by April Hunt
So she’d been a little on edge. That was to be expected. The fact she and Cade had been tailed from Iron Bars out to his place in Foggy Bottom didn’t help much. They’d known that New Dawn would be keeping tabs on them, she just hadn’t expected it right out of the gate.
Or for them to commit a break-in.
Grace’s heart beat in her chest as a tall shadow darkened the wall. She slowed her breathing and counted as it closed the distance. When it reached the corner of the bed, she whipped her arm out, and with it, her Mag. “Move closer and see what happens.”
“Shit! Put that away!” Cade cursed, bumping into the end table and cursed again. “You sleep with your fucking gun?”
“Wasn’t exactly sleeping.” She leaned forward and tucked Magdalena into the nightstand.
“You and me both. Our friends outside just left. Guess they figured we were a boring ol’ about-to-be married couple so they didn’t need to stare into our windows any more tonight.”
“Thanks for telling me.”
Cade didn’t move.
“That was a hint for you to leave.”
“Yeah, about that…I figured out why someone put my couch on the corner to be taken away. It has a million broken springs.”
“Sorry to hear that.” She fluffed the pillow and tucked her hands beneath it for extra poof factor. “Your bed’s pretty comfortable.”
Cade grumbled and walked away. The second Grace thought he’d left, the other side of the bed dipped. She flipped over in time to see him, clad only in those damn sexy boxer briefs, slide into bed. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Sleeping. In my bed.”
“We’re not sharing this bed, Cade.”
“Then feel free to go sleep on the couch. Watch out for the spring in the top right corner. It partially impaled me.” He rolled over, giving her his back, and released a loud, obnoxious yawn and burrowed into the mattress.
“You’re seriously making me sleep out there? What happened to chivalry?”
“It died about two liters of blood ago. And no one’s forcing you. Unlike you, I’m capable of sharing.”
Grace lifted her pillow to smack him.
One second she was poised over his head, and in the next, she was flat on her back. Cade hovered over her, his chest the only part of his body not in contact with hers. “Assault with a fluffy pillow, Special Agent Steele?”
“Would you rather I used Magdalena?” Grace twined her leg around Cade’s and shoved him right while she rolled left, quickly swapping their positions. “Give me that pillow back.”
“No way in hell. All weapons need to be registered with the proper district, and you, Miss FBI lady, haven’t done so. It’s all mine.” He lifted his head and tucked it beneath him.
“Oh, really?”
“Yep. You’re going to have to take it by excessive force if you want it back.” Grinning, Cade casually propped his arms behind his head while he waited for her to make the next move.
That freakin’ smirk.
Grace’s stomach flipped. Suddenly hyperaware of their intimate positioning, she glanced down at her thin yoga tank top and purple panties.
Cade seemed to realize it too because his gaze darkened, and the smirk on his face melted away. Bracing her palms flat on his bare chest, Grace slid her legs to either side of his waist and leaned.
“What are you doing?” His voice dropped to a lusty bass.
“I should think it’s pretty damn obvious. Or maybe I’m doing it wrong.”
Inch by slow inch, she ran her hands up the contour of his torso. The man made body hair work, and her fingers brushed through the dark blond hair covering his chest.
Beneath her palms, his muscles flexed. “You’re playing with fire, sweetheart.”
Grace ran her nose along the curve of his jaw and barely skimmed her mouth over his cheek. “No I’m not. I’m playing with my pillow.”
She ripped it from beneath his head, and his body dropped with a loud umph. Tears sprung to her eyes as she laughed, blinding her to the coming attack. Cade gripped her hips and flung her sideways, and then she was back on the bottom, his weight pinning her down.
“You play dirty.” His chest rumbled with laughter.
“What can I say? I like playing dirty when it comes down to you, babe.”
Cade gently pinned her wrists above her head and leaned his mouth to her ear. “You’re not the only one.”
She knew that look and laughed, squirming to get out of the hold. He didn’t even have to touch her because just the thought of being tickled made her laugh, and he knew it.
“Stop squirming, Grace.” Cade’s voice dropped to a low rumble.
She giggled. “Then don’t—oh.”
Trapped between their bodies, Cade’s growing erection made its presence known. Now that they were in this situation, Grace wasn’t sure what to do about it. He stared down at her, his lust making her body come alive.
Every inch of her skin became hypersensitive to his. His bare legs shifted against hers, making her suck down a groan.
Cade released his hold on her hands and climbed out of the bed. “Take the bed. I’ll deal with the springs.”
“Cade,” Grace called after him. He stopped by the door but didn’t turn to look at her.
She knew it was a bad idea. Down to her core. And yet she padded barefoot across the room.
His body tensed as she closed the distance. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll turn around and get back under those covers. I mean it. I’m trying to do the right thing here.”
Funny how at that very moment, she didn’t want to do the right thing. Grace laid her palm on the center of his back and slowly trailed her mouth up his spine, occasionally flicking her tongue out for a small taste. “And I’m trying to do what’s going to feel good for both of us.”
“So you can go back to hating me in the morning? Been there, done that, have the T-shirt.”
Grace stepped around him and slipped her fingers through his hair, ready to tug him down to her waiting lips. He gripped her hips, stopping her.
“What’s wrong?” She searched his face for the answer, but all she saw was the same desire she knew was written all over her own. It was palpable and right there for anyone to see.
“Not this time, Gracie. Not now. Not when I know things are going to go back to the way they were the second the clothes go back on. I want…more.”
She laughed before realizing she was the only one, and quickly sobered. “More? You want what? You want love ballads and sonnets? A picket fence and two-point-oh children?”
“Years down the line? Maybe. But for now I’d settle for a clean slate and an honest-to-God stab at a second chance.”
He couldn’t have cleared her head more if he’d doused her with ice water.
Grace pulled away. “I don’t think you know what you’re asking.”
“Yeah, actually, I think I do. I know I fucked up nine years ago. I own it, and as much as I wish things had played out differently, I can’t go back and change any of it.”
“Well, gee. I guess I should be thankful that you know that you derailed both our lives. Actually, I guess just mine, right? You went on as if nothing ever happened.” Emotions clogged her throat. She turned around, eager to be anywhere but near him. She didn’t do emotion easily, and as good as she was as hiding it, Cade could always see right through her. “You want the couch? Go for it. I’ll be right here if you change your mind.”
Cade paused at the door and slid a tense, pain-filled look over his shoulder. “Just so you know, I didn’t disappear entirely that day. When I stepped on that plane, I left a piece of myself right on your doorstep…my heart.”
The second he closed the door behind him, Grace’s emotions broke through her carefully built barriers. She flopped on the bed and buried her face in the pillow, her hot tears wetting it within seconds.
It could have been the stress of the long day or the fact her past was about to smack her between
the eyes. But in reality Grace knew it was because while Cade had left his heart stateside nine years ago, she’d most definitely sent hers on that plane with him.
Chapter
Seven
Cade’s knuckles screamed from each impact with the heavy bag, but he ignored the pain, hitting it harder and throwing in an occasional roundhouse kick for good measure. He’d woken up to a note from Grace saying that their stalker friends from the night before were across the street again, and she was taking them shopping for the day with her and Zoey.
That was it.
No mention of what almost happened last night, or what he’d stupidly admitted. Fuck, he couldn’t even blame Iron Bars’s good tequila on the slipup. He’d done it stone cold sober, and with one hell of a hard-on. His dick had expressed its displeasure with his decision to keep his hands off her with a serious case of blue balls.
But damn it, he’d meant every word. He didn’t want to be the bad decision or the next morning’s regret. At thirty-two, he wanted the same thing he did when he was fifteen.
Her. Her heart. Her trust. All the physical stuff didn’t mean shit if every time she looked at him, she did it expecting him to fuck up again.
Cade growled and released a series of left and right hooks that had the sparring bag swinging wildly.
“You’re attacking that heavy bag like it insulted your sister,” Roman chided. “Seriously, man. If you’d wailed on me like you’re doing right now you could’ve won that MMA tourney years ago.”
Roman leaned against the gym doorway, his sleeveless tank stuck to his chest from his own workout. One hand dropped to his prosthetic, giving his knee a rub. He caught Cade’s glance and stood upright.
“What do you say to taking out your aggressions on something that can hit back?” Roman dropped his water bottle and towel on the bench and stepped onto the mat.
Cade frowned at the prove-yourself gleam in his friend’s eye. “I was about to call it quits.”
“Scared that I’ll kick the shit out of you?”
“Something like that.”
Roman’s grin vanished, and his eyes went hard. “You afraid of getting your ass kicked by a man with one and a half legs?”
And there it was—the albatross Roman dragged around when he wasn’t shit-faced drunk or on a mission kicking ass. It didn’t take long after Roman’s return from overseas to sense the change in his friend.
Dark moods. Self-imposed exile. Avoidance of people. As far as Cade knew, Roman hadn’t touched a woman in years, and for the second oldest Steele brother, that was quite the feat. Since sprouting their first facial hairs, none of them ever hurt for female companionship.
Cade carefully contemplated his words as he unwrapped his hands. “I put in my workout. I’m good.”
“Come on, Wright.” Roman stalked closer. “Let’s go at it like old times. First one on the ground unable to lift his head loses.”
“We were a lot younger and a hell of a lot stupider back then. Concussion Syndrome’s serious fucking business, man.”
“That’s a copout if I ever heard one, but you know what? Never mind.” Roman grabbed his towel and bottle and took a swig. The smell that drifted Cade’s way was definitely not water.
Unwilling to help his friend in his downward spiral, he conceded. “All right, Ro. Let’s go. For old time’s sake.”
“Too late. I’ve got plans with people who aren’t intimidated by a little scrap of fucking metal and plastic.” Roman pushed past Knox on his way out of the gym.
“Was it something I said?” Knox asked dryly.
“It was something I wasn’t keen on doing.”
Knox’s face grew grim. “I’d say talking to him is like talking to a brick wall, but there’d be more two-way conversation with a wall. The closer it gets to the anniversary—”
“The worse he gets. It’s in what…two weeks?”
Knox nodded. “He’ll go through his process and be back to his usual ornery self.”
“If he doesn’t pick a fight with the wrong person and get his ass beat.”
“There’s always that chance, but we can’t help someone who doesn’t want the help. Zoey’s been working on him, though.”
Cade snorted on a chuckle. “Then God help him. My sister may look like a sweet poodle, but she’s got the tenacity of Cujo. What’s up? You didn’t come here to make small talk about Zoey.”
Knox leaned against the wall. “You ready for tomorrow night?”
Cade swapped his sweaty shirt for a dry one. “Got our backgrounds memorized. My place has been feminized thanks to Jaz. Oh, and remind me to thank her for that couples’ game. I saw it this morning when I was pouring coffee into my travel mug and damn near burned off my balls.”
“Actually, the game was my idea. Zoey and I have one that—”
“Stop right there, man.” Cade held up his hand. “I read the back of the box, and I do not want to imagine my baby sister doing any of those things. You got me?”
Knox chuckled. Bastard.
“As for tonight, I’m good. Grace may be the people reader, but if there was one thing I learned as a detective it was how to loosen lips without beating the shit out of people. Everything will go off without a hiccup.”
“And if you were working solo, that may be the case. But you’re working alongside your ex.”
“Not seeing how it’s any different,” Cade lied.
He’d spent the better part of the morning running through a wide range of potential ways for this to blow up in their faces, one of which was whatever they’d have to do to prove their loyalty to the Order.
Cade was an unknown despite Liam’s magic making him look like the perfect candidate, and Grace had already Defected once. There was no way in hell they weren’t going to be tested, and while Cade would do almost anything to get a job done, he drew the line at compromising Grace’s safety.
“Do you really think I’m that stupid?”
“You want me to say that I’m worried? Fine. I don’t like all the blanks, but I’m not afraid for myself.” Cade threw his shit in his bag and zipped it up. “But I’m telling you right now, if shit hits the fan and I have to choose Grace’s safety or getting the job done, I’ll choose Grace.”
“You won’t get a problem here, but she’s sure as hell going to give you a fight.”
“There isn’t a single one of you Steeles, other than your mother, that isn’t a pain in my ass.” Cade threw his foul-smelling towel at Knox’s head, and he ducked, chuckling.
“I’m just keeping it real. This assignment wasn’t going to be a cakewalk even if it had been Jaz going on the inside, but now?” Knox paused a beat. “I know there’s shit about New Dawn and Rossbach that Grace keeps to herself. And maybe you know, or maybe you don’t. But keep your eyes open. There’s no telling where her head’s going to be at. You better be serious about choosing her over the op. If you have to, throw her over your shoulder and haul ass.”
Cade snorted. “Yeah, she’d love that.”
“I don’t care what she loves as long as she makes it out in one piece.”
“You give her the same pep talk?”
“Damn straight I did.” He rubbed his side. “And I have the forming bruise on my ribs to show for it.”
Cade snorted on a laugh. “Woman’s got wicked aim.”
“Hell yeah, she does. She’s a Steele.” Knox clapped him on the back. “I’m headed out to meet with a potential recruit. You need anything before I go?”
“Nope. All good.”
“Then good luck tomorrow. Watch your asses and do yourself a favor…listen to Grace. I know I give her a hard time, but she’s trained in the psychobabble stuff, and she knows how these assholes think.”
“You mean my skill for pyrotechnics isn’t going to do us any good?”
“Not unless you guys really fuck the hell up.”
Knox left, and Cade packed his gear before locking down the ops center. Up in Iron Bars, he waved a goodbye to Ryder, who
was attempting to train yet another bartender, and headed out to his truck. He’d tossed his bag in his passenger side seat when a familiar vehicle pulled in front.
“Just fucking great.” Cade slammed his truck door and waited as the older man stepped onto the curb.
Retired Army General Hogan Wilcox showed up like a cursed penny, at exact moments when Cade didn’t have the patience to deal with him. Tired, on edge, and with adrenaline coursing through his veins from his workout, now wasn’t the time to have a heart-to-heart with dear old dad.
“Knox isn’t here.”
“It isn’t Knox I’m here to see. Heard about your operation happening tomorrow.”
“And here I thought your dealings with Steele Ops were strictly monetary.”
“They are. Brandt told me. Guess he needed reassurance that he did the right thing sending you boys in.”
“And you’re here to what? Check in? Pardon me while I shovel away the shit that’s piling up around your feet.”
Wilcox sighed, frustrated, but Cade didn’t care. Just like he didn’t give a rat’s furry ass that the man had once been both revered and feared in Army history lessons, a reputation he’d gladly taken with him as the Army Chief of Staff.
Every time Cade looked at him, all he saw was the man who left his mother with two young children, one of whom was sick. Wilcox could dish up excuses until he turned blue in the face and empty his entire damn wallet. It wouldn’t make things right.
Cade brushed past his father and reached for his door. “Well, it’s been nice chatting. We’ll have to not do this again anytime soon.”
“Are you ever going to—?”
He spun around and froze. “What? Forgive you?”
“Your sister—”
“Doesn’t have an unforgiving bone in her body. But unlike Zoey, I remember the day you left, or at least that part where you told me that you’d be back. Or did my eight-year-old imagination make that little bit up?”
Wilcox grimaced.