“I saw a good friend die and was helpless to stop it.” That much was true.
“Oh, Matteo.”
He stroked her hair, just to assure himself she was a part of his present and not his history. The dream and his past were so vivid it seemed as if the events had happened a few minutes ago instead of years. Once he opened his mouth, the words tumbled out…
* * * *
Sweat trickled between his shoulder blades, and Matteo rotated his head in an attempt to dislodge the moisture from the starched-white collar at his throat. The damn thing chafed.
He rolled his eyes heavenward and murmured an apology. The last thing he needed was to commit further sin while he was already tempting fate. Adjusting the heavy dark wool of the cleric’s robe, he straightened the hem and stretched his legs as far as the small closet would allow. The soles of his boots scraped the wooden walls in front of him. He shifted his weight on the unforgiving wood bench for the umpteenth time and prayed the parishioner in the next confessional would stop whining about his lust for his girlfriend and just marry her already.
Matteo smothered a chuckle, wondering if real priests felt the same way. Since he’d walked into this assignment thirteen weeks ago, his objective was to locate and destroy a particularly nasty bioweapon. Unfortunately, the diplomat and most of his entourage had been the first casualties of this weapon. A clear demonstration that a localized delivery system could work.
Now that it had, there were several black-market buyers who wanted this genetically engineered strain of combined Ebola and botulinum toxin. A bioweapon of this magnitude had the potential to wipe out small countries or seriously weaken larger ones.
The scary part about their method, as near as Matteo could figure, was that the chemical could be put into anything that could be used to spray into the air. So an inhaler, air freshener, hair spray—the possibilities were endless. With the number of places that used scents to entice shoppers or even people who used them in their homes these days, the devastation could be biblical. By the time some of the traditional symptoms of paralysis, fever, vomiting, and muscle weakness set in, it was too late. Even more disturbing was that when medical personnel tried their standard treatment, the chimera would evolve, becoming more resistant to the cure. He swiped sweat from his forehead with his sleeve, belatedly remembering he did have a handkerchief.
Matteo tuned in to what the parishioner was saying. He gritted his teeth. The man was sobbing. Sobbing. If he didn’t stop this now, he’d have to mop the confessional.
“Please calm yourself, my son.” Matteo blew out a breath. “All is not lost. It sounds as if you love this young woman of yours very much. Maybe you should ask her to become your wife and spend the rest of your lives together.”
A loud sniffle and noisy nose blowing filled the ensuing silence.
Matteo held his breath. Was the guy going for his suggestion?
“You really think so?”
“Didn’t you say she feels the same way about you?”
“Yes. I have the ring and everything. I’ll ask her today.”
“Very good. Make sure you bring her favorite flowers.”
“Thank you. Thank you, Father.” A creak and door slamming signaled that the man had left.
Matteo slouched against the back wall and slowly exhaled. Thank goodness that was over. Now his real work could begin. The door banged beside him, and the grate separating the two booths scraped open.
“We both know you’re not a real priest. May God have mercy on your soul,” a gravelly voice in heavily accented English said.
Matteo stiffened. This had to be his contact and hopefully not someone to kill him. He reached inside his vestments and removed his weapon. “I first need a soul for God to show mercy,” he replied and waited for the corresponding words.
The other man chuckled, a deep, rumbling laugh that sounded more like a bark than something a human would utter. “Mercy is for the penitent and weak. I am neither.”
Matteo returned his weapon to its holster and relaxed his shoulders. This was definitely his contact.
“I will have to disappear after this.” Material rustled and paper crinkled. Grimy, filthy fingers with broken and dirty nails appeared in the grate. “You must know that this weapon must never get out. The diplomat was just the beginning. There are rumors of the chimera being used here. I have the formula of the chimera, its location, and pictures of the buyers.” The fingers disappeared, and a small scroll of paper was shoved through one of the openings.
Matteo grasped the other end and finished pulling it through. The package wasn’t paper at all but a thumb drive. Matteo tugged up the hem of the robe, dug his tablet from one of the many hidden pockets, and plugged in the drive.
“That information wasn’t easy to come by. I barely got away with my life. Anyone with the slightest connection to that night is dead.”
The images scrolling across the small screen in living vivid color gave him pause. Despite the heat, a chill wiggled down his spine and settled in the pit of his stomach.
He knew the face of one of the buyers. The jagged scar crisscrossing the man’s cheek. Matteo did that just to get away from the man. He still sported the ragged white line in the palm of his hand from the fragment of glass he’d used to disfigure the assassin’s face. A faint click and a muttered curse had Matteo shoving the tablet in his pocket and peeking from the eyehole in the wall.
“Get out! Get out now.” Heeding his own advice, Matteo scrambled to wedge the wooden bench he’d sat on against the door. There was a back way out of the booth, if he could just find the damn metal ring to open the latch.
Noise erupted as the first screams almost drowned out the whine of too-loud firecrackers. Wood splintered near his face. He jerked on the metal ring and dived through the narrow opening.
Something hot snaked through his sleeve, but he kept moving. There was no way he was going to stop and assess the damage until he was far enough away from flying metal.
Bullets dogged his steps as he ran for cover. If he could make it to the communion table, he could access the trapdoor there and leave the church. A woman was crying while a more masculine voice tried to hush her, but Matteo didn’t stop. Just a few more feet. He took the wooden steps to the pulpit two at a time and leaped over the table as a couple more bullets lodged in the wood in front. At the sudden silence, he lifted his head. Both confessional doors were open. His contact and friend, an older man with sun-bleached white hair—a stark contrast to his deep walnut-colored skin—sat propped against the open door.
Blood and spittle ran from the corner of his mouth, and even from this distance Matteo could hear the wheezing that accompanied each raspy breath the man labored to take. He held a hand to a wound in his chest, his fingers clutching the soaked material in vain hopes of stemming the life draining from his body.
Matteo patted his pocket to make sure he still had the thumb drive and tablet. His mission was complete, but another was just beginning…
* * * *
“You were a spy?” came Randa’s breathless query.
He glanced down, realizing he’d said more than he should have, but he wouldn’t deny it now. “It was part of what I did in the military.”
“If you’d stayed, you’d have been killed as well.”
How often had he told himself the very same thing?
Randa touched his cheek, and he met her gaze. Compassion and understanding stared at him, and he nearly choked on the emotion clogging his throat. He caressed her face.
“You can’t repeat a word of what I’ve told you,” he murmured.
Her eyes slightly widened. “I wouldn’t breathe a word to anyone.” She shifted until she straddled his lap. “Thank you for trusting me with something so vital to you.”
He grasped her hips as the heat of her core bled through the thin barrier of the sheet. “I’ve never told anyone that.”
“I know.”
“You are the only woman who has ever made me fe
el safe. My life has been so chaotic and lonely. Having you and Lincoln as my family now scares me. I’m overwhelmed by your love, and I know my heart is safe with you.” He brushed the tear from her cheek. “I love you, Randa, and I would lay down my life for you.”
She pressed her lips to his. He accepted the soft, damp kisses, each one sweeter than the one before. When she leaned forward, he pulled the sheet from beneath her bottom and guided his throbbing cock between her damp folds.
He sighed into her mouth as she lowered onto him. As soon as she was seated, he grasped her hips and held her in place.
“Oh no. If you want to control this ride, then you need to be on top.” She moved his hands from her hips to her breasts.
“You always have too many damn clothes on at night,” he said with a growl.
“Then do something about it.”
He relished the challenge in her gaze. In one swift movement, she was beneath him, naked, her gown tangled around her arms. He brought them above her head and grinned.
“What was that about doing something?”
“And you do it so well.”
He studied the beautiful woman beneath him. Moonlight bathed her smooth skin in an ethereal glow. With reverence, he skimmed the swell of each breast before sucking each pert nipple in turn. They seemed to stand up and beg for more.
He continued his downward worship, stopping to pay homage to her voluptuous body. He had never liked skinny women. To have this curvy woman in his life and know she was his filled him with joy and humbled him.
Her body was a treasure trove of deliciousness. Every breathless little moan or hip thrust fanned his desire. She opened her legs; her scent, a heady blend of arousal and feminine musk, beckoned. Who was he to deny what she was willing to give and he desperately needed?
Matteo pushed her thighs wider and buried his face in her pussy. She tried to squirm away from his marauding mouth. He was having none of that and grasped her hips to keep her in place.
“I’m gonna come.”
He eased off her clit and chuckled when she gave a little shriek.
“No,” she wailed.
“We have so much further to go tonight,” he promised, lifted his head, and met her bright gaze. Her eyes were hot with passion and wanting. For him.
Never had any woman looked at him the way Randa did. Nor had he experienced such love or acceptance as he had at her hand. Whatever he had to do to make her happy and keep her safe, he would. Words could not express the depth of his emotions, but he could show her with his body.
THERE WAS SOMETHING different in his lovemaking. Each caress exuded such reverence he seemed to memorize her curves. Randa could only marvel at the stark adoration burning in his dark eyes, the desire etched in his face. Raw, unadulterated love. For her. All for her.
She shifted on the bed, wiggling her arms to free them from her tangled gown. The need to touch him was overwhelming. He rose above her. A wolfish smile twisted his lips, and he gathered both her wrists in one hand.
“I want you just like this.”
“But I want to touch you.”
“We have the same thought, yet I like you just like this.” He moved until he was once more wedged between her thighs.
She wiggled her hips until his erection rubbed against her clit. “Mmm.”
“That does feel good,” he agreed. “How about this?”
Slowly and easily, he entered her. She closed her eyes, savoring that moment of oneness of him filling her and making her whole. Inch by slow inch. She arched against him, relishing the way he pinned her to the bed. She was totally at his mercy, and she loved it.
Once they were pelvis to pelvis, he withdrew, leaving her bereft until his quick return. Gone was her slow lover, and in his place was wild abandon. His strokes were deep and sure, driving her to the brink and leaving her hovering on the edge.
He leaned back slightly, tossing her legs over his arms. He slanted forward to grasp her arms once more. His pelvis brushed her clit with each thrust. She was slipping toward her orgasm and not sure how much longer she could hold on.
“Come for me, baby.”
Those were the sweetest words she’d heard, and she embraced the flames licking at her core. She arched against him, and her world imploded. He covered her mouth with his, muffling her scream in a soul-stealing kiss. Her orgasm crashed over and through her, tugging her under, holding her captive in its tumultuous wave, then releasing her in a buoyant ripple of ecstasy.
Her muscles clamped around the hard cock moving inside her. He thrust so hard the headboard hit the wall with each stroke. She came again, dragging him with her. His guttural shout filled her with joy. He released her and collapsed on top of her.
Tiny aftershocks wracked her body with each ragged breath Randa drew. His weight was comforting, and she breathed in his scent—a combination of them, sweat, and maleness. She worked her arms free and held him close. For the first time since she’d embraced a polyamorous lifestyle, she truly felt complete.
Chapter Five
Randa stood at the kitchen counter. She rolled a pretzel rod back and forth on the surface. Several pretzels lay broken and scattered as a warning to what would happen to the unlucky chosen snack.
Ever since the ménage, Lincoln had been distant. Only a few days had passed since that blissful event, one she wanted to repeat, but while he was on the road, they hadn’t spoken or texted as much as usual. At first she thought his withdrawal was due to their conversation about Matteo, but there was something else.
When a hand closed over hers, she looked up into dark chocolate eyes. Concern shadowed Matteo’s irises.
“You’ve turned that poor pretzel into crumbs. If I were making pork chops, this would be perfect.” He smirked.
She glanced down. Indeed there was a pile of broken pretzels and bits on the counter in front of her, the bowl beside them nearly empty. She moved to clear the counter, and he shackled her wrist.
“What’s wrong?”
Randa shrugged. How did she convey the jumble of emotions roiling through her? “It seems like nothing and everything.”
Matteo moved behind her, caging her between his body and the counter—something he’d done many times before when she was too overwhelmed to articulate her feelings.
Randa closed her eyes and leaned into him. His strong chest met her back, and all the uncertainty she struggled with faded. This was one of the things she loved about Matteo. He never rushed her when she had something on her mind, instead offering comfort and patience until she could gather her thoughts.
She inhaled a steadying breath and slowly exhaled. “Linc’s acting a little strange,” she finally said. “I asked him about it, but he says it’s nothing. I even asked Jacqui. She has no clue.
“And I ran into Lincoln’s ex, Selena. She had a little girl with her.” She tipped her head back to stare into his face. “Here’s this sweet little thing, friendly, who is afraid of her own mother. How can someone leave a child alone in the toy department? Doesn’t Selena know there are monsters in the world?”
“Is that what’s bothering you?”
She looked away, unable to bear the weight of empathy in his gaze.
“What did she say to you?” He wrapped his arms around her, held her tight, and nuzzled her ear.
“ ‘At least I have a baby,’” she whispered. Randa closed her eyes against the burning tears. She would not cry. She would not let those words affect her any more than they had. Not being able to give Lincoln a child left a void she could often overlook. She thought about broaching the subject of adoption, but anytime she brought up kids, he assured her that his life was full enough without them. Still…
Matteo cinched her closer. “Have you mentioned this to Lincoln?”
She shook her head.
“If I could change the past and give you back something so precious and what you so richly deserve, I would. Just know that whenever the time is right, you’ll make a wonderful mother.”
&nbs
p; Those words soothed as nothing else could. She settled in Matteo’s embrace and allowed the hurt to whittle away while she listened to the strong thu-thunk of his heart.
“What are you thinking?”
She glanced up at him. “Of making an appointment with a fertility specialist. If there’s even a remote chance I can get pregnant, I want to take it.”
He smoothed her hair from her face. “Whatever you decide, I’ll support you one hundred percent.”
She rose on tiptoes and brushed her lips to his.
“Something else is bothering you,” he said after a while.
“Lincoln’s behavior. He’s been off or distant since our ménage.”
“Did you want me to check into it? It’s probably stuff with the agency he doesn’t want to worry you about. I know I’ve been spending a lot of time helping out. Seems like every bond we’ve issued in the last three months, the holders have skipped town.”
Matteo had a point. Between Lincoln being out of town and his workload, anything was possible. That still didn’t fully explain why he was acting so off. She still wasn’t convinced it was work or him being jealous.
“I promise I’ll check it out. Since he asked me to cover the late shift tonight, I’ll start there.” He turned her to face him. “Will you be okay without me?”
She nodded. “You’ll be home later, so I won’t get too lonely.”
“We could always get you a dog.”
She chuckled. “I’m allergic, but thanks. I’ll be fine.”
He kissed the tip of her nose. “Then don’t wait up for me.” He held her gaze. “I will find out what he’s hiding.”
In that instant Randa realized Matteo would do anything to see her happy. She smiled, and then it faded. “Do you like doing that? I mean uncovering people’s secrets?”
Matteo looked at a point beyond her shoulder. “It was my job, and I was very good at it. I didn’t like the danger aspect of it. Always being on edge or staying away from death squads and assassins. Never being able to put down any real roots or have an honest relationship…”
Sex, Lies, and Joysticks Page 5
