Midnight Captive

by Elle Kennedy

  “You wanted to fuck me but you couldn’t let me know it, could you? Because that would mean admitting that I could get to you, that I made you feel things my brother never made you feel. But you found yourself a loophole, didn’t you, baby? You took what you wanted from me that night, and then you pleaded ignorance.” He mocked her with his tone. “You’re scared of me, Bailey.”

  Her gaze flew to his. “I’m not scared of you.”

  “Yeah, you’re right. You’re not scared—you’re bloody terrified. You’re terrified of how good I make you feel. You think it gives me power over you.”

  She sucked in a shaky breath.

  “But for a smart woman, you’re pretty fucking dense sometimes.” His hand dropped from her neck. “Don’t you know by now that you have just as much power over me?”

  Bailey blinked in surprise, but Sean had already walked away, ducking into the hallway as she stood there, struggling to breathe. She didn’t hear the bedroom door close, but the mattress squeaked as if he was stretching out on the bed.

  It occurred to her that he hadn’t offered her the use of the bedroom this time, though that was probably because he’d known she’d reject the idea. Sleeping on the couch allowed her to keep him at arm’s length.

  But there’d be no sleep for her anytime soon. It was only eleven, and she wasn’t tired. She listened to the sounds of traffic on the street below them, trying to make sense of everything he’d said. He was right. She did have power. And not just to turn him on. She had the power to choose how much of herself to give him. The power to push him away if he got too close.

  Her wobbly legs carried her to the bedroom before she even realized it.

  “What do you want now?”

  His deep voice drifted toward her in the darkness. He was a shadowy blur on the mattress, but she could feel his gaze burning into her.

  She sighed. “Can we please just call a truce?”

  “We’re not at war, Bailey. You’re the only one who’s fighting.”

  She approached the bed, uncertain, unhappy. She sat on the edge and fumbled for the lamp on the night table; she located the switch, and pale yellow light flooded the room, revealing Sean’s naked body. His cloudy expression.

  Bailey took a breath. “I fight you because . . .” She searched for words. “Because . . . I just do. You piss me off.”

  His lips quirked. “I piss everyone off.”

  “I hate being kept out of the loop,” she admitted. “You’re always shutting me out or keeping me in the dark. I don’t like it, okay?”

  “Christ, don’t you get it? I hate that you’re caught up in this mess. This bloody mess that I shouldn’t even be in. I have no loyalty to Rabbit or Flannery, yet I’m stuck between them like the damn meat in a really shitty sandwich.” He rubbed his eyes, his voice coming out hoarse. “I’m gonna have to kill him, Bailey.”

  “Which one?”

  “Flannery, for now.” He groaned. “But certain measures need to be in place before I do it. I want Ollie somewhere safe. You. The others.” He paused. “Your mother.”

  “I’m arranging for a transfer,” she reminded him.

  He searched her face, a crease of hesitation furrowing his brow. “Does . . . does she really have Alzheimer’s?”

  Bailey’s throat tightened, making it hard to speak. So she settled for a nod.

  “I’m sorry, luv.”

  “Yeah . . . I used to be, too.” She swallowed hard. “But lately I think she’s better off.”

  Shock filled his eyes. “You don’t mean that.”

  “Yes, I do.” Needles of pain pricked her chest. Her heart. She knew she sounded callous, but she was being honest. “At least this way she doesn’t have to remember.”

  “Remember what?” he said softly.

  “Everything that happened to her.”

  “To her, or to both of you?”

  She fought her discomfort. She didn’t talk about her childhood. Period. But the rare tenderness in Sean’s eyes coaxed the confession from her mouth.

  “Both of us. But Mom suffered more than I did.”

  His expression became knowing. “Your father?”

  Bailey’s head jerked in a nod.

  “He beat her? Beat you?”

  Another nod.

  She saw his fists curl into the sheets, as if the thought of anyone laying a hand on her enraged him.

  “My beatings weren’t as bad, or as frequent. Usually he focused on Mom. Tormented her.” Involuntary shivers traveled up her spine. “But a lot of the times he’d force me to watch.”

  Sean sucked in a breath. “Are you serious?”

  “He said he was trying to teach me a lesson.” Bitterness combined with the lingering horror to form a queasy knot in her stomach. “He wanted me to witness every horrible thing he did to her. He wanted me to see the cuts and the bruises and the broken fingers and the ci—” She wheezed out a breath. “Cigarette burns. He wanted me to learn.”

  Sean’s face painted a picture of pure revulsion. “To learn what, for Christ’s sake?”

  “What happens when a woman tries to be more powerful than her husband.”

  “How did she try to do that?” Sean asked in confusion.

  “She didn’t try—she was. Her job was more important than his. She couldn’t help—” Bailey stopped. Her choice, she reminded herself. She got to decide how close Sean was allowed to get. And they’d just reached the line in the sand.

  “What did your mother do for a living?” he pressed, but Bailey was done talking.

  She placed her palm on his chest, stroking the light dusting of hair between his pectorals.

  “Damn it, don’t distract me. Talk to me.”

  “I don’t want to talk anymore.” Her hand glided down his stomach, and his abdominal muscles tightened beneath her palm. She reached the dark blond curls at his groin and grasped his semihard cock. One soft stroke and he was steel in her hands. Fully erect, precome oozing from his tip.

  “Talk to me,” he ordered.

  “No.”

  He tried to move out of her grasp but she squeezed him harder, drawing a wild groan from his throat. When she leaned forward to take him in her mouth, his hips shot off the bed, seeking deeper contact.

  It wasn’t fair what she was doing, but knowing that didn’t stop her from doing it. She’d given him enough insight tonight. Now it was time to armor herself again, to slam the door Sean kept trying to barrel through.

  He shuddered when she sucked on the crown of his cock. “Bailey . . . you’re being . . . an asshole . . . right now.”

  “Deal with it,” she murmured. Then she licked her way down his shaft and flicked her tongue over his tight sac.

  The distraction ploy worked. Soon he was cursing under his breath and thrusting into her mouth. Pleasure stretched his features taut as his hand tangled in her hair, guiding her along his shaft. He tasted soapy and salty and male, and Bailey couldn’t control the arousal that gathered inside her, throbbing in her sex and tingling her nipples.

  She sucked him hard and fast, knowing what he liked, using that knowledge to summon groan after groan from his lips. She grazed her teeth on his sensitive underside and he grunted in pleasure.

  But when he spoke, it wasn’t to urge her on. It was a command to stop. “No,” he said in a tortured voice. “You don’t get to do this.”

  “You don’t get to stop me.”

  She took him all the way to the back of her throat and his violent curse triggered her muffled laughter against his cock.

  His hand fisted her hair, pulling to the point of pain as he yanked her head up. “You think I shut you out? Well, take a good look at yourself, Bailey. You’d rather blow a man you don’t like than offer one measly detail about yourself. Let me in, damn it.”

  Bailey took off her T-shirt and pajama pants and straddled his hard thighs. “You want me to let you in? Fine. Here you go.”

  She impaled herself on his cock and he moaned so loudly she had to laugh ag
ain, but the humor died the second he thrust upward and filled her to the hilt. God, she couldn’t think straight when he was inside her. He was the addiction she desperately wanted to cure herself of.

  Sean’s movements stilled as he brought a hand to her face, gently stroking the fading bruise beneath her right eye. “I hate seeing this.”

  “I’ve had worse.”

  His thumb moved in a soft caress. “I hate hearing that even more.”

  Damn it, the tenderness was too much. She liked him better when he was rough. Crass. Made it easier to remember that this was only sex.

  She distracted him again by leaning forward and bringing her breasts to his mouth. And it worked—his tongue darted out for a taste, flicking one distended nipple before he sucked it deep in his mouth. Each time she lowered herself on his cock, that thick shaft stroked her inner channel, and her clit rubbed against his pelvis, until the pleasure grew too intense, sending her sagging onto his hard chest.

  Bailey ground herself against his lower body, frantically, mindlessly, her body aching for relief.

  “That’s it, luv.” His hands stroked her back, his raspy voice coaxing her to the brink. “Come all over my cock.”

  She exploded in a fiery rush, gasping for air as the orgasm blew through her body. Everything stopped working. Her brain, her lungs, her limbs. And her pussy spasmed harder when she felt the wet warmth of Sean’s release flood her channel. His cock pulsed in time to his rapid heartbeat, which vibrated in her breasts and matched the fast pace of her own.

  Strong arms held her against him. He was still inside her, hard as a rock, the heat of him burning her from the inside out.

  The lips that brushed her ear were soft and warm, but his words sent a chill up her spine. “You’re going to let me in, Bailey. I won’t stop pushing you until you do.”

  “That’s not what this is about,” she whispered.

  “Yes, it is.”

  Caveman Sean was back, but when she tried to disentangle from his arms, his grip tightened.

  “You still don’t understand, do you? We’re good together, baby. We fit,” he said fiercely. “I won’t go away until I know everything about you. I won’t go away even when I do know. I’ll always be here, and you will let me in.”

  Terror shot through her at the thought that he might be right.

  But no. It wouldn’t happen. Not if she kept him at a distance, where he belonged.

  “Tell me what you’re so afraid of,” he said thickly. “Just tell me, and we’ll talk through it. We’ll work past it.”

  He slid his fingers through her hair and tugged her head up. The raw, naked emotion in his eyes made her heart race in panic. Breathing hard, she wrenched his arms off her and stumbled off the bed.

  “Running away isn’t going to change what this is. You can hide from me, but we both know it won’t work, Bailey. Because I’m with you even when you’re alone.”

  Her hands trembled as she grabbed her clothes.

  “Stay,” he pleaded in a hoarse voice. “Stay and let me in, damn it.”

  His sorrowful sigh was the last thing she heard before she hurried out the door.

  Chapter 17

  “It’s done.” O’Neill was downright gloating as he strode into the pub.

  Sean glanced up from the table he was sharing with Quinn and Doherty, trying not to flinch at the cat-killed-the-bloody-canary grin on O’Neill’s face. The man had been tasked with driving the explosives-filled car and parking it in front of Trinity Pub, and Sean was disappointed that O’Neill had followed through. A part of him had hoped O’Neill would chicken out or screw up.

  Because whether or not the damn thing went off, Sean didn’t feel right knowing there was a bomb in an area teeming with civilians and college kids.

  From the corner booth where she sat with her laptop, Bailey lifted her head and met his eyes, and he saw the same unhappiness he was feeling reflected on her face. Then she scowled and turned back to the computer screen, the rigid set of her shoulders revealing that she was as unhappy with him as she was about the car bomb.

  She’d barely said five words to him all morning. She’d just fiddled around on her laptop in silence, pretending to do the graphic design work she was using as her occupation cover. Or maybe not pretending—Sean had stolen a few peeks at her screen earlier, and the fake advertisement she’d created had looked pretty damn good. Not that he was surprised. The woman was good at everything.

  Well, except for talking about anything important.

  He’d pushed her too hard last night. He knew that. But he wasn’t going to back off either. He’d spent five years playing it cool and subtle, and where had that gotten him? Absolutely nowhere. The bulldozer approach came with a greater risk of losing her, but it had already produced more results than any of the other strategies he’d tried in the past.

  “Where’s Rabbit?” O’Neill asked as he shrugged out of his coat.

  Good fucking question. Since Sean’s return to the Dagger, Rabbit had been AWOL more often than not.

  “He had an errand to take care of,” Quinn replied. “Should be back soon.”

  An errand? Or something more sinister?

  But fuck, who cared? At least Rabbit wasn’t with Cillian, who was currently holed up in the back room. Smacking a woman’s ass raw, no doubt.

  Every time Sean turned around, Kelly was whispering in Rabbit’s ear like Iago in an Irish production of Othello. He didn’t trust the twisted bastard, and not just because Cillian worked for Flannery.

  “I’ll be right back,” he said abruptly. “Wanna check on my girl.”

  He left Quinn and O’Neill to their own devices and approached Bailey. She was frowning at her phone but tucked it away before Sean could sneak a peek at it.

  “Should I be jealous?” he mocked, raising his brow.

  “Aren’t you always?”

  He slid onto the bench seat across from her. “Who was that text from?”

  “No one you need to worry about.” Her gaze lowered to the laptop screen.

  “Who was it from?” he repeated sternly.

  There was a pause, then, “My old handler.”

  No one he needed to worry about, his ass.

  A deep frown puckered his brow. “Isaac Daniels, you mean.”

  If Bailey was surprised that he knew the man’s name, she didn’t show it. “Yes.” She glanced at Rabbit’s men, then lowered her voice. “I went through Flannery’s files last night and found three CIA agents who could’ve leaked my file. Daniels just confirmed which one of them it was. He wanted to thank me for the heads-up.”

  “I’m sure he did.” Sean ignored the burst of jealousy that streaked up his spine. “Guess he’s gonna be doing some firing today.”

  She gave a wry smile. “People don’t get fired from the CIA. They get executed.”

  “I was being facetious.”

  “Oooh, look at you and your big fancy words.”

  “I’m a bloody wordsmith, baby. A genius, actually—I even graduated from high school.”

  A laugh popped out of her mouth, and then her eyes darkened, as if she was annoyed with herself for showing amusement. “Shouldn’t you be sitting with your best buds and discussing your next terrorist attack?” she grumbled.

  “Nah, I’d much rather sit here with you and discuss your ex-lover.”

  Her jaw twitched.

  “What, luv, you thought I didn’t know? Flannery’s not the only one with files, remember?”

  She leveled him with a scathing look. “Congratulations, you know I fucked my boss. Gold star for Sean.”

  “You didn’t just fuck him. You lived with him for four years.” Sean slanted his head. “I tailed him a few years back, you know. Got a lot of pretty pics, too. He’s . . . hell, he’s prehistoric. How old was he when you first hooked up? Ninety?”

  “Forty-eight,” she said stiffly.

  “Jesus Christ, Bailey. You were eighteen years old.”

  “Twenty, actually.”
<
br />   “Still makes him a dirty old man.”

  Sean wanted to ask what the hell she’d seen in the wrinkled perv, but Rabbit chose that moment to return from his mysterious errand.

  “Reilly,” he called. “A word.”

  Though he was reluctant to leave her, Sean slid out of the booth and walked over to Rabbit, who led him out of earshot of the others.

  “Kelly tells me we’re all set.”

  “That’s what I hear,” Sean said indifferently.

  “You don’t like this.”

  He met Rabbit’s gaze head-on. “No, I don’t. I don’t fuck with innocents, Eamon.”

  “No?” The older man smirked in Bailey’s direction. “Seems like you fuck innocents just fine.”

  “Yeah, but she’s not sitting in Trinity Pub at the moment, now, is she?”

  Rabbit’s eyes stayed focused on Bailey. “She means a lot to you.”

  “I wouldn’t be here right now if she didn’t.”

  “I see . . . But, well, I hope she’s not the only reason you’re here.” Rabbit’s voice went oddly gruff. “I’m glad you’re back, Seansy. Every time I look at you I see your father. You’re so much like Colin, y’know that? Not just the resemblance either. You have his strength. His loyalty.” Rabbit paused. “I miss him.”

  “Yeah,” Sean said hoarsely. “Me too.”

  His childhood hadn’t been flowers and sunshine—that was impossible when your father was tangled up with the IRA—but that didn’t mean Sean lacked good memories of his old man. He did miss him. A helluva lot.

  But he had no interest in commiserating about it with Eamon O’Hare.

  “Don’t you have a call to make soon?” Sean deliberately tapped his tactical watch.

  An unreadable look crossed Rabbit’s expression before he nodded. “You’re right. I do. I’d better get on that.”

  * * *

  “I don’t like this.” Sullivan voiced the uneasy admission into the comm as he monitored his surroundings.

  As usual, he was the one out in the open, sipping a coffee on the street-facing patio of Trinity Pub, while Liam and D worked their sniper magic on rooftops across the thoroughfare. D was back on surveillance duty because Oliver Reilly had effectively fired him, claiming that the sullen-faced merc was so intimidating that he scared the shit out of any source they tried talking to. Ash was apparently suited for the job, though, because Oliver had kept the rookie.