ll know when it’s safe to move,” Jem said with a smile. Key groaned. Dare snorted and soon they were all gone, leaving him to his own devices. And what devices they were.
*
Two hours later, Jem touched the medical helo down on the roof of a hospital that was three towns over.
“Thanks so much,” the transplant nurse said, beaming. “If we’d had to wait for the other pilot, this might not have made it.”
Jem nodded. “It’s my pleasure.” And together, they walked into the roof access and through the hospital. Jem found some scrubs after he’d delivered the nurse safely to her floor and then walked out of the hospital and caught a cab.
He thought about stealing a car, but hell, he’d attracted enough attention today. And when he arrived at the new hotel, they all packed up, ready to hit the road and move farther away, out of state and out of reach.
It was only after they were packed into the suburban, rented under one of Gunner’s many aliases, that Key asked Jem, “Do we even want to know?”
“I definitely want to,” Gunner called back, and the others nodded in agreement. He felt a hand on his shoulder—Drea’s. He turned his head to the side and smiled, just for her.
“I mean, the quarantine scare was all you,” Avery said.
“Nope, not me,” Jem said. “Okay, me, but I didn’t do anything but call a doctor across the way and mention my symptoms and beg for help.”
When all the ambulances started racing over, along with medical staff swarming and cautioning the hotel manager and random FBI agents about the very contagious virus that appeared to be flooding the hotel, Jem had been receiving a visit from the FBI.
“So, you just escaped without seeing the FBI?” Grace asked.
“I saw them—several agents walked in on me, and then they left.”
“Bullshit!” Key shouted.
“No, really. They were pretty embarrassed at catching me in the act, so they quickly backed out, apologizing,” Jem assured him.
Key frowned at him from the seat next to him, and Jem knew the others were sitting there, trying to figure it out as well.
Amateurs.
Finally, Key snapped his fingers. “You were not masturbating in front of the FBI!”
“In some woman’s pink silk robe, yes,” Jem agreed, his voice serious. “They didn’t know what the fuck to do, but they assumed they had some hotel freak who liked to wear women’s clothes and jack off to porn. It helped that I stole the CEO of some juice company’s room and ID card. So basically, they think he’s some crazy guy and they were way more worried about the plague. And then I helped to get the transplant nurse to the right hospital and now here we are. But the feds are still looking for us … us as in S8, and not Drea. Although I’m sure they’d be thrilled to have her as collateral.”
“Transplant nurse?” Gunner asked. “How did you get her to the right hospital, Jem?”
“I called the pilot who was supposed to take her by helo …”
“Because you just happened to have his number,” Key added.
“Numbers are easy to get when you break into the hospital system,” Jem said. “I did do this for a living. Anyway, with the whole medical craze, he was stuck in lots of traffic, so I figured I might as well help out, since I caused the mess.”
“So you stole a helo?” Gunner asked.
“I didn’t steal it. I flew it with the heart and the nurse to the right hospital.” He checked his phone. “She texted me to say the patient’s doing fine so far in surgery. No harm, no foul.”
“Except for the plague riot,” Drea said dryly.
“Oh, they found that was a hoax within half an hour,” Jem said. “I don’t fuck with doctors like that.”
Drea cleared h
er throat loudly and Jem added, “Much.”
“Jesus Christ, Jem,” Key muttered.
“And here you thought you were getting more like me,” Jem said to Key. “You’ve got a long way to go.”
Key shook his head. “I’m never wearing a pink robe and jerking off for the FBI.”
“You’ll eat those words one day,” Jem assured him. “And, Drea, I told you that I’d come get you.”
“I never doubted you,” she said, and the rest of the truck got quiet, the good kind of misty-eyed quiet. Until Key started muttering and cursing under his breath at Jem again.
Business as usual. And Jem definitely had her. Because no matter what the hell else happened, Drea had her memories back—and she still wanted him. Life was goddamned good from where he sat.
*
“The man stole a heart—he’s fucking certifiable.”
Even as he answered the CIA agent’s fuming, Ethan continued to stare at the laptop’s screen, where he’d been monitoring the day’s events. “Jem didn’t steal a heart—he got into the chopper with the transplant nurse delivering the heart and pretended he was the official pilot. And he can fly a helo. He took the heart exactly where it was supposed to go in record time—in fact, they were earlier than they would’ve been had they waited for the official pilot, and the transplant went very well, Clarke, so thanks for asking.” Ethan hit a few keys. “Patient’s in recovery.”
Clarke’s face was bright red, a vein popping in the middle of his forehead. “You know what? You’re as fucking delusional as S8 is. He stole a helo with a heart and flew a bunch of criminals away from the FBI.”
Ethan stared. “Are you pissed that they’re better than you?”
“What? No.”
“Because it sounds like you’re more angry that they escaped than you are with the fact that they’re wanted.”
“Ethan, if you want favors from me, do the fucking job I hired you for.”
“You know what, Clarke? We both need favors if you even have a hope that this could work out.”
Clarke looked ready to explode. He turned from Ethan toward the window, presumably to calm down, and Ethan remained outwardly impassive, all the while praying this massive gamble would pay off.
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