Scars: A Killers Novel, Book 5

by Brynne Asher

  I feel like I know her well by now. Working two months straight with someone while traveling gives you the benefit of learning a whole lot more about your coworker than you would sitting at a desk.

  “Love being the first to do this, baby. The first to touch you.”

  Her eyelids fall and she white-knuckles the sheets below her. “Oh my God.”

  “I know. I’m pretty fucking amazing,” I agree.

  “Cole,” she calls for me, her beautiful tits rise and fall with her quickened breaths.

  “Breathe deep. It’ll last longer. I could do this for hours.”

  She tries to pull in a bigger breath as I grab her shin and lift her foot from the bed. She moans and, finally, I dip a finger into her pussy. It’s tight but my finger goes in smooth, so I add another, and my cock almost explodes with jealousy.

  I can’t wait to bury my face between these legs, but next time. Right now, I don’t want to miss a second of this. I want to watch and burn it on my brain for the rest of my days.

  Her legs start to tremble as she tries to bring them together. I don’t allow it. Putting more pressure on her clit with my thumb, I watch her pussy start to spasm around my fingers as I fuck her with my hand, and think my future is looking pretty damn bright right now.

  Gasping for air, moaning for me and God—in that order, fuck you very much—her body is even more beautiful when controlled by me. Shaking and convulsing and arching, she presses her pussy onto my hand, and I’m forced to let go of her leg. I grab my cock and have never fisted it so hard. With her juices spread over me, I lean over her, hand by her head on my extended arm as I cage her in, and jack myself off. She opens her eyes and they move down my body, watching what she does to me—what she’s been doing to me for months.

  Her hands aren’t timid when they land on my abs and move south. I can’t take my eyes off her face as her thin fingers trail over my fist, moving up and down my shaft. I’m holding off my orgasm as long as I can manage.

  “Touch me,” I demand.

  I need to take my own advice and breathe deep, because as her thumb brushes the head of my cock, I almost lose it. Even though I’m about to come, I unhand myself so hers can find me. It doesn’t take long—maybe I should be embarrassed—but after all the teasing, thinking tonight was going to be the night, learning her secret, and then making her come, I have little fight left in me.

  I engulf her hand in mine and together we jack off my beloved cock harder than I ever have, all over her stomach and up to her tits. Making the best fucking mess I’ve ever made. And that’s saying a lot since I’ve been a literal mess my entire life.

  She looks down at her chest as I spread it over her tits before lowering myself to her, my now semi-hard cock dangerously close to her no-man’s land.

  “Kiss me,” I demand.

  She doesn’t hesitate. Bringing her sticky hands to my face, she pulls me to her mouth.

  There are moments you never want to lose, ones you replay over and over and over in your head. The ones that are so big and epic in your otherwise mundane life, you might give your left nut to erase time, go back, and live them all over again.

  Every single first with Bella is like that.

  Not that the ones following aren’t earth shattering. I am me and she’s the shit. Everything we’ve done together is fucking spectacular. We’re the grand finale on the Fourth of July, lighting up every inch of the horizon.

  Until the real world went and fucked it all up for us.

  Today was big. Outside of my parents, I’ve only told one other person on earth I love them and that’s Abbott. I’ve said it to Bella one other time, months ago when I begged her to come home with me. I was desperate, but it was the truth.

  Desperation seems to be a taste I find on my tongue often lately.

  After I made arrangements with Asa to have a twenty-four-seven tail put on Marie Kasey so she doesn’t end up six feet under, I about lost my lunch when we had to listen as Randolph fucked some woman he barely said a handful of words to when she showed up at his door. After a short time—as in really, really short—he kicked her out with her five-hundred-dollar fee and drank himself to oblivion. As much as I wanted to know more, there was only silence from the Senator.

  The entire time, Bella didn’t say a word. She stared at the damn ocean for hours, her face blank and her eyes lifeless. The sun set hours ago and I was about to pull my hair out from the silence. I set the devices to record and grabbed her hand.

  The beaches are quiet now, only a few stragglers. If the tourists aren’t asleep, they’re at the bars tying one on. I tucked her under my arm, fisted our shoes in my other hand, and we walked. It’s been a long day and she’s got to be exhausted after last night.

  We finally stop, she plants her ass in the sand, staring out at the waves that kiss her toes. It’s a new moon and cloudless sky—the stars light up the clear, black night.

  “You know, you’re going to have to talk to me sooner or later.” Like I’ve done since the moment she woke in the hospital, I don’t allow her any personal space. I’m behind her, caging her in, with my feet in the sand and knees angled to the stars. It’s taken her a bit, but she’s finally relaxed into my chest.

  Her English hits me flat and lifeless. I hate it. “I’m tired.”

  “You’ve had a long day. You’re still getting your strength back after surgery—”

  “No, Cole,” she bites. “I mean, I’m tired. I’ve been doing this … running, hiding…” She sighs. “I knew Randolph had something to do with it. I feel like I’m close, yet so far. And I’m tired of being tired.”

  I wrap my arm around her chest. “I know. But we’re close, baby. I know it.”

  “I shouldn’t complain. It hasn’t been that long but—”

  “It’s been a long fucking time,” I interrupt. “Time you could’ve been progressing in your career. Time I lost with you. Time I wanted you in my life and time you could’ve had to get to know Abbott when she was younger. I know what you’ve said in the past but it doesn’t have to be either-or. You can have both. Hell, you can have it all.”

  Her chest rises and falls under my hold as the waves pick up momentum. All of a sudden, our asses are wet. I don’t move and neither does she. I could sit here for hours.

  “We’re going to make it out of this,” I go on. “There’s no other option. I won’t allow it.”

  “The thought that anyone thinks I was behind the attack in Barcelona and did nothing to report it or stop it …” She shakes her head. “And everyone believes it, Cole. It makes me physically ill. All those innocent lives … I’d have laid down my own to save them had I known.”

  “I know you would’ve and we’re going to prove to the world it wasn’t you. Someone made you their pawn. Someone set you up and when I find out who did it, I’ll fucking take them down myself before putting them in front of an international jury.”

  “I’m sorry. Somedays it feels as if this will never end.”

  I twist her in my arms and put my hand to her cheek. Her bright blue eyes are brimming which isn’t like her. I’ve only seen Bella cry once—when I went after her in Pakistan and she told me to leave. Didn’t think anything could gut me more, but seeing her now? My strong and beautiful Brit, broken and I can’t do a thing about it?

  Yet.

  “It’ll end,” I promise. “I swear.”

  I’m about to break my word and take her mouth—there’s nothing I want more right now. Kissing her in this moment feels right. Hell, burying myself in her balls deep to make her forget about the rest of the world and all her troubles feels more than right. And I could.

  But I know her. Even though I gave her an orgasm last night and have been sleeping next to her, I know she’s in her head. I also know no one can control her and I don’t want to. She needs me but not in that way.

  She shakes her head out of my grip but leans the side of her face on my chest. I wrap my arms around her as the warm Caribbean swallows us up from
the waist down. She burrows into me, proving she does need me.

  The rest will come.

  I’ll make sure of it.

  Chapter 20

  Plans

  Bella

  For the remainder of his stay, Randolph has proven to be more boring than watching paint dry. When he woke this morning after his utterly vomit-inducing romp, he ordered a meal for delivery. It seems his lonesome bender from the previous night kept him from building sand castles because he lounged on his balcony and worked on his man tan for the remainder of the day.

  He’s sure to wrinkle prematurely or get skin cancer.

  I paced our condo for hours in pure frustration, which has seemed to soar higher than the cloudless, tropical blue sky. I’m exasperated with every-bloody-thing at the moment. Randolph’s lack of talk, his lack of electronic activity, and his basic lack of cleanliness, if I must be honest. I’m not sure the man has washed his hands since his lady of the night came and went, nor after any of the times the loo has flushed in the last twenty-four hours.

  I shook the man’s hand at the fundraiser. The thought has me wanting to jump into a pool of bleach and swim laps for hours. The germs on that man right now have to be toxic.

  And Cole woke me with his hand on my breast and his erection pressed to my bum. I was equally irritated at myself for wanting him to slide that hand between my legs where he would have found me positively drenched. Last night on the beach, I had a moment of weakness and admitted things aloud that I’ve only permitted myself to think while alone in the dark of night. As if it wasn’t hard enough to steel myself against his graces, I don’t need my sensitive nipples or antsy uterus betraying me.

  I have shit to fix before I can think of any of that.

  And damn, Cole. He’s more relaxed than a beach bum—shoulders to the headboard and legs crossed at the ankles while wearing only a pair of tatty gym shorts. Everything is on display from his bare chest down to his large feet, and in between is the bulge in his shorts reminding me of how we wake every single morning.

  I know him like a second skin. He’s commando under those shorts—I’d bet my life on it. He always was after a shower when it was just us. I’m sure that hasn’t changed since nothing else has, either.

  He hasn’t taken his eyes off me—back and forth, back and forth—wearing a path on the rug in front of the king-size bed where his taunting biceps are bulging as he casually lounges with his arms crossed.

  I’m not sure if my starlit confession about my being tired lifted the anvil off my chest or what, but in addition to waking frustrated as hell, I also opened my eyes this morning invigorated with energy seeping from my pores. The need to move my body is overwhelming. It’s as though my two surgeries are from another lifetime. If it weren’t for the burning desire to listen to what Randolph might utter next, I’d definitely be walking on the beach, or maybe a run if I could manage.

  My pacing is interrupted by a snap.

  Literally Cole snapping his fingers, breaking my nervous energy in two.

  I stop in front of the bed by his bare feet. “What?”

  He points to the earbud he’s listening to. “He called for a taxi.”

  “Please tell me he washed his hands.”

  Cole only winces and shakes his head.

  “He said nothing else?” I press.

  “Nope. But we knew this might be it.” Cole looks at his watch. “He has a flight back to Washington in three hours.”

  My head falls back and I stare at the ceiling fan, spinning and spinning and spinning—racing itself yet going nowhere.

  An ugly metaphor for my miserable life.

  “We still have his line tapped. Asa will let us know what comes next,” he assures me. “And, baby, there will be a next. He put a hit on a journalist’s life last night and failed to upgrade the deal he’s been doing under the table for years. Life is not grand for the shady Senator from Florida. He’s juggling fire right now and the man has no coordination.”

  “Maybe he’ll contract hepatitis from his lack of hygiene,” I mutter and pace to the balcony windows where I plant my hands on my hips.

  “Maybe.” I hear a smile in Cole’s tone as the bed creaks.

  I turn to find him up, moving to our bags that have exploded all over the floor. He and I were never tidy when we traveled. No point in settling in when we might have to be on the go at a moment’s notice.

  He produces a pair of clean boxers and before I know it, drops the gym shorts, standing buck naked.

  “What are you doing?” I ask.

  His lips tip on one side. “Don’t look at me like that. You’ll make me hard. And even if you begged me for a quick fuck right now, the answer is a hard no. We don’t have time.”

  I don’t give him the satisfaction of talking about any kind of fuck—quick or otherwise. “When is our flight back?”

  He steps into his boxers and yanks them up, tucking his cock inside. “Tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow? But we knew Randolph was scheduled to fly out this afternoon.”

  “We have plans tonight.”

  “What plans? There’s too much going on. We need to get back.”

  He pulls on a clean pair of shorts but leaves them unbuttoned as he grabs my hips and pulls me flush to his bulge. “Team Bella has it covered back in Virginia. Get ready. Doesn’t matter what you wear but we’re getting on a boat.”

  “A ferry back to St. Thomas?”

  “No, a different kind of boat. A charter. Just for the evening.”

  I shake my head. “No. We need to get back. There’s nothing more for us to learn here.”

  A big hand dips into my hair, gripping the back of my head. His lips come close to mine, and when I think he’s going to kiss me, he stops. The tip of his nose brushes mine and it feels like a threat when tangled with his words. “Sweetness, do not argue with me. Tomorrow’s Monday and I’m not anxious to walk the halls of the CIA where people are threatening to kill Americans—me being one of them. I can’t strut my ass back into work like nothing happened.”

  “You can and you should,” I argue. “I killed both men. They have no proof it was us, and if they did, they can’t very well pin it on you when they are the ones who wanted you dead to begin with. The walls of Langley might be the safest place for you right now.”

  He cocks a thick brow. “Maybe.”

  “Definitely,” I counter.

  He shrugs. “I need to consider my options. Either way, we’re still getting on a boat tonight.”

  “Does this boat ride have anything to do with me getting my life back?”

  “Not particularly.”

  “Then I have no desire.”

  He shakes his head. “Baby. You said you trusted me and I take that for what it means. Now, if there’s anything else for you to do to get ready, do it. We’re getting on that fucking boat even if I have to tie you up and carry you onboard. We leave in an hour.”

  He slides a hand to my arse for a quick grope before letting go and disappearing into the bathroom. The man has given me an orgasm, felt me up in my sleep, feels free to palm my ass, but has kept to his word and not kissed me.

  One more thing to be hella frustrated about.

  Damn him.

  Cole

  “This is not a boat, Cole. This is a yacht. An enormous one.”

  “Welcome aboard the Endless Horizon.” A man in a uniform takes Bella’s hand as I board behind her. “I’m First Officer Metivier. This way. Everything has been arranged.”

  I put a hand to Bella’s back to give her a nudge but she stops, turns to me, and lowers her voice. “What is arranged? You know I hate surprises.”

  “If you’d follow him, it won’t be a surprise anymore. You’re only torturing yourself by standing here and dragging this shit out.”

  “You know I’m not enjoying this. Being out here on the water, I feel stranded and out of control.”

  I lower my voice. “Do you really think after all you’ve been through I’d put you
in any position that wasn’t safe? The crew doesn’t know our real names. No one on the island knows our real names. Randolph is home. Marie Kasey is still walking around, being annoying-as-hell. And from the last reports, my boss is shaking in his boots since Asa went to my house, logged into my laptop, and sent an email that I was taking a sick day tomorrow for Abbott but will be back Tuesday, ready to rule the world. I’m getting sick of saying this Bella, but you need to trust me.”

  She doesn’t move and crosses her arms.

  Hell, she could keep this up all night. I grab her hand and move through the aft open patio of the yacht and into the door where the guy in white disappeared. Looking left and right, I see him at the end of a hall, waiting for us in front of a closed door. Ignoring the pull on my hand, I surge forward until we reach him.

  I turn to her as I grip the handle to the door with my free hand. Dipping my head enough to level my eyes with hers, I’m dead ass serious when I say, “You know I’ll do anything for you. This,” I tip my head to the closed door, “is just the beginning.”

  She says nothing, but if the grip on my hand means anything, I know she gets me.

  “And sweetness?”

  Her eyes fall and she pulls in a breath. “What, Cole?”

  “I love you, baby.”

  I turn the knob and push the door open.

  “Love?”

  The color drains from Bella’s face and I hear a gasp.

  Bella

  Cole’s arm wraps around my waist and his lips hit my ear. “Go hug your family.”

  Mum’s hand flies to her mouth and her eyes—the same ones she gave me—pool with unshed tears. Dad is standing next to her, Archer and Devon next to him.

  It’s been too long. I’ve only dared contact them once and Dad told me never again, how they were being watched because of me. But he followed by telling me they loved me, believed I was innocent, and knew I would never do what I was accused of.