by C. A. Szarek
A tremor shot down his spine and Jeremy’s leg jumped of its own accord. Didn’t stop bouncing. The tap tap of his boot on the linoleum burned his ears.
He closed his eyes and pushed to his feet.
Just do it.
Jeremy dragged his boots as he strode to the threshold and shut the door to the private room. No lock, but that only ensured he would have to hurry.
Evan’s heart monitor sounded like blaring sirens when he closed in on the side of the bed. Like it was goading him to silence it.
Just do it.
He gazed down at his best friend. Made tight fists and glued them to his sides. His heart sped into overdrive, making a headlong dive. His stomach plummeted like a car going over a bridge, threatening to eject the McDonald’s he’d crammed down about an hour before.
One of his teammates, Special Agent Delina Kirk, had come with food in hand, wanting to switch out with him. He’d taken the burger and fries and sent her on her way. Told her he wasn’t leaving Evan’s side.
Devoted partner, right? He snorted.
Just do it.
Suicide was going to be a gift after this. Jeremy would never get over killing Evan. As soon as his mom, Beth and the girls were safe from Caselli, he was out. Refused to let guilt eat him up from the inside out.
Beth would just have to forgive him for being a coward like her father.
He hadn’t known Miranda Parker, but she was currently starring in every dream—nightmare—that slammed down every time Jeremy closed his eyes. Sleep was fleeting anyway, but dripping blood and stained blonde hair made it even worse.
Nothing was worse than the special feature of last night’s visit. Evan’s blue eyes. Shocked expression as he’d fallen. The thud as he’d hit the hardwood floor.
Quit stalling, you fucking coward.
Just. Do. It.
Jeremy ignored the tear making its way down his cheek. He inched the pillow out from under Evan’s head, but slipped his hand to the back of his partner’s neck. Gently returned Evan to his peaceful position.
He stared at him for a full minute, the silence of the room broken only by the heart monitor. Daggers sliced into his chest with every forced breath. Shouting at him for what he was about to take away from Evan Roberts.
Jeremy sucked in a deep, painful breath, but it didn’t help the ache.
He dropped the pillow over his partner’s face and bent at the waist. Gripped the edges of the white linen pillowcase and closed his eyes. Couldn’t watch what he was about to do.
Maybe it would make it less real.
Nothing will make you less of a murderer.
A cell phone roared. His whole body jolted and he couldn’t bite back his shout. “Fuck!” It took Jeremy a second to recognise the default ringtone. He hadn’t personalised the device after wheedling it out of IT at the office.
He let go of the pillow and it slipped to the floor. Unassuming. Looking nothing like the murder weapon it had almost been.
Jeremy made a go for his phone. His hand shook so bad it was a wonder he’d found his damn jacket pocket.
“Stewart,” he barked.
“This is Downs. You all right?”
He cleared his throat and nodded, called himself an idiot. The other agent couldn’t see him—thank God. “I’m good.”
“Where are you?”
Why the fuck does Downs want to know where I am?
Jeremy tilted his phone back to glance at the time. Almost nine p.m. “Hospital.”
“Ah. With Roberts.”
“Yes.”
“When you get off detail in the morning, me and you need to talk.”
Icicles shot down Jeremy’s spine.
* * * *
The whir of the treadmill and clop of his sneakers rang in his ears, and Nate adjusted his gait. After running hard for two miles, he slowed to a four-and-a-half mile-an-hour walk. He wanted to put in two more miles, then shower.
Then…
Well, they’d been in the house a week. Had a lot of sex. He couldn’t get enough of her. Nate had already been inside her that morning.
After the call from Downs the day before and the results of the off record mini-investigation of Special Agent Jeremy Stewart, Nate couldn’t reach Lee. Not really.
She was distracted. Obsessed with her email. Nothing but electronic case files filled the screen of his iPad.
Last night, she’d called her partner back and begged for more reports. Lee had even started looking into Stewart’s partner, Evan Roberts, but after only two reports and another call to Downs, they’d both discounted the chance of the injured agent being involved in anything illegal.
Of course, on paper Stewart looked clean too. But the more they talked—the more Nate overheard—the more they believed he was tangled with Caselli. Had taken money from the bastard. Shot his own partner.
Lee had let Nate read some of the reports detailing Angelo’s crimes.
He winced, gripping both handles on the treadmill as he moved his feet. His gut still ached when he thought about his friend and the choices he’d made.
What’d driven Angelo to cross the line?
Was it the money?
Angelo’s parents, both passed now, hadn’t been rich, but he’d never suffered as a boy. His mother had been a legal secretary, then, later, a paralegal. She’d sparked Angelo’s love of the law. His father had been a cop, like Nate’s father. But instead of moving up the chain to lieutenant, like Dennis Crane, Angelo’s dad had spent his career as a beat cop. Been happy doing it, too. His neighbourhoods had loved him.
Nate could remember how the man who called him the Texas boy had boasted to him, any time Nate had visited their apartment in the city, about how ‘Lo had been raised in New York City.
If he closed his eyes, he could see Angelo’s grin. Hear his laugh. The New York accent and the dark eyes women couldn’t resist. He remembered all the times they’d bar hopped in college. Picked up women. Declared they were attorneys when they weren’t—yet.
He chuckled and shook his head. Sweat trickled in between his shoulder blades on its way to the small of his back. He twisted his waist as it tickled.
Nate grabbed a towel from the side of the treadmill without missing a step. He wiped his face and draped the white terry cloth back on the arm. His back would have to wait. He couldn’t reach the spot, and he wasn’t ready to wrap up his workout.
His eyes grazed the well-equipped exercise room and he thought about hitting the elliptical next, or using the Bowflex.
No… Lifting weights would be better. No need for the elliptical after the long run and even longer walk.
Not like his heart needed the cardio, from all the bedroom exercises he and Lee were putting in, but Nate needed to focus on something other than sex.
Damn, he wished there was an indoor pool. Swimming always cleared his head.
Nate glanced out the window and suppressed a shiver. Fat snowflakes drifted down without a care. Some clung to the window, showcasing an intricate design he was too far away to study. Beautiful no doubt, but too cold for his tastes.
Below in the driveway, he couldn’t see the whole car from his position, but the trunk had at least two inches covering it. So did the front yard.
Real winter was a college memory. The North Texas version was much abbreviated.
“And you want to move to New York?” he whispered.
It was the first time he’d admitted that his plan—his aim to win her back—would have to include relocation.
Yes.
He’d move to Siberia if it was for Lee.
Too damn bad she didn’t feel the same.
You just have to convince her.
Nate’s heart flipped and it had nothing to do with his vigorous walk. He needed to tell her he knew about her past and didn’t give a shit.
Needed to open up to her, so maybe she’d open up to him.
Help her heal? One look at the real Lee, and it was obvious his woman had a long way to go before s
he was fine. He was dying to ask her if she still went to meetings. Was being here keeping her from something she needed?
There was no alcohol at the house. Did she want some?
The owner of the place had stocked it with all the groceries they’d need for a month, so they hadn’t gone out. They shouldn’t leave, of course, but Mr Mullins had prevented the need. Nate’s buddies would have brought all the beer and wine if they’d had a chance to arrive.
But being here…at the house. As well as at the apartment before. It was like really living with her. Glorious.
A real…relationship?
They ate together, played together. Made love. Slept in each other’s arms. Even worked together. Nate didn’t want to let her go.
The Dallas office of the FBI wouldn’t have Lee back. Though it hadn’t been spelled out in the reports he’d read, it was implied. So, New York it would be.
The FBI was her life.
But can I be her life, too?
He left the question dangling, even in his own head.
Before leaving Texas, Nate had asked some discreet questions about contacts in New York of his boss and mentor, the District Attorney, Dean Foreman. As much as Dean would hate to see him go, there was no doubt in Nate’s mind that his boss would recommend him to the county District Attorney here. Just so happened the man, Mario Malcuri, had gone to law school with Dean.
A few phone calls. Glowing letter of recommendation.
He could have a new life.
No. You will have a new life.
What would his FBI agent’s role be in it?
“Hey, Nate.”
He jumped, then cursed when she arched an eyebrow at him. Her arm was bent at the elbow and resting on one shapely hip, hand splayed, two fingers in her jeans pocket.
Lee’s small frame didn’t fill the doorway. Amusement flickered across her face and she smiled. “You okay?”
Nate nodded, pressing the treadmill’s stop button and hopping off. His heart raced, and it had little to do with his workout. His hands itched to touch her. His lips burned to kiss the curve of her mouth. He wanted to hold her close. Tell her how he felt about her.
Tell her he was moving to New York.
“I feel great.”
“Good. Maybe I’ll hit the elliptical later. I could use a break from reading reports. Gettin’ kinda stiff.” Lee rolled her shoulders. “The iPad is portable, but I wish the screen was bigger. My monitor at the office is twice the size.”
He didn’t tease her about her aversion to modern technology. “C’mere.”
She crossed the room and he turned her so her back faced him. Nate rubbed her shoulders and the back of her neck until she moaned.
“You’re going to make me forget why I came in here.”
Nate chuckled. “Is that a bad thing?” He laid a row of wet kisses down her neck, stopping to nibble her earlobe.
Lee shivered, but she whirled around. Scrunched up her nose. “You smell like a sweaty boy. Or a locker room.” Her eyes grazed his bare chest, belying her jibe. Her lips parted, tongue darting out to moisten the plump bottom one.
His mouth went dry and he chided himself to focus. Blood was already headed south, making his cock twitch.
Her gaze continued downward. She smirked at his crotch. “You do look super-hot when you’re all worked up.”
Nate tried to laugh, but lust clouded his brain. “I…better…get a shower.”
“Damn straight, I’m not going to bed with a sweaty man unless I made him that way.”
He did laugh, and she met his eyes. “Is that a challenge?”
She winked and giggled. Actually giggled.
It made him burn for her.
“You decide, Counsellor.”
“I never could turn down a challenge.” Nate brushed his mouth against hers, but Lee pulled away.
She turned, darting out of the room and down the hallway towards the bedroom they’d been sharing since the first night. Shedding her clothing as she went.
Nate growled and gave chase.
Chapter Seventeen
He was rubbing her back. Long, soothing circles that made her thoughts scatter and determination to leave his bed dissipate.
Yeah, like you were serious anyway.
Lee said the same thing in her head every night she climbed into bed with him.
Go to a different bedroom.
And every night, she pulled the covers up, ignoring the command. Let him pull her into his arms and kiss her. Touch her.
Make love to her.
Those two words made her bite the inside of her cheek to stave off a groan, but no matter how many times her mind shouted the denial, she couldn’t convince herself it wasn’t true.
The tenderness in his eyes. The meaning in his kiss. His every caress shouted how he felt about her, but he said nothing. Which was fine as far as Lee was concerned. She couldn’t reciprocate.
She cared about him. Nothing more.
They made each other feel good. Nothing more.
When the warrant for Caselli came through, Lee didn’t know the details of the time—it could even be first thing tomorrow morning. Her team would go arrest him. Finally.
Nate would probably be free to go home until the trial. Get back to his life.
Without you.
When his hand slipped under her arm and his fingertips brushed the underside of her breast, Lee’s sex throbbed.
She made herself lie still, sinking into his touch, the warmth of his caresses. Her eyes slipped closed and a sigh escaped her lips. There was nothing sexual about his roving hands. He was lulling, comforting. But she was on fire for him.
Moisture flooded her core. Her body wept for him. Begged for him. Lee wouldn’t tell him to hurry. The torture was exquisite.
Finally, finally he rested his hand on her lower belly and tugged backwards. Lee’s shoulders came into contact with his chest, and her ass hit his thighs. The coarse hair on his legs and chest didn’t abrade—it made her want him more.
Nate pressed warm, wet kisses to the back of her neck and she wiggled against the erection pushing into her bottom. Now she pulsed.
He moaned into her overheated skin, following the curve of her hip with teasing fingertips. When his large palm claimed the front of her thigh, urging her to open, Lee groaned.
“Angel…you’re killing me.”
She wanted to say “Me?” but words refused to breach her lips.
Instead of sliding into her from behind, Nate pulled back, spreading her legs, rolling her over and settling on top of her. His hot mouth took hers, and Lee didn’t hesitate to twine her tongue around his. She pressed harder into his kiss, slipping her hands onto his shoulders, exploring his back like he had hers.
Nate made a noise in his throat, but broke their kiss only to leave a hot trail of kisses down her neck and collarbone.
Lee arched when his tongue swirled around her nipple, and she buried her hands in his fair hair. She tugged, but he moved into her touch instead of away.
His teeth skimmed the hard peak and his name fell from her lips. Then he licked the spot, flicking his tongue and blowing a puff of air that hardened the tender skin to the point of pain. Nate was killing her, but she could die happily at the moment.
After lavishing the same attention to her other breast, he moved on, licking, nibbling and kissing his way down her belly. He was mindful of her stitches since she’d done away with the bandage, but Lee didn’t give a shit about her side. Didn’t even hurt anymore. Certainly didn’t hurt right now.
Nate’s rough stubble nuzzled her oversensitive inner thighs and she pulled his hair. He laughed and did it again. He blew lightly on her swollen, aching clit. Then he licked her. It was fleeting, a tease.
“Oh, God.”
He laughed again, but didn’t make her wait. He grabbed her ass with both hands, tilted her hips and sucked her into his mouth.
Lee screamed.
Orgasm refused to be held at bay. He had her so revv
ed up there was no chance of drawing it out. Pleasure crashed into her like a tidal wave, stealing her breath and her thoughts. She pushed her pelvis into his mouth, rocking and panting his name.
Nate lapped at her clit and her entrance, his mouth relentless as she rode out the climax.
Then he was behind her, holding her through the shivers racking her frame, coaxing her muscles to let go and relax into him. He nestled her into his chest, kissing the crown of her head.
Tender. Expecting nothing in return, despite the erection scorching her hip. If she wanted to go to sleep right now, without even touching him, it would be fine with Nate. Because he’d given her pleasure.
Just who he is.
Damn good thing she was selfish.
Lee closed her eyes and lifted her mouth. He didn’t hesitate, pressing his lips to hers and forcing her to open. Their tongues danced and duelled, her essence lacing the kiss and making her burn for him even more.
Foreplay, kisses, touches.
Only with Nate.
She snaked her arms around his neck and tugged him over her. The bedding was already warm and damp from her body heat and their sweat, but Lee didn’t care. The cotton was as welcome under her shoulders as Nate’s weight covering her.
“Angel…” he whispered against her lips.
“Get inside me. I’m far from done with you.”
Their gazes collided and Lee gasped at the undisguised emotions in his eyes.
She bit her bottom lip and ignored the flip of her stomach.
Just be with him, Lee. Shut the rest out.
Nate’s heart galloped at the look on her face.
Lee was always intense, but only in bed was her body more honest with him than words ever could be. Heat, passion and her response, even her touch, spoke to him.
He wanted more. She felt something for him other than lust. Lee sure as hell wouldn’t tell him. His gut told him as much, even if it caused his heart to cry out.
So he’d take what he could get. Nate loved her. If he couldn’t tell her, he sure as hell could show her.
The tender moment passed, and Lee tilted her face to meet his mouth again. He kissed her, twining their tongues and rocking his pelvis into hers. They fell into a rhythm that was more torture than pleasure because it wasn’t nearly enough.
