She knew, even though she tried to deny it, that it wasn’t going to work. Not after what they’d shared last night. Nothing was going to be the same again. Too much lay between them. The past, the present. The kiss.
Attie sighed and turned off the water. When had this gotten so complicated? It had never been simple between her and Noah, but this…this tied her in knots. Throw in Carlos and fear for her brother’s safety and she was borderline certifiable.
Stepping out of the shower she wrapped in a towel and walked into the bedroom to find Noah stretched out on the bed, fully clothed, his hands stacked behind his head. He had changed into a pair of tailored slacks and designer shirt, open at the neck.
Her steps faltered. God help her. This wasn’t the man she knew. This was insight into the man, not the agent. Images of him in their bedroom, lounging in bed in civilian clothes and waiting for her, wanting her, filled her head. It made her want things she couldn’t have. Any possibility of a future together had been destroyed, and they weren’t getting it back.
He glanced over when she walked in. His eyes did a slow perusal from head to foot before meeting hers. The heat she saw simmering there made her breath hitch. Then she remembered they were putting on a show for Carlos’s sake and it cooled her hormones instantly. How were they going to pull this off? Somehow, they had to convince Carlos that they were spending the night together. With Noah stretched out on the bed like that, limiting it to pretend would be difficult.
Stopping that train of thought before it began, Attie walked to the closet and opened the doors. She pulled a light blue dress shirt off a hanger and returned to the bathroom, ignoring Noah’s quirked brow and half smile. The man had a dangerous smile.
This was going to be a long night.
* * * *
Attie wearing nothing but a towel was dangerous to Noah’s peace of mind, but Attie in a man’s dress shirt was lethal. For the sake of cameras, he allowed his appraisal to be open and genuine and the flare in her eyes indicated she knew exactly what he was thinking. But somewhere in the logical part of his conscience he knew he couldn’t act on the attraction.
He didn’t know Santiago’s motivation for allowing him to spend the night with Attie and he wasn’t going to question it, but he would keep his guard up. Santiago didn’t do anything without purpose.
Attie slid into bed beside him and surprised the hell out of him when she rolled over onto his chest and practically draped herself on top of him. Her hands went to his shoulders and her lips hovered an inch from his.
“Let’s make this look good,” she whispered, and kissed him just as the lights went out. Noah barely gave Santiago any thought as he crushed Attie to his chest and took control of the kiss. He had never known hunger like this. Like diving into uncharted territory without a swim buddy, with the potential to complicate his life in ways he wasn’t prepared for.
He clamped an arm around her waist and laid her more fully on top of him.
Attie stiffened and pulled away. She was still for a moment and he could hear her breathing heavily, then she rolled onto her own side of the bed.
“Shows over,” she said, her voice low and strained.
“Attie—”
“No. Please. Let’s just go to sleep. I need…sleep.”
She sounded upset, so he let it drop.
This was going to be a long night.
* * * *
Long didn’t even begin to describe it.
Noah lay on his back, hands stacked under his head for safety reasons, scowling at the ceiling, which he couldn’t see in the darkness. He had no idea how long he’d been like this, but definitely too damn long. Attie was wedged up against him. Sound asleep. He was wide-awake and ready to explode. It had taken her a long time to fall asleep and he had ended up talking softly to her in the dark, telling her stories of his childhood with Camron and how they used to get into trouble together.
The memories were good ones he hadn’t thought of in a long time, but telling Attie took his mind off what he really wanted to be doing. Her breathing had eventually slowed. He managed to get a few minutes of sleep, but Attie’s restlessness made it tough.
Before now she had been tossing around the bed, kicking him every time she turned over and landing an occasional blow with her hand. This woman didn’t sleep peacefully and it drove him nuts. She didn’t seem to be having a nightmare like the other night; she was just restless. The quilt lay somewhere on the floor, having been kicked off long ago by her flailing legs. The sheets were now tangled around her and he sure as hell wasn’t taking them back. At the moment she slept soundly and that was far better than the alternative.
Attie let out a low moan and moved restlessly, bumping his chin with the top of her head.
“Please. Stop. Oh, pleeease…” she murmured, shifting on top of him. She sounded desperate, as if she’d lost something. The torment in her voice made Noah’s chest ache. He wrapped his arm around her and held her close, wishing she were wearing something more than a man’s shirt. He shouldn’t be lusting after her, but his body didn’t care, it ached for her anyhow.
“Can’t get…to…you…can hear…have to…save you…”
Her voice wavered as if she were on the edge of tears, but Noah didn’t feel any wetness on her cheeks when he touched them. The anguish in her voice almost undid him. He had never heard her sound so distraught.
Damn it. She wasn’t given a moment’s peace. During the day she was plagued with memories of the past and in her dreams she relived them. Small wonder she functioned at all. Many people with PTSD suffered chronic fatigue syndrome due to nightmares and inability to sleep. He suspected Attie fast approached that point.
She shook her head and mumbled something he couldn’t understand. Her fingers dug into his shoulder, her body tense. Her muscles clenched and relaxed. Should he wake her? Or should he wait for the nightmare to pass? Helpless, he stroked her hair. He always knew what to do, always had a plan, but when it came to Attie he was lost.
He knew only one way to help her: free Brendan and eliminate Santiago. Then Attie would never have to fear him again. With Santiago out there and able to keep coming after her, she lived in fear.
“Ah, hell,” he muttered, feeling anger churn inside him. He wanted to wrap his hands around Santiago’s throat and squeeze until he breathed his last breath.
“Hurts…” she murmured before going limp as a noodle. Her breathing slowed and Noah knew she had slipped into deep sleep. Thank God. They both needed to get some rest.
Still holding her, Noah closed his eyes, wishing like hell he was the one having the nightmares.
* * * *
“Should be an interesting night for those two,” Antonio commented, sipping his wine.
Carlos stared at the closed door, Attie’s scent still lingering, teasing. He much preferred her natural scent over the expensive perfumes she’d worn on the estate. They never did suit her. The gowns, however, suited her very well. She had just the right amount of curve and muscle to make them appealing. He had always appreciated that about her.
“I think this is the first time you’ve loaned Attie out.”
Carlos turned sharply, pinning him with a hard stare. Antonio was very good at what he did, but he tended to speak his opinion too often. “Nothing will happen in that room tonight.”
“Did I misinterpret the signals?”
The words grated down Carlos’s spine. He had noticed too, but he was no fool. He’d been right. Noah hadn’t requested Attie for sex; he was protecting her. It amused him. Noah would soon learn his efforts were wasted. Attie had a price to pay for her betrayal. Part of him hoped she made it through the maze so he could have her back, but the other half, the half that refused to accept her as an agent, hoped she met her demise.
He still loved her. A weakness that could get him killed. She was the first to ever slide past his defenses. Disconcerting, yet he liked it. Liked the thought of having a strong, beautiful woman at his side. Someone to s
hare his business and nights with.
Atalanta was one of a kind. She’d played her role well, but he’d seen the fire in her eyes she tried to bank. He’d written it off as hidden spirit. Spirit he wanted to nurture and mature. Until the end, he hadn’t suspected her true personality. She camouflaged it well, better than any other undercover operative that had tried to take him down. He’d sniffed them out within weeks.
But Attie was the first to sneak past him. As much as he hated her for it, he also loved it about her. Any woman who could do that was worthy of his affection. Think of what they could accomplish together. She was simply misguided. And if she made it through this he just might steer her straight, show her the kind of life she could have. The money, the power. It was addicting, and once she tasted it she would never go back to her noble intentions.
“The signals were clear,” Carlos said. “But don’t underestimate Atalanta. She won’t get within ten feet of Noah. She doesn’t trust him.”
“Raises the stakes, then, doesn’t it?”
“It will make it more difficult for her.”
“You want her to make it, don’t you?”
Carlos stared at the door again. “I want to see how strong a woman my Atalanta really is. Who she is.”
“She’s an agent for a highly covert organization. What else is there to know?”
The corner of Carlos’s lips tilted as he murmured in Spanish.
Antonio’s gaze narrowed. Wisely, he didn’t comment. Sometimes Antonio was astute enough to know when to remain silent. He didn’t pay the man for his opinions.
“We shall see,” Carlos murmured, and settled in to watch the show.
* * * *
Attie opened her eyes to complete darkness.
Immediately her heart started pounding in her chest. She tried to sit up, but something heavy lay across her waist. She couldn’t move. Oh, God, she couldn’t see.
Panic rose in her throat. A cold sweat washed over her as she fought to escape. She had to get out of here, had to get to light. A sound rose in the darkness. The sound of someone breathing. She wasn’t alone.
Panicked, Attie lashed out at her attacker. What did he have this time? A knife?
She rolled onto her back and a hard body covered hers, pinning her to the…bed?
Her attacker said quietly, “It’s Noah. Stop fighting me.”
Attie stilled, fighting the cloudiness in her head. Noah?
Not her cell. Not Carlos. Oh, thank God. The fight left her and she slumped against the pillow, breathing hard.
The hand lifted slowly from her mouth.
“The lights,” she said.
“Nothing we can do.”
“The lamp—”
“There are no light switches in here. Santiago has complete control.”
Attie swallowed hard, trying to calm her nerves. She could handle this. Not her prison cell. In bed with Noah.
In bed with Noah.
The night before flooded in. She had fallen asleep listening to Noah talk to her in a low, almost tender voice about his childhood. His voice had taken her mind off the suffocating darkness. Letting her see a part of him no one had been privy to.
He’d done it for her.
“Get off me, Kincaid.” She pushed against his chest.
“Tell me why you freaked out just now. What were you dreaming?”
She scowled, even though it was lost on him in the dark. “I don’t remember.”
“You were talking in your sleep.”
She stiffened. “What did I say?”
Noah shifted on top of her, resting more of his weight on his elbows. She was all too aware of his weight on top of her and how good it felt.
“You were upset.”
“I was dreaming.”
“Tell me what he did to you.”
The last was spoken in a soft, gravelly voice that pushed past her barriers and threatened to sneak inside where she kept her secrets carefully hidden.
She pushed more forcefully against him this time. “Drop it, and get off me. No one can see us, so enough with the show.”
He spoke low and husky, near her ear. “This isn’t for show. I want to know what you dream about while you sleep.”
“Too bad.”
“You can trust me.”
The whispered promise sent an electric shiver up her spine. “No.”
“We’re in this together now.”
“We don’t know what ‘this’ is yet.”
“When we do, we have to stick together. A united front, Attie, or we’ll never get Brendan or ourselves out of here alive.”
Attie glared at him. “I’ll do what I have to, don’t worry. But that doesn’t change anything between us.”
“You could try seeing the truth and let go of that grudge.”
Something old and deep ran through her, stiffening her spine and taking her places she never wanted to go again. “The truth? Are you kidding? We both know what happened, and I will never forgive you for murdering Seth.”
Muscles rigid, Noah said tightly, “I didn’t murder him, dammit.”
She pushed at him again, but it was like trying to move a brick wall. “I was there, remember? I was the one in that prison cell next to his.”
“I was the one who found you.” Noah’s voice was low and harsh with emotion. “You were dehydrated, beaten half to death. Christ, I thought you were dead.”
His voice cracked, then suddenly he was gone and she was alone in bed, the cool air chilling her exposed flesh. Senses reeling, Attie sat up, listening for the sound of his breathing.
Throat dry and mind spinning, she replayed his words in her mind, letting them sink in slowly.
“Is that true?” she asked the darkness.
In the distance Noah spoke quietly, his voice ragged, “You scared the hell out of me.”
Attie swallowed hard. “You never told me that before. Why now?”
A pause. “I don’t know.”
“I read the reports, I know what Santiago did to me, but I talked to you. The same as I talked to Seth through the wall. We whispered to each other so Carlos wouldn’t hear us. We made plans to escape. Together. He was still alive when you came for me, Noah. I talked to him.”
Silence. “I can’t change what you believe. Let’s just leave it at that.”
“You don’t believe me?” Dammit, she was there. How could he tell her she was wrong?
“You did what you had to do to survive. I believe that.”
“Damn right, I did. The bastard tortured us for three days, and I wasn’t letting him break me. I owed it to Seth for getting caught. One way or another I was getting us out of there. I wouldn’t have left him behind.”
“That’s right, he tortured you for three days. Even seasoned soldiers crack under that kind of trauma.”
“I didn’t break! Why are you bringing this up? It happened six months ago. It’s over.”
“It’s not over.”
She shot out of bed, following the sound of his voice, so angry she shook. How dare he tell her it wasn’t over? She was alive, Seth was dead, her career was over and this time she would save her brother.
Finding him in the darkness, not caring who listened, she grabbed his shirt. “I dealt with what happened, so drop it. You will never convince me that Seth was already dead when you got there. I know it’s a lie. I heard him, so how can it be true?”
Noah spun her around, pressing her against the wall, the corner of the dresser digging into her hip. His hands gripped her shoulders, giving her a little shake. His breath fanned her lips, his anger palpable. Noah Kincaid’s control was slipping.
“I would never do anything to jeopardize one of my agents, and you know it, even if you won’t admit it. Seth was dead two days before we arrived, Attie. You read the coroner’s report. You did what you had to do to survive. Believing Seth was alive so you could save him is what kept you alive. You can blame me all you want, but if I had it to do over I would do the same. I wasn’t wro
ng. Santiago did this, not me. He would have killed you too, if we hadn’t found you when we did.” His chest heaved against hers. When he spoke again it was low, controlled. “I am the same man. You can trust me. It’s up to you to believe that.”
“I know who you are.” Her heart pounded against her ribs. Her head spun. Noah’s chest brushed against hers. Her nipples hardened. She was furious with him, hurt by his words, but her body was aroused.
“Let me go.” Before she did something really stupid.
He let her go, cursing into the darkness. She heard him move into the bathroom, and the water turned on a minute later.
Letting out a shaky breath, she made her way back to bed and buried herself beneath the blankets, mind reeling.
Noah gave her plenty more things to think about besides her fear of the dark. It was some time before she was able to fall asleep.
Chapter 9
The weight of her lover’s body pressed Attie into the mattress with a familiarity that both comforted and aroused her. His hands were buried in her hair, his mouth tracing a fiery path down the column of her throat. She turned her head to the side to allow him access to her earlobe and shivered when the tip of his tongue traced the moon-shaped scar behind her ear. No longer cold, she was on fire, threatening to spontaneously combust if he didn’t relieve this tension soon.
She curled her fingers around his bicep marveling at its thickness, her mind coming up with all sorts of ways she could put that muscle to use. Her hips arched and she felt his arousal press intimately back. How long had it been since she’d felt like this? Had she ever felt like this? Not in real life, only in her dreams. She couldn’t see his face, simply knew him, and wanted him.
Her hand smoothed its way over taut flesh, muscle and bone. He was smooth and hard, muscular and lean, his strength subtle yet overwhelming at the same time. He knew how to touch her to elicit the strongest response, knew where to caress to drive her to the brink, only to ease off and deny her what she so dearly wanted. He teased, he caressed, and he loved like no other until she spun into an alternate universe from her need for him.
The Maze (ATCOM) Page 9
