The Perfect Hostage (A Super Agent Novella) (Entangled Edge)

by Misty Evans

  Two pink shoes came into view, planting themselves in his way. He didn’t look up, just sat back on his haunches. “Look, Luce. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

  “The sooner we feed them cake,” she interrupted, “the sooner they’ll leave.”

  Taking his time, he did a slow perusal from her feet up her shapely calves, then higher, soaking her in just the way he’d planned. He had to touch her thighs, so he did, running his hands up under her dress. Lucie’s chest heaved in and out. She swallowed hard.

  Her cheeks were still flushed. Her hair as mussed as his.

  He stood, set the broom aside. “Cake it is.”

  She went for the cake server, washing it off in the sink. He grabbed the plates.

  The sharks were circling, but not for much longer. No one—not even the billionaire who owned the place—was going to make John leave Lucie’s side.

  She called it. Lawson and Zara were still eating cake when the other Morgans began packing up and drifting out the door, parting with air kisses and promises of future get-togethers. Agent Saunders was long gone, saying he wanted to beat the incoming weather, but not before he’d taken a minute to thank Lucie for inviting him, holding her hand and complimenting her on the food and decorations. Lucie had beamed and John had felt a spurt of pride.

  Snow fell in earnest as Zara’s mother, Olivia, stood at the door, wrapped in a fur and tapping an impatient foot. “Where is he?”

  “I don’t know,” Zara said. Lawson had taken some plates to the kitchen, so she looked at John with pleading eyes. “Would you see if you can find my father?”

  Gaining the Morgans’ trust was John’s first step in building an insurgency inside enemy territory. “I’ll be happy to look for him.”

  “Thank you,” she said, and Olivia offered him a reserved smile.

  In the past twenty minutes, Charles had been on his cell phone constantly, disappearing into the bowels of the house every time it rang, and looking disgruntled when he came back. When he did rejoin them, all he did was complain about the cell service. And how the whole world wanted a piece of him and his money.

  When he’d said that, he’d looked at John.

  John acted oblivious. Let him think whatever he wanted. Meanwhile, every time Charles left the room, John went to work infiltrating the Morgan clan. While surreptitiously holding his shirt together, he befriended Charles’s brother, chatted with Zara’s mother, and had several of Lucie’s cousins laughing at his jokes, all in short order. He made sure his good ol’ boy charm was hard to resist. Anything to piss off Charles Morgan.

  He headed in the direction Charles had disappeared to earlier. The living room, dining room, and a library were lumped into one great room. Beyond that, he didn’t know what he’d find. Stairs to the second floor, it turned out. A bathroom and a hallway that led to the back of the house where an indoor pool overlooked the woods. Back to the hall and around the corner and he was next to the kitchen.

  This house was a damn maze.

  During the time Charles was on the phone, John identified several Morgans who were not happy with the man. Mostly they were pissed that Charles was giving Lucie money—not hard to figure that out—but underneath the surface, their discontent ran deeper. Some recent investments he’d recommended had gone south. They’d lost money.

  Too bad he didn’t have more time to get the details, and maybe it was no big deal. Everyone got disgruntled when money was on the line. Sure, Charles acted like an ass every time John was around, and some of the distant relatives at the party confirmed he was a taciturn and somewhat eccentric billionaire, but he was also a self-starter. A man to admire. He’d built an entire empire in his lifetime. Done some good things with his money. Probably done some shitty things, too.

  From John’s perspective, he was all hat and no cattle. It all came easy to Charles Morgan. Too easy.

  And from the sound of it, Lucie’s father seemed to think he had to make it hard for everyone else. Especially Lucie. It wasn’t any of John’s business, but he couldn’t stand the way Charles treated her like a second-class citizen. He didn’t understand why she put up with it.

  Midway down the hall, John heard a man’s voice, urgent and aggravated behind a wooden door.

  Definitely Charles. He started to knock, caught part of Charles’s words, and stilled.

  “Why won’t you leave me alone? I told you, I had nothing to do with that. Your mother made her choices, and…”

  His voice trailed off as if listening to the person on the other end.

  “No. I will not be threatened. You come near me or my family again, and I’ll go to the police.”

  Whoa. Charles was being threatened? By whom?

  He should ask. Help the guy out. But billionaires received threats every day, didn’t they? Didn’t they have people to handle that?

  Your mother made her choices.

  John lowered his fist. Did Charles have another secret kid running around?

  Lucie and Zara would have accepted another member of this dysfunctional family without pause. The rest of the Morgans? Not so much.

  Whatever. Family dramas didn’t interest him. He just wanted the man out of the cabin. He had business to take care of with a certain beautiful woman.

  Bam, bam, bam. The wooden door was solid as a rock under his fist. “Hey, Chuck. Your wife’s looking for you.”

  Silence, and then the door flew open. The man stood there, red-faced and practically blowing steam out his ears. The phone was clutched in his hand, an office with expensive furniture and heavy drapes behind him. “Don’t you ever call me that again.”

  John couldn’t help but smile at the veiled threat. Or what? he wanted to say. Instead, he motioned at the phone. “Someone bothering you?”

  “Yes.” Charles brushed him aside. “You.”

  Charles took the long way around to the great room and the front door, and John followed at a respectful distance, until he could sneak into the kitchen to avoid the good-byes. Lawson, hiding out in the kitchen as well, handed him a beer and they clinked bottles and stood in unison by the sink, drinking and not talking.

  Perfect.

  John’s mind went back to a time after the kidnapping. He and Lucie working on that rundown house to turn it into a ballet studio. They’d had plenty of quiet moments together, not talking, just working. He’d shown her how to sand floors, wire new lights, and they’d painted a few walls side by side. It was easy to be with her. She didn’t pry, didn’t ask a million questions he couldn’t answer.

  She accepted him for the way he was.

  Perfect.

  Lucie and Zara joined them in the kitchen after seeing Charles and Olivia out. The four of them seemed to heave a collective sigh.

  “Maybe you should spend the night,” Lucie said to Zara. “The snow is coming fast.”

  Not perfect. He wanted Lucie alone.

  Zara snuck a finger of frosting into her mouth. “We’ll be fine. We only have to get into town where we’re staying at a bed and breakfast. Tomorrow, it’s Madison Avenue for shopping.”

  Lucie frowned. “The roads may be too snowy to get to New York City.”

  Lawson patted Zara’s stomach. “And you’re supposed to be taking it easy. Doctor’s orders.”

  “I need baby clothes! And nursery items.”

  There had to be sixteen boxes of exactly those things stacked in the living room from the shower. Lawson jabbed John, obviously thinking the same thing. “Help me get that stuff out to the SUV, will you?”

  John followed him and started picking up boxes. “Hey, man, if y’all want to stay here tonight, there’s plenty of room.”

  “I know.” Lawson tugged on his coat, zipped it. “Zara doesn’t like it here. Bad memories or some shit. We’ll be fine at the B&B. You and Lucie hang here. Have some alone time. You are staying, right?”

  He tried not to look too eager. “Yeah. I guess so.”

  Lawson grinned. “Maybe you’ll get snowed in.”

&
nbsp; “What if Pegasus gets called up? I’m second-in-command and you’re already on vacation.”

  “Flynn’s got it covered. CJ and the rest of the guys can handle whatever comes up.”

  John sighed. Flynn and CJ. A conceited spook and a crazy jarhead. Great.

  “The team is covered. Relax.”

  They loaded the gifts, some of the leftovers, and a very pregnant Zara into Lawson’s vehicle. She and Lucie hugged and promised to call each other.

  And then it was just Lucie and John, watching them drive away.

  Chapter Four

  John watched as Lucie closed the door, set the security system, and turned to him with a nervous smile on her face. “What should we do first?”

  Screw each other blind.

  Whoa, boy. “Um, what do you want to do first?”

  Her eyes widened slightly, as if she were surprised he would ask.

  Did she think he lacked that much control? That he would grab her and strip her naked right here in front of God and country instead of waiting for her to make the first move?

  Her assessment was spot on, then. Grabbing her, he brought her up against his body. Kissed her. Hard.

  Too hard.

  He didn’t know what he thought she’d do. Back away? Slap him? Tell him to slow down? Beg for more? After all, she hadn’t hesitated in the kitchen.

  Exhaling hard, she drew back. “Give me your phone.”

  He scanned her face, her lips, her neck. What was she up to? “Why?”

  Her answer was to crook her fingers in a give it to me gesture.

  Whatever it took to get her naked. He fished the cell phone from his pocket, handed it to her. Smiling, she walked across the floor to the fireplace and shut off the phone. Laid it on the mantel. Hers was already there. “No phones. Not this weekend.”

  Hardball. Now they were well and truly alone. No interruptions. No outside influences. Just her and him.

  It felt weird. Being disconnected from the world and being so connected to a person.

  Since that person was Lucie, it also felt right.

  Shit. His chest tightened. For a second, he had to focus on breathing. That kind of connection was off-limits. The physical stuff? Yeah, he could handle that. But that was it. He’d get her naked, get his hands and his mouth on her. Drive her wild just one more time. And then he’d stay the fuck away.

  He stalked toward her. “Aren’t you hot with all those clothes on?”

  A repeat of the kitchen incident, she fell into his arms, going after him as fast he did her. He positioned her against the wall, hiking up the skirt of her dress with no small amount of force. He wanted her, and he was living for the here and now. Tomorrow was a long time away.

  In the here and now, she wanted him, too, by the way she was kissing him back. She ripped off his shirt, for good this time, and threw it on the floor. Spread her legs and brought one of his hands down to her panties.

  His fingers stroked the soft silk and she moaned, rubbing herself against him and urging his fingers on.

  Happy to oblige.

  He shoved the black silk down her legs until it fell on her pink shoes. A fitting contrast. Her perfect legs, his BDUs. Her manicured nails, his clean but stained ones from years in the field.

  Her future as a billionaire’s daughter. His past as a fucked-up redneck with no family and a chip on his shoulder.

  She was going to regret this tomorrow, sure as shit. He’d rescued her from a terrorist and now she had some type of hero worship going on, but it was time to exorcise that demon once and for all. This rendezvous needed to wake her up to the reality that he didn’t belong in her world, her life. He’d be nothing more than a mistake. An embarrassing mistake she’d brush under the rug at her feet when she realized he wasn’t the hero she’d made him out to be.

  Nevertheless, the thought ripped at his heart. He stopped kissing her, stopped touching her. “Lucie, are you sure about this?”

  Hands around his neck, she met his gaze with half-lidded, determined eyes. Or was that anger he saw flash in them?

  She was pissed? Because he’d slowed things down and took time to ask her what she wanted? He would never understand women.

  Gripping his neck tighter, she drew his face to hers. “I need you, John. Now.”

  Call to duty.

  His fingers found the spot they sought and Lucie melted. She said something in French he didn’t understand, but he understood her body language.

  A few more strokes and she whimpered. His erection jumped at the sound. She caught his hand and moved his fingers in a quicker rhythm, her other hand cupping him through his BDUs.

  Heaven.

  She climaxed. As she went over, arching her back, John slid a finger inside. Slick. Wet. So perfect.

  Her body arched harder at the invasion and she clung to him, shifting away, and begging for more at the same time.

  More it was.

  Her legs sagged and he lifted her, carrying her to the immense sofa. Her shoes fell off as he walked, and he kicked off his boots as well. At the sofa, he lifted the dress over her head, fumbled with her bra as his eyes devoured her breasts. Once freed, they popped into his hands and his mouth caught one, then the other, needing to taste her.

  She unfastened his pants and he made quick work of losing them, letting his gaze linger on her body, naked and glowing in the light from the fireplace. A small, sly smile spread over her lips as he tossed off the last bits of his clothing and stood there admiring her body while his was on full display.

  In a flash she moved on him, her eyes focused on his erection. Before she went down on her knees, he caught her by the wrist. “Not this time, darlin’. This time you belong to me.”

  Drawing him to the sofa, she lay down, spreading her legs wide. “Hard. Deep. Fast.”

  Orders? She was giving him orders?

  How about that. “Yes, ma’am.”

  He snagged a condom from his wallet and put it on, her eyes still trained on his cock. She reached out to help roll it on, and his erection danced under her fingers. Pinning her greedy hand to her side, he climbed onto the sofa. She laughed, a light, sexy sound that filled him with a need so strong, he almost buried himself in her soft folds with one thrust. Instead, he brought the laughter to an abrupt halt by slowly, inch by inch, pushing himself inside her.

  She bucked, trying to make him move faster.

  He didn’t.

  What he did do was sink deeper. All…the…way…

  Home.

  Her legs went round him, clamping him tight. Her hips rose to meet his. “Oh, John.”

  Home. The word rattled around in his head. He tried not to think about it. About anything but the sex, but Lucie was so perfect beneath him, her voice so right in his ear, all he could do was think.

  Lucie. Home. My home.

  Not a place. A person.

  The thought shocked him. Instinctively, he reared back.

  He didn’t go far. Lucie’s legs clamped tighter, refusing to let him go. When he looked in her eyes, the word knocked around in his brain again.

  Home.

  Fuck.

  He didn’t want a home. Didn’t need one.

  Didn’t need anyone. Never had.

  Stop thinking, he demanded of his frontal lobe. Take no prisoners.

  He kissed her deeply, thoroughly. Began his descent again, slowing her down, forcing her to match his rhythm. Drawing himself out, he kept control of her hips, kissed her neck, and tweaked a nipple.

  Her eyes were glazed. Was that a sheen of tears in them or was the firelight casting weird shadows?

  Had he hurt her? Been too rough? Shit. “You okay?” he whispered.

  “Better than okay.” She confirmed it by tweaking one of his nipples in return and trailing kisses over his cheek and down his neck. “But I need more.”

  Ordering him around again. He was starting to like it. He released her wrist, reached between them, and touched her. Right. There.

  Bingo. She whimpe
red again and the sexy sound made him realize he was close. Too close. But she was, too. Maybe it was time to give the lady what she wanted.

  He drove himself in, ramping up his touch at the same time. She moved with him, eyes still open and watching him. “Harder.”

  Out. In. Lucie’s sweet heat taking him fully. Releasing and begging for more.

  Another retreat. Another advance.

  “John—”

  Bam, she exploded. Gritting his teeth to hold back his own release, he rode the orgasm with her, milking it. After a few seconds, she looked at him, spread her legs wider, and breathed softly. “Come for me.”

  Another order. One he couldn’t help but follow. He came in a rush, blinding and perfect in its pleasure. Lust and love crashing together and taking the edge off the anger always riding him. Freeing him from the past. Planting a seed of hope for the future.

  Home.

  Slowing his breathing, he blocked the thought, wrapped her in his arms and shifted their bodies to take his weight off her.

  Lucie snuggled into his chest. “Le petit mort,” she murmured with a sigh. “So good.”

  He might have been from Texas, but he knew what the French idiom meant. A little death. The moment of release.

  He’d released more than months of sexual frustration. More than anger. More, in fact, than he could identify. His heart felt lighter. His brain, calmer.

  Rubbing her back, he smiled into the shadows that had fallen during their lovemaking, the coming hours stretching out in front of him like a shiny, new coin dying to be spent. The night wasn’t over yet, so when she moved against him a few minutes later, he kissed her, caressed her breasts, and nuzzled her neck.

  He was ready for his next set of orders.

  …

  John stood at the master suite window early the next morning looking down on his truck. The familiar itch burning under his skin told him it was time to leave. The pain knotting itself like a rope in his chest when he considered it said different.

  He’d gone out to the truck to retrieve his overnight bag and found himself hesitating at the door. So easy to jump in and drive away, but he didn’t want to. Now he stared at the footprints in the snow leading back and forth and thought about Lucie. Every time he walked away, he ended up coming back.