My stomach tightens. “What?” My hands clutch the pad in my lap, and then I press it to my chest as I think about what he said.
“We don’t choose our targets. We take orders from the government, and they tell us who to kill and who to keep alive.” His head turns, and he opens his eyes.
He’s speaking in the present tense, and I’m beginning to wonder if Cade’s suspicions about Owen are right. Is he still connected to the government?
“Life isn’t all sugar and sweet tea, love. If anyone should get that, it’s you.”
My head butts against the back of the chair.
Would rescuing my mom be enough for me? If she’s alive, that is . . .
I’d want payback. I’m pretty sure I’d be comfortable with blood on my hands if it meant retribution for my mom and all those taken.
My hands tremble as I release my grip on the sketchpad and look at my fingers, wondering if I’m capable of being a murderer, like my father.
“Hey, you okay?” Owen reaches over, and his fingers wrap around my forearm.
“Uh, yeah. I think I’d better get some sleep. It’s been a long day.”
He nods. “Maybe we’ll know more tomorrow.”
“I hope so.” I leave the beer outside and head for the house with the sketchpad in hand. “Thank you for everything,” I say before going inside.
I slide the door closed, watching Owen slouch back in his seat, when Cade’s voice flows over my skin, making the hairs on my neck stand.
“How are you?”
“As good as can be, I guess.” When I face him, he’s leaning against the column that serves as part of the entrance to the kitchen area. “How’s your sister?”
“She’s fine.”
“Good.”
There’s a weird awkwardness that fills the room, and I’m swimming in a sea of uncertainty.
“I’m gonna go to bed.” I stop at the base of the stairs, my heart climbing up into my throat, but my feet remain firmly in place.
The wood floor creaks behind me, and my eyes fall shut as the air seems to shift and grow warmer the closer he gets.
I don’t think either of us is in the mood to have sex after today, and yet, little pulses shoot down my core and between my thighs.
“I shouldn’t want you right now,” he murmurs into my ear, and a rush of air escapes my lips.
His fingers glide down my arm, evoking chills. He takes the sketchpad and gently sets it on the first step.
“I’d love to draw you some day.” He could inspire an entire collection of paintings.
“Me?” A quick and low rumble of laughter from his chest moves straight through my back.
I try to shift around to see him, to let him know I’m serious, but he ropes a hand around my abdomen, holding me tight against him.
In response, I shift my hips in a circular motion, as much as his grip will allow.
The idea of Owen coming in and catching us almost turns me on even more. I never knew I could be like this, but I’m beginning to realize I’m not as innocent as I’ve tried to convince myself all these years.
“You.” He grunts out the word. “Upstairs. Now.”
I chuckle as I maneuver an arm free from the caged position and grip hold of his side—trying to bring our bodies even closer together.
“What’d I say?” His voice is deep, commanding, and almost chilling.
“Mm. You need to let go of me, then.”
His hand shifts beneath my T-shirt and up my stomach, and his fingers pluck the material of my bra out of the way before he pinches me, twisting my nipple. It’s a strange combination of both pleasure and pain. I sink my teeth into my bottom lip and close my eyes, growing wetter by the second.
A coolness sweeps over my skin when Cade drops his hands and steps back so I can ascend the stairs.
Without wasting time, I rip off my T-shirt and toss it over my shoulder as I dash away.
A few seconds later I jump onto my bed like we’re about to have one of those slumber parties I always wished I had friends for—not that I’d ever let them come to my house of horror.
I clutch a pillow to my now naked chest, the bra having come off the moment I entered the room and turned on the light.
He’s standing in the doorway, hands in his pockets, and he’s studying me with brows raised. “A pillow fight?” He laughs. “You know I’d win.”
“Have you been in one before?”
He looks up at the ceiling out of the corner of his eyes in thought. “This would be a first.”
“For me, too.” I drop the pillow so he can look at my breasts, hoping he’ll do whatever that thing was he was doing downstairs to my nipples that made me lose my mind.
“Maybe we skip it, though,” I suggest.
He closes the door and peels off his shirt. “Agreed.”
I follow his strong hands as they start at the button of his jeans.
His rippled muscles, tight abdomen, and the sexy V above his hip bones . . . I wet my lips in anticipation.
“But first, I want to try something I’ve never done before.”
“Haven’t we done almost everything already?” He’s standing naked in front of the bed, and I crouch down and jump off the bed.
He faces me and smiles, and I point to his hard cock. “I’ve never . . . you know.”
He arches a brow and reaches for my denim and slowly shoves my pants and underwear down until they drop to my ankles.
“The thing is—right now, I’d like a tasting of my own.” He gently nudges me onto the bed and on my back.
He kneels before me, lifts my legs to rest on his shoulders, and positions his mouth near my center.
“I never did get a chance to give you that morning-after cure.”
I jerk at the soft lick of his tongue on my flesh. “Mm. You’re right. Don’t let me stop you then.”
A soft vibration from a light laugh tickles me, and my legs tighten. I fight back the impulse to moan too loud.
But then I decide—fuck it.
I am who I am. No sense hiding behind a lie anymore.
Sinner or saint? I’m beginning to think that, when I’m with Cade, I can be both.
And so, I scream his name as I come, as I let loose and let go, so damn thankful that Cade King walked into my life when he did.
He set me free.
But he also woke me up.
17
Gia
“One of these days, you’re going to give me a heart attack.” Cade’s voice is a husky whisper as he drags out his words.
I press the back of my hand to my lips, stifling a chuckle. I love making this man lose his mind with only my mouth.
He runs his fingers through his whiskey-brown hair, smiles, and tugs me up off the ground. We both fall onto the bed.
Our naked and sweaty bodies press together, and I grind against him, unable to help myself whenever we’re in this position.
His irises are darker than normal, more like a mix of titanium and midnight blue.
“We should probably leave this room at some point.” He brushes a hand down the side of my cheek.
I close my eyes and lower my face so our noses touch. “Do we have to?”
“Trust me, I’ve loved doing nothing but you for almost two days straight.”
Two days of sitting around waiting for news from Jessica could have been as exciting as watching paint dry, but luckily for me, Cade has kept my mind busy. Well, more like my body.
I guess we should get some air, though.
I huff and push off his hard chest, but he catches me by the elbows, yanks me back down, and kisses me.
I moan against his mouth. Every time we kiss, I feel like it’s our first, like it’ll always be special.
“Now you can get up,” he says a minute later, after having turned my body to a sack of mush with that skilled tongue of his.
I finally stand, and he props an arm up behind his head.
I look at the ink there, remembering the w
oman he lost. “You, uh, want to join me in the shower?”
“You know what would happen if I did. We’d be up here for the rest of the day. And as much as I like that idea, you need to eat something.” He smiles. “Energy, remember?”
I laugh. “Yes, sir.” I start for the bathroom and purposely sway my hips to give him the view of my ass I worked damn hard to get with years of yoga.
I peek over my shoulder at him, and he’s the one biting his lip this time.
“You really don’t want to eat, do you?” He grins, his eyes darkening even more. “Get over here.”
* * *
Night turns into morning, and when I wake, Cade’s not in bed. I’ve discovered something since our arrival in Cuba. When I’m with Cade, I could paint a freaking rainbow, but when he’s not around, a chill sets into my bones.
After getting dressed, I go downstairs to find the guys, but I don’t see them.
There’s a faint noise coming from the other side of the house, so I wander down the hall, searching them out.
I soon hear, “You’re not a soldier. You can’t take the goddamn traffickers on yourself.” Owen’s voice reverberates through the hall. It sounds like he’s in the weapons room.
I edge closer, then hang back outside the door to listen. I’m afraid they’ll end their conversation if they hear me, but since I’ve spent ten years eavesdropping unseen, I’m a bit of an expert at it.
But they wouldn’t have left the door cracked open if they were trying to keep something from me, right?
“And if you’re not going to do it, I have to. I promised Gia.”
“The case is in government hands. There’s nothing we can do right now. I’m sorry.”
“What?” I yank the door all the way open.
Cade’s standing in front of the weapons wall with his hands on his hips.
“What’s going on?” I confront Owen and cross my arms.
“Well.” Owen wraps a hand around the back of his neck and looks at Cade for a brief moment before directing his focus back to me. There’s something off about him. He’s super tense in his stance, and there are dark circles under his eyes as if he hasn’t slept all night.
“Whatever you’re about to say, it had better not have to do with my mother.” I steal a glimpse of the open laptop on the table behind Owen, noticing a map of Brazil on-screen. “What the hell is going on?”
“He’s about to tell you that we can’t go after her.”
My gaze snaps across the room to Cade’s eyes and then to his now downturned mouth—his words having all but chewed and spat out my heart.
“It’s complicated,” Owen says, and when I look at him, he takes a slow, steady breath, as if he’s attempting to suppress his anger. “You should sit down.”
I stand firm. “I’m good.”
Owen heads to the computer and taps at the keys, enlarging the map of my country. “You familiar with TBA? The triborder area?”
“What of it?” I ask. Cade comes up behind me, placing a hand on my shoulder as if what I’m about to hear will require his support.
“This area”—Owen touches the screen—“is where the borders of Paraguay, Argentina, and Brazil meet, and it’s basically a melting pot of terrorist assholes. From Hezbollah to al Qaeda—you name it, they’re there. The terrorists work with a lot of the local criminals in the region to smuggle and traffic everything from arms and drugs to people abroad.” He taps at the computer and changes it to a split screen of two people.
“Who am I looking at?” I rub my hands together now.
“That man,” Owen says, while pointing to a tan guy with brown hair in his mid-fifties, “is Carlos Perozo.”
My eyes lock on the man on-screen, the brother of the man who purchased my mother as if she were a piece of property. The mere thought has my insides shaking as a bubble of nausea rises into my throat.
“And this man is El Said Hassan. The government has been after him for fourteen years, ever since we learned he was responsible for the killing of American soldiers in Beirut.”
And there it is again—the strain in Owen’s throat, the bulging of veins there. He’s about two seconds away from blowing a fuse as if this is all personal for him.
“Okay,” I drag out the word, but I’m still not comprehending where he’s going with all of this.
“Thanks to you, since we looked into Carlos, we discovered there might be a direct link between him and Hassan. If we can track the next shipment from Carlos to Lebanon, we might be able to get a location on Hassan.”
“And by shipment, you mean people?” I gulp.
Owen’s eyes are like a glassy stare, and I can no longer get a read on him. I can only see a reflection of myself there.
“Probably.” He scratches at his forehead. “The US has been monitoring the situation in Brazil. Hezbollah is always changing who they work with in that region, though.”
“Hezbollah,” I repeat in a daze.
“Yeah, the terror organization linked to Hassan.”
I look back at Cade, trying to get a read on him, but I only see remorse. Remorse, because he’s going to break his promise.
“And Carlos is currently working with them?” I face Owen again.
“Yeah, but chances are it won’t be for long. And this is a good lead for the military. We need to act now,” Owen says, his voice wavering.
“We?” Cade releases my shoulder and comes around next to me. “You say we like you’re still government.” He lets out a tsk noise. “Like you never stopped being military.”
Owen’s lips flatten, and his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat.
Cade stabs a finger at the air. “I trusted you and Jessica to help, not to turn this into something else.”
“And we’re going to help you. We are who we said we are. I work at Scott and Scott Securities. But—”
“And where else?” Rage cuts through Cade’s voice.
“That’s classified.”
“Fuck classified. I paid you to protect Gia, and that’s exactly what I expect to happen. You had no business reporting what you found out to the government. Not right now, at least.” He curses beneath his breath and pauses for a moment, processing the news like I am. “But Christ, you’re still government, and so . . .” His voice trails off for a moment. “That’s how you guys managed to get us here and how Jessica manages to waltz into federal offices, isn’t it? Is the company a front for something?”
“First”—Owen takes a step toward Cade—“I’m not about to let some terrorist motherfucker, who killed soldiers, continue to breathe.” His chest inflates, and then he exhales a long breath through his nose. “And second, you hired us to take down Rory, and that’s exactly what we plan on doing. None of us could have predicted this would happen.” He glowers at me. “Maybe if she had told us about the traffickers sooner, we could have come up with a different plan.”
“Don’t even think about blaming Gia,” Cade grates outs, almost in Owen’s face now. “I always wondered why you, Luke, and a bunch of SEALs would end your careers after only eight years. It never made sense to me, but now it does, because you never left.” Cade’s face hardens. He’s wearing the look of someone betrayed. He pivots on his heel to face the display of weapons, probably worried he might throw a punch at his friend.
God, I’m burning inside, too, and I want to speak up, but the tension is so tight. I’m worried that if I add more gas to the fire, the room will explode.
“I’m not a SEAL. But what I am is—”
“Classified,” Cade mutters, and if I could see his face, I’d bet there’d be an eye roll.
“Let me be very clear: you cannot go after Carlos. If he gets spooked and the shipment to Lebanon doesn’t happen, we could lose our chance to find Hassan.” He drags a hand down his face and looks at me.
“How do you know for certain Hassan will even be there?” Cade counters. “If the military has been after him for so long, do you really think you’d be able to find him so go
ddamn easy now? Give me a fucking break. I may not be military, but even I know this is a pretty big gamble.”
Owen doesn’t say anything, maybe because Cade has a point and he doesn’t want to admit it.
Cade faces him again and releases a heavy sigh. “But you’re willing to take the risk, aren’t you? You’re willing to try and find this guy and potentially blow our chances of finding out what happened to Gia’s mom.”
“We have to take the chance.” Owen looks at the ground, his voice somewhat calmer now when he says, “Maybe we can confront Carlos and see what he knows about your mom after the op.”
I shake my head, finally joining in on the conversation. “It could be too late. I can’t wait any longer. I’ve already waited ten years.”
“It’s that or nothing,” Owen says.
A discomfort I can’t shake remains in the pit of my stomach. “What’s going to happen to the women and children being trafficked to Lebanon? When the US goes after this terrorist, will they also save the innocents? What happens to the victims? To the people like my mom?”
Owen presses his palms on the desk next to the laptop, bowing his head. He doesn’t have to answer because I already know. The mission will be about the terrorist and no one else.
“Remember the story you told me—yeah, well, I do.” My hand touches my midsection. “What if it were your mom?” I ask softly a moment later.
“And what if it were your brother who Hassan killed?” Owen’s words slice right through me, and now I know why he’s so off.
“Hassan is the guy responsible for his death?” Cade’s mouth goes slack in disbelief.
It feels like an eternity before Owen looks at us. “No. We still haven’t caught the SOB who killed Jason, but Hassan killed someone’s son, someone’s brother. And he deserves a coffin so deep, it’ll put him right next to the devil, right where he belongs.”
My breathing becomes shakier, the compassion for Owen’s loss conflicting with my own desire.
This terrorist may not be who killed his brother, but I’m betting every mission involving a terrorist is personal for him.
“We’re all after our own little piece of revenge, aren’t we? In this messed-up world, we’re trying to right the wrongs.” My voice breaks and Cade is back at my side, my personal protector.
My Every Breath Page 15
