Perilous Trust

by Barbara Freethy

  Damon let her have her way for a minute, but then he pushed her back and stood up.

  She stared at him in shock, unable to believe he was really saying no.

  Then he grabbed her hands and pulled her to her feet.

  "If we're going to do this, we're going to do it right," he said.

  She shivered at the promise in his words.

  He led her up the stairs, and into Jamie's room.

  She had a second thought as she saw her old friend's things. "Uh, Damon, I don't know about this room…"

  "One second," Damon said, going into Jamie's bathroom. He flicked the light on, then off, and came back with a condom. "I saw this earlier. Only one. We better make it good."

  "Not here," she said.

  "No," he agreed, as she led him out of the room and across the hall into a guest bedroom. She didn't want any memories besides the ones they would make tonight.

  With moonlight streaming through a skylight, throwing the room in dark shadows, she went into Damon's arms.

  His kiss showed none of the reluctance he'd expressed earlier. It was hungry, impatient, demanding, and she matched him in every single emotion. There was nothing but now…no worries for tomorrow, no regrets for yesterday—just this moment, this man.

  Damon set her senses on fire. He was the flame and she was the moth, and she didn't care if she got burned. She was all in.

  His mouth left her lips and slid along her jaw down the side of her neck. Her nerves tingled with the sensuous trail of delight. His hands crept under her top, his rough-edged fingers drawing goose bumps from every patch of skin he touched.

  "I want to see you," Damon whispered, as he pulled her top over her head. Then his fingers were on the front clasp of her bra. He pulled the edges apart, baring her breasts to his hungry gaze. She shrugged the bra off her shoulders while his mouth closed over one nipple. She threw back her head in delight, as he teased and tormented first one breast, then the next.

  His mouth moved lower, his hands now working on getting her out of her leggings and panties, and she was more than willing to help him; she wanted him naked, too.

  "You need to catch up," she said, feeling a little shy in her nakedness with Damon still fully dressed.

  "I'm there," he said with a smile, pulling off his shirt and kicking off his jeans.

  She wished she had more light to see him, but what she did see made her swallow hard. He was a beautifully made man: broad shoulders, lean torso, ripped abs, just the right amount of sexy, dark hair, and a body that was made for hers.

  They pulled each other down on the bed, kissing, tasting, touching...

  The memories of the one night they'd shared together came rushing back, but this time was even better—more passionate, more reckless, more adventurous, more loving…

  She didn’t want to say the L word, much less think it, but as she and Damon came together, she felt the deepest kind of emotional connection, built not just on passion but also on trust. This man was in her heart, in her soul. She could feel him everywhere. She didn't try to fight the feelings. She reveled in them.

  Because who knew what tomorrow would bring?

  They had tonight, and she would make the most of it.

  * * *

  He'd definitely complicated what was already a bad situation. He'd done everything he shouldn't have done. He'd given in to feelings instead of sticking with logic.

  But as Damon gazed at the beautiful, naked woman snuggled up next to him in bed, strands of her blonde, silky hair covering his chest, he didn't have one single regret.

  It might be the wrong time, wrong place, but Sophie was absolutely right.

  He'd never felt so in sync with a woman, so desperate to know each sweet inch of her, to please her in every possible way. And it seemed as if Sophie had felt exactly the same way.

  They'd been reckless the first time they'd met. They'd come together out of sadness.

  But this time, the recklessness had come with a better knowledge of each other, a more complex desire, a deeper caring. It was unsettling, a little terrifying, and it wasn't because he couldn't leave her in the morning; it was because he didn't want to.

  Sophie had gotten into his head, under his skin. She was in every breath he took. She'd become his first waking thought and also his last. He wanted to tell himself that the danger of the situation was heightening the feelings, but he knew that wasn't the whole truth. He might not have called Sophie in four years, but that didn't mean he'd stopped thinking about her. She'd always been there; he'd just put her out of reach, kept his eye on the ball in front of him. But now she was in front of him and behind him and next to him—everywhere he was. And it still didn't seem close enough.

  He was overwhelmed again with a compelling need to have her. It wasn't just her face and body that were beautiful; it was her. It was her spirit, her courage, her curiosity, her loyalty in the face of all odds.

  If he did do love, she'd be his first choice.

  But he quickly reminded himself that love was a one-way street, a one-way ticket to eventual pain. Maybe a few couples made it, but not many, and usually not without a lot of compromise.

  As her body shifted against his, he couldn't help wondering if the journey might be worth it, even if the eventual outcome was bad.

  But that wasn't very logical. Why set himself up for a fall when he could avoid one altogether?

  Because it was Sophie…Because if there was ever a time to break one of his rules, it might be now.

  "It's going to be okay," Sophie said, her voice cutting through his turbulent thoughts. She lifted her head off his chest to look at him, and he could see the gleam of understanding in her eyes. "I can feel the tension coming back. You're thinking too much, Damon. Not a very good role model for staying in the moment," she teased.

  He couldn't help but smile at the reminder. "Do what I say, not what I do."

  "It's not morning yet," she added. "We still have the night shadows to play around in, before we have to face reality."

  "As tempting as that is, I don't have any more condoms."

  "So, let's do some other stuff," she said with a wicked smile. "I have a few ideas."

  "You do, huh?"

  "I do," she said, meeting his gaze. "We still have a little time before the sun comes up, and I feel like we should use the time well. Because…well, because we don't know what's coming next."

  He brushed a strand of hair off her face—her beautiful face. She was an angel and no angel should have to deal with the hell they were running from. Unfortunately, her father had sold his soul to the devil and now Sophie was fighting for her life.

  "I know what's coming next. It's this," he said, pulling her face down so he could kiss her again.

  She gave him a look of pure happiness, and the defenses he'd built up over many, many years began to crumble.

  Love had almost broken him as a child, and years of losing military friends in war and his best friend to an FBI mission had continued the shredding of his heart. He truly did not think he had much left to give her, and she deserved more, so much more.

  But denying her what she wanted…what he wanted seemed impossible.

  "Damon, stop worrying," she said, giving him a hard look. "That’s supposed to be my job. We already agreed that tonight is just about you and me—no past, no future, just now. That's all I want."

  Unfortunately, he wanted a whole lot more, and that's what he was really worried about. But he wasn't stupid enough to say no to Sophie's offer. He'd deal with the fallout later. In the meantime, he'd do his best to make her as happy as he could.

  Seventeen

  He was gone—again.

  Sophie sighed as she rolled over on her side and stared at the very empty other side of the bed. She could still see the imprint of Damon's head on the pillow. She could smell the musky scent of his skin on the sheets. But he wasn't there, and she really shouldn't have expected that he would be.

  She'd told him no promises, no regrets,
and she'd meant it, but she still wished she could have woken up in his arms. But she was alone, and the house felt really quiet.

  Sitting up in bed, she told herself this was not like before. There was no way Damon would leave her alone in the house. He wouldn't abandon her—at least not while she was in danger.

  After this was over…well, everything would change then. But whether or not she and Damon would ever get together again was probably the last thing she should be worrying about.

  She got up, gathered her clothes together, and then walked across the hall to the guest bathroom. She wanted to look for Damon, but she needed to get her head together first.

  During a long, hot shower, she gave herself the luxury of reliving a few of the night's best moments. She knew Damon liked her, that the attraction between them was off the charts, but she also knew that he was afraid of love, of needing someone, of thinking about a relationship in terms of forever.

  His parents had done a number on his head, and she could understand why he'd be gun-shy. But she would never hurt him. How could she? She was in love with him.

  The realization shocked her as well as the knowledge that she'd probably been in love with him the past four years; she just hadn't wanted to admit she'd been stupid enough to fall for a one-night stand.

  But her love would scare Damon, so she wasn't about to share her feelings with him. He wouldn't want the burden of her emotions, and things would get awkward, and now wasn't the time for any of that.

  She turned down the heat on the water, letting the cool spray tamp down her heated emotions.

  Damon would no doubt have his guard walls back in place by the time she got downstairs, and she needed to put on her own armor.

  By the time she had blow-dried her hair and scoured through Cassie's closet for a pair of jeans and a knit top, she was feeling ready to take on the day.

  She found Damon in the kitchen. He had also apparently found different clothes in Jamie's room, putting on a light blue T-shirt and a pair of jeans that, of course, made him look sexy as hell. And just like that, all her resolve went out the window.

  Why did he have to look so good? Why did she have to want him so much? Shouldn't last night have kept her going for a while? But being with him hadn't diminished her need; it had increased it.

  Damon looked up from whatever he was making on the stove. He started to smile, but there must have been something in her expression to put him off. He turned down the burner and then crossed the room, hauling her into his arms for a hot, scorching kiss that made a mockery of all her plans to just move on and let the night fade into the back of her mind.

  "Good morning," he said, finally stepping away from her.

  "It is now," she said a little breathlessly. "But I thought we weren't going to take the night into today."

  "That was the plan, but when I look at you, plans seem to go out the window."

  She liked that she had that effect on him, liked it even more that he'd admitted it.

  "Come and sit down," he said. "Breakfast is ready."

  "It smells good. What is it?"

  "Oatmeal with extra cinnamon."

  "That's perfect."

  "I don't know about perfect, but it will keep us going for a while."

  "I need to call Cassie and Vincent." She glanced at the clock. It was only seven a.m., but it was afternoon in Paris. "Maybe I'll do that after I eat."

  "Good idea. We can talk about what you want to say." Damon pulled two bowls out of the cabinet and filled each one up with oatmeal.

  She grabbed spoons out of the drawer, and they sat down at the table together to eat. "This is delicious. You really are a wizard in the kitchen. You're not so bad in the bedroom, either," she added lightly.

  He gave her a wicked grin. "I'm good in a few other rooms as well."

  She appreciated the comeback, happy that there wasn't awkward tension between them. "So, we're okay?" she asked tentatively.

  "I'm good. You?"

  "I'm good, too," she said, meeting his gaze.

  "We don't need to talk about anything?"

  "Only what we're going to do to evade capture and find out what happened to my dad. I do have an idea."

  "Well, don't keep it to yourself."

  She got up and walked over to the suitcase that was still on the floor. She opened it, inwardly wincing once again at the sight of all the money, and then pulled out the fake IDs and returned to the table. "I noticed yesterday that both sets of IDs have the same address. It's in Brooklyn. I wonder if it means anything."

  Damon took the IDs out of her hand and perused them. "Interesting. Could be an empty lot or just a fake address."

  "It could be, but it doesn't feel like my dad would have just pulled something out of a hat. He obviously had some plan in mind."

  Damon pulled out his phone. "Let me look up the address on the map."

  She sat down and finished the last of her oatmeal as he did that.

  "I've got a satellite image. It looks like an apartment building." He lifted his gaze from the phone. "We could check it out. But it means going back to New York."

  "I don't feel like New York is any more dangerous than any other place right now."

  "Good point. It might actually be safer. No one would expect you to come back to the city. I like it." He paused, giving her an approving look. "I didn't even pay attention to the address on the IDs. I should have. Nice job, Sophie."

  She smiled under his praise. "I was looking at them yesterday while you were hiding out in the house waiting for the cleaners to leave, but then I forgot when I got caught up in the snake tattoo."

  "We wouldn't have wanted to go yesterday anyway. Things were too hot." He paused. "This could be your dad's safe house in the city."

  A chill ran through her. "I kind of hope it isn't, because so far my dad's secret places have not worked out too well for us. Maybe we shouldn't go."

  "Or," he said, a glint in his eyes…"Maybe we shouldn't go alone."

  She read his mind. "You want to ask your friends to help?"

  "I do. But it's up to you. We're in this together."

  The thought of bringing more people into the situation was both tempting and worrisome. She didn't know Bree and Wyatt, but Damon did. If she trusted him, she had to trust them. "If you think it's a good idea, I won't say no."

  "I'll send a message. Then you can call Cassie."

  She nodded, feeling a nervous tingle run through her. Was calling Cassie and Vincent still a good idea? What information could they possibly have that might help? And even though Vincent had been retired for years, he was still former FBI. Would he have some allegiance to Peter Hunt? She didn't think Karen Leigh had been there when Vincent worked for the Bureau, but she had no idea if Vincent had kept in touch with anyone.

  Still, it was possible Vincent could shed some light on her father's actions. They had remained friends after Vincent retired. He might be able to give her a lead.

  Damon slid the phone across the table to her. "Your turn."

  "Is calling them too big of a risk? Do you think Vincent will have information we can use?"

  He shrugged. "I have no idea. The call could be valuable, worthless, or could create more problems for us."

  She frowned. "That's not very helpful."

  He thought for a moment. "If you keep it short, say as little as possible, ask more questions than you answer, it's probably worth hearing what Vincent has to say, if he's been in touch with Peter or anyone else."

  She nodded. "Okay, that makes sense. I must admit that it feels strange to be worried about calling people I've known since I was a little girl."

  "It's good to be worried. Right now, we can't afford to let down our guard for a second."

  She nodded, then punched in Cassie's number and put the speaker on.

  Her friend answered a moment later. "Hello?"

  "It's Sophie," she said, feeling a little less tense at the sound of Cassie's voice. "Are you with your dad?"

 
; "We're in the car. I'm going to put you on speaker, okay?"

  "Is there anyone else with you?"

  "Just me and my dad," Cassie said. "We're driving to the Loire Valley to drink some wine. Are you okay? Are you safe?"

  "I'm hanging in there," she replied, feeling wistful for father-daughter trips like the one Cassie was on.

  "Hello, Sophie," Vincent said in his deep baritone voice. "I'm very glad that you're all right. I've been extremely worried about you."

  "Well, I'm in quite a bit of trouble."

  "How can I help you?"

  "What do you know about my dad's death? Have you spoken to anyone at the FBI?"

  "Yes. I've spoken to Peter several times."

  She shot Damon a quick look, then said, "What did Peter tell you?"

  "That your apartment was broken into and that you ran up to the lake, where someone took a shot at you. He said you're with Damon Wolfe—Jamie's friend. Are you still with him?"

  She swallowed a knot in her throat as Damon shook his head. "No, I'm not," she lied. "I got scared, and I ran from him, too. I don't know who to trust."

  "Let me arrange to get you out of town."

  "I'm all right where I am at the moment. What I really need to know is what you think happened to my dad. Did my father tell you he was in trouble?"

  There was a short pause on the other end of the line.

  "A few weeks ago," Vincent said, "Alan told me that he had some significant financial problems. I asked if I could help, and he said he had it under control, but I could see that he was quite worried. Unfortunately, he didn't go into further detail. After talking to Peter, I suspect Alan may have borrowed money from the wrong person, possibly someone in one of the criminal organizations he was involved bringing to justice."

  Her heart sank at Vincent's words. "Do you really believe he would break the law because he was in debt?"

  "I don't want to believe it, Sophie, but Peter told me he thought there was a leak at the Bureau, and Alan was at the top of his list. It didn't make sense to me. Alan was the straightest shooter I've ever known. And I would have given him the last dollar I had; all he had to do was ask," Vincent said, his voice laced with sadness.