Because she wanted a change of scenery.
Because she wanted to keep her mother safe.
Because she wanted to feel safe.
At least that’s what Marissa told herself.
Plus, he had a roommate, another Sniper 1 agent, to boot, so it wasn’t like she was going to be completely alone with him.
As she stared back at Trace, she couldn’t deny the true underlying reason for her decision. Being alone with him, for just a little while, was too damned appealing. It was the highlight of what had been a very, very bad year.
Did it mean he’d want her the way she wanted him? No.
Would he reject her? Maybe.
Did she truly believe that? No, she didn’t.
Marissa saw the way Trace looked at her. She’d seen the side glances and the long stares. He checked her out as much as she checked him out. The crackle in the air was palpable, and even he couldn’t deny it.
Was it dangerous? Absolutely. Probably more so for her than Trace, but at this point, she needed something else to think about. Something other than what was going on in the periphery of her life. This was a different type of danger, one that she willingly would welcome to keep her mind off other things.
“You’re serious?” he asked, noticeably stunned by her decision.
“Absolutely.”
Marissa had to admit that she liked the confused expression on Trace’s more-than-handsome face. She’d caught him off guard and it was only fair. It was payback for all of the times he’d turned her away, even if she hadn’t blatantly pursued him.
Maybe he had his own agenda. Maybe this was an excuse for him, as well. Or, maybe he would lock her away in one of his spare bedrooms and only bring her meals when it was time to eat. She wasn’t sure, but she was willing to take the chance.
Definitely willing.
“So what do we do now?” she asked, fighting the urge to smile.
He didn’t answer her right away, but that didn’t stop her from taking matters into her own hands. It was obvious she would need to…
“I need you to pack,” he said in his most straightforward, detached tone of voice.
Yes, pack. That’s exactly what she had in mind, too.
“For how long?” she asked, turning her back on him as she moved toward her closet, which thankfully was across the room from where he stood.
She had to admit, it was getting a little hot in there. In fact, when he’d dropped onto her bed, she was pretty sure she had experienced her first hot flash. Thankfully he’d realized his mistake as soon as she had. It didn’t help matters much that the door to her bedroom was closed and they were the only two in the room. It was the most privacy she’d ever had with him, not counting the trip back to Texas from Connecticut and the brief stint last night when he’d played security guard in the very same room.
Nonetheless, this was vastly different than riding in a vehicle with him, sleeping in a motel while he hovered over her with his gun at the ready.
This was her bedroom. With a bed.
One she could totally envision him lying on.
Oh, good grief. She was going to have to get her head on straight or there was no way this would work.
Could she back out now? It was apparent she wasn’t going to be able to control herself, and what would happen if he actually did reject her?
Crap. Crap. Crap.
Marissa turned to face Trace, tempted to tell him she had changed her mind. That’s when she saw him. He was staring … at her ass.
Okay, so based on the heated look in his intensely beautiful eyes, he wouldn’t resist her.
Much.
Eighteen
Busted.
Trace felt the heat of Marissa’s gaze on him before he even realized she’d turned around.
For a moment, he had let his professionalism take a backseat to lust as he eyed her extremely fine ass hugged by those body-sculpting yoga pants. He blamed the skintight pants that didn’t disguise any of her curves for distracting him.
Leave it to Marissa to make his job harder without even trying.
Her silky blond hair bobbed around her face, longer in the front than in the back, not interfering with his perusal of her world-class ass, and he had found himself admiring it for long moments as she moved. The woman was fucking hot. No. Hot wasn’t a strong enough word to describe Marissa Trexler. She was so much more than that, but for the life of him, Trace couldn’t come up with an adequate adjective to describe her.
Marissa cleared her throat as she turned to face him fully. If he wasn’t mistaken, there was an answering hunger burning in her heated gaze.
This was so not a good idea.
“How long do I pack for?” she asked again, and that’s when Trace realized he had never answered her.
“No idea. Just get what you need, and we can always send Z back if you need somethin’ else.” Since Trace lived a good hour away from the compound, he figured it was best for her to take whatever she would need for an extended stay. Coming back for more wasn’t on his agenda, but he knew in the end, Marissa would likely get her way if she insisted.
He had little resistance to the woman, despite his need to keep her as far away from him as possible.
So why’d you suggest taking her to your place, you dumb ass?
He was not answering that.
“Give me twenty minutes?”
Trace nodded and then turned to leave, retrieving his cell phone from his pocket as he did. Before he was fully in the hall, he was punching in a familiar number. Listening to it ring, he leaned against the wall just outside of Marissa’s bedroom door.
“What’s up, man?” Z asked, his response tentative, as though he was already expecting the worst from Trace.
“You still here at the house?” Trace asked.
“On my way to the office, why?”
“Can you grab one of the Escalades and head back this way?”
There was a long, silent pause before Z finally sighed heavily. “You’re on your bike, right?” Z asked, referring to Trace’s Yamaha YZF-R1.
“Yeah,” he confirmed.
“You need me to come back and get her?” It wasn’t an offer, it was an affirmation said with a significant amount of frustration. Trace knew that Z would prefer to be on his own bike, but at the moment, they didn’t have much of a choice.
“Would appreciate it,” Trace told his friend.
“All right. I’ve gotta get there first. Should be back in thirty.”
“Thanks, man. Appreciate it.”
Z merely grumbled in response.
With that, Trace hit the end button on the phone and dropped his head against the wall behind him. He could hear Marissa moving around her bedroom, and he fought the urge to peek through the open door to watch her.
For whatever reason, Trace had been fascinated with Marissa for quite some time. Not only by her beauty, but by her … what was the word? Determination? Resolve? Fortitude?
Grit?
Yeah, maybe.
Marissa could stop traffic with her killer curves and brilliant, ice-blue eyes, but her physical beauty was merely the attractive wrapping. She wasn’t just a pretty face; she was so much more. Marissa was also incredibly smart, extremely wild, and extraordinarily opinionated. Those were traits he loved … er, liked … about her, as well.
Only two years younger than Trace, Marissa was the only one of the Trexlers who didn’t feel like family to him. Maybe because of his intense attraction to her, he didn’t know.
Even though she’d been in isolation for the last twelve or so months, Trace had kept his eye on her. Usually by keeping up to speed on where she was and what she was doing. So that he didn’t give away his personal interest, he’d always maintained a purely business interest in her case.
No, he wasn’t foolish enough to believe no one had seen through his curiosity. It wasn’t like he was an overly inquisitive man. He didn’t usually ask what or why when it came to a job. Unless it pertained to M
arissa.
And then, even if he’d thought he’d been at all covert in the beginning, he’d blown his cover to hell and back when he’d taken off after her several months ago. The plot to kidnap her again—the one that had come dangerously close to being fulfilled—had been the last straw. His instincts had kicked in, and that was when he had accepted that Marissa meant more to him than simply a job.
But he wasn’t complaining, which said a lot about where he was in his life. More importantly, no one else—aside from Clay, and possibly Z—seemed to be worried about Trace’s intentions where she was concerned.
Honestly, Trace wanted Marissa back home permanently. Did that mean he wanted her in his life? In his bed? No.
Okay, yes.
Fuck. Yes, he wanted her in his bed. He wanted her sprawled beneath him, screaming his fucking name as she came. He wanted to do to her things he’d only fantasized about doing to her. There were plenty of days that went by that Trace found himself jacking off to mental images of Marissa and all the ways he imagined making her come apart at the seams.
But he also wanted more. More than he was willing to admit to her or anyone else. Which was why he’d never acted on his feelings. Nor had he acted on the lust that burned hotter than diesel fuel in his veins. Until recently, that hadn’t been all that difficult. Not until he’d found himself lying in a cheap motel bed with her in his arms, that was.
Gentle was one adjective that had never been used to describe him, or any of his brothers, for that matter. Trace was demanding. Maybe not quite the control freak that Hunter was, or as domineering as Conner, but Trace was definitely interested in being in control of his environment. Especially where his sex life was concerned.
In that, Trace and Marissa would clash. He wanted control; she’d never give it up, even if she gave him the illusion that she would.
For him, sex with Marissa would never be enough.
And now he was going to have to figure out exactly how to stay the fuck away from her, because as far as he was concerned, nailing her to the wall and pounding his cock into her sweet pussy wasn’t a fucking good idea.
Because it would be merely the beginning.
□«»□«»□«»□
Ryan sat completely still, listening to his father work out the details of the conversation they’d just had aloud. When Bryce finally stopped talking, Ryan said, “I completely agree.”
Rather than allowing him to sneak out the front door as planned, Bryce and Casper had nabbed Ryan with their request to talk in private, effectively redirecting the course of his day once again. Unable to refuse, he’d followed them into his father’s home office, where the three of them now sat staring at one another.
“I’m serious, son,” Bryce admonished. “No one can know about this.”
Ryan wasn’t disagreeing, so he didn’t quite understand his father’s persistent attitude. Rather than argue, he nodded his head in agreement. “I won’t say a word. But we do need to find out who we’re dealing with. Which means I’m gonna need a little help.”
“Dominic,” Casper stated.
“What about him?” Ryan asked, confused.
“Talk to him. Only him. He can get us the data we need. But no one else.”
Ryan completely trusted his brothers and his cousins. All of them. And he trusted the Kogans, but he knew there were some relationships that had been established at Sniper 1 that could very well threaten their need for discretion when it came to the issue at hand. Someone was leaking information on Marissa’s whereabouts; there was no doubt about it. And it was high time they put a stop to it.
“Hey.”
Ryan turned to see Trace standing in the doorway to Bryce’s office.
“What’s up?” Bryce asked, coming to his feet quickly.
“I just wanted to check to see if there was anything else you needed from me before we head out.”
Ryan cocked an eyebrow, glancing over at Bryce to see if his father would say anything about the fact that his baby girl was about to head off to the solitude of Trace Kogan’s place.
“Are you sure this is the right thing to do?” Bryce asked, concern etched on his face.
You could’ve heard a pin drop—on cotton—after that question.
“I’m not sure about anything anymore,” Trace admitted, and Ryan got the distinct impression the man wasn’t talking about Marissa’s physical safety.
Turning to look at his father and Casper, Ryan waited to see if one of them would intervene. To his surprise, neither of them did.
“Is she all right with our decision?” Casper finally asked.
“I gave her the option of staying here,” Trace admitted. “So, yeah, I think she’s all right with it. It was her choice in the end. She’s eager to get back to a normal life, which means she wants this resolved as much as we do.”
“He’ll be able to control her actions a little better from there,” Casper added. “If she stays here, she’ll insist on doing things her way.”
Ryan understood that. Marissa had always been rebellious. More so than the rest of them. He figured it was because she was the only girl. He suspected that she was beginning to go stir crazy, and he couldn’t say that he blamed her.
“When are y’all leavin’?” Ryan asked.
“Z’s grabbin’ one of the Escalades from the office and then headin’ back this way to pick her up. I’m on my bike, so I can’t take her with me.”
“I actually think it’s the best plan,” Ryan said, turning to face his father and Casper. “For her to stay with Trace.”
“Why’s that?” Bryce asked, clearly perplexed by Ryan’s adamant agreement.
“Until today, everyone’s been under the impression she’ll be stayin’ here. What if we accidentally leak that she’s not stayin’ here? What if we lead them to believe she’s stayin’ … hell, let ’em think she’s stayin’ at my place. Or Clay’s. It might spark a response. Get someone to nose around a bit.”
Ryan jerked back around when the door to Bryce’s office slammed closed, Trace making his way back into the room. “That’s all good and fine. What I want to know is when you’re meetin’ with the Adorites.”
Shit. Ryan had forgotten about Trace’s insistence on going with him.
Knowing they didn’t have a lot of time to chat, Ryan gave Trace the Cliff’s Notes version of his brief discussion with Max Adorite, the one that had led to a face-to-face. Trace didn’t seem all that surprised by the news, which made Ryan feel better, considering.
“And this meeting’s takin’ place today?” Trace questioned.
“Yeah. It’s been moved to tonight. But…”
“But what?” Trace questioned, his eyes never leaving Ryan’s face.
“I think it’s best if you stay with Marissa. I’ll take Z with me. We’ll both fill you in on what happens.”
As he expected, Trace didn’t look at all happy with that suggestion. But a second later, Trace surprised him with his response.
“I’m good with that. I don’t want to leave her alone. Not with anyone.”
Ryan wanted to say he understood that, but he wasn’t sure he did. This thing between Trace and Marissa… It seemed far more complicated than a mere job.
But it wasn’t his place to say as much.
“Done. I’ll message Z in a bit. Tell him to meet me at the office.”
Trace nodded in agreement before stating, “We need someone assigned to Steph, Liz, and Emily. If our mole falls for the trap, someone is gonna show up here again. We can’t let that happen.”
“I’ll stay here,” Ryan agreed, turning to look at his father. “Until we know who the insider is, I’ll stay at the house with you and Mom.”
Bryce nodded briefly. “I can take care of myself, you know.”
“Yeah? Not twenty-four/seven you can’t.”
His father couldn’t very well argue with that logic, Ryan knew.
“I’ll keep an eye on Liz,” Casper confirmed. “But I’ll have Hunter as a backu
p. And I’m sure Dom, Evan, and Tanner can keep an eye on their mother.”
“Fine. While we lure this fucker out, you’re gonna keep Marissa under lock and key, right?” Bryce questioned Trace.
“That’s the plan.”
Ryan had to bite his tongue, because whether or not Bryce or Casper realized it, “lock and key” might not be a good thing when it came to Trace and Marissa.
●«»●«»●«»●
“You better have good news for me,” the man grumbled into the phone.
Barry wished he had something to tell the bastard, but unfortunately, until he had a chance to talk to William Waters—the inept dumb ass who had walked right into the Sniper 1 trap and was now sitting comfortably in a cell at the Lew Sterrett Justice Center—he didn’t have a damn thing to go on.
Not to mention, his fucking informant at Sniper 1 had suddenly gone mute, and that was pissing him the fuck off.
Competent help was so hard to find these days.
“Not yet,” Barry informed the cantankerous bastard. “I’ve got a plan, though.”
That was a lie. He didn’t have a fucking plan. Not yet. The little fucker who’d been feeding him information had suddenly stopped talking. He figured it had to do with the fact the Kogans and Trexlers were starting to suspect something, but that wasn’t Barry’s problem. He merely needed to get his hands on the girl, turn her over to the asshole who was paying him to grab her, and move on with his life after collecting the other half of his fee.
“Don’t call me back until you have her, understand?” The man’s tone was threatening, irritated. Clearly the guy wasn’t keeping his cool the way he wanted Barry to believe.
“Yes, sir,” he answered easily, smiling as he did.
“Oh, and one more thing. You’ve got three days. After that, I’m calling in someone else. And after they take care of you, they’ll bring me the girl.”
The line went dead and a frisson of fear swirled in his gut. That was a threat he couldn’t scoff at. Barry might not think highly of the guy or believe he was the top of the food chain, but he did know what the man was capable of. And he knew when the man was pushed to his limits, people tended to die. Maybe his plan to bypass the shithead wasn’t such a good one.
Wait for Morning (Sniper 1 Security #1) Page 16
