by Cynthia Eden
A night with Sydney. Hell. More torture for him.
“Why do you always pull away?”
The quiet question shocked him, so he lied. But, in one way or another, it seemed as if he’d been lying to her for years. “I don’t know what you mean, Syd.”
She growled. An angry little sound that shouldn’t have been sexy. Unfortunately, everything she did seemed sexy to him. That was a big part of his problem.
Hands off. But his hands wanted to be...on.
He put as much distance between them as he could. Since the shack was about nine feet long, that wasn’t a whole lot of space.
“You know exactly what I mean.” Then she started to stalk toward him. “I want a real answer.”
She’d put the lantern down, but the light spilled just enough for him to clearly see that her delicate face was set in determination. She closed in on him.
He raised his hands—have to touch her—and curled his fingers around her shoulders. “We’re working a case. We’re partners, that’s all.”
She stared back up at him. Her lips were full and parted, and he wanted to kiss her.
He’d wanted to kiss her for years.
She’s not yours. He had to keep reminding himself of that fact. Sydney wasn’t meant to be with him. She’d been engaged to his half brother. She and Slade were the ones who should have had the happy ending. The picket fence. That whole picture-perfect dream.
Not. Me.
But Slade was dead now. And Sydney was lifting her hand to touch his face. Her fingers rasped over the faint stubble that coated his jaw. “Don’t,” he gritted out.
“Why not?”
“We’re on a mission—”
“And we’re alone. We can talk, without anyone else hearing us. Without anyone else watching us.” Her hand dropped. He didn’t let her go. Maybe he didn’t want to. “You almost died on our last case. Do you know how that made me feel?”
He’d cheated death more times than he could count. Unlike Slade. Some nights, Gunner could still hear the echoes of Sydney’s cries. He’d had to pull her away from Slade’s body. Force her out of that hell of a jungle and get her to safety.
I lost him, but I damn sure wasn’t going to lose her, too.
She was staring up at him now, waiting for a response, her body a silken temptation. He exhaled slowly. “I’m sure you were worried.” Because Sydney worried about everyone. Her heart was too big; she cared too much.
“I wasn’t worried,” she said immediately, heat in her words. “I was terrified. I don’t want anything happening to you.”
And he’d die before he’d let anything happen to her. She was the whole reason he was still with the EOD. The better to keep watch on her. The better to stay close to her.
He was still touching her.
Hands. Off. He pulled his hands away, clenched his fists.
“I think about you.” Her voice had dropped to a husky whisper. A pause, then, “Do you think about me?”
Too much. “Slade.” It was an effort to force the name out. Like cutting open a wound that had just started to heal. “You—”
“I don’t want to crawl into the ground with him.”
He wasn’t so sure. Right after he’d brought her back from South America, he’d had to watch her so closely. Then he’d been the one to be terrified. But Sydney had healed in the past two years, become stronger and started to look more like the vibrant woman he remembered, and not a ghost.
“I want to live. I want a life again.”
His heart began to pound too heavily in his chest. What was she saying?
“You saved me that day, and, Gunner, I want to be with you.”
She rose onto her toes. Her body pressed against his. Her lips touched his—
He should have pushed her away in that first instant. Gunner knew that he should have pushed her away.
He shouldn’t have locked his arms around her as if he was desperate. He shouldn’t have held so tightly as if she were his lifeline. He definitely shouldn’t have kissed her so wildly—as if he needed her more than anything else.
But he’d never kissed her before. Never been so close to the thing he wanted the most. So he kissed her, he became reckless with his need and didn’t pull back. He didn’t push her away and tell her that what they were doing was wrong.
Because it felt too right.
His hand slid beneath her hair, tilted her head back. The kiss became deeper.
She trembled against him. Her fingers were over his chest, her right hand over his heart.
He wanted to strip her clothes away. To kiss every inch of her, to claim her.
She isn’t yours to claim.
The reminder burned through his mind. His head lifted.
“I wanted you to do that,” Sydney whispered. “For so long now.”
He stiffened. This wasn’t hands off. He tried to force his hands to free her.
She shook her head. “You want me. I want you.” She rose onto her toes and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. “Why can’t we have what we want?”
Because she didn’t know the secret guilt that he carried. If she did, Sydney would never let him close to her again. He didn’t answer her, but he did back away.
Her hands fell to her sides. “Will he always be between us?”
The question was like a punch to his gut.
“He’s gone, Gunner. As much as that truth hurts us both...Slade is gone.”
Because he’d left his brother to die in a jungle, seen him get taken down by gunfire that ripped into Slade’s chest. But I didn’t get him out of there. I got Sydney out.
Slade’s grave was a jungle in the middle of Peru. Slade had never come home, not even in death.
“Why is it me?” Gunner rasped the question when he’d meant to remain silent.
Sydney blinked at him as if lost.
But she couldn’t be lost. The suspicion that he had ate at his soul. “When you look at me, do you see him?” Was that what she wanted? A substitute for her dead lover?
Her indrawn breath was almost painful to hear. “Bastard.”
He was. In every sense of the word.
“I’ve moved on, Gunner. It tore me apart, but...I. Moved. On.” Her chin was up. Her shoulders back. “I let his ghost go. Maybe it’s time you learned to do the same.” Then her phone rang, vibrating in her pocket. She turned away, yanking it from her pocket. “Logan?” A brief pause, then, “Yes, we had to seek shelter in a shack on the south ridge.”
Gunner ran a rough hand over his face. That had been too close for him. Far too close. Another few seconds, and he wouldn’t have been able to pull away from her.
Another few seconds, and he wouldn’t have cared about the secrets that hid in his heart or the guilt that ate him late at night.
Another few seconds, and he’d have taken her.
But he’d held strong. He could keep his control. He’d protect her, always watch out for her, just as he’d sworn to do.
Anything else wasn’t possible. Even if he had to keep being the bastard who held Sydney at arm’s length.
Sometimes you can’t have the one thing that you want most.
Because you knew, deep down, that you didn’t deserve that one thing.
* * *
SUNLIGHT STREAMED THROUGH the blinds, faint streaks of light that shot across the bed, and slid over Jasper’s body.
And the body of the soft woman in his arms.
He didn’t move when he first woke, too content to keep holding Veronica. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d just held someone. Maybe because there wasn’t a memory.
She was different.
And he was lying to her.
Hell.
The truth would come out, sooner or later. The truth would always come out. When he brought down her brother and the EOD agents took Cale away, what would he say to Veronica then?
Sorry about Cale. Sorry about lying to you. But, hey, maybe we can still hook up? The sex was incredible.
It was more than just the sex. More than just pleasure that he’d lose if he lost her.
She’s more than I thought. She’d slipped under his guard. Strange, when he should have been the one guarding her.
“Why do you look sad?”
His body tensed. He hadn’t even realized that she’d been awake. But his gaze rose to her face and he found her stare on him, seeing into him as few others had done.
“I’m worried about you.” That was true, even if there was more involved. Worried about her safety, worried about losing her.
“Why? You’re here to keep me safe, right? The big, bad ranger.”
She made him smile. He bent and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “You’re right—that’s why I’m here.” His smile faded. To keep you safe and to bring down your brother. Jasper cleared his throat. “We should head back to the main house. See if Wyatt has any more information for us.”
She nodded and slowly pulled away from him. She sat up on the side of the bed, giving him a perfect view of her back and its elegant curve. “I don’t regret anything that happened,” she told him, and looked over her shoulder. “Just in case you were curious.”
He rose slowly. The sheets bunched around his waist. “Remember that.” His knuckles slid down her spine. Her skin was so smooth. She sucked in a little gasp when he pressed a kiss to the base of her back.
Never another like her.
He lifted his head. Rolled away to his side of the bed, then stood. “We’ll head back to the house, check in with Wyatt, then start searching the rest of the property.” Though he was curious about the progress that Sydney and Gunner might have made. They probably had been caught in the storm, too. But the team would be back in action soon.
He grabbed his jeans, jerked them on and yanked his shirt over his head. He heard the rustle of Veronica dressing behind him, and he just had to turn and enjoy the view.
A virgin. That news still shocked the hell out of him, but it also...made him happy. No one else had ever seen her eyes go blind with pleasure. No one else had heard her sweet gasps when her climax hit.
“What is it?”
She’d caught him staring at her.
Clearing his throat, Jasper told her the truth. He figured she deserved a truth from him. “You’re beautiful.” And dangerous to me. So very dangerous.
A flush of heat filled her cheeks, and then a warm smile spread over her lips. “You’re pretty gorgeous yourself.”
Right. The woman had seen all his scars. Kissed them. He still couldn’t believe that she’d done that. She hadn’t been repulsed or scared. She’d just been...loving.
Perfect.
He was so messing everything up with her. He knew it. His breath rushed out. He had to talk with Logan. Get permission from the EOD powers-that-be, aka Bruce Mercer—the bigwig Mystery Man who seemed to run Elite Ops—to brief Veronica fully on the situation with Cale.
She deserved the truth.
He couldn’t, wouldn’t keep lying to her.
Veronica was dressed now and staring at him a bit uncertainly as her smile wavered.
He walked toward her with slow, sure steps. She tilted her head back to look up at him. “You aren’t what I expected,” he told her.
“Is that good? Or bad?”
Both.
“Don’t hate me, okay?”
Her brows rose. “Ah, is this typical morning-after etiquette for you? You tell a woman not to hate you because—”
“There’s nothing typical about you.” That was a big part of the problem. If she hadn’t been getting under his skin, he could have kept playing his part, and he could have stayed the hell away from her last night.
But he’d wanted her too much.
A reckoning would come soon. He’d pay for that desire.
As soon as he got her to the main house, he was calling Logan and Mercer. No more secrets. No more lies.
Jasper pulled his gun and headed toward the door. He peeked through the blinds of the nearby window, searching the area outside. Then he moved to the other windows, scanning and checking.
“Do you think someone was watching us l-last night?” she asked him, voice suddenly hushed.
Giving a quick shake of his head, Jasper told her, “No, the storm was too bad. No one was out there.” And it looked as though no one was out there now. He went back to Veronica, took her hand and led her outside.
The ground was still wet, heavy with mud, while standing water covered much of the area. Driving back to the main house would be tricky, but the truck would handle it. He cast a quick, worried glance at Veronica. He didn’t want her to have any bad memories if the truck started to slide.
She climbed into the truck, buckled her seat belt and said, “I’m fine, Jasper,” in a determined way that told him she knew exactly what he’d been thinking.
He hurried around to the driver’s seat. He secured his weapon and cranked up the vehicle. When the engine growled to life, he gently pushed down the gas even as he swept the steering wheel around in a large circle. The driving would be slow going—so damn slow—but he wouldn’t take any risks with Veronica.
His gaze swept the area up ahead. The storm had knocked over trees, sent the stream to swelling and had pretty much ravaged everything in sight.
“It’s funny,” Veronica murmured. “Once we got together, I forgot all about the storm.”
He started to smile.
But then he saw a glint up ahead. A flash of the sun on metal, one big white line that shouldn’t be there. Swearing, he jerked the steering wheel to the right, but he made his move too late.
Gunfire exploded, and a bullet ripped through the windshield. Veronica screamed as the truck careened, rushing forward. The bullet had hit him, his blood was seeping out and he couldn’t control the truck.
Couldn’t stop it.
The truck slammed into a tree. Glass shattered and Veronica stopped screaming.
Chapter Eight
She was trapped in the car.
Mommy wasn’t moving. Why wasn’t she moving? Daddy?
The nightmare of her past tangled with her present.
Veronica’s hands were against the dashboard. Broken glass was all around her.
Mommy had been bleeding. She’d been so still.
The seat belt bit into her shoulder.
She couldn’t get out of her seat. She was strapped in and she screamed and screamed because something was wrong. She couldn’t get out.
Her fingers fumbled. There was a click, and then the seat belt slid free. Her body sagged forward. The truck was at some kind of angle—it had slid down a little ravine and slammed into a tree.
Her forehead was wet. Her fingers lifted. Blood?
Daddy had been bleeding.
Her fingers fisted. She shoved the memory back into her mind. She wasn’t a child anymore. And she wasn’t alone.
Her head whipped to the right. “Jasper?” He was slumped over the steering wheel, not moving.
Had he been hurt in the crash or...no, before the crash. The memory of those desperate moments flooded through her. That sound that she’d heard hadn’t been thunder. It had been a gunshot. One that had blasted through the windshield—and hit Jasper.
Carefully now, so very carefully, she pushed him back. The sunlight spilled through the broken windows so that she could clearly see his blood-soaked chest. “Jasper!” This time, her cry was desperate.
His lashes fluttered. “Ver...onica? What...happened?”
“Someone shot us.” You. She tried to find his wound, but there was so much blood. She needed to put pressure on the wound. She had to stop the blood. That was what people always did on TV shows. Apply pressure. Stop the bleeding.
His eyes looked bleary. “Get...out...”
She leaned toward him. She was so scared that her whole body shook. “What? What is it?” There was a huge gash near the right side of his forehead.
“Have to...get out...shooter...coming...”
Her hea
rt stopped.
“Disabled...vehicle...sitting duck...”
She didn’t want to be a sitting duck, but Jasper had to be suffering from some kind of head trauma if he thought she was just going to run off and leave him there alone. Because then he’d be the sitting duck.
Her gaze flew around the truck’s interior. Where was his cell phone? Hers? She fumbled next to his seat, found what she thought was his phone and—smashed.
His eyes began to sag closed again. “Go...”
The hell she was just going to leave him. They’d both go. She’d drag him out if she had to.
And I think I have to.
Veronica turned away from him and shoved against her door. It wasn’t budging. She shoved again and again, and then she angled her body and kicked.
The door finally groaned open.
“Hold on,” she told Jasper as she turned back to touch his cheek once more. Her fingers were covered with his blood. “I’m coming around to get you. We’ll both get out of here.” Somehow.
If she could just find her phone, maybe it would work and she could get Wyatt out there. He could help them.
She eased from the truck, glanced to the left, then the right. She didn’t see anyone, but then, she hadn’t seen the shooter, either. The blast had just exploded in the truck, wrecking her world.
Daddy...Daddy!
The memories just wouldn’t stay buried. Her fingers curled over the door and she started to slide around the vehicle. The truck had crashed down in the small ravine, which definitely wasn’t an advantage. A shooter could come up from higher ground and easily take them both out.
Jasper had been right. They were sitting ducks.
She eased toward the back of the truck. She bent low, trying to stay as covered as she could and—
Hard arms wrapped around her. Veronica opened her mouth to scream as she was yanked back against a strong chest. Her scream never escaped. A hand was pushed over her mouth, and the scream emerged as just a whimper of sound that was stifled beneath rough fingers. She kicked back with her legs and twisted frantically as she tried to escape that steely grip.
“Shhh...Ronnie, it’s me.”
The familiar voice froze her.
And terrified her.
Because it was her brother’s voice.