“How much longer?” Ryker asks over comms.
Annoyance prickles over the back of my neck. “Two minutes. Don’t get your panties in a bunch.”
“Not wearing any, sweetheart.”
Inara clears her throat. “Um, you know I’m still here, right?”
“Fuck.” Ryker lowers his voice, muttering, “I knew this was a bad idea.”
“Focus, you two,” Inara snaps. “I got out of a very warm bed to help you on this op, and it’s fucking snowing here.”
“Done.” I disconnect my cables and shove everything back into my pack. “Coming to you, Ry.”
As I reach his side, he wraps his arm around my waist for a moment, holding on like he thought I’d disappear. “Remember—”
“Stay behind you. Got it.” Resting my fingers over his, I squeeze once. “Get us out of here safely, soldier.”
So many emotions play over his rugged features: pride, relief, concern, caution… He’s one of the most expressive men I’ve ever met, but he thinks he gives nothing away. He does, to those who understand how to read him. Or at least to me.
“Back the way we came,” he mutters as he cracks the door. Grabbing the little camera, he creeps down the hall, gun at the ready. Compared to him, my footsteps sound like a herd of elephants, even though we’re both wearing soft-soled boots. Almost there. Almost safe.
Ryker holds up his fist as he approaches the corner. I almost bump into him and have to grab the tablet pouch to stop it from banging into the wall. The cable ends clink together quietly, and Ryker flinches at the sound.
What’s he waiting for?
Panic grips my throat as he whirls and shoves me back the way we came. Clipped footsteps—not rushed, but close—approach. Two men speaking in Russian sound a lot like bored security guards, but they won’t be bored for long if we don’t find somewhere to hide.
Door after door denies Ryker entry, and as we round the corner and I look back, the shadows of the guards loom steps away. Pushing me against the wall, Ryker meets my gaze, his multi-colored eyes desperate. “If we’re compromised, you stay out of the way while I take care of the guards. And if I tell you to run, you don’t look back.”
I nod, clutching my tablet tightly against my chest. He holsters his gun, takes my hand, and races with me to the far end of the hall. Finding a bathroom, he pulls me inside, then lifts me so I’m standing on the toilet in the single stall. Holding his finger to his lips, he flicks the lock on the stall closed, then joins me. With his height, he has to crouch with his hands on his knees so no one sees his head over the top of the walls. If we’re discovered…even if he manages to get us out of this mess, they’ll know someone was in the server room. The door locks will log an entry, and if there are cameras anywhere…
“Monitoring all wireless signals in the area off your comms relay,” Inara whispers. “Guards are checking in with control.
Wireless.
Sliding my tablet out of the pouch, I rest it on Ryker’s back. The biometric scanner reads my fingerprint, and I open a shell program. My backdoor into this place gives me access to everything. Including wireless communications.
The bathroom door opens, and one of the guards calls to the other. In our ears, Inara translates.
“He…has to take a shit.”
Spit-snacks. If I can’t get these radios turned off, we’re toast. I send the code to kill the wireless network when the guard is less than two steps away. Except…the word I think means wireless apparently means lights, as the bathroom goes dark. Quickly, I flip the tablet over, hiding the screen’s glow against Ryker’s back.
“Sergei?” A string of Russian words I don’t understand follows, and the door slams open, then shut, before silence envelopes us.
“They’re heading up to the lobby to check with the main guard. Lights are out all over the building,” Inara says. “Get the fuck out of there now.”
15
Ryker
The whole way back to the safe house, I try to find something to say to reassure her—or myself—we’re safe. But the words won’t come.
Too fucking close.
The guards should have been changing shifts when we were making our escape. Not patrolling the halls.
“Why the hell did you turn off the lights?” I ask after we’re safely inside and she’s huddled on the couch. “Of everything you could have—”
“I was trying to jam their wireless communications. Excuse me if reading Russian off a tiny screen resting on your back while trying not to have a panic attack wasn’t completely accurate.” She hugs herself tightly, shivering.
I should apologize for snapping. Or hold her. Or…anything but walk away. But we came so close to being discovered. Stalking into the kitchen, I rummage around and find a tea kettle. I need a drink. But until we’re back in the States and the bratva isn’t after Wren anymore, I won’t let anything impair my focus.
The stove sputters to life, the gas burner crackling in oranges, yellows, and blues. For too long, I simply stare at the flame.
“Tell us what we need to know, Ryker. We do not want to harm you. Why were you in the mountains? What was your mission?”
“Fuck you.”
“You leave us no choice. Burn him.”
The fire licks up my left arm, a thin strip of flesh turning black as my captors hold the torch to my skin. I try not to scream, but when the asshole moves to my shoulder, I lose the battle.
“Ry?”
The kettle hits the floor, the still-cold water splashing over my boots. “Fuck!”
“Look at me.” Wren grabs my arms as I start to shake. “Ryker! Stop. Listen to my voice.”
I can’t. I have to get out. The flames are coming closer. Somewhere nearby, Dax screams. I see the door. The bars. The rusted metal, stained with blood. My blood. I couldn’t protect Dax. Couldn’t stop those bastards from blinding him.
Honeysuckle surrounds me, and fingers flutter over my cheeks. Something warm curls around my waist. When her lips crash into mine, all my nightmares, my fears, my flashbacks fade away, and there’s nothing but our kiss.
Wren. I’m with Wren.
The dank, cold caves dissolve into the monochrome gray of a Russian kitchen. And red curls. Creamy skin. She’s wrapped around me, her hands stroking up and down my back, her tongue tangled in a lazy dance with mine, and my God, she’s so fucking perfect.
I almost lost her. And now…I’ll do anything to keep her right where she is. With me. But…not here. Not on a dusty kitchen floor with the stove blazing. Pulling away, I tuck a thick lock of auburn hair behind her ear and try to memorize the look in her eyes. Desire. Understanding. And…need.
“Hold onto me, sweetheart.”
She’s so light I barely notice her weight as I shift her in my arms, turn off the stove, and carry her into the living room. What am I doing? I don’t…I can’t…
“Ry. Stop thinking and kiss me again.” Wren reaches for my belt, and I cover her hands with mine. Holding my breath, I will myself to wake up. This has to be a dream. There’s no way this beautiful, intelligent, capable woman wants me.
And then she peels off her shirt.
“Wren…” Her skin almost glows in the light from the single lamp in the center of the room. A flush rises from her black silk bra, and my gaze travels lower, to the pants that mold to her ass. Why didn’t I notice how tight they were before?
“Have you lost the capability to understand English?” Her hands stroke down her sides, fingers disappearing under her waistband, and I follow their trail. “I’m throwing myself at you, soldier. Catch me.”
My shirt lands next to hers, and this time when she reaches for my belt, I run my fingers through her hair, trying to convince myself she’s real. My dick strains against the thin, tactical material, and she skims her palm over me.
“So…were you serious earlier?” Her smile has the power to undo me, and copper flecks dance in her pale green eyes as she flicks open the button on my pants. “Are you
really going commando?”
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I crush her to my chest. “I said no panties, sweetheart. Last time I checked, briefs didn’t count.”
“There you are.” Wrapping her arms around my neck, she levers up on her toes so I can claim her mouth. She tastes like a summer day, and I might never get enough of her. “Let me see these briefs, soldier. And what’s underneath.”
Sinking to my knees, I bury my face against her mound, inhaling her sweet scent. “Not until I taste you.”
“I…oh…” The tremble in Wren’s voice urges me on, and I peel the leggings down her hips, finding the scrap of silk between her thighs soaked through. “Please…”
“Please what?” One finger dips under the edge of her panties, and her knees threaten to buckle. “Lie down, baby. And tell me what you like.”
The sleeping bags rustle as she stretches out before me like a fucking banquet, and I cage her with my arms, holding myself over her as I wait for an answer.
“It’s been a long time,” she whispers. “But I’m not going to get what I want unless you’re naked.”
The laugh escaping my lips surprises me, but after I undo my zipper, I freeze. “Wren, the rest of me—”
She cups my arousal, her fingers stroking over the hard length through my briefs. “As far as I can tell, you still have the necessary equipment. Trust me, Ry. I don’t know why you think I care about your scars. I care about you.”
Shedding my pants, I watch her expression as she sees my legs. Parts of me look like a fucking jigsaw puzzle, but if she’s shocked, she doesn’t show it. “One day, you’re going to tell me your whole story. But not tonight. Tonight, we’re going to enjoy one another.”
Enough of this slow dance. I need her like I need my next breath. I strip off my briefs, and her appreciative purr sends me to full mast in a heartbeat.
“Wow…” she says, her eyes widening as she reaches out to stroke me. I won’t last if she keeps touching me, so I pin her hands over her head.
“Not yet.” I barely manage to avoid ripping her panties as I yank them down her legs, and then her taste floods me.
“Oh God…Ry…yes!”
I have to hold her hips still. Her channel weeps for me, and I swirl my tongue over and around her clit. “Like this, sweetheart?”
“More…”
My cock throbs painfully trapped under my bulk, and I plunge two fingers into her channel as I continue to lave my tongue over her sensitive nub. Her whimpers rise at least an octave as her thighs tremble and she starts to tighten around me.
Scoring my teeth gently over her clit, I twist my fingers to find the little patch of nerves deep inside that will send her over the edge. With a strangled scream, she implodes, and I drink her in, savoring every sound. Every touch. Every second I have with her.
Sliding up her trembling body, I suck my fingers clean, then touch my lips to hers. “Kiss me, Wren.”
With her arms around my neck, she pulls herself up so I can reach the clasp on her bra, and as she feathers kisses along my jaw, back to my ear, and down my neck, I toss the silk away, and palm her breasts. “You’re fucking perfect,” I whisper.
One nipple pebbles between my thumb and forefinger, the other between my teeth, and she gasps when I grind my hips against her mound.
“Inside me, Ry. Now.”
Fumbling for my go bag, I search for a condom, unable to stop cursing until my fingers close around the foil packet. My crown’s already dripping, and I won’t last. It’s been too long. My hands shake as I try to tear the wrapper, but Wren saves me, freeing the rubber and rolling it over my cock.
“You’re…even more impressive than I imagined,” she says.
“You…’imagined’? Are you trying to tell me you fantasized about me, little bird?”
Her cheeks redden as her hands stroke up my sides. “A little. Or maybe…a lot. Don’t make me wait any longer, soldier.”
“Hell no.”
Nudging her entrance, I groan, fighting the desperate urge to bury myself deep in a single thrust. But I’ll rip her in two, and I have to let her body adjust to me. “You’re so fucking tight, baby.”
I slide home by inches, and Wren’s little whimpers and moans as I move only make me harder. And then…we’re as close as two people can be. “What is this?” I ask, awe roughening my voice.
“Bliss.” Her hips start to move under me, and it’s all I can do not to slam into her over and over again. When she cups the back of my neck, I hold my breath, afraid somehow, I’ve hurt her, but the small smile that curves her lips banishes my fears. “I’m not going to break, Ry. And I need to feel you. All of you.”
I’ve never wanted a gilded invitation. Until now. But the golden flecks in her eyes give me the permission I crave, and I claim her mouth as I thrust hard enough to make her gasp into our kiss. Her short nails rake across my back, and the tiny pinpricks of pain heighten every sensation.
“Fuck, Wren…I can’t hold on…”
“Then don’t,” she manages, and when I swivel my hips enough to graze her clit, she calls my name, and I fly over the edge with her.
16
Ryker
Wren shifts against me, a soft sigh escaping her lips as she snuggles closer. She fell asleep as soon as I drew the sleeping bag over us and wrapped my arms around her.
But I lie awake trying to understand what the hell just happened. Besides the obvious—mind-blowing sex.
Since Colombia—since Coop’s supposed “death”—I’ve drifted in a fog of uncertainty. In Hell, I trained my mind. Honed my memory into the sharpest blade. I escaped by memorizing everything. The sounds of the guards’ footsteps. The scents that clung to them—different in the morning than at night.
Even when they kept me bound and blindfolded, I could tell you what time of day it was and where I was in the complex system of caves under the mountain. I counted steps. Turns. Learned the texture of the different walls. The way the sounds echoed.
So why didn’t I see Coop’s insanity? The signs were all there. Hell, looking back, I can see each one. The day he first lied to me. The look in his eyes when he met West. I’d seen that look so many times in my captors. Pure, unadulterated hatred. But I dismissed it. Shoved it aside. And only after trying to stop West bleeding out in my arms did I start to put the pieces together.
Nothing makes sense. Except Wren. She sees me. The real me. The man under the scars. Under the pain. And when I slept curled around her the other night? The nightmares didn’t find me. She soothes the constant whispers in my head. The ones telling me I’m not good enough. I didn’t try hard enough. I failed Dax. Failed my men. West. Inara. Royce.
Threading my fingers through her hair, my heart squeezes in a way I’ve never felt before. Protecting her…it’s all I have left. And if I fail, can I live with myself?
“I can hear you thinking,” she murmurs against my chest. “Talk to me.”
“You need sleep, sweetheart.”
“So do you.” Pushing up on an elbow, she peers at me through half-lidded eyes. The bruise on her cheek has faded to a sickly yellow, and I brush my knuckles along the edge of the discoloration. “We have a lot of work to do in the morning.”
“I’ll be fine. Going without sleep isn’t a new thing for me.”
“Ry.” Her kiss quiets my protests, and she feathers gentle touches over the worst of the scarring on my chest. “You’re like all of those notes Z left me in his book. A complete mystery—until you find the encryption key. I don’t know why or how, but I have your key.”
Shock steals any reply, and I can only blink down at her as she continues. “You didn’t fail me tonight. You protected me. You got me somewhere safe, somewhere private you could take out the guards if you had to. And when the lights went out, you knew exactly where to go without being able to see a blasted thing.”
“I…I remember things.”
“You remember everything.” Her lips twitch into a smile. “What was I wearing
the day we met?”
“Green scoop-neck sweater, jeans with a rip mid-thigh, red Vans, a resin pendant in the shape of a teardrop, tiny silver hoops. Your smartwatch. Zion’s bracelet.” I don’t tell her what I remember most of all is how she smelled. How her voice trembled—both in anger and fear. And how those two emotions sounded completely different.
“And what do I do when I’m nervous?”
“Run your fingers over your bracelet. You count the beads. Or if you’re wearing your pendant, you trace the edges. Five times. Then you reverse directions.”
A light laugh trips from her heart-shaped mouth. “Really? I didn’t know I had a pattern.” Her fingers dip between her breasts, searching for the pendant she left tucked in her pack before she relaxes into my embrace again. “You don’t do uncertainty, Ry. You know why you’re not sleeping. So…tell me. I’m not sleeping until you do.”
The challenge in her gaze makes me want to bury myself deep inside her again, as does the way she’s pressed against me. Her nipples tighten, and her sweet scent surrounds us. I want to live in this moment for the rest of my life. Because here, everything makes sense.
“I’m lost,” I whisper. “And I can’t see my way clear.”
Her nod shouldn’t shock me, but it does. Somehow, she understands—but how, when I don’t? “Clear to what? The old you? The one who never asked for help? Who never let anyone in? Don’t go back there. Ever. Stay here. Where you have people who care about you.”
Sucking in a harsh breath, I try to free myself from the sleeping bag, but she tangles her legs with mine and holds on. Panic tightens a noose around my throat, and my words escape strangled and broken. “Wren, don’t.”
“You’re safe,” she says as she climbs on top of me, her hands on either side of my shoulders, and her mouth inches from mine. “We’re safe. And I’m not going anywhere. You won’t lose me by letting me in.”
“I don’t know how.” A strange, choked sound in my throat might be a sob, and I try to lock my emotions away, but Wren sees through my efforts and cups my cheek.
On His Six Page 10