by Misty Evans
“You had him killed over oil?”
“The oil deal was a cover for him purchasing a shoulder-fired grenade launcher and giving it to a Chinese-American family, sleeper agents, who planned to assassinate President Norman while he was in New York City at a campaign stop. I had the evidence and believed the official should be arrested and charged, not killed, but it wasn’t my decision to make.”
“What about the family?”
She shook her head, letting him know they were dead too.
“Ah, shit.”
Keeping the president safe, and in turn, the entire country, was a monumental task. While he didn’t like what she was saying, he saw the need for it, and by the slump of Bianca’s shoulders, the sadness in her eyes, he could tell it was also an overwhelming task. Regardless of the accomplishments she’d made in her job, she’d always been a human rights supporter and this type of situation had to go against all of her natural instincts.
He couldn’t stop his feet moving across the floor to get to her, or his arms going around her shoulders as he pulled her into a hug. He’d been forced to make decisions in the line of duty that wrecked him afterward, but rarely did he have any reason to question his orders or his superiors.
She sighed against his chest. “For months now I’ve been wondering how far the power of a single man should be allowed to reach.”
He set his chin against her head. He hadn’t been there for her, to support her and allow her to hash this type of situation over with someone. Unlike other women, she wasn’t a talker, didn’t vent about her problems. Which had always made him slightly uncomfortable since he always wanted to fix whatever problem she had, but most of the time he had no idea what was going on in her head.
It was folly to think she might have shared this level of classified information with him—after all, pillow talk about her job was not allowed any more than it was about his—but maybe if he’d at least been around, he would have picked up on her internal struggle and could have given her encouragement. A hug, a knowing caress, the offer to talk even if she didn’t want to or couldn’t. Yeah, he sucked at communicating verbally, but he was a good listener.
He stroked her back and felt her relax into him. “If you didn’t like the job, why didn’t you ask for a transfer?”
“You don’t leave Command and Control. Not willingly. Which was another reason I was shocked when they offloaded me to the taskforce.”
Blue elephant. She knew too much, never forgot a detail. Those in charge couldn’t let her simply transfer or walk away. If she were captured by a foreign entity and made to talk, or she became disgruntled, she could expose dozens of high-level secrets, endanger operatives in the field, ruin military campaigns, and throw the US government into chaos.
My wife is a ticking bomb with a giant target painted on her back.
Clarity was a gift on any mission. This time, it was also a curse. He wasn’t only protecting her from an assassin, he was protecting her from all enemies foreign and domestic…and that was one long fucking list.
She drew away, turning so she could prop her butt on the couch. “There’s more.”
On one hand, Cal was glad she was finally telling him everything. On the other…
He leaned next to her and crossed his arms over his chest, preparing for the next round of things he was pretty sure he didn’t want to know. “Let’s hear it.”
She looked down at her feet, tapped one on the floor. “I also analyze every credible threat made on the president’s life, and believe me, lately, there have been a lot. Since Norman and Grimes have been one-upping each other in the media, threats to the president have tripled. Norman wants Grimes bad, and in his latest YouTube video, he threw down the gauntlet, challenging Grimes to come after him in Chicago at his final campaign stop. Norman isn’t stupid. He wanted Grimes dead before Chicago. That’s why he tasked me with the job. I failed, as you know.”
“Because Senator Halston leaked the info.”
“Three of your men died, but you lived, and even with the lockdown on the details about the mission, too many people know about this failure. They’re asking questions, and it won’t be long before the media snaps it up and causes a fuss. Not about your role in the mission, but about Norman’s decision to send a team in. And now Grimes knows Norman is trying to take him out before he can do anything in Chicago. He’s already made a new video to tell the world about Norman’s duplicity and that Norman’s secretly scared shitless about Grimes accepting his challenge.”
She shook her head. “I’m beginning to think Norman is as nuts as Grimes. Who would challenge a well-known terrorist to a Wild West-type showdown? Grimes isn’t stupid enough to try to enter America and show up at the campaign stop in Chicago, but he’s devious enough to activate one of his sleeper agents to do something.”
“Egos,” Cal said. “President Norman’s videos, Facebook posts, and tweets have raised his standing in the pre-election polls monumentally, according to CNN the other day. He needed that after the university bombings.”
Her fierce eyes pinned him. “He’s putting hundreds, if not thousands of innocent people at risk. Even with the highest security in place, someone could slip through.”
Grabbing her hand, he squeezed.
“If only I was back in D.C.,” she said. “I could analyze the situation and advise the president’s security team on possible scenarios.”
“Hopefully, someone already has.”
“No one knows the ins and outs of that disposition matrix the way I do. No one knows Grimes like I do.”
“Forget Grimes for now. You need to worry about staying alive.”
She withdrew her hand from his, spotted her bra, and made a production of putting it on. Then she raised her head and looked him square in the eye. “What happens when you’re not at the hearing tomorrow?”
It was already after midnight and tomorrow was officially today. “I’ll be considered AWOL and probably be court-martialed.”
Her heavy sigh matched the sadness and disappointment on her face. “You have to go back.”
In the soft glow of the firelight, she looked beautiful. Sad, but beautiful. All he really wanted right now was her. Not the SEALs, not the Navy, not anything but the woman who’d stuck by him through thick and thin.
Until she hadn’t anymore because of his career.
The Navy or Bianca? He took her hand again. “I’m not leaving you.”
She was in his arms, kissing him, before his next heartbeat. Her arms went around his neck, drawing his face to hers. He held her to him, parting her lips with his tongue, his cock jumping at her deep, sexy moan.
Easing her to her feet, he lifted her off the floor. Her legs went around his waist and he walked slowly and purposefully to the bedroom, ravishing her lips as he went. One hand cupped the back of her head to hold her steady and the other hugged her ass.
She pressed her pelvis into him, kissing him back with so much ardor, he nearly went down on his knees and took her right there on the floor. But he made it down the short hallway, kicked open the bedroom door, and laid her on the homemade quilt draped over the end of the bed.
Maggie tried to follow, but Cal used a foot to close the bedroom door.
Bianca’s eyes were shadows in her face as she looked up at him, soft moonlight coming through the window on the south side to touch her cheekbones. “God, I’ve missed you,” she whispered.
He was in the process of taking off her shirt—his T-shirt—and he couldn’t help but tease her. “You wanted to divorce me only a few minutes ago.”
The shirt’s fabric was over her face when she mumbled something that sounded like, “I never wanted to divorce you. I had to.”
The shirt came free a second later, and Cal threw it on the floor. She lay semi-naked, her full breasts overflowing her bra and making Cal’s mouth water. He almost lost his train of concentration. “What?”
“We have our problems, and ours are somewhat different than your average couple,
but the reason I finally filed for divorce was because I knew you were married to the SEALs in a way you’d never be married to me. Plus, you weren’t safe being with me. Working for Command and Control is a dangerous job, one that doesn’t foster relationships of any kind. I didn’t realize how dangerous until it was too late.”
Talking was not what he wanted to do right now, but he couldn’t ignore her ridiculous ideas about him, his job, or their current situation. “I’m not married to the SEALs, but a unit like that is as close to a brotherhood as it can get. I am married to you, and let me be clear here, I do not want to lose you. And finally, your job should in no way endanger me anymore than mine endangers you. The responsibility the NSA and the president have put on your shoulders, B, is astronomical, but it shouldn’t be deadly. They wanted you for your brain and your intelligence. They can’t turn around now and decide you’re a liability for the same things.”
She sat up and grabbed him by the waistband, her deft fingers undoing his zipper again. Moonlight glinted in her eyes as she smiled up at him. “As long as we’ve both fried our careers and nearly destroyed our marriage, what do you say we live like the next few hours are our last?”
Behind the smile and eager fingers was a hint of disheartenment. Cal knew that feeling. All seemed lost.
He stopped her fingers, bent, and kissed her before he brought her forehead to his and locked his gaze on hers. “We’re not going to die, Bianca. Trust me.”
Her response was to smile. For real this time. “You’re the only person I ever have trusted, Cal. Now make love to me like you’re never going to leave me again.”
Chapter Eighteen
She loved it when Cal touched her. His big hands deftly removed the rest of her clothes, taking his time with every button, every zipper, his fingers gliding across her sensitive skin. Teasing. Torturing.
When they were both naked, kneeling on the bed facing each other, she leaned forward and kissed him full on the mouth, letting her nipples brush across his chest. He moaned and pressed a warm palm against her lower back, encouraging her forward. She complied, bringing herself against his rock-hard penis.
His recent scar was still pink. Her finger traced its outline, even as their kiss turned hot. He caught her wrist and drew her hand away so she took it and wrapped it around the hard, thick length of him. She spread her knees on the bed, giving him fuller access as she guided him to her folds, still wet and ready from their previous sexual encounter on the couch.
He gripped her butt cheeks, spreading her wider and rubbing himself against her swollen folds. Lust, dark and smooth, flowed through her, and she welcomed the emotions it brought.
His mouth sucked at the side of her neck, his hands holding her in place as he teased her now with his penis. She arched backward, lost in his heat.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured against the skin under ear. “So perfect. You make me forget.”
Her breath came in short bursts. “Forget what?”
“The ugliness.”
The ugliness he wouldn’t talk about. This was a good time to make him spit it out. Right when she had him in the grips of lust.
Yes, that was it. Make him talk.
But then his lips moved to the base of her throat, kissing and licking at the pulse beating there, and she lost her train of thought. Later. She’d make him talk about the ugliness later.
Her hands massaged the strong muscles of his back, her mind blissfully blank. “Take me, Cal. I need you.”
He grabbed her thighs and pushed her back onto the bed. His penis, now slick from her juices, zeroed in on its target, plunging inside her to the hilt.
She cried out, digging her nails into his shoulders, her heels into his butt cheeks. So good. He fit her like he was made for her.
“God, I want to fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk tomorrow.”
Tilting her hips up so she could take more of him in, she gave him an evil grin. “Go for it.”
He pulled out, thrust deep. His mouth lowered to suck on her breasts. She moved in rhythm with him, reminding him he had a lot of work to do. “Three months,” she managed between thrusts. “You have three months of separation to make up for.”
Bracing himself on one arm, he raised his head and looked her in the eye. “Then we better slow this down and make it count, love.”
She didn’t want to slow down…until he pulled out and stroked between her folds with the plump end of his erection. “Oh, God.”
The side of his mouth quirked. He tweaked a nipple, catching it between his finger and thumb and gently tugging. He massaged her breasts, lowered his mouth and began to suckle, building her pleasure as his penis continued dipping into her and pulling out to rub her spot, only to dip inside again. Over and over and over, he took her to the brink of orgasm, then withdrew.
Bianca let the sweet torture take her higher, opening herself to the feelings she always kept buried. With Cal she was safe. Safe and loved and treasured.
“Now,” she finally whispered when she couldn’t stand it anymore. “I need you now.”
He placed his hands on the side of her face, dropping light kisses on her cheekbones, her closed eyelids, her jawline. “Look at me,” he demanded and she opened her eyes and did.
He moved inside her, picking up the pace, driving himself into her again and again as he stared into her eyes. The intensity of the love she saw shining there undid her.
It’s only lust, logic said.
She slapped logic in the face.
“I love you, Cal,” she whispered, matching each trust of his hips. “I’ve always loved you.”
He parted her lips with his tongue, melding them together, and continued to move her hard and fast, making the bed springs protest. Her insides spasmed, the first wave of the orgasm breaking over her as he, too, gave into the overwhelming lust they’d built. His erection drove deep, once, twice, three times, teasing out her orgasm, until he thrust one last time and collapsed on top of her.
His chest heaved, his breath came in bursts as if he’d just sprinted uphill for a mile. “I love you, too, B. I love you, too.”
In the aftermath, he dozed, his head on her chest. Bianca smiled into the darkness and held onto him for all she was worth.
Chapter Nineteen
“Cal!” Bianca shook his shoulder, but he batted her hand away.
His eyes were closed, his body twitching. Back and forth, back and forth, his head rolled on the pillow. Sweat beads dotted his forehead and his skin was ashen. He cried out, the words a jumble that didn’t make sense but that made the hair on her neck rise.
Maggie whined and Bianca chased her out of the room. Kneeling on the side of the bed, she patted Cal’s face and shook him again. “Cal, you’re having a nightmare. Wake up.”
He mumbled something and she finally resorted to an old trick. She pinched him in the side.
He bolted upright, knocking her off the bed. She smacked into the dresser, ricocheted off the corner, bumped her big toe on the bed frame, and fell unceremoniously on her ass.
“Ouch. Dammit!” She rubbed her toe and tried to fix her glasses, which had gone kittywampus on her face.
In a split second, he was out of bed, on his feet, weapon in hand and pointed.
At her.
Bianca froze, staring at the dark hole at the end of the looming gun. Her mouth went dry.
Dangerous. He’d always been dangerous but not to her.
PTSD was a bitch. She’d seen no sign of it until now. Heart hammering, she lifted her gaze and met his over the barrel. The dark orbs were distant, as if he weren’t seeing her but something—someone—else.
“Cal, it’s me. Bianca.”
Nothing changed in his demeanor. He kept the gun pointed at her, his body rigid and ready for action.
Years ago, her mother had held a gun in her hand and looked at Bianca the same way—blank eyes, emotionless facial affect—right before she’d turned the gun on herself and put a bullet in her brain. T
alk about PTSD. Bianca still had nightmares.
She’d failed with Annabelle, talking her off the ledge had been futile, but this was Cal, not her mentally unstable, alcoholic and drug-dependent mother.
Bianca was an adult now with a lot of skills and experiences under her belt, not some scared seventeen-year-old who’d recently lost a baby and was about to lose her mother.
I will not let the demons get you, Cal.
“We’re in your father’s fishing cabin in upstate California,” she said in a calm, soothing manner, even though she was anything but calm. “I was attacked by an owl, remember? We made love and you fell asleep and had a nightmare. That’s all it was, a nightmare. I’ve kept watch on the house and grounds while you slept, and Emit texted your phone an hour ago. His extraction team will be here any minute. I, of course, informed him I wasn’t going to any safe house to hide out while you went to see Senator Halston.”
Cal’s head jerked slightly, as if he were trying to clear the fog. The distant look in his eyes faded. Not completely, but she could see he was truly waking up.
The gun, however, didn’t lower. The barrel was still aimed at the spot between her eyebrows.
Give him a little more time. Keep talking.
“You’re not in Afghanistan. You’re here with me in America. You’re safe.”
Another blink. The gun lowered an inch.
“That’s right. You can do it. Fight the demons. You had a nightmare, that’s all it was. What happened was not real. I’m real and I need you.”
Maggie rushed to his side, wagging her tail and leaning against his leg. Confusion entered his eyes, and a second later, he frowned. “Bianca?”
Relief swamped her. She swallowed hard, wanting to jump up and hug him, yet knowing any sudden movement could trigger another episode. “Yep, it’s me. Your pain-in-the-ass wife.”
He looked down at the gun, back up to her face. “What happened? Why are you on the floor? Oh, God. Did I…?”