by Debra Dixon
He searched her face, certain he’d see regret. Sully couldn’t tell because Jessie’s eyes were as tightly closed as before. But her hips were beginning to move, circling, pushing, experimenting—forcing him to hold her still before his last trace of control vanished.
“Look at me, Jessie,” he ordered, the strain in his voice evident even to him.
She opened her eyes slowly, but there was no regret, no fear. Only passion and expectation. And trust. The combination was lethal. As he withdrew a fraction, she sucked in a breath of disappointment, not pain. When he drove back in, she exhaled in ragged relief.
“Again,” she urged, her voice no more than a sigh.
With each stroke Sully withdrew a little more, let himself thrust a little harder until he felt her body pick up the rhythm. Release tantalized them, floating just beyond their grasp, coming closer each time he filled her. Never once did her gaze waver. Never once did he consider stopping. He couldn’t.
Jessie’s eyes finally closed again as her back arched. Her hands dug into the edges of the pillow, and she moaned his name so softly, he almost missed it. His name became a gasp, and even so, he wasn’t prepared for the powerful shudder of satisfaction that shook Jessie.
Her orgasm rocked him, immersed him in pleasure that tore away his restraint. As her climax reached into his soul and tangled it irrevocably with hers, a groan ripped from Sully’s throat. His own climax began to shudder through him, making him thrust fast and hard, all pretense of control gone. All that existed was Jessie, the way she still quivered beneath him, and the feel of her body around him as he spilled into her. As deep as he could get.
The rumble of distant thunder faded away as Sully finally surfaced. Reality called to him as it always had, and for the first time in life, he had to force himself to obey and pull away. If he didn’t get some distance, he’d make love to her again and couldn’t take that chance. He’d lost enough of himself in Jessie already.
By the time he’d dragged on his jeans and picked up his shirt for her, Jessie was curled up against his headboard, hugging the long pillow across her body for modesty’s sake. The sight of her rocked him to the core. And he wanted to claim her, wanted to be inside her again. She was his. Something that was never supposed to happen.
If he needed a visual image of exactly what had taken place, he couldn’t have picked a better one. There was no denying that Jessie had given herself up to him in a way that was completely foreign to her. Blindly trusting that he wouldn’t hurt her.
Staggered, Sully realized that she couldn’t trust him with the truth, so she gave him the only other thing she had to give. Herself. And he didn’t deserve it. Jessie should have saved herself for a man who knew how to love someone. He didn’t have a clue.
About any of this. And Jessie had let him walk right into the trap. Jessie had baited this trap intentionally. But the sexual chemistry had caught them both in its snare. She had no idea what he was capable of, no idea what she risked by stripping away the control that kept the darkness at bay.
Without a word he tossed the shirt toward her and walked out of the room. He couldn’t bear to look at what he could never have. He dealt in the hard, dark realities of life. His soul contained a capacity for violence that he fought every day. He was bad to the bone, and she deserved better. Every woman did.
Jessica caught the shirt he flung at her and watched him go. He was full of anger again. She’d done the unforgiveable. She’d tempted Sullivan Kincaid to lose control. She had expected something real from him, and she got it. Now, all she had to do was hold on to it. At least in a little corner of her heart where no one could see.
Dragging on his shirt, Jessica closed her eyes and pulled the collar up to her nose. Sully. Every part of her body remembered his touch, the one brief moment of pain, the feel of him inside her, the incredible expression of awe and responsibility on his face when he made her open her eyes. He wanted the connection, to know there was no mistake, that she was his.
In that moment she’d felt important and safe for the first time in a long, long time. Sully had a gift for that, for creating a promise with a touch or a look. He’d keep her safe, but that promise also meant she couldn’t fall in love with him. Not Sully. Oh no, the man was an island unto himself. He wouldn’t allow someone to love him.
God help any woman who loved the man.
God help her because she was falling.
Jessica treasured the fleeting bond created when he came inside her. When he finally gave himself up completely to what was between them. When he needed her to anchor him and bring him home. She wanted it to happen out of bed. She wanted it for always.
She wanted the moon. She wanted the stars when hell was more likely her reward.
Making love had changed everything and solved nothing. There was still a child to protect, her father to rescue, and lies to be told. And then, when it was all over—if she was still alive, there was the truth to tell.
Sullivan Kincaid might forgive the lies, shooting the intruder, trying to rescue Phil, but he’d never forgive the past. To him she’d be a murderer. The government’s killer, but a killer all the same.
There wasn’t much forgiveness in Sully. Not for himself. Not for the people around him. Knowing that, she walked out of the bedroom to face the man she had fallen in love with. And she had to pretend she didn’t care.
The screen door creaked behind him, but Sully didn’t trust himself to turn around. The thunderstorm had passed, moving inland, trailing moonlight in its wake. He fixed his gaze on the beach, on the retreating waves that left rivulets of liquid silver on the sand. It reminded him of the way Jessie washed over him, leaving behind her mark, sensual memories he would never forget.
He almost hated her for that.
His first words were intentionally harsh. He didn’t care. A dose of reality never hurt anyone; delusions, on the other hand, could kill you. They’d killed his mother. Jessie was better off knowing the score, even if he had to be a son of a bitch to get the point across.
“You’re a fool if you think you can trust me with your heart.”
“Well, at least you think I have one. So, I guess that’s a better start to this conversation than your calling me a heartless bitch,” she shot back.
Sully had to smile in spite of himself. He’d been so caught up in the detail of Jessie’s virginity, he’d forgotten that she had some grit to go with that chastity. She used a bad news exterior to hide the innocent on the inside. He hid his true nature behind a badge and a white hat. They were flip sides of the same coin.
When he turned to face her, he leaned against the damp railing, curling his fingers around it near his hips. She had on his shirt, the sleeves rolled up and showing plenty of leg. The part of her hair was ragged, finger-combed. Irrationally, the fact that she looked exactly like what she was—a woman who’d just been tumbled—made him angry all over again. Reminded him that Jessie had manipulated him.
“You make a nice target in that shirt,” he snapped.
“It doesn’t matter. A cop’s house is the last place anyone would look for me.”
“Why’s that?”
She pointed out the obvious. “People in my line of work tend to avoid the law.”
“Oh, yeah. I forgot for a minute that you’re a spy and not some dewy-eyed innocent,” he said, his tone dripping sarcasm. “You’ll have to excuse me if I’m a little distracted. I can’t remember ever having been anyone’s first.” He nailed her as he added, “And I can’t imagine a detail like that slipping anyone’s mind, can you?”
“It didn’t slip my mind.”
“And yet you didn’t say a word. Don’t you think I had a right to know?”
“Would you have ‘sullied’ my reputation if I’d told you?”
Sully pushed away from the railing, angry as hell. Because she was right. He wouldn’t have gone near her, and she knew it. “Dammit, Jessie, I didn’t even use protection.”
“My medical history is clear.
”
“Yeah, well, if your fallopian tubes are, too, we’re in big trouble,” Sully snapped.
Judging from the way her brow quirked, that possibility was one she hadn’t considered. It was one that Sully had considered for years, carefully considered and rejected. Sullivan Kincaid didn’t have what it took to be a father. It wasn’t in the genes.
“I’m not asking you for anything,” she told him quietly. “No commitment. We had sex.”
Sully called her a liar with a look. Sex was only a part of what had happened between them.
“Why can’t we let it go at that?” she asked.
Because Sully couldn’t. He had to know. “Why me?”
TWELVE
Jessica caught her breath at the accusation Sully packed into two tiny words. Then, she wondered how to defend herself. She couldn’t explain why Sully had been the only man to tempt her into bed. Not rationally.
Physical attraction was only part of the answer. The easy part. Blue eyes, great body, and a voice that registered halfway between whiskey and sex. Right now, she could add the way the hair on his chest narrowed to a thin line down his muscled abdomen. The way he looked in a pair of jeans that he had zipped but hadn’t bothered to button.
Good-looking men were around every corner. But none of the men she’d met in her life had ever come close to unnerving her the way Sully did with a simple phrase or word. It wasn’t his voice so much as what he said, and when he said it. None of those other men had pursued her relentlessly. She hadn’t let them get close enough.
Sully, on the other hand, hadn’t waited for an invitation. There wasn’t any distance between them. Never had been, not from the moment they’d measured each other across Munro’s foyer. He didn’t have to break down her walls because he had stepped right over them, refusing to believe they were meant for him. Those walls were for mere mortals, not for Sullivan Kincaid.
Sully chose her as much as she chose him. Intuition recognized a soul mate, even if the conscious part of the brain denied it. Yin and yang. Iris could probably explain it to him, but Jessica didn’t think she could, not without revealing emotions she’d regret. He had too much power over her already for her to give him more.
Finally, she walked toward the porch railing to buy some time. The planks beneath her bare feet were cool and wet and warped in places. Even as she walked away from him, she was aware of the force of her attraction to the man. She felt like the ocean which couldn’t escape the invisible pull of the moon. That’s why it had been Sully and no one else. But he wouldn’t like that answer, so she asked a question instead.
“Why not you?”
“Why not me?” His bitter laugh mocked the question. “Because no woman past the age of twelve has ever mistaken me for a knight in shining armor.”
“Of course they haven’t,” she agreed hotly, stung by his sarcasm. “You’re the Dark Knight, and you make damn sure anybody who gets close to you knows it. You wallow in it. Living by a code of your own, judging people against a standard even you can’t possibly measure up to.”
“Aw,” Sully sighed, shaking his head. “Poor thing. Are you already disappointed in the knight you’ve chosen? I did warn you.”
“Go to hell, Sully. I don’t need knights or anyone else to rescue me. I take care of myself. I always have.”
His voice was dangerously smooth as he responded, “That was made fairly clear to me when Lincoln got dead and you didn’t.”
Jessica stiffened. “I had no choice.”
This time.
“Who was it?” he asked, abruptly changing the subject from personal to business. “CIA or someone else?”
“I don’t know.”
“Give it a shot,” Sully ordered as he came to stand beside her. He propped his back against one of the support posts and crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m in this up to my neck now, and—considering what happened to Lincoln’s neck—I expect a little cooperation. You can understand that, can’t you?”
“Gosh, when you put it so sweetly, how could I not?” Jessica asked coldly. “If I had to guess.…”
“You do.”
She gritted her teeth to keep from giving Sully the fight he wanted. Events had pulled her along so fast tonight, she hadn’t stopped long enough to consider exactly who the guy had worked for. Her first concern had been protecting Iris, then protecting herself from being at the center of a police investigation, and lastly, dealing with Sully. There was a full-time job.
Clearing her mind, she let herself cast back over the seconds before she’d fired the gun. First impression, that’s what she wanted. That first split second when he’d turned toward her, gun raised but late somehow. Angling her head upward, she made her guess. “I’d say he was a company man.”
Surprise flooded Sully’s expression—as if he’d been sure the intruder was someone other than the CIA. Leaning toward her, he cross-examined her like a cop. “Are you absolutely sure?”
“No!” Jessica shook her head in exasperation. “I’m not sure at all. I told you it’s a guess. That’s like a hunch. You remember what that is, don’t you?”
“Yeah, that’s when I think someone’s lying to me, but I can’t prove it.”
Jessica closed her eyes, counted to ten. She was tired. It was three in the morning. Too late and too early to play word games with Sully, but he wouldn’t leave her alone.
“What’s this hunch based on, Jessie?”
Exhaling and opening her eyes, Jessica tried to put her flash of intuition into words and failed miserably. “It’s just that he was too confident. Like he had a team backing him up and all the time in the world. It’s different with freelance people. It’s just … different.”
“To risk coming after you like that—Don’t you think they had to be pretty damn certain you had the book?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.”
“What made them believe you had it?” he pressed. “Why now? Why didn’t they come after you last night? What’s changed?”
“Because last night they still had places to look!” she snapped. “Now, they’re running out. I imagine they didn’t find anything in those boxes of files from Phil’s office.”
“The CIA shut down the Houston investigation,” Sully told her, and paused—obviously expecting a reaction. She didn’t give him one. “They called the dogs off and muzzled the media. Sounds like they don’t want Phil or that book found any time soon.”
“Standard procedure. They’ll take care of it internally.” Jessica pushed past Sully. She couldn’t think with him so close, or catch her breath, not when he dropped bombs like this on her.
Lincoln might have cleared the house of bugs, but a parabolic microphone could have picked up her side of the conversation with Phil’s kidnappers. Dear God, that was why they tried to kill her tonight. The company overheard her side of the dialogue, and they sent someone to stop her from trading that book. The book she didn’t even have.
What have you done, Jessica? Silently castigating herself for stupidity, Jessica grabbed a handful of shirt over her stomach and forced herself to think. Her mind rapidly spun out the possibility that was most likely as she paced the length of the porch.
Plan A had been a disaster, so they’d have to drop back to Plan B. Jessica was grimly certain that they had a Plan B. They knew the swap location.
How many would they send? Probably only one, she decided. Someone good. Somebody better than good. He’d want them all in the open, so he’d wait until the deal was done. He’d take out the kidnappers first. They’d run for cover if they could, but she’d stay to help Phil, which made her a secondary target, a safe bet. Always get the runners first; the bleeding hearts second.
No mistakes this time. That’s why the company would send the best they had. One hit man, no need for elaborate planning. Just four shots, and he could save Phil for last. Phil wouldn’t be much of a challenge in his condition. Which meant that three fast shots at sitting ducks were all her opponent had to make.
>
She had to make those same shots … only one of her ducks wasn’t in a row. No matter—it’s a piece of cake, she told herself. Focus, concentrate, and squeeze off three rounds. Six seconds, maybe five. All she had to do was spot the “cleaner”—the CIA operative—first. That’s all.
Jessica wanted to laugh. It was amazing how a mind could take an impossible problem and selectively rework it so that it didn’t seem so impossible. If he got off the first shot, she’d at least have sound to locate him. Her only advantage was that the cleaner had no idea Jessica Daniels was Gemini, one of Phil’s “boys.” Maybe he’d make a mistake and show himself too early, dismiss her as an opponent.
Yeah, and maybe they’ll send two instead of one.
“Jessie?” Sully’s worried question from behind her dragged her back to the present. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
Tomorrow would have to take care of itself, she decided. She had no choice. She’d made Iris a promise to bring her father home. She’d die before she broke that promise. Dying was a distinct possibility.
Facing Sully, she took a deep breath and confessed, “I seem to have made a small miscalculation.”
Her face was so pale, Sully thought it might be a trick of the moonlight. When she hugged herself, he knew it wasn’t. He’d taken a step toward her before he stopped himself, remembering how easily she lied. Jessie had an agenda and falling into bed with her hadn’t changed that. Pale or not, she still wasn’t telling him the truth.
Now that he was a little closer, he could see the determined set of her mouth. She had plans within plans. With Jessie, unwrapping one layer only led to another.
“What miscalculation?” he asked.
“How tired I am. I can’t do this now. Okay?”
“We’re done anyway.”
“No, we’re not.” Jessie shook her head in disgust. “We won’t be ‘done’ until you decide what you’re going to do about all this … about me. Nothing is what it seems. The boat is rocking, and you can’t stand it.”
“I’m funny that way. I’m an officer of the law.”
