by Tiffany Snow
I lay down in the bed, but I couldn’t sleep. Didn’t want to sleep. I wanted Devon, but didn’t know what he needed. Did he need space? Did he need me, but didn’t want to put pressure on me? I had no idea.
Time passed as I watched the hands of the clock moving inexorably onward. My worry started as a kernel of concern, growing larger with each passing moment until I could no longer lie there waiting for him.
Just then, the hotel room phone rang. I snatched it up without a second thought. It was Beau.
“Can you come down to the hotel bar?” he asked without any preliminaries. “Devon . . . well, just come down, okay?”
I said I was on my way and hung up. Grabbing the bathrobe provided by the hotel—an unexpected touch considering the place—I shrugged it on as I hurried out the door. I hadn’t even bothered with shoes. My worry for Devon was too great.
The elevator seemed to move with agonizing slowness, the ancient relic groaning and sighing as though I’d woken it from its slumber. Finally, it deposited me on the first floor. I peeked out, but the lobby was deserted.
I’d caught sight of where the bar was earlier when Devon and I had arrived, and I hurried there. Beau was waiting at the door for me, arms crossed. The only people in the place were the bartender and Devon, seated on one of the leather stools. His back was to me and he was hunched slightly, his head resting in one palm.
“I think you can take it from here,” Beau said, pushing himself off the wall where he’d been leaning. “Though if he passes out before you can get him back to the room, give me a shout. Room 212.”
“Okay, thanks,” I murmured. I took note of the room number, then headed for Devon.
The bartender gave me a solemn nod when I approached. He was dressed very nicely in a long-sleeved button-down shirt, black pants, and black vest. He even had a black tie.
“I’ll have another,” Devon said, his voice raw.
I slipped onto the stool next to him. “And what are we drinking?” I asked.
The bartender was the one who answered. “Gin, straight up, twist of lemon. Splash of vermouth with three olives.” He paused. “Five of them.”
Holy bejesus.
Devon had noted my arrival and didn’t seem surprised. “Figured Beau would ring you,” he said. “Bloody sod.”
“Looks like he was right,” I replied. “What are you trying to do? Get completely drunk?”
“It seemed like a good idea at the time.”
If I’d drunk five gin martinis, I’d be passed out cold on the floor. But with Devon, the only thing that gave him away was his eyes—which were bloodshot—and the slight slurring of his words along with his more pronounced accent.
The bartender fixed another drink, which he set in front of Devon. I quickly slid it in front of me and took a sip, then coughed.
“It’s a little strong,” I managed to get out past my burning throat.
Devon took the drink from me and downed it, setting the empty glass carefully back on the granite bar. His hand was resting on the counter, and I laid my palm atop his, slotting our fingers together. I turned his hand over so I could see the plain wedding band around his finger.
“You don’t have to do this alone,” I said. “We’re together. For however long we have. Don’t push me away.”
The bartender discreetly walked away and I heard the door to the bar close behind him, leaving us alone.
Devon was quiet for a moment. His elbow was bent, braced on the bar, and his fingers touched his temple, rubbing slightly as he stared at our joined hands.
“But that’s how it’s always been,” he said.
“That’s how what’s always been?”
“Alone. Always. I’ve always been alone. And now . . . just this once . . . I thought I’d gotten to a place where I wouldn’t be alone. Yet, you’re being taken from me.”
Okay, alcohol was bad, true, especially in copious amounts. But nothing beat it as a tool that got men like Devon to open up. Men who kept things to themselves, who didn’t discuss feelings and instead carried everything around, locked deep inside. So at the moment, I couldn’t be too upset that he’d been drinking. Not if I’d hear what he was really thinking and feeling . . . things he’d keep from me in an effort to protect me.
“I don’t deserve you,” he said.
“Wait, hold on,” I interrupted. “That’s total crap, Devon. You know that, right? Why in the world would you say such a thing?”
“The things I’ve seen . . . the things I’ve done. Too much . . .” His voice trailed away, and he glanced around, as though just then realizing the bartender had left.
With a shrug, he pushed himself up and over the bar, grabbing one of the bottles of bourbon and setting it down. With a quick twist of his wrist, the bottle opened and he grabbed a tumbler. I watched him pour in two fingers worth of the amber liquid.
“What do you mean, Devon?” I asked. “What kinds of things?” I couldn’t help it. I was curious. Devon never ever discussed missions he’d been on or what he’d done. The temptation now to learn was too strong to pass up.
“I’ve killed so many,” he said grimly. He turned and his blue gaze was fierce on mine. “And I will never . . . never . . . tell you how many.”
I swallowed at his vehemence even as sympathy rose in me. He lifted the glass and took a large swallow.
“This is undoubtedly the gods’ way of meting out justice,” he mused. “Not that I can blame them. Much more satisfying than killing me outright, is it not? Torturing me instead with the pain of something almost within my grasp.”
“Don’t say such things,” I said. “You’re a good man. You’ve just had to do some bad things in the name of protecting the innocent.”
“No one is innocent. Not really. All have sinned . . .”
He was staring into the mirror behind the bar, the look on his face so tortured and filled with regret, I couldn’t stand it.
I leaned against Devon’s shoulder and slid an arm around his waist. “I’m tired,” I said, hoping to distract him. “We should go to bed.”
“You go on ahead, darling,” he said, finally looking away from his reflection in the mirror. “I’ll be up shortly.” He refilled his glass.
I snatched it from him and tossed the shot back. If I thought the gin was bad, the whiskey burned a blazing trail of fire down into my belly. I noticed Devon’s eyes following the movement of my throat as I swallowed.
“I’m not going without you,” I said, reaching down to untie the robe. I slipped it down my arms and let it fall around me. “I’d really like you to take me to bed, Devon.” I gave him as seductive a look as I was capable.
The Look came into his eyes. The kind of look I’d become quite familiar with over the time we’d been together. It was lust and affection tinged with urgency and passion. I loved when he looked at me like that. It made me feel wanted, desirable—a woman clear to my bones.
“I don’t think I can make it to the bedroom, my love.”
My heart sank. He couldn’t walk. What room had Beau said he was in? I’d have to call him to come help me get Devon back upstairs.
“I just can’t wait that long,” he continued, breaking into my frantic thoughts as he picked me up, his hands circling my waist, and set me on the bar in front of him.
The granite was cold on the backs of my bare thighs. He settled his hands on my knees, spreading them.
“Take off the shirt.”
I didn’t think to disobey, my eyes transfixed on him and the way he was looking at me. My fingers moved to the buttons, undoing them clumsily. He watched me, his gaze burning my flesh as each inch of skin was revealed.
I wore panties, but no bra. The chill of air brushed my breasts, tightening my nipples into hard points. Devon parted the shirt but didn’t remove it. I sucked in my breath as his hands settled on my waist.
“Lift,” he murmured, tugging on my panties. I squirmed as he tugged the garment down and off my legs, spreading my thighs again.
It wasn’t as bright as daylight in the bar, but there was plenty of light, and I felt a blush stain my cheeks as he gazed between my legs. I saw his Adam’s apple move up and down as he swallowed hard. I was wet already, getting wetter and needier by the moment as he stared at my body.
He placed a hand on my abdomen, pushing me back. I leaned back, resting on my elbows. His palm trailed down my stomach, flat against my skin. He was darker than I was, my skin a pale shade of ivory compared to his sun-kissed tan.
Devon leaned down, putting his mouth between my legs with no preliminaries whatsoever. I gasped at the sensation. The sight of him doing this to me was almost more erotic and intimate than the act itself. He pushed my thighs farther apart, then slid a thick finger inside me as his tongue flicked hard against my clit.
I couldn’t keep my eyes open any longer, and they slammed shut, my head falling back as Devon kissed me with unreserved passion, marking my body as his possession. My fingers were in his hair, holding him to me. Moans and cries fell from my lips as my orgasm crashed over me. He knew just the right way to touch me, prolonging my pleasure until I couldn’t take any more.
Tugging on his hair, I pulled him up so I could kiss him. My legs circled his chest and he pulled me closer to him, scooting me to the edge. I heard the sound of metal clanking as he undid his belt, but I was too consumed with his tongue in my mouth to pay much attention. I wanted him, and didn’t particularly care that we were in a public place. No one was around. That was all that mattered.
Devon picked me up, carrying me to one of the tables, which was a much more suitable height for what we both had in mind. He lay me down and I grasped his cock, hard and thick between us, guiding it into me.
It was sweet relief and intoxication, being with him like this. His urgency and passion fueled the fire between us. His lips on mine, his hands gripping my hips, holding me. He possessed me utterly, as he had from the first time we’d been together. I was his. Would be only his.
Sweat covered his skin like a thin blanket and I pushed my fingers through his hair, reveling in the damp strands as he made love to me with a desperation I knew had been fueled by the alcohol and bad memories. I didn’t mind being his solace and comfort. I wanted it. Wanted to be able to provide that to him. I didn’t know and couldn’t possibly understand everything he’d seen and done. But this . . . this I could give and maybe it would be enough to comfort him.
He kissed my throat, licking the skin there. I lifted my hips to meet his thrusts. He made a noise, deep in his throat, moving faster and harder, which was just fine with me. I could feel myself hovering on the edge and I tried to hold back, waiting for him.
When his fingers tightened on me, I knew he was close and I couldn’t hold back any longer. Waves of pleasure spiraled out from where we were joined, like ripples from a stone thrown into a pool of water. I could feel my body clutching at his. He gasped, groaning as his orgasm was ripped from him. I knew I might have bruises tomorrow from his fingers, but I didn’t mind.
He rested on top of me, his chest heaving from exertion. I could feel his heart hammering against my chest and I didn’t know if it was my pulse or his. I held him to me, my arms and legs circling him, until he pulled back slightly and looked in my eyes.
Brushing the hair back from my face, he said, “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing.”
I was silent, gazing back into the blue of his eyes.
“And I thank you.”
I smiled a little as he brushed a kiss to my forehead. He seemed more sober now, not that he’d behaved all that drunkenly before. It amazed me. How his body processed alcohol the way it did, I had no idea.
He pulled me up and we spent a few seconds righting our clothing, then he held the robe so I could slip my arms into the sleeves.
No one was around when we came out of the bar, the lobby area completely deserted. Taking my hand, Devon pulled me close as we rode the elevator to our floor and meandered down the hallway to our room. I loved when he did this, touching me as we walked, his arm around me and his lips by my ear, alternatively whispering to me and kissing my neck.
We undressed each other and climbed under the covers. He wrapped his arms around me and I smiled. Yes, I was still sick and the future looked bleak. But the here and now? Well, the here and now was pretty darn good. I fell asleep listening to the sound of Devon’s slow, steady breathing.
And when I woke in the morning, he was gone.
At first, it didn’t occur to me that he was actually gone. I assumed he’d gone downstairs for coffee or breakfast or goodness knows what. So I showered and dressed, ignoring the ache in my head that boded ill. It wasn’t until I stepped into the little restaurant attached to the hotel and saw Beau and Alexa sitting alone together that a frisson of alarm went through me.
“Good morning,” I said, sliding into the empty chair next to Beau. I was trying to ignore what my gut was telling me. “Have you seen Devon?”
I could sense immediately from the looks on their faces that it was bad.
“What?” I asked. “What is it? Where is he? Is he all right?” My hands gripped the edge of the table, my body wanting to jump and do something, go find him—but I didn’t know where to start looking.
“I’m sure he’s fine,” Alexa said. Oddly phrased, considering.
“Why do you say it like that?” I asked. “Where is he?”
“He left,” Beau said. I swung my gaze to his. “Earlier this morning.”
I swallowed hard, trying to get a grip on my emotions so I wouldn’t either burst into tears or throw one of the heavy mugs of coffee on the table. I couldn’t decide if I was furious or heartbroken. Probably both.
“And where did he go exactly?” I was proud of how controlled my voice was.
“He went to find Vega.”
My hands clenched into fists. “Why? Why would he do that? What if she decides to kill him?”
“I don’t think she’ll kill her own flesh and blood,” Alexa said, though she didn’t sound one hundred percent sure. “I mean, she hasn’t yet.”
That wasn’t very comforting.
“He went to try and get her to give me more medicine, didn’t he,” I said, and it wasn’t a question. That was the only thing that would’ve made Devon leave my side. Nothing else.
Alexa glanced at Beau, then back at me. “I think so, yes.”
I covered my face with my hands and just breathed. I was so angry I wanted to spit nails. And I clung to that feeling. I didn’t want to feel hurt or hopeless.
After a moment, I had control and I put my hands down. Took a deep breath.
“I want to talk to her.”
“To who? Vega?” Beau looked appalled. “No fucking way. She wants you dead, Ivy. Is at this moment making sure you die slowly and in pain. The only thing you’ll achieve by talking to her is a quicker death.”
“I don’t think so,” I said. “I have an idea. Now how do we find her?”
“No, I’m not—” Beau started, but Alexa interrupted.
“Why can’t she?” she asked. “It’s her life, her decision.”
I was surprised at the support . . . and the source.
“You have no say in this,” Beau retorted. “I’m in charge here.”
“Oh, really?” Alexa’s eyes narrowed. “You’re in charge?”
“Yeah,” he said, doubling down.
More irritated than amused at their bickering, I demanded, “One of you tell me how to find her.”
That shut them both up. Beau gave Alexa a belligerent look, then waved his hand like Go on then, tell her.
“Vega has her own headquarters for the Shadow, north of here, at Cape Wrath.”
“Cape Wrath?” Yeah, that didn’t sound intimidating or anything. I’d bet dollars to donuts it was exactly where Devon was headed.
“The military sometimes uses the area for training,” Alexa explained. “But the Shadow built underground there. It’s pretty remote.”
“Then that’s where I’m going.” I signaled the waiter for a cup of coffee because hot on Devon’s trail or not, I needed the caffeine.
“You can’t go alone,” Alexa said. “Not in your condition. I’ll come with you.”
“The hell you are!”
Beau’s outburst had Alexa’s gaze spitting fire at him again.
“Pardon me, Mister I’m-In-Charge,” she said. “Was I supposed to ask your permission first?”
“You’re in the custody of the CIA,” he said. “You can’t just get up and leave.”
“I’m only in your custody because I’m allowing it,” she sneered. “I want to take Vega down as much as you do, and I’m not going to stand idly by and let the child go by herself.”
Whoa there, hold on. Did she just call me a child? But even as I opened my mouth, Beau was arguing with her.
“So even though she’s put numerous hits out on you, you’re just going to waltz right in there,” he said.
“Americans waltz. I prefer the silent approach.”
“You—”
“Enough!” I said, holding up my hands, palms out. “Enough of your arguing!” I looked at Alexa. “You know the way, so you’re taking me.” I looked at Beau. “And we’re doing this partly for the CIA. So shouldn’t you get some backup and come riding to the rescue in the nick of time?”
He didn’t look pleased, but he nodded. “I can see what I can do.”
“Okay then. Now I’m going to finish my coffee”—I dumped some cream in the mug the waitress had just set down in front of me—“then we’ll get our things and head out.”
“You have no idea what you’re getting in to,” Beau said, glancing from her to me.
“Probably not, but I have no choice.”
Devon was out there, and we weren’t going down without a fight.
I had one call to make before I left and I made it quickly, from my room. Once that was done, I met Alexa in the lobby.
“You’d better wear this,” she said, handing me a heavy jacket. “It’s cold up there.”
