by Juno Rushdan
“So you’re the one who just accessed my safe house in Boston.”
Sheesh, he stayed abreast of everything. “Yep.”
“You said you have the hard drive?”
“I do,” he said, trying to decide how to explain that Kit had lied, there were three drives, and he was only handing over a copy. Not the originals as ordered. No words came to him. The good news was that he wouldn’t have to face his boss with a rock-solid explanation until tomorrow after they drove back. Plenty of time to sort his story out. Instead, he said, “I watched the video and translated it. D-day is Thursday.”
Sanborn groaned. “That’d explain some other recent developments. We need the drive ASAP. I was about to send Reaper to check on something we just discovered, but I’ll have him fire up the helo instead,” Sanborn said, “and contact you with a pickup location.”
“Roger that.”
“Good work. I owe you a box of macarons.” Sanborn hung up.
Cookies were a little premature. There wouldn’t be cause for celebration until they had stopped Bravo, thwarted whatever dastardly deed was in the works, and Castle made sure Kit was safe.
“It’s in progress,” Kit said. “It’ll take a while. Why don’t you get some rest? You drove all night and haven’t slept. You must be exhausted.”
On the contrary, he was wired. “I can’t.” He glanced at the laptop, noting the progress bar on the screen, and looked back at her.
“Wait.” She shifted on the bed, setting the laptop down. “You can’t sleep because you have to watch the computer? Because you have to watch me on the computer, with the hard drives?”
He needed to be one hundred percent positive that everything they’d discussed would indeed be copied. “Don’t take it that way. It’s a chain of custody issue.”
Her brow furrowed and she shot to her feet. “You think I’d tamper with the copy?” Hurt whispered in her voice. “You still don’t trust me. Even after I’ve told you everything, practically bared my soul to you.”
She stormed around him, headed for the doorway.
Rising from the bed, he caught her slim wrist and tugged her flush against him. An intimate ripple of warmth went through his body.
“I think you want Bravo caught more than anyone and you know this is the only way that’s going to happen. The only way to ensure your safety.” He cupped her face. “Giving my boss a copy instead of the original hard drives contradicts a direct order, one I’ll have to answer for. I need to be able to tell him with complete confidence that we have everything we need.”
“Why are you risking this for me?”
“Because you won’t yield.” He brushed his thumb across her cheek, and her breath caught in her throat. “If I took those drives from you by force, I’d only prove your worst fears, and you’d hate me.” He dreaded that more than anything. The prospect of losing her. Never feeling this charged sensation with someone else.
“This is real.”
What she meant was clear. This was real. Real stupid. Real trouble. A real spark in a bed of dry grass, bound to kindle a wildfire. “It is.”
A small, bright smile lit up her face.
His heart clenched unexpectedly. His physical reaction to her was exhilarating. And terrifying.
“What about the things Alistair said at the gas station? What about the things you said? Not shitting where you eat was the poetic phrase.”
The effect she had on him, even when he’d uttered those words, was staggering.
“It’d be a hundred times simpler if I weren’t attracted to you.” Need churned inside him like a man possessed—to be near her, to touch her. It was only growing stronger. “I’ve never believed in chemistry, besides the kind to breach a site with explosive charges. Not until you.”
“You say the most romantic things.”
“Around you, the lines blur. The rules become fuzzy.”
“Is that a warning or an invitation?”
“Both.”
Maybe he got such a thrilling high from her because he wanted what he wasn’t supposed to have. If he gave in to temptation and slept with her, would the draw cease to exist?
Once Eve bit the apple, all she tasted was regret.
She slid her thigh between his legs and her hands up his chest. “I want you, Castle.”
The teasing whisper of his name on her lips made his cock thicken and ache.
He’d been dead inside for a long time, only invigorated when bullets were flying. Yet Kit was like heroin mainlined straight into his veins, eradicating any cold detachment.
She was the best rush.
He wanted her with every breath he took. A reckless, soul-deep longing that made no sense.
Just this once, he couldn’t deny himself. Not for duty. Not for country. Not for God.
Not for anything in the world.
29
Gray Box Headquarters, Northern Virginia
10:52 a.m. EDT
Sanborn sat behind his desk, watching the high-resolution live feed on his computer screen of Castle and Kit getting cozy.
None of his Gray Box operatives were aware of the hidden surveillance cameras in all the safe houses, smaller than the size of a screw head, housed in the smoke detectors, the PIR alarm motion sensors, clocks, AC adapters, Wi-Fi routers, kitchen cabinets, and headboards on the beds. Not even his second-in-command, Knox.
The bugs automatically activated voice and video surveillance fifteen minutes after someone accessed a safe house. In case someone did a sweep upon entry, no signals would be detected.
He had assured his people there were no monitoring devices. His housekeeping team did regular sweeps, ensuring supplies at locations were replenished and everything was clean of foreign tech, and they had taken his word as gospel. They had no reason not to.
Ultimately, it came down to a need to know, and knowing wasn’t in their best interest.
“Do you feel it?” Katherine Westcott asked, pressed up against Castle. Her chest surged with her breath, a flush creeping up the ivory skin of her neck. “Like rain in the air before a thunderstorm.”
Where did she get that line? From a John Hughes ’80s rom-com?
Only there was nothing funny about the scene unfolding before him. This was a tragedy.
“I feel it,” Castle said, sounding equally sappy.
The minx had turned Sanborn’s hardened battle-ax into a bowl of warm pudding. The lines blur. The rules become fuzzy.
She’d done a real number on Castle.
“I think it’s better if we get it out of our system,” she said. “Take the edge off.” She curled an arm around Castle’s neck, bending his loyalties to her will. Those plush pink lips went to his throat, trailing a line of enticing pecks up to his jaw. “Don’t you?”
Castle responded by lowering his mouth to the devious little hacker’s.
The sight of them sucking face curdled Sanborn’s stomach. He swallowed the bile rising in his throat. A concern had turned into a disastrous reality.
The moment Castle had brought Katherine Westcott to the Gray Box, Sanborn had seen it. The way Castle reacted to her. How susceptible he was to her natural charms.
For starters, he’d kept touching her like he couldn’t help himself. His hand on her leg under the table. Gripping her shoulder as he’d escorted her from the conference room to the bathroom, where she’d insisted on being alone with him. Seated once more, his hand on her knee again. Discreet gestures. Everyone else had missed the elusive details. But Sanborn saw everything.
Like calling the POI Kit instead of by her surname.
Like Castle’s self-destructive instinct to safeguard her—the epitome of calamity.
Sanborn’s insides roiled as he changed cameras, toggling to a view of the living room where Alistair lay on the sofa, sleeping sound as a baby.
&
nbsp; One job. The British operative had one flipping job. Run interference.
Sanborn was glad his people were safe, and it appeared as though Alistair would make a full recovery without incident, but a gunshot wound was the perfect excuse to require constant attention. Instead, he’d let Castle sedate him, for heaven’s sake.
A knock came at his door.
Sanborn switched off the feed. “Enter.”
Reaper came in. One of his best, beautiful and terrifying. “You needed to see me, Chief?”
“Castle and Alistair are in Boston. Alistair’s been shot. He’s in stable condition, but we need to bring him home as soon as possible. I’d like you to fly him back.”
“I was just going to head to Dulles to investigate the footage of Yosef Khan.”
Surveillance video of Khan had pinged a DoD alert. The FBI were all over it, but this lane of the war on terror intersected with the Gray Box. They had knowledge of an imminent attack, and Khan was here in DC. One plus one equaled two. The director of national intelligence—that weasel Lee—agreed the Gray Box had a dog in this fight.
“Who do you want to send in my stead?” Reaper asked.
“Reece.”
“I’ll let him know, then I’ll get airborne as soon as I can.” Reaper turned for the door.
Sanborn pushed away from his desk and stood. “On second thought, I think I’ll go with you.” He wanted to look Castle in the eyes when he handed over the data.
30
Boston, Massachusetts
10:55 a.m. EDT
Kit wanted to be skin to skin with Castle, to have him inside her.
He took her mouth in a lingering kiss that became more demanding. His embrace was tight and unrelenting. She wondered if he heard the pounding of her heart, beating loud as a drum against her rib cage.
“Kit,” he said huskily, putting one possessive hand on her hip. The other slid to her nape as his lips blazed kisses on her throat and collarbone. The rough scruff on his jaw scratched her skin, the sensation setting every nerve in her body on fire.
His hands worked frantically, stripping the jacket from her shoulders, throwing her shirt over her head, tugging down the front of her bra.
She gasped as the cool air hit her breasts, leaving her exposed.
Immediately, she was self-conscious, but she’d also never been more turned on in her life. “They’re small. Probably smaller than you’re used to.”
“They’re perfect.” Light danced in his eyes. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”
He palmed her breast and took her nipple in his mouth, and she went boneless with anticipation. The arm he had wrapped around her back was the only thing keeping her from melting into a puddle of desire at his feet.
Castle drew his tongue over the tight peak of her breast in a wet, silken caress. He let it slip from his lips only to take the rosy tip greedily again, teasing with his teeth. He licked and sucked. Liquid heat pooled between her legs and she melted against him.
Moaning from the delicious suckle of his mouth, she massaged the hard bulge in his pants, needing to drive him just as wild. She needed to touch his bare skin, strip his clothes off, and have him. Her trembling fingers found his buckle and undid it.
“Maybe we should slow down,” Castle said, his breath ragged.
“Why?”
“It’s been a while since I’ve been with someone and I don’t want to take you in a rush. Not the first time, anyway.”
All the wild and wicked things they could do to each other tumbled through her head. “How much time do we have?”
“Two and a half hours, maybe three before Reaper gets here.”
Plenty of time to savor this. She spun his big body around and nudged him to sit on the bed. Lowering to her knees between his spread legs, she said, “Then let’s slow it down.”
She unlaced his boot and removed it, holding his heated gaze.
He slipped his fingers into her hair and kissed her. It was possessive and hungry, only intensifying her own appetite.
She unlaced and pulled off his second boot and noticed something hidden in the leather upper. “What is this?”
“Universal handcuff key.”
“Oooh. You like it kinky. Where do you keep the cuffs?”
He chuckled. “I’m not into sexual bondage. Unless you want me to be.”
“Hmm.” She slid his thick belt out of the belt loops and a metallic glint caught her eye. A small knife. The blade was sheathed in the leather on the inside of the belt and had a finger loop instead of a handle. Both appeared custom-made and the belt cleverly concealed the knife. No one would have any idea it was there unless they were looking for it.
“That’s new,” he said, eyeing the customized knife. “A little gift from Grace Tanaka. She knows how I like my toys.”
They had vastly different ideas of what constituted a toy. Kit’s were usually battery operated and never failed to give her an orgasm. “Why do you have this stuff hidden in your clothing?”
“I like to be prepared.”
“Of course.” She tossed the boot, dropped the belt, and ran her hands up his muscled thighs to his hips. “I have two questions.”
“Shoot.”
“I get that you’re attracted to me,” she said as he ran his thumb over her nipple and stroked the swell of her breast. “But do you like me?”
She’d slept with her fair share of men, and as it turned out, not many had actually liked her. Was this just a quick physical release? Or, against the odds, had they formed a connection?
Either way, she’d sleep with him. Her feelings ran deeper, and she was hot for him, but she had to know.
“Like is too tame a word. Kit, you overwhelm me,” he said with a raw intensity that rumbled over her skin, as powerful and seductive as the caress of his hands. “I can’t think straight around you. I just want to feel. Enjoy the thrill of you.”
She sighed inside. “You know how to compliment a woman when you want.”
“Before you get to your second question, I have one.”
She nodded. “What?”
“Do you like me? Considering the domestic beer, NRA membership, insane muscles, drinking good bourbon from a red SOLO cup, calluses. And my freight-train personality.”
That was almost verbatim. I must’ve struck a nerve.
“I love that you’re different. The men I’ve been with before ended up being total scum, only interested in using me. You needed something from me too, but I never felt you were only ever after the drives.” He was such a miraculous surprise. “I’m sorry if it came across as an insult. That wasn’t how I meant it. You overwhelm me too.” Good thing that was mutual.
She stood, his gaze following her, and peeled her leggings down, leaving on her barely there panties. Reaching her ankles, she kicked the leggings off.
Those marvelous eyes of his stayed glued to her. No one had ever stared at her with such dark intensity, like he was memorizing every detail.
She cupped his cheeks, tipped her head down, and kissed him for all she was worth. Absorbed the heady flavor of him. So sexy, so male.
His palms skated up the backs of her legs, squeezed her bottom, drawing her so close his hot breath brushed across her through the lacy triangle of her panties.
Crazed butterflies fluttered in her stomach. His mouth on her body, his hands stroking her hair, filled her with a deep, arousing warmth that had her purring.
He gripped the band of her thong and ripped it from her body. She gasped—not from fear but from exhilaration. The promise of pleasure had anticipation vibrating across her skin.
As he kissed the bare curve of her stomach, his palm caressed up her inner thigh to her core. She spread her legs wider, eager and aching. He slid his fingers into her, withdrawing and plunging in again, teasing her sweet spot with the pad of his thumb. Sh
e nearly came undone.
A shudder rolled down her spine with every stroke. Close, she was so close, so freaking fast. He licked her nipple, sucking on it, and then his mouth moved lower, his tongue replacing his thumb against that sensitive bundle of nerves between her legs. He drew on her with tenderness and mind-boggling talent she’d never experienced. A swirl of wet caresses, a thrusting invasion in tandem with his fingers sent her sailing over the edge.
“That’s right, Kit-Kat. Come for me.”
Her hands flew to his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin as she cried out, falling apart in his arms. She shuddered in surrender, her inner muscles squeezing his fingers.
“I can’t wait to feel you clamp down like that around my cock.” His voice was low and rough as he held her.
Limp in his arms, she clung to him. It was no shocker he was skilled, but she was overwhelmed by how unselfish and sweet he’d been. Not to mention great at dirty talk.
She took his face in her hands and kissed him. Need crashed through her, hot and hungry.
“Castle.” She could barely get the words out, her lungs expanding with excitement and an awful longing. But she had to tell him. “I want you inside me.”
“You sure your heart can handle all this?”
Apprehension twisted her stomach. She wasn’t quite sure, but not from a medical perspective. Castle had gotten to her, broken through her defenses, and grabbed hold of a part of her no one had ever touched. Maybe her subconscious was trying to fill the void left from everything she’d lost, maybe it was the loneliness, but she feared his effect on her ran deeper.
“I can handle whatever you dish out, arrogant bastard,” she said.
A ghost of a smug smile settled on his lips. “You like my arrogance. Admit it.”
She didn’t like it. She loved it, loved everything about his big, confident personality that matched his big, imposing body. “I like your arrogance about as much as you like mine.”
“Once again, like is too tame.”