by Brenna Lyons
“You want to take me out?” The idea warmed her.
“I sure wouldn’t mind. Guess you hear that a lot.”
She sobered. “No. No, I don’t.”
He tried to wipe the look of surprise off of his face. “I wouldn’t ask now, but what if I don’t, and I never see you again?”
She laughed lightly. “Can I think about it?”
“Does that mean I’ll get to see you again?”
“I know how to find you.” He’d see her again. Considering the jerks she’d met in her time, Sarah was more than willing to give Jonas Paige a chance.
“What if I look you up? After all, I’ll know how to find you, too.”
Sarah watched him trying to bite back a smile, and she smiled in return. “All right. Since you put it that way, look me up for dinner on Friday. Six o’clock at my place.”
“Can I bring anything?”
“Just yourself.”
“I can handle that.”
He moved his arm slightly to invite her closer to him, and Sarah took the hint. They walked the last two blocks in silence.
Sarah thought that Steven might have skipped the opportunity to stick his nose in or not felt the assault before she reinforced her shields. She realized she was wrong, when he stepped out of the shadows at the corner of her building as she and Jonas reached the door.
Steven was livid. Sarah could read his mood clearly, though he was trying to hide behind his shield. She was glad he didn’t try to talk to her telepathically. It would have the effect of shouting on her battered mind.
She patted Jonas’ hand. “You should go. This won’t be pretty.”
Jonas hesitated, eyeing Steven. “If you’re sure.”
“I’ll be fine. I’ll see you again?”
He smiled then leaned to press his lips to her cheek. His voice rumbled against her ear. “Put ice on your head when he leaves. Promise me.”
Sarah moved her face to kiss him in return. “Thank you, Jonas. I’ll see you Friday.”
“Or sooner.” He backed away, nodded to Steven and turned to go.
Sarah smiled at his retreating back. Jonas wanted to see her sooner.
Steven stepped up next to her. Sarah saw the look of concentration on his face and felt the probe he leveled at Jonas. She elbowed him roughly. Steven knew better than that. Even she only scanned Jonas’ shield.
“Don’t. Don’t do it, Steven.”
“Who is he, Sarah?”
She sighed. “Come in. The least you can do is get warm.”
Steven nodded and followed her through the security door and up the stairs. The moment her apartment door swung shut, he started in again. “Who is he, Sarah?”
Sarah pulled off her coat and hung it on the hook, not turning to look at him. “His name is Jonas. I like him. Leave it alone.”
“Where’d you meet him?”
“Around.” She felt Steven’s mind like a caress against her shield and fortified it. “Don’t. It’s my life, Steven.”
Sarah turned to face him, and his eyes widened. When Steven surged toward her, she stepped back in shock. His fingers touched the edge of her lower lip, and she winced.
“What happened? I felt it before your shield blocked me out, but I hoped I was over reacting.” Steven half-dragged her to the kitchen and started making an ice pack.
Sarah sank into one of the chairs. “Make it two.”
He glanced at her over his shoulder, and his entire face lit in fury. “Show me.” Steven slammed the freezer with a thump that made her head ache.
She took his hand and guided it to the goose egg on her scalp.
“Hold this.” He pushed the ice pack to the lump and headed for the phone.
“What’re you doing?”
“Calling Dad.”
“Put the phone down.”
Steven looked at her in disbelief. “Don’t do this, Sarah.”
“It’s over. The damage is minor. All you’ll do is get the whole family upset for no good reason.”
He hung up the phone and sat across from her. “Spill it, and make it good.”
Sarah took a deep breath. “It was a renegade.” She put up a hand to stop him before Steven could start in. “Jonas saw it happening and—took care of the situation for me. We hid out at his place until things died down.”
“Where is the renegade? Why didn’t you call me?”
“Call you? Are you nuts? Do you really want the DoPT and the DoD connecting you to a renegade? I wouldn’t have called you if I was in the worst hellhole in the city.”
“Where’s the renegade?”
Her cheeks started to burn. “Let’s just say that Jonas doesn’t need to be connected to the renegade right now either.”
Steven took a couple of deep breaths before he answered. “He’s talent?”
“No. He has an E-shield.” She put her hand up to stop his protest again. “You know I can tell. It reads as an E-shield. Without talent to back him, the renegade was nothing but a two-bit punk with a—” Her eyes widened as Sarah realized that she said too much. She let down her guard because it was Steven she was talking to.
“With a what, Sarah?”
“A knife.”
Steven buried his face in his hands. When he met her eyes again, he looked tortured. “Why do you insist on living here? Why won’t you move home?”
“Because it’s the only way I get any peace. At least this way, you’re the only one in range of me.”
Steven sighed and ran a hand through his dark hair. “Be careful. Something just doesn’t feel right, here.”
“Look, I’ll admit that Jonas saved my butt—”
“I mean Jonas. I’m not stupid enough to think ordering you not to see him won’t send you straight to him. Just be careful.”
Sarah nodded. “I’ll do my best.”
*
Jonas stormed into his apartment, knowing Markham would be there. “Tell me. Tell me that renegade wasn’t set up or kiss me goodbye,” he promised.
Markham grimaced. “They didn’t tell me until after the fact.”
“Dammit, Markham. He could have killed her. I had to kill him. Not a clean psi kill, either. I had to dust off the hand-to-hand we learned in training. I had blood on my hands. I’ve never had blood on my hands before.”
He paced the floor while he ranted at Markham. There was no chance of anyone but DoPT hearing them. The building was owned by the DoPT. The agents who typically lived in the two apartments, presumably to monitor the Randalls and Thompson, had been temporarily reassigned, leaving the apartments open for Jonas and Markham. The décor was tasteful, if understated and not at all Jonas’ style. He already planned to tell Sarah that it came decorated that way.
“I know. It wasn’t my idea.”
“Where’d they get him?” Jonas glanced at Markham as he turned to make tracks the opposite direction.
Markham sighed and rubbed his forehead. “He was busted by DoPT three days ago. They made him a deal, kill someone they wanted killed and walk away until he gets caught the next time.”
Jonas stopped pacing. His head spun, and it was hard to breathe. “They ordered him to kill Sarah?” The list of laws they’d broken was staggering.
“They knew you’d kill him first. They didn’t want any slip-ups. You had to get close to her. The psych guys said inducing a trauma—”
“I’m done. I quit. Tell them.”
“I don’t think it’s that simple.”
“What do you mean?”
“Whatever the plan is now, it’s clean. No innocents get hurt.”
“She got hurt tonight.”
“Beyond that, no one gets hurt. If you pull, it’s going to get ugly. You’re almost an even match for Griffin. No one else comes close. If you pull, they’ll get the Randalls and Thompson any way they have to.”
“Then have them put me on Griffin. Get these people out of the line of fire.”
“I tried that. They lose you without backup and they’re sc
rewed.”
“They won’t lose me,” Jonas argued. He’d promise another five years in writing to get their paws off of Sarah and her family.
Markham raised an eyebrow. “You’re guaranteeing that?”
Jonas nodded.
“You’re guaranteeing Griffin won’t kill you?”
“You know I can’t. Dammit. I don’t want her in the middle of this.”
“Neither do I.” Markham sighed. “When do you see her again?”
“Friday. Maybe sooner.”
“Sooner the better. These guys are antsy.”
“This sucks. Quote me on the record that this sucks.”
“Yeah, I know.”
Chapter Three
February 17th
Sarah smiled, as Jonas stepped into the shop. It was a quiet night, so there were long periods of inactivity where she found her mind wandering, mainly to him.
“You’re early,” she teased him.
“I’m impatient. I lasted two days.” Jonas leaned over the counter, balancing his weight on his folded arms. “Make you a deal.”
“What kind of deal?”
“I’ll meet you here after work and buy us dinner. What are you in the mood for?”
Sarah frowned. “What about the dinner I was planning for you?”
“Are you saying I have to choose?”
Sarah’s breathing hitched at the hungry look in his eyes, hungry for more than food. “No. You don’t have to choose.”
“What are you in the mood for?” His voice was low and full of erotic invitation for anything she was in the mood for.
She blushed. Food. He means food, Sarah. “Um— Anything really. Pizza or burgers. I’m easy.” Her blush deepened. Why did I say that?
His smile widened. “I doubt that. What time should I pick you up?”
“Eight.”
“Eight it is.” He hesitated for a minute and glanced at her lips. “I’ll see you then.”
Sarah watched him to the door. Jonas turned and waved as he disappeared onto the street. She sighed. Why did he affect her this way? She was never tongue tied and scattered until she met Jonas.
*
Jonas was there right at eight. He forced his hands to still, as Sarah locked the door to the store. He had faced down renegades and stayed calmer than this. Damn the DoPT! He wanted her. Jonas had done little more than dream about her and study the files in Markham’s apartment for the last two days.
He made a decision, a deal with himself. He’d take out Griffin and retire. Even if Sarah wouldn’t give him the time of day, Jonas couldn’t get into a mess like this again. For better or worse, this was the last thing he did for the DoPT. He hadn’t broken the news to Markham yet.
Jonas smiled as Sarah glided toward him, his body making demands already. Dinner, he reminded himself. Sarah agreed to dinner. She wants more, but she agreed to dinner.
For a single, terrifying moment, he couldn’t decide how to proceed. Jonas hadn’t been this lost around a woman since he was sixteen. He laughed. “I’m not usually this hopeless.”
“Good. At least, I’m not the only one.”
Jonas wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “What do you want for dinner?” If he asked Sarah what she was in the mood for and saw that breathless look on her face again, he wouldn’t make it to dinner.
“Do you have a car?”
“Sure. I brought it with me since I didn’t know where we were headed.”
“Good. We’ll get take-out from DeSalle’s. It’s only a few blocks past my place, but it’s cold out tonight.”
“Your place?”
“We could go to yours.” She blushed lightly.
Jonas swallowed a sour lump. He was watched too closely. If he took her there, there was every possibility that they’d be recorded somehow. He’d already refused the sensor he was required to wear when he picked up women, the one that recorded his use of talent to keep him from being arrested for accusations of coercion or control that would violate the Renegade Act.
“This is an assignment,” he had insisted before he left, shoving the disk back into Markham’s hands. “I don’t wear sensors on assignment.”
It was a lie. Jonas wasn’t wearing the sensor because this was Sarah. He’d be damned if he’d let them record the telltale spike that announced his climaxes. Sarah wasn’t like that, and he wouldn’t do it to her. There’d be no bets placed on her.
Jonas smiled. “I just didn’t want to impose. I’d like to see your place.”
She nodded. “Okay. Let’s go.”
DeSalle’s was a little hole in the wall restaurant, but their subs were great. Sarah’s apartment was in the neat little red brick apartment house on Warrington that he walked her to the first night. It was bigger than he expected from the outside view, two big bedrooms with a walk-in closet in the larger, a full bath, a large living room and eat-in kitchen.
Sarah’s touch was everywhere. The colors were soft peach in the living room and master bedroom, green and tan in the bath, blue and white in the guestroom and kitchen. There were paintings depicting knights, ladies, and mythical creatures on the walls, and lace and eyelet falls hung over the windows.
Dinner was over far too soon, and Jonas found himself torn. Every instinct told him to make his move. It wasn’t the job pushing him. That was what was holding him back. He hated that the job was involved. Jonas wiped his hands on his jeans. He couldn’t do it. As long as the job was part of it, he’d have this argument with himself. It would never feel right.
Jonas stretched his arms over his head and smiled at her. “Well, you’ve probably had a long day.” He stopped, as her smile disappeared. “What’s wrong?”
“I just—” A pained expression clouded her features. “Never mind.”
“No. Tell me.”
Sarah laughed. “I guess I’ve come to expect something different from men.”
He touched her cheek. “I’m not just some guy, and I don’t want to treat you like some woman I just picked up in a bar.”
“You do that often?”
Jonas shrugged. “Not often, but I have.”
She nodded. “What do you want?”
“That’s not easy to answer. Part of me wants to be someone you can trust and care about.”
“And the rest?”
He took a deep breath. “The rest of me wants to be like every other guy who ever laid eyes on you.”
Sarah shook her head. “What does that mean?” she asked uncertainly.
Jonas fought back his shock. She confused him on so many levels. Didn’t she know how beautiful she was? What had she come to expect from men? “I want you. I can’t imagine any man not wanting you.”
She blushed. “Which side is winning?”
“I want more than just taking you to bed.” It was true. Jonas almost winced at the truth of it. He wasn’t letting anyone lay bets on Sarah, and he wasn’t screwing her for the damn assignment and walking away. However Jonas worked this out, he wasn’t doing that.
“How much more?” she whispered.
“I don’t know.” He didn’t. Did Jonas really want to get into something that would last a lifetime and make her a target in a new and frightening way? Even if he quit the DoPT, Jonas had enemies. By quitting, he’d make more enemies. If Sarah was with him, she could and probably would be used against him.
Sarah walked across the room to the hall.
Jonas followed her, praying that he hadn’t blown it the whole way. But she’d be safe. From Baker? Maybe not.
She turned back to him, biting on her lower lip as she considered something. “Do I at least get a goodnight kiss?” Sarah asked.
Jonas nodded, dumbstruck that she wasn’t showing him the door. He cupped her cheek and touched his lips to hers. God, I want this.
She opened for him. Jonas groaned as he swept his tongue into her, exploring her. The door was at her back. Was he forcing her back or was she leading him to it? Jonas pressed his hand to the smooth wood next to
her head, claiming Sarah’s mouth more urgently. Had he ever been this crazy to have a woman? Somehow, Jonas didn’t think he had.
Sarah’s hands wrapped around his waist, drawing him the last inches to full contact. His half-erect cock snapped to full attention, and she tilted her hips to brush her warmth to his erection.
Jonas broke off the kiss, running his lips up her cheek to nip at her ear. “If I don’t leave—”
“Do you want to leave?”
He sighed. “No. I don’t.”
“Then don’t.”
“But—”
“We both want more, Jonas. I’ll take more of what you are sure of until we both know what the more consists of. Is that okay with you?”
“More than okay.” He scooped her up and headed to her bedroom.
Sarah pulled his shirt up, as Jonas followed her down onto the bed. “Do you,” she began.
She broke off on a groan as he kissed her.
“Yes,” he breathed against her lips.
All DoPT agents had protection. Part of their contract was no unplanned pregnancies. Jonas was never sure if the precaution was to ease the public’s fears of purposely breeding talents or to keep the DoPT from having to track too many potential rising talents.
Either way, condoms had come a long way in twenty years. The new ones were nearly one hundred percent STD resistant and pregnancy protection, between the new Plastilyte material and the increased technology in spermicide.
The new Trojan 2020s supposedly felt like not wearing any protection at all. Jonas couldn’t comment on that. He’d never had unprotected sex. He could say for sure that the 2020s were better than anything he had ever used before their introduction. They were all he’d used for the last seven years.
Jonas pulled his shirt off for her and went to work on Sarah’s. He wasn’t sure what he expected to find beneath the work T-shirt, but the silk bodysuit wasn’t it. He smiled as he ran his tongue over the nipple straining against the fabric. “Kevlar silk?” Jonas didn’t need to ask. Most of his work clothes had Kevlar silk linings. Two layers of it had saved his life in Lauderdale.
Sarah blushed. “Steven insisted. He had four of them delivered after my little run-in the other night.”
“I see.” His smile widened as Jonas unbuttoned her jeans and leaned to capture the zipper between his teeth. “Let’s see how far this extends.”
