Hurt

by Rachel Van Dyken

  Ryker silently cursed when Laila stood in front of him, physically shielding his body with hers. He ached to reverse their positions, to be the one protecting her, but knew such a move would only distract them both and place them in further danger.

  “Put your weapons on the ground and slide them over,” Daniel ordered. “Don’t forget the knife, Laila. I know you sure as hell found one.”

  “Do it,” Laila murmured with a kick that sent her knife skittering across the floor. “Not worth it.”

  Ryker agreed with her. He didn’t need a gun to kill Daniel, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to up the tension by denying the psycho his power trip. Maybe they could get him outside, and Ryker could shove the explosive up the bastard’s ass.

  “The detonator too, Ryker.”

  With a muttered curse, he set the detonator down then kicked it over.

  It was quiet for a brief moment before Laila spoke. “Daniel,” she said. “Why are you doing this? I thought you were one of the good guys.” Her voice dropped, growing husky with genuine pain. “I thought you were my family.”

  The gun dipped the slightest bit before it came back up and steadied on her chest. His voice hardened. “You thought wrong, Laila. You left me. I got fired, and you forgot about me.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said.

  “Your apology is fucking useless!” Daniel shouted.

  Ryker’s heart squeezed tight, and it literally took every bit of willpower he possessed to not throw himself in front of Laila and shove her to safety.

  Which went against his training, against every skill he’d honed at KTS. But the instinct was there. In fact, he probably would have acted on it had Laila not stopped him by pressing something into his hand.

  It was small and pointed, and he frowned before slowly, carefully dipping his eyes.

  Laila began talking again, faster, louder, providing him with the distraction he needed.

  Quickly, he smacked the object against his palm, making it fluid and moldable. He pulled it into a sharp edge then rubbed his mouth with his hand, depositing some saliva onto it as slyly as possible.

  Instantly, the polymer Laila had handed him hardened into a razor-sharp, rigid blade.

  Carefully, he placed it in her outstretched fingers then stepped back, giving her space to work.

  “Daniel,” she said, and Ryker heard the desperation in her tone, the urgency to pull her former friend back from the darkness. “Please think about what you’re doing. About the girls. They’re innocent.”

  Something — regret? guilt? — flashed across Daniel’s face before an almost weary expression took over.

  “It’s too late, Lay. They’re sold.” He shook his head. “We’re all in too deep. If we don’t deliver on our end…” He glanced behind him and a pair of guards emerged from around the darkened corner, stood next to him. Daniel nodded at them then gestured at Laila and Ryker. “Knock them out and bring them to the boats. And do a better job of restraining them this time.”

  “Daniel—“

  “Try to keep them alive,” he said, ignoring Laila’s plea.

  “Dan—“ she began again.

  “But if they give you too much trouble, do what you have to.”

  Laila flicked a glance over her shoulder at him. Ryker expected fury, expected tears. But her eyes were dry, her face determined.

  “It’s never too late to do the right thing,” she said, turning back to Daniel, the intense sincerity in her voice making Ryker’s heart squeeze.

  There was a moment of quiet before Daniel released a long, hissing breath. “It’s too late for me. Too late this time.”

  Ryker wouldn’t have noticed Laila’s shoulders dropping an infinitesimal amount had he not been watching her so closely.

  “I’m sorry, Daniel,” she said.

  With a move almost impossible to detect, a rapid blur of movement his eyes had a hard time tracking, Laila threw the hardened polymer across the space separating them.

  Almost immediately, she lurched forward, grabbed the detonator, and tossed it at him.

  “Now, Ryker.”

  He pressed the button, and the world exploded.

  1952 HRS The following Sunday

  KTS Command

  London, England

  LAILA EMERGED FROM THE COMMANDER’S OFFICE, her heart heavy with guilt and remorse.

  It had taken an entire week to unravel the mess at the warehouse in San Francisco and to relocate KTS Command to a new secure location.

  An entire week that had been filled with discovery after discovery of how deep Daniel’s betrayal had gone.

  Drugs. Kidnapping. Trafficking. Selling KTS-specialized weapons to third-world terrorists.

  It was frightening. It was also really, really sad.

  She’d taken a life — something not so unusual in her line of work — but she wasn’t used to killing her friends.

  Loss wasn’t unfamiliar to her. Agents died, went MIA. Loss happened.

  But it was rare.

  And it never happened like this. Not at her own hands.

  She’d killed a man who’d been like a brother to her, someone who’d she’d thought would always have her back.

  “Hey.”

  Ryker’s soft greeting took her by surprise. She hadn’t thought he was back yet.

  Immediately after the warehouse, seconds after he’d detonated the explosive and she’d thrown the makeshift blade into Daniel’s throat, KTS had stormed the warehouse.

  Twenty-seven girls had been rescued and close to two tons of cocaine confiscated. It was a huge boon for KTS, and for Laila, since she’d been leading the mission.

  Even though the entire thing had gone FUBAR. Even though she and Ryker had basically stumbled their way into salvaging the mission. Even though—

  “Lay?” Calloused fingers brushed her cheeks, startling her out of her thoughts. “Will you come with me?”

  She was so surprised at the soft request that she nodded without really comprehending.

  It wasn’t until he’d laced his fingers with hers and was leading her back to the living quarters that she realized something was amiss.

  Ryker gave her hand a tug when her feet skittered to a stop. “Trust me?” he asked.

  Laila hesitated. The urge to flee was great. Especially when he was looking at her with that penetrating stare. She could run, could yank her hand free and knock him to the ground. He wouldn’t even stop her; she knew that in her bones.

  But did she want to?

  No.

  Instead of fighting him, she nodded and let him lead her forward.

  They walked past his room. Then hers. Laila glanced up at him, confused, but he just tugged her hand, and they continued walking.

  He stopped outside the locker room, opened the door, and pulled her inside.

  The scene took her breath away.

  Some women might have expected candles and flowers. Laila didn’t have patience for that stuff, thought it a waste of money, but had immediately understood what Ryker was offering the moment he’d opened the locker room door.

  A stack of workout clothes sat on the bench, alongside a fresh towel and a shower kit. She could see he’d laid out sparring mats inside the gymnasium through the propped-open door.

  “Knives?” he asked, pointing to the weapons cabinet that held the dulled practice blades. “Or hand-to-hand?”

  Her lips curved. Oh hell yes, she needed this. “Hand-to-hand,” she said, then changed into the sweats and t-shirt Ryker had laid out.

  His eyes tracked her movements with heated intensity. Laila could actually feel the weight of his stare on her breasts, her stomach, her legs. He looked at her as though the bland grey sports bra and bikini panties she wore were lacy lingerie or a pushup bra and a G-string.

  The scenario should have been creeptastic, sleazy-old-man. But it wasn’t. Because it was Ryker who was looking at her. The one man who could make her blood combust, who made her want to have hot, wild monkey sex right in this
very locker room.

  Tempting as that thought was, Laila figured that jumping into something wasn’t the best thing for her right now. She needed to deal with her guilt over Daniel, cope with the changes his betrayal would bring to KTS.

  She didn’t need to start something that very likely would blow up in her face.

  No matter how much her body remembered the feel of Ryker’s mouth and hands. No matter how good it had been between them.

  So when Ryker tore his eyes away and walked into the gym, she didn’t stop him.

  It took less than a minute to slip into the sweats and shirt, to tie her sneakers, but it took a lot longer to convince her libido that jumping on top of Ryker and begging him to take her then and there was a bad idea.

  Was it really?

  Yes. Definitely yes.

  She almost believed that as she walked into the gym. It smelled of disinfectant and old socks, which was a comforting scent to her, though, one others probably wouldn’t appreciate.

  Ryker stood on the mats, his back toward her, his head hanging.

  At the sound of her footsteps on the hardwood floor, he turned. His smile was forced, his eyes shadowed, his face haggard.

  That was all it took — awareness that she wasn’t the only one shouldering the burden Daniel had left behind — for everything to change. For everything that had been holding her back to disappear. Her fears. The past. Her doubts.

  Easing Ryker’s pain was more important.

  One side of his mouth curved up, and he raised a brow. “You ready?”

  Instead of answering, she launched himself at him. But she didn’t try to strike out, didn’t attempt to knock his feet from beneath him.

  Her lips slammed into his.

  She locked her legs around his hips, wove her fingers into his hair, and thrust her tongue into his mouth.

  He froze. Then his arms wrapped around her waist — as though he wanted to keep her from falling.

  It was a sweet gesture — unnecessary because she could hold onto him like that forever — but still sweet. And the heat of his hands scorching her skin through her t-shirt was intoxicating.

  Ryker pulled back. “Lay?” he asked, his eyes molten, his breaths coming in short puffs.

  Her breathing was no steadier, but she managed to smile. “I had a different type of sparring in mind,” she murmured.

  “Yeah?” His brows rose.

  “Yeah.” She closed the distance between their mouths. This time Ryker didn’t hesitate. Not even when she hooked her heel behind his knee and knocked him backward to the mats.

  No, he kept kissing her even as he broke their fall, kept her atop him as they crashed to the blue pads.

  She traced her fingers down his chest and under the hem of his t-shirt. Hot, hot skin. Damn, this man took her breath away. After tearing her mouth from his, Laila slid down and pressed a kiss to the flat expanse of his abs.

  Not a six-pack, but damn close enough. Efficient and strong, not prissy little male model.

  At the touch of her lips, the trace of her tongue down… down to the waistband of his sweats, Ryker growled deep in his throat.

  The hairs rose on her nape, and a shiver passed down her spine. She remembered that sound, had felt its vibration against her skin.

  He grabbed her head, yanked her up, and slammed his mouth back down on hers. His next growl — in between thrusts of his tongue against hers — was her undoing.

  Laila didn’t protest when he flipped her, when his hips ground against hers. His erection could have been steel for how hard it was, and she writhed against it, needing the pressure and friction. She was empty, hot and trembling.

  She needed. With every fiber of her being, she needed.

  “Ryker.” It was a plea, and she didn’t give a damn.

  “Not here.” He pushed to his feet and extended a hand.

  Her legs were shaky. She didn’t give a damn where they were so long as the ache inside of her was fulfilled.

  Ryker wasn’t on the same page, unfortunately. He laced his fingers through hers and tugged her in for another soul-shattering kiss, but just as she thought he was about to forget his previous words, he broke away.

  “Come on,” he murmured. He led her out of the gym and to her room, which was closer.

  But those few minutes in the corridors gave her body time to cool, for her mind to be filled with worry. She stood in the open doorway of her quarters and watched Ryker, concern in her heart.

  Could she risk it? What if he hurt her again?

  Ryker must have seen the indecision on her face because he gave her a pained smile and cupped her cheek.

  “Some other time, Lay,” he said and gave her a little push into her room before closing the door.

  Before she had a chance to protest, to come up with an excuse for her hesitation, Ryker was gone.

  2234 HRS Sunday

  KTS Command

  Ryker’s Quarters

  RYKER LAY IN BED, HIS BODY still burning despite the cold shower he’d taken after he’d left Laila.

  She was right to be weary. Had been right to stop.

  He hadn’t intended to do anything when he’d booked the gym. Nothing except giving Laila a chance to vent what had to be a great deal of frustration and hurt.

  But then she’d kissed him.

  And as things often went with Laila, he’d been overwhelmed, had lost control.

  He’d realized over the last week — most of it spent chasing down the bratty teenaged daughter of an Danish ambassador — his heart missing Laila, his mind filled with memories of her in the warehouse, in bed five years before, of numerous times in between, that he…

  Well, he loved her.

  With a snort at his idiocy, he rolled over and threw a pillow over his head.

  He loved Laila. Probably had from the moment she’d knocked him on his ass all those years before, and despite his best attempts to pretend otherwise, that had been the reason he’d run.

  He’d freaked. Panicked at the intensity of his feelings.

  Now here he was, still feeling the same and trying to rebuild a bridge he’d thoroughly torched.

  So yeah, he was an idiot. A great big fucking—

  There was a knock, but before he could get out of bed to answer it, the door swung open.

  Laila.

  God, she was beautiful. Her blond hair in a ponytail, her face free of makeup, her full lips curved into a soft smile.

  The caution in her eyes almost killed him.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  She nodded then came fully into his room before turning to lock the door. He was really glad he hadn’t bothered to do that. Though, if she was here to kill him for his B.S. earlier, he was seriously screwed, because what Laila was wearing had turned his brain to mush.

  It was the girliest thing he’d ever seen her in. A tank top of peach silk, with those really skinny straps, and short shorts. Her nipples were beaded beneath the material, and his mouth watered with the urge to take one into his mouth.

  He also wanted to kill anyone who might have seen her in the halls.

  “What?” she asked, her tone taking on a defensive edge as he stared at her, his tongue incapable of forming words. “I can be a girl sometimes, you know?”

  Ryker knew. His eyes dropped to her breasts and need raged through him. He knew Laila was a woman. He really, really knew.

  “What are you doing here?” he rasped, his fingers clasped in the blankets as he struggled for control.

  His cock would prefer he jump on top of her and take her like some horny-as-hell frat boy. But if Laila was here to do what he hoped she was, then Ryker could wait for her to do it on her terms.

  Even if it killed him, he would wait.

  At his question, she rolled her eyes. “I’m trying to get some,” she said. “Do you mind?”

  The words were all bravado, tough-as-nails Laila through and through, but held the slightest bit of hesitation that made Ryker’s heart roll over in his che
st, like a puppy exposing its belly to his owner.

  But he still couldn’t resist teasing her.

  “Yes,” he said and bit back a smile at the frown that pulled her eyebrows together. He laced his hands behind his head and lay back on the bed. “I mind.”

  “You’re such a jerk.” She started for the door.

  In one smooth movement, he rose from the bed then grabbed her arm, halting her. “I’m kidding. Oof.” He grunted but didn’t let her go when she elbowed him in the stomach. “Lay, I’m kidding. Well, mostly kidding.”

  He slid his fingers down to her hand and tugged her to the bed. “This — what’s between us — isn’t just sex, isn’t getting some.” He cupped her cheek, bent so his forehead rested against hers. “This is important. This is something.”

  “Yeah?” Her eyes were wide, so full of cautious hope that he couldn’t hold back.

  He sealed his lips over hers, letting the heat build between their mouths, to fill their bodies and steal their breaths before he pulled back and admitted the unspoken truth that had been in his heart for way too long.

  “I love you,” he said. “I know it will complicate things here for us. I know I’m a pain in the ass. But Laila, you stole a piece of my heart the moment you knocked my ass to the mats in the training room.” He met her eyes, silently willed her to hear the sincerity behind his words. “And then you continued to steal it piece by piece with your strength, your integrity, your calm under pressure. I love you. I respect you.”

  Years ago, he would have felt like a total idiot saying those things. Today they just felt right. He never wanted Laila to feel vulnerable around him again. He wanted to be there for her in any way, to slay her fucking dragons, to viciously wound anyone who hurt her— including himself.

  “Ryker—“ she began.

  He cut her off with another kiss. When he pulled back, heart pounding, breaths coming in short pants, he said, “Don’t. Don’t say anything.”

  “But— Oh God!”

  With a quick, efficient movement, he’d pushed those thin, sexy-as-hell straps of her tank top off her shoulders, bared her breasts, and sucked a nipple into his mouth.

  Her fingers wound into his hair and tugged hard enough to make his eyes water. Ryker didn’t mind. In fact, it made him even hotter… and certain parts of his anatomy harder.