by Cynthia Eden
Mac had brought them back together on that last case. Sullivan had tried to warn his brother that he’d made a mistake. How am I supposed to let her go again? But Mac had been blind to the danger.
The simple truth was that Sullivan couldn’t let Celia go. Not without losing too much of himself.
“I can’t stop wanting you. Baby, I tried, but it just doesn’t happen.” He caught her hand in his and put it against his heart. A heart that always beat faster when she was near. “You think I don’t know how much I screwed up before? I didn’t trust you. I— Hell, I won’t make the same mistake again. Give me a chance.”
Her gaze searched his, but she shook her head. “I can’t.”
Those words—it felt as if she’d just driven her knife into his heart when she said them. The knife he knew she liked to keep strapped to her ankle.
“I can’t go down this road with you again, Sully.”
“I’m not talking about forever.” He had asked for that, once. And he’d gotten it, with her. In a Vegas chapel, on one wild weekend. He’d promised forever to her.
I want it again.
But he knew he had to take small steps this time. “I’m talking one night. One night of safety for you. I have a guest room you can use. Just stay with me tonight. Tomorrow, we can make another plan together.”
Maybe by tomorrow, he would have figured out a way to keep her with him.
“Hasn’t your family been through enough?” Celia asked him. “Do you really want me and my danger close by?”
It wasn’t about his family—and that alone told him just how far his obsession with her had gone. Family had always come first for him. The bond that he shared with his brothers and with his sister, Ava, was unbreakable, but...
But this isn’t about them. It’s about Celia.
“You have new evidence that can help you find your parents’ killers,” she said. “You should be sharing it with them and not—”
I haven’t even opened the envelope. I was too worried about you. “It’s almost midnight. Anything new I have can wait.” Their parents had been waiting to receive justice for years. A few more hours wouldn’t change anything. “Stay with me, Celia. I need to know you’re safe tonight.” And that was when he noticed the faint dark mark on her right cheek. His right hand lifted immediately and lightly touched that bruise. A bruise she hadn’t possessed when she’d been in his office before.
“I think my cheek hit the steering wheel,” she said, and Celia swallowed as his fingers lingered against her skin. “I got lucky—the air bag didn’t deploy and I maintained control of my steering. If he’d hit me harder, the car could’ve died right there. He would’ve had me.”
No one is getting you, Celia. I’m here now. “You saved my life once,” he reminded her.
She gave a quick, hard shake of her head. “No, that’s—”
“Did you think Mac didn’t tell me? He did.” And as a thank-you, I signed divorce papers. Dammit, could he have been more of a blind fool? He had so much to atone for with Celia. If he could just convince her to give him a chance...
“Your brother talks too much,” she muttered darkly.
He laughed at those words. Sullivan just couldn’t help it. Mac was pretty much the definition of the strong, silent type. The only guy more closemouthed than Mac?
That would be me.
Her face softened a bit as she stared up at him. “You should do that more, you know.”
“What?”
“Laugh. Let go of that iron control of yours and just enjoy life.”
His laughter faded away. “Maybe you should follow the same advice.” And you should stay with me. Just for the night. “Are you always on guard?” Sullivan asked her.
Her dimples flashed, but her smile wasn’t real. “You tell me. You lived in my world for a few months. Is it really the kind of place where you can let down your guard?”
He’d joined the CIA and worked in the Special Activities Division, or SAD, as the group was called. He’d been undercover, working to make a difference, desperately trying to collect needed intelligence in a hostile country—only that case had gone to hell, fast. Friends had become enemies, and he’d found himself on the run.
Then...captured.
Tortured.
Left for dead.
“You can let your guard down with me, Celia. Trust me, just for this night,” he told her. Because now he could see the edge of fear that she’d been working so hard to conceal at his office. And...she was pale. Shadows were under her eyes, shadows that even the careful application of makeup couldn’t hide.
She needed rest. She needed safety.
I want her to need me.
“Just for the night,” Celia said. “Only that.”
He actually shook his head because he hadn’t thought she’d agree, but— “You’ll stay with me?”
“Just for the night,” she said again. “Come morning, I have plans.”
She pulled away from him and headed toward his hallway. “Which one is the guest room?”
It took a moment for her question to register. She’d never been in his house before, so she didn’t know her way around. They’d been married, but...he hadn’t brought her to his home. He hadn’t introduced her to his family. He’d said his I do part to her, then taken a mission almost the next day. He’d been shipped out of the country. She’d been scheduled to follow him two days later.
But...everything had changed.
“The third door,” he said. “On the left.”
She looked back. “That better not turn out to be your bedroom there, Marine. Because trusting you to give me a place to crash tonight is not the same thing as trusting you in bed.”
If only.
“My bedroom is the first door.” Had his voice been too gruff? Maybe. The thought of her in his bed had made him sound too rough.
She turned away.
He called out, “But feel free to go in there. Because you can trust me on this...if you go to my room, I will give us both what we need.”
If she’d give him the chance, he’d give her everything. Anything she wanted.
“Don’t hold your breath on that one,” Celia threw back at him. Then she vanished down the hallway.
His breath expelled on a long rush. I’ve got you in my house, baby. That’s step one...
* * *
“YOU LOST CELIA JAMES?”
Porter Vance winced as he heard the rage, transmitted so very clearly over the phone. “Look, boss, the woman is CIA. It’s not like she isn’t trained to—”
“You’re ex-CIA. You’re supposed to understand her moves. You’re supposed to find her and eliminate her. End of story.”
Porter glanced around the busy intersection. The parking garage was behind him—the garage that contained Celia’s abandoned vehicle. “You were right, you know,” he said, trying to distract the boss. “She did go to see Sullivan McGuire. That’s where I found her. I just parked myself right outside McGuire Securities and she damn near came running out of the business and straight at me. I trailed her, had her in the parking garage on Forty-Seventh Street and then...” He cleared his throat.
“Then you lost her. A woman that I paid you ten thousand dollars to eliminate.”
Right. He hadn’t exactly gotten the money yet. It was one of those pay-on-delivery deals. So far, he hadn’t delivered a dead Celia James. “I’ll get her. Listen, I’m already back at McGuire Securities. She’ll show here again. If she doesn’t, I’ll just use Sullivan to get her. She’s still tied to him. He can be the bait. When she knows I’ve got him, she’ll come running to me.”
Laughter carried across the line. “Sullivan isn’t easy prey. None of the McGuires are...but especially not him.”
There was something in the boss’s voice...
“Do you think I didn’t try to eliminate him? Do you honestly think I didn’t do my best to kill that guy when I had the chance?”
“I—”
“Your usefulness
is at an end.”
It took a moment for those cold words to sink in.
And another minute to realize...
I’ve been shot.
Because the bullet had been so quiet as it found its mark. There was no bang. No boom. Just a faint whistle as it cut through the air and sank into Porter’s chest.
And then the pain came, burning slowly through his heart.
He looked down. It was dark there, too dark for him to see clearly but—
My shirt is wet. I’m bleeding.
He still had the phone in his hand. Still had it pressed to his ear. But his legs were crumpling and Porter knew...the boss had called him so that he’d be distracted. The boss had already known he’d failed at his mission.
And the boss didn’t accept failure.
He was watching me. He called... He was going to kill me, no matter what I told him. Maybe because he’d just been another loose end.
Just like Celia.
The phone fell from his fingers and he crashed onto the concrete.
Chapter Three
“Will you marry me, Celia?”
She lay in bed, the covers pulled up to her chin, and the past wouldn’t stop haunting her.
“Don’t tease, Sully. When you say that to a woman, she might just take you up on the offer.” They’d been in Vegas. Bright lights. Slot machines. Parties that didn’t stop.
The champagne hadn’t stopped, either.
But she hadn’t been drunk. She couldn’t pretend that she had. Sully...
“I’m not teasing.” His handsome face had been dead serious. That wonderful square jaw of his had been hard with determination. His green gaze had seemed to see straight into her soul. “I want to be with you, C. Tonight and always. Marry me?”
Her hold tightened on the covers. There were no rings on her fingers—not any rings at all. But he’d given her one that night. When they’d pulled up at that little chapel. When she’d been almost delirious with happiness. When she hadn’t been able to stop smiling.
“I love you.” Her words, to him. She should have known, even then, that it wouldn’t work. Because Sullivan hadn’t told her that he loved her. He’d held that part back. He’d kissed her wildly. Made love to her endlessly that night. But...
But did he ever love me?
She wasn’t sure that he had.
And now she was in his home. In his spare bedroom. And she couldn’t stop thinking about him.
“This isn’t working.” The sound of her own voice was jarring, but maybe she needed to be jarred. Because for her to just agree to stay with him—how wrong was that? She knew exactly how bad the guy was for her. She’d gone to his office because—yes, she actually had planned to use him. He had connections in Mexico, and she’d intended to call in her favor when she slipped over the border. She hadn’t planned to wind up in Sullivan’s bed.
Celia dressed as quickly as she could. As soon as she was gone, her first order of business would be finding new clothes. Maybe changing her hair again. Red was actually her natural color, but by the time she cleared the border, she intended to be a brunette. Maybe a brunette with green eyes? It’d be easy to pick up some contacts and then she’d nearly be a new person.
Again.
She tiptoed into the hallway. Celia figured she’d been in the guest room for nearly an hour, maybe two, tossing and turning and replaying her past too many times. Sullivan would be asleep by now, and she’d sneak out of his house as quickly and easily as she’d slipped in. But maybe she’d leave the guy a note, telling him that he really needed to install a few new security measures. The setup was good, but not good enough and—
“Celia.”
She froze in front of his open bedroom door. He’d spotted her. It wasn’t pitch-black in the hallway. Light spilled in from the den, illuminating the narrow corridor. She turned her head and stepped toward his room, her movements still soundless. She started to speak.
“Celia, don’t go.”
Words froze in her throat.
He sounded so desperate. When had Sullivan ever been desperate? She inched closer, her chest seeming to burn, and then—
Moonlight spilled through his blinds, revealing his form in that big, sprawling bed. Sullivan’s muscular chest was bare, and the sheets were tangled around his hips. He was rolling a bit in the bed, and his eyes were closed.
Surprise held her motionless.
Sullivan had picked up a few habits since they’d last been together. It seemed that he now talked in his sleep. And he dreamed about...her.
A low warmth bloomed in her belly.
She found herself stepping toward him. The floor creaked beneath her feet. Celia froze, but it was too late.
So much for being quiet.
Sullivan instantly shot up in bed.
“Sully—”
In an instant he had his hands on her. She could have escaped his hold. Could have fought and had him tumbling back, but she didn’t. He caught her in his arms and pinned her between his body and the door frame.
“Celia?” His hands slid over her. “What is it? What’s happening?”
Oh, just the usual. I was sneaking away in the middle of the night. She wet her lips and tried to figure out a nice excuse that might work. And one that just might not make her seem like the coward she was.
He wasn’t holding her prisoner any longer, not now that recognition and consciousness had hit him fully. In fact, he’d backed up a bit so that his body wasn’t touching hers at all. But he was still there, a strong, immovable object in her path, and the heat from his body seemed to wrap around her. Her hand lifted and her fingers slid over his chest.
She hadn’t meant to touch him...had she?
He called for me in his sleep.
Her fingers trailed over his chest, and she felt the raised marks on his skin. “You didn’t have these scars before.” She knew she was touching scars. In her business, you could always recognize them. Carefully now, she slid her hand down and felt more scars along his ribs. Another near his stomach. Another—
His hand locked around her wrist. “Be careful just how far you go.” In the darkened room, his eyes glittered at her.
She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Did you get those scars when you were captured?” The last mission he’d worked with the CIA. The mission that had changed everything.
Traitors had been revealed. Loyalties had been tested. And when the blood and dust finally cleared, he’d left her.
And she’d picked up the pieces and carried on.
“My captors wanted information.” His voice was a hard growl, but his fingers were lightly stroking the inside of her wrist. Could he feel her skyrocketing pulse? “They were real interested in learning everything they could about the Special Activities Division.”
“I didn’t betray you.” Hadn’t she told him that before? When she’d finally gotten him on the phone after that brutal mission. He’d refused to see her when she tried to visit him at the hospital. Mac had gruffly turned her away, but she’d finally gotten Sullivan on the phone and—
It’s over, Celia.
Her eyes closed. Her cheeks burned. “Why couldn’t you have trusted me?”
“Because I’d spent seven days in a hellhole. They’d sliced me open. They’d nearly killed me—again and again—and all the while, they kept telling me things that only you should know. They told me you’d been playing me, from the very beginning. That you’d sent me out there, knowing they’d capture me. That you weren’t on that transport with me because you were keeping your cover in place. That everything that happened to me...it was because of you.”
Pain hit her so much harder than she’d anticipated. So hard it stole her breath and left her gasping. “I didn’t... I wouldn’t! I’d never—not to you!” How could he have thought, even for a moment, that she’d done that to him? That she’d married him one day then betrayed him the next?
“I was in hell, C. Hell. Barely alive when Mac pulled me out.”
&nbs
p; “I know,” she rasped. “I was there. Who do you think drove the getaway jeep?” But he should know that. Mac had said—
“What?” Stunned surprise was in his voice.
“I was there. Don’t act like Mac didn’t tell you. I know he did.” She’d been there, and she’d seen the blood on him, but she hadn’t been given the chance to fully take stock of all his injuries. She’d been too busy driving hell fast to get them to safety. Then the transport chopper had whisked him away and she’d stood below, watching the dust and sand billow around him. There hadn’t been enough room for her and Mac on that chopper. So she’d backed away and let Mac stay with his brother.
And when she’d finally gotten back to him...
It’s over, Celia. She tried to slam the door on that memory before it hurt her even more.
“Mac told me...he said that you used intel to find me...that you helped...but hell, no, he never said you were there.” Sullivan sounded stunned.
“I was there.” And she’d heard his words so clearly as she’d driven that jeep. It was...Celia. Never trust...her. “I didn’t give up on you. I wouldn’t have.” Even if he’d given up on her. She fought to keep her emotions under control. She had to get away from him. Staying had been a definite mistake. But she couldn’t stop herself from saying, “You were a marine, first and foremost. You should have known that you can’t trust your captors. They always try to make you turn on the people you should be trusting.” It was a basic rule of survival. Never trust them.
“They knew so many things about you,” Sullivan said. “About us. Things I’d only told you.”
They were lying. “I need to leave.” This wasn’t working. In fact, she felt as if she were about to splinter apart. “Get out of my way and let me go.”
He didn’t move. “You were running from me, weren’t you? Trying to slip away in the dark? You were going to vanish without saying good-bye.”
Her chin notched up. Could he see that little movement? “No, I wasn’t just going to vanish,” she said flatly. “I was strongly thinking about leaving you a note first.”