by Shayla Black
openness, almost an intimacy, in her expression gave the moment gravity. The way she looked at him went beyond anything sexual. Dax set about memorizing her, too. He drank in the delicate angles of her face, the tiny scar that ran across her cheekbone, the way her bottom lip plumped out. A light dusting of freckles sprinkled across her nose. She was beautiful, yes, but Holland was way more than a pretty face.
“I think that’s the most dangerous thing you’ve ever said to me, Commander. I am going to kiss you—once—but when it’s over I’ll still vote to save my sanity and walk away.” She rose onto her toes and lightly pressed her lips against his.
Damn, she felt soft and warm and sweet—all the things he loved about women. But he savored her so much more. This simple kiss packed heat. It flashed through his system, sizzled down his spine. He wanted to revel in this moment and make it last.
When she circled her arms around his waist and her lips brushed sensually over his, Dax couldn’t hold back anymore. He cupped her face in his hands and deepened the connection. He explored her lips, slowly, deeply. Restlessly, she slid against him, coming even closer. He could feel her breasts crushed against his chest. His head spun. He went in for more, filtering his fingers through her hair and groaning into their kiss.
She pulled away, her breathing not quite steady.
“Holland . . .” That couldn’t be it. That taste had only made him hunger for more. His whole body felt alive, every nerve focused on her.
“That’s what I was afraid of.” She crashed against him once more. This time when she kissed him, her mouth flowered open, inviting him inside.
His tongue slid against hers in a velvet caress as she moved in, sliding her hands up his chest until she wrapped them around his neck.
Dax devoured her. So hungry. She was the source of his every craving and, until he’d taken her in his arms, he’d only suspected how utterly she could thrill and satisfy him. Now he knew.
Holland felt perfect against him as their tongues mated. The rest of the world fell away as he lost himself in her teasing scent and silken touch. He gripped her tightly, wishing he could strip her dress off. He definitely had to rethink not wooing her into bed.
He drew her closer still, needing her in a way he’d never needed a woman before.
Then the door swung open behind him, banging against the wall, startling them apart.
“Please, Admiral. You’re the only one who can help me,” a woman tearfully implored.
Fuck. He held on to Holland, terrified she would walk out if he didn’t. He looked over his shoulder to find his father following Zack’s mother into the room.
“Oh, no.” Holland sounded anxious. “Joy and Zack worried about this. Constance has been drinking all day.”
His father caught sight of him and Holland. His eyes flared wide for a brief moment. “I’m sorry. She was creating a scene. I wasn’t sure what to do.”
“I’ll go get Zack.” Holland pulled away, then spared him one last glance. “I’m leaving for New Orleans soon. Have a good life, Commander.”
Dax didn’t want to let her go, but Zack’s mom burst into noisy tears, and he knew he had to get this situation under control. Frustrated and feeling helpless, he watched Holland stride out of his life.
If he looked her up next time he visited home, would she speak to him?
“They’re going to kill me,” Constance shrieked. “And that poor girl. She doesn’t know the truth. How can I tell her? How can I tell anyone? It was an accident. I didn’t mean to do it.” She fell on the couch and wrapped her arms around her knees, sobbing.
Dax zipped a confused stare over to his dad.
The older Spencer shrugged. “She’s been talking like that for ten minutes, son.”
With a sigh, Dax sat beside his buddy’s mom and tried his best to calm her.
He didn’t see Holland again for years.
Washington, D.C.
Present Day
“You’re sure you want to do this?”
Connor’s question brought Dax out of his memories. He’d been thinking of that day with Holland, the day he’d first kissed her. He liked that memory much better than the later ones. A chill went through him. The wind in D.C. was cold this time of year. He stood outside the condo Connor shared with Lara, his wife, and prepared for the long ride home.
“I have to find out whatever I can.” Dax set his helmet on the seat of his bike and pulled his gloves on. “My father’s name was on that list.”
Only days before they’d tracked down the mysterious Natalia Kuilikov. She was a Russian woman connected to the Hayes family when Zack’s father had been the U.S. ambassador to the Soviet Union, before the fall of the Wall. She’d written a diary people had died for, including his dear friend Maddox Crawford. All clues led to the Bratva, the Russian mob, being responsible for the murder. Connor and Lara had recently spoken to the older woman. Moments after a bullet ripped through her forehead, they’d discovered Kuilikov’s handwritten notes in Cyrillic.
The translation had come back as a dead pool—a list of assassination targets.
Joy Hayes had been on that list, as had Constance, Zack’s mother.
Admiral Harold Spencer had been on that list, as well. They were all dead. Dax damn sure wanted answers.
His father had been gone for three years. His death had been declared a suicide. Dax hated to think about any of it—not the scandal that had come before his father’s death, nor the horrible time after it, and definitely not the investigation that ended with him losing Holland Kirk forever.
Until he’d seen that translation, he’d never intended to set eyes on her again. She’d betrayed him in the cruelest fashion possible by closing her investigation after giving it as much thought as someone opening an umbrella on a rainy day. In the blink of an eye, she’d made a judgment call that gave the press free license to vilify his father. Hell, she’d even had him believing his father was guilty at one point. She’d torn down his family to further her career. Oh, he’d paid her back. Now nothing lay between them but anger and regret.
But he couldn’t let this case rest in peace anymore. Things had changed. He had changed. Armed with new evidence, Dax intended to personally make sure Holland opened the investigation again—and gave the facts the due process they deserved.
“Yes, his name was on the list,” Connor agreed in that tone that let Dax know he was being handled with care. “I’ll look into it. Lara will help. You know we can do a lot. You don’t have to go back to New Orleans. Zack pulled strings and got you placed on a special assignment here in D.C. When we’re done, you can decide if you want to go back to the Navy or not. You can spend the next couple of months with me and I’ll help you sort it all out.”
Connor knew damn well what was waiting for him in New Orleans. Or rather, who. “Thanks, buddy. But I think I’ll spend the time I have left with her.”
Connor grimaced. “Yes, that’s exactly what I’m trying to avoid. You two will only tear each other up. You’ve done some stupid shit over that woman.”
Like waking up after a bender to find himself married to someone else? Connor had a point; some of the worst moments of his life had been because of Holland Kirk.
Dax shook that reality off. “I’ll be fine. I’m certainly not going to drink myself into oblivion and marry whatever woman happens to be next to me.”
“Her best friend. You married her best friend,” Connor pointed out. “Don’t expect her to be helpful. Hell, I half expect her to bite your head off.”
“Yeah? Well, I expect her to finally give me the truth.” He picked up the helmet before pulling his best friend into a manly hug. “I’ll call you if I need anything. I’m going to get to the bottom of this. For my dad. For Mad. For Zack.”
Someone was playing a dangerous game with his friend, the president. Unfortunately for whoever it was, Zack was one of Dax’s inner circle. They’d already lost Mad to this nasty business. Dax refuse
d to lose anyone else.
Holland Kirk was either a pawn or a power player. He would damn sure find out which.
With a nod to Lara on the balcony above, he hopped on his bike and revved the engine. He headed southwest, toward New Orleans and the only woman he’d ever loved. As the miles rolled, the past flowed over him like a tidal wave . . .
PART ONE
THEN
ONE
New Orleans, Louisiana
Three years ago
Holland Kirk sighed as she packed up her laptop. Another case closed. She liked the simple ones. Two enlisted sailors had gotten into a bar fight over a local and one of them had waited two days before deciding to jump his opponent back on base. He’d nearly gutted the other man. Luckily, she’d found a witness and now the seaman was sitting in a jail cell.
If only all her cases were so easy.
She stood and stretched, trying not to think about the news she’d heard earlier today. Courtney had waltzed in with two chicken salad sandwiches and the latest gossip.
Captain Dax Spencer had taken a one-month training assignment right here in New Orleans. Could Holland believe it? One of the Perfect Gentlemen here in their backyard. Courtney had been star struck.
Holland kind of wanted to hide.
Her cell phone trilled and she looked down to find a text from Courtney.
He’s even hotter than I imagined. I’m the writer assigned to him for this project! Squee! I need an entirely new wardrobe. And a mani pedi.
A flurry of emoticons followed, all conveying her excitement. Holland wasn’t sure what a couple of them were, but they definitely looked happy. Courtney knew she’d met Spencer at some point, but had no idea he was basically the man of her dreams. And now she meant to avoid him at all costs.
Sounds good! Hope you two have fun.
She sent the text, trying not to admit that her stomach dropped at the thought of pretty, curvy Courtney with Dax. Courtney looked like a swimsuit model. She was exactly the type of woman Holland would expect on the arm of one of the infamous Perfect Gentlemen.
Absolutely not her. Never Holland.
It had been years since she’d spoken to the gorgeous Dax Spencer, but she dreamed of him often. It wasn’t like she hadn’t dated, but she ended up comparing every single man who came into her life to Dax, and they always came up short.
She’d seen him at his father’s funeral. She’d shown up quietly and sat in the back. It had been a travesty how few people had been in attendance. Admiral Harold Spencer’s exemplary reputation had been washed away with one indiscretion.
“Hey, I’ve heard we’re going to have trouble.” Jim Kellison leaned against the door to her office, his dark eyes grim. “Your friend was telling everyone Captain Spencer has come back to town for a while.”
She was certain that had a couple of special agents thinking about early retirement, including the one in front of her. “Apparently he’s agreed to help write the documentation on the new training procedures. He’s been testing them on his ship.”
“Sure. That’s what every captain dreams of,” Jim shot back. “Spending several weeks writing training manuals. I’ve heard a rumor you run in his circle.”
She shook her head. “God, no. I’m friends with his sister. I was very close to the wife of one of his friends.”
Joy Hayes. It was hard to believe she was really gone, the victim of a single bullet from a lone shooter. Tears threatened. They did every single time she thought about the day Joy died. How could she ever forget it? Some TV news show rolled the video of her friend dying at least once a week.
Joy had been killed by a man who’d wanted to assassinate her husband. The news stories claimed the assassin was a mentally ill man who hated Zack and couldn’t stand the thought of him in the White House. Three days later, Zack Hayes had been elected president.
Six weeks after that, the terrible scandal involving Admiral Spencer had blown up. In the thick of the gossip and media speculation, he’d killed himself. Holland could only imagine how dark those days had been for Dax.
So much pain in a short amount of time.
She would love Zack Hayes to the end of her days because while everyone else had abandoned the Spencer family, the man with the most political capital to lose had sat beside Dax in the church for the admiral’s funeral that day. All of the Perfect Gentlemen had been there—Crawford, Bond, the scary one, Hayes, and Calder. They’d deflected the press from Dax and protected their friend.
She might not always understand the ties that bound those men together, but she sometimes envied them.
Jim nodded sympathetically. “Yes, Mrs. Hayes was a gracious lady. We all mourn her loss.”
More tears burned her eyes. She blinked them back. “Has Captain Spencer been in touch with you? You and Bill closed the case on his father, if I recall.”
That was an understatement. She knew exactly who had worked the case, but she’d tried to stay far from it. Being close to Augustine Spencer, Dax’s sister, meant recusing herself from participating in the admiral’s open investigation. She hadn’t even read the file. She couldn’t bring herself to do it.
Harold Spencer, upright family man and Naval officer, a beacon of New Orleans society, had been caught on camera in bed with an underage prostitute. She’d heard that a witnesses close to the admiral told NCIS the man had been a pedophile for a very long time. Rumors had spread like a bad virus and the jackals had shown up to drag the Spencer family through the mud.
And then, before he could be court-martialed, he’d been found with a bullet in his brain.
“We closed the case, but the captain made it very clear how unhappy he was about it.” Jim huffed. “We did a thorough investigation.”
Jim was one of the finest investigators she knew. He’d been a special agent for more than fifteen years. “I’m sure you did your best. These kinds of cases are always hard. There was a lot of media scrutiny.”
The press had been like a pack of wolves. The office had been inundated with their calls. Once the salacious story hit the tabloids, reporters had written article after article speculating on the lurid details of the admiral’s organized sex parties and the supposed ways in which he’d defrauded taxpayers to host them.
NCIS had been forced to investigate each and every rumor. All of them had been proven false, except the original allegation.
God, she hoped the admiral hadn’t known the girl’s true age. Amber Taylor had been fifteen, but on camera she’d looked at least a half dozen years older.
“I have gray hair from that case,” Jim acknowledged. “And I swear Bill went bald after that last press conference. I’ve never seen a man look so terrified on camera. There’s a reason he didn’t go into the entertainment field.”
It was probably for the best since Bill had a brilliant mind but a potbelly that wouldn’t look great on screen. “I remember. So I guess you’re afraid Captain Spencer’s return will mean more media attention? If it’s any consolation, I don’t think he liked the press coverage any more than we did.”
“I’m not worried about the press.” Jim ran a hand over his hair. “I’m worried about him. I don’t need his harassment again. He was like a dog with a bone, Kirk. He called ten times a day, sent so many e-mails I couldn’t keep up with them, and I won’t even go into all the times I could have arrested him for interfering with an investigation. I didn’t, because I like his mother and sister. I thought they’d been through enough, but I won’t put up with that crap again.”
Holland had stayed away. She’d actually taken a couple of weeks off and gone to visit some friends because the temptation to interfere had been so great. But she’d heard stories of Captain Spencer causing trouble. He’d apparently been particularly angry when his father’s death had been ruled a suicide.
It would be a hard truth for a man like Dax to take.