Love Another Day

by Gina Robinson

  “No. She doesn’t trust our ability to protect her.”

  “And you trust her alone with Tate?” Lash asked.

  Mal arched a brow. “What do you mean by that?”

  Their waitress stopped by. Mal ordered a chocolate martini. Lash ordered a second whiskey. The waitress left to fill their order.

  “Cox’s team is top-notch,” Lash said. “They’re already demanding a retraction from the tabloids and touting your happy reunion.”

  “That’s all just press. Smoke and mirrors.”

  “Is it?” Lash smiled at her.

  A cocktail waitress returned with their drink order.

  Mal sipped her martini. “Reunions don’t have to last forever.”

  * * *

  Tate told Mal to take her time and enjoy herself. There was no need to hurry right back. He wasn’t particularly hungry.

  Tate bolted the door behind Mal, made sure War and Peace was close at hand, and grabbed the TV controller. Sophia excused herself to use the bathroom.

  They were in an inside cabin with no porthole. It felt both safe—an intruder could only enter through the door—and claustrophobic. If someone did manage to get in, however, they were done for. There was no backup escape route.

  Tate’s gift shop bag caught his eye. While Sophia was occupied and Mal was out, it was time to get comfy and lose his female garments of torture. His bra was digging into his shoulders and he was tired of the boy being bent uncomfortably back. He pulled off his frilly T-shirt, tossed it on the desk, and discarded his bra. He really was better at removing women’s undergarments than putting them on.

  He stretched and flexed and rolled his shoulders to get the kinks out. He unzipped his girlie jeans and pulled them off, piling them with his other discarded clothes. He shrugged out of his fake hip/crotch control garment and tossed it aside with disgust. That was the least sexy piece of lingerie he’d ever seen.

  As he pulled his boy back into its normal free-hanging position, the door to the bathroom opened. He was caught with his hand in his pants.

  “Now there’s a sight I’ve been aching to see.” Sophia stood in the doorway, leaning provocatively against the frame with one slender arm curved upward. She was completely naked except for a bow around her neck.

  The sight reminded him of finding Mal in his bed wearing nothing but an identical bow. Damn, involuntary memories and bodily reactions. He went hard and erect.

  “Almost as good as you. Naked. Perched over me,” she said.

  * * *

  Mal’s dinner arrived—a grilled salad of Atlantic prawns served with lemon and coriander salsa. Lash had green chicken curry and jasmine rice. Mal placed two orders for curry boxed up to take back to Tate and Sophia.

  “The sunset is breathtaking.” Mal took a bite of salad.

  “Indeed it is. Unfortunately, it portends rough seas later.”

  Mal frowned. “Really?”

  “Yes, sadly.”

  “Good thing I took my seasick pill before we boarded. Though, surprisingly, I have very good sea legs.”

  “You’re a sailor?” Lash asked.

  “Sometimes. I grew up on the water. I have a small sailboat I take out when I have time, which isn’t often. How’s the curry?”

  “Very good. Tate won’t be disappointed.”

  Mal laughed. “I doubt he’ll enjoy it one way or the other. He probably won’t even taste it. Unlike me, Tate is not a sailor. He’ll be afraid it will come back up. Why do you think he was so gallant and let me go out for dinner? He’s afraid of eating right now.” She winked at Lash.

  He took a forkful of curry and rice and laughed. “Are you enjoying the fieldwork?”

  Mal shrugged. “I would be. If it weren’t for Sophia. Honestly? She’s a pain in the butt. Fights me at every step. At times I wonder if she really wants to be rescued.” She rolled her eyes.

  Lash set down his fork and picked up his drink. “I can take care of her for you and make sure she never causes you another problem.” His tone was so sinister.

  Mal couldn’t help laughing. No more Sophia—it was a pleasant thought. “I’m sure you could.” She watched the sunset for a moment. “Have you ever thought of taking a foreign assignment?”

  “You think they’re more interesting?” Lash said.

  “Generally speaking they’re more exciting.”

  Lash appeared to consider what she said. “You don’t think I’m a coward?”

  “No, absolutely not. I’ve never even hinted at it.”

  He nodded. “Someone has to guard the home front. We have our share of excitement.”

  “I’m sure you do.” She smiled at him.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Dressed, Sophia was a stunner. Naked, she was perfection. Temptation of the flesh of the highest order. Beautiful pert breasts with their rosy nipples tightly budded with desire. Eyes that sparkled with lusty promise. A narrow waist, gently flaring hips, and smooth, perfect skin.

  A year ago, hell, a couple of months ago, Tate would have found her simply irresistible. Now the stakes were higher. He didn’t want bodily perfection. He wanted Mal. It was as simple as that.

  Sophia licked her lips and took a step forward before he could tell her to get dressed. She was on him and coiled around him as quickly as a cobra strikes, rubbing against him.

  He grabbed her wrist as she stroked his cheek. “I think you can safely ignore those RIOT orders to sleep with me now.”

  “What if I want to make love with you, Tate? What if it’s all I’ve dreamed of since I met you?” She slid her free hand down his chest and grabbed his erection.

  His mind rebelled against the thought of her. But his body had a mind of its own.

  “You want me. We can make each other happy.”

  He dropped the one wrist and grabbed the one around his erection, squeezing her until he felt her pulse.

  She didn’t wince, but met his eye. “We can play rough if you like. I’m completely unarmed.”

  “Don’t think you have the upper hand because you have me in hand. Even nearly naked, I’m in control.” He stared into her eyes, making his voice and expression serious. “Let go.” He squeezed her wrist until it turned purple, giving her a chance to comply before he bent it back and snapped it, forcing her to drop him.

  People sometimes got the wrong impression about him. He was civilized and cultured when he needed to be. But he was as skilled in self-defense and killing as the next spy and not hesitant about doing what he had to to live and complete the mission. Sophia was trying his patience.

  Still staring at him, she slowly unwrapped her fingers and dropped him.

  “Get your clothes on.”

  “Spoilsport.” She made a very pretty pout before turning slowly toward the loo.

  He took a deep breath and sat down on the bunk. That was his mistake. She turned and pounced on him, knocking him onto his back and straddling him. “I don’t give up, not when I want something as badly as I want you. Make me happy and I’ll tell you everything I know about RIOT.” She slid his briefs down as she bent forward to lick his nipples.

  * * *

  Twilight had fallen outside. Mal glanced at the clock. “I’d better get back to Tate and relieve him of sole babysitting duty.” She pushed back and grabbed the curry boxes.

  “Let’s do this again,” Lash said, standing.

  She smiled. “A mission? Or dinner?”

  “Either,” he said. “Or both.”

  She laughed. He didn’t offer to walk her back.

  “You’re not heading back to your cabin? We could walk together.” She stood and pushed her chair back in.

  “I think I’ll take a walk around the ferry.”

  “Guard duty? Making the rounds?”

  “You caught me.”

  “Take care.”

  She walked quickly back to the cabin, stuck her key in, and swung the door open. “It’s me. I’m back with your dinner—”

  Sophia was naked on a bert
h on top of Tate, obviously humping him. She turned and looked back over her shoulder to smile cruelly and triumphantly at Mal.

  “Damn it, Tate!” Mal dropped the curry on the floor with a satisfying splat. “Sorry to disturb you.”

  She spun and grabbed the door.

  “Mal—”

  She slammed the door, cutting off any pleas as she stormed down the corridor. Tate was still Tate. Why had she thought he’d changed? She took a deep breath, trying to regain control, personally, professionally. Enough control that she didn’t kill someone, namely Tate. Or maybe Sophia. That was the age-old question, wasn’t it? Who do you kill—the cheater or the one they cheated with?

  It would be easy enough to explain why to the chief. But she’d be damned if she’d be responsible for Tate earning his gold star on the Agency wall for giving his life in the service of his country. And think of the reputation he’d have—killed in the act of making love to a gorgeous enemy agent? He’d go down in Agency mythology as the personification of James Bond.

  No way!

  With tears of anger and hurt blurring her vision, she hurried to the upper deck. A breeze had kicked up and grew stronger as she strode around the deck, power-walking unconsciously, cursing Tate. Trying to think.

  * * *

  “Mal!” Tate shoved Sophia off him onto her pert little conniving ass and onto the floor. “Mal, wait!” He got to the door a second too late.

  Mal was already through it and slamming it in his face. He spun around and glared at Sophia.

  She smiled back, looking both triumphant and angry at the same time. “You’re still in love with her.” It wasn’t a question. She stood, breasts bouncing, and rubbed her naked butt, striking a pose that was meant to entice.

  Tate’s anger blinded him to any charms she may have had. He grabbed those damned women’s jeans and pulled them on, ignoring her.

  Great timing—Mal had to walk in at the very worst moment. He still wasn’t sure how Sophia had ended up straddling him naked. He’d grabbed his shirt and sat down to make sure Sophia got dressed. With the move of a master black belt, she was on him, shoving him back onto the bed and straddling him as if she was going to give him the ride of his life. And damn, he’d still had his briefs on and his fly closed. But Mal couldn’t see his innocence from her angle.

  “I can make you forget her.” Sophia curled around him as he pulled his shirt on.

  He stared at her. “Like hell. No one else has.”

  “Let me try. I really do love you, Tate.”

  He stared at her. “You love something, but it isn’t me. You don’t even know me.”

  “Does it matter? I can make you happy.”

  He pulled her off him. “I’ll do my duty and get you safely to the U.S. But that’s the extent of it.” He grabbed her clothes from the bathroom and shoved them at her. “Get dressed.”

  He slipped on those girly lavender flats. Yeah, this was really going to make him invisible.

  He watched Sophia as she pouted and slowly put her clothes on, doing a striptease in reverse, still hoping to entice him. When she was finished, he got into Mal’s bag of tricks, grabbed a pair of handcuffs and then Sophia, and tossed her on the bed. He grabbed her wrist and cuffed it to the berth rail.

  “You’re a hard man.” She looked as if the thought turned her on.

  “Stay put.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.”

  He grabbed his cell and called Lash to come babysit. He turned and strode to the door.

  “You’re leaving?” Her voice was small, almost touching in its vulnerability.

  “Lash will be here in a few minutes to keep you company.” He shouldn’t leave her alone even a second, but he had to find Mal and explain.

  “I hope I’m still alive when you get back. You’re leaving me vulnerable.”

  * * *

  In the time it took Mal to complete her first turn around the ferry, the breeze had grown in strength and become a full-force wind that whipped her hair into her face. A tempest was brewing on the Irish Sea to match the one storming inside her.

  She brushed the hair out of her face and turned into the wind, leaning on the rail as she watched the approaching storm and collected her thoughts.

  Electricity charged the air as the promised storm approached at startling speed, glorious and frightening as the sky on the dark horizon burst bright with lightning and thunder roared. Waves pounded against the ferry.

  Mal should have been afraid. Instead, she felt a kindred spirit with the storm—raging, pounding, desperate. She took a deep breath and blinked back tears. Secret agents didn’t cry on the job, unless their cover demanded it. Crying revealed a damnable, exploitable, dangerous weakness of character any good enemy agent would use against her.

  Damn Tate! Dress him as a woman and he still can’t keep it in his pants. And worse—women still can’t keep their hands off him.

  It grew colder and more furious on deck. The wind whipped stronger. The waves lapped higher against the sides of the ferry, rocking the boat. The smell of the approaching heavy downpour overcame the smell of the sea. A clap of thunder roared. The storm was very near now and Poseidon was on a tear, roiling the sea.

  Bring it on, Mal thought. Seasick pills would have a hard time prevailing against these seas. Tate deserved a bout of seasickness. When she got back to Langley, she was going to make him pay.

  She was angry for more than herself. She was furious for Kayla and the dashed future of their family. And worried about the example Tate was setting as a man and father—

  “Ma’am, ma’am!” She realized with a start that someone was talking to her and she was shivering. From the cold, not just anger. She hadn’t grabbed a sweater. Or an umbrella.

  She turned to the voice with a hand on the gun in her purse. It was a good thing she hadn’t realized she’d had it on her when she’d found Tate with Sophia.

  The deck was empty. When had that happened? She was vulnerable, a sitting secret agent with a target on her back. She assessed the threat. Nothing.

  Just a worried crewman staring at her. “There’s a storm coming. You’ll have to go below. Captain’s orders.”

  She nodded. Overhead lightning clapped cloud to cloud and then streaked to the water spectacularly. Thunder boomed almost immediately. The young seaman walked her to the stairs and made sure she went below before he disappeared.

  What should she do now? She was in no mood to go back to the cabin. Lash. She’d find Lash and warn him about this new complication. Make sure he kept his eye on Sophia. With the two of them watching her, they should be able to spot her manipulating Tate.

  The boat rocked back and forth. Walking without losing her footing and crashing into the wall took some effort. On the way to Lash’s cabin, Mal passed Walburn’s. She paused in front of his door. It wouldn’t hurt to chat with him a minute and see if he’d noticed any threats onboard. She knocked on his door. It swung open on its own. Someone hadn’t latched it properly.

  “Walburn?” She poked her head inside.

  Walburn wouldn’t be answering her any time soon. He lay spread on the bed with two to the head. His eyes were open.

  Mal pulled her pink gun from her purse and did a quick once-over of the room and the loo. They were empty.

  She took a step closer to inspect Walburn and frowned. Something was off. He looked surprised. Why? That didn’t jibe with the mission. He would have been on his guard.

  Blood trickled down his face and stained the pillowcase. It hadn’t started to coagulate or dry. The cabin held the sickly, rusty smell of blood and death. The faint odor of gunpowder hung in the air. This was a fresh kill.

  Mal’s heart pounded. She had to warn Tate, Lash, and Sophia. She only hoped she wasn’t too late.

  She grabbed a tissue from her purse, turned on her heel and pulled the door until it latched shut. Heart roaring in her ears, she raced toward her cabin as fast as she could without attracting any unwanted attention.

  Sh
e spotted Lash ahead of her, hurrying down the corridor to his room, withstanding the listing of the ferry surprisingly well. “Lash! Hold up.”

  He turned and frowned when he saw her. She cursed to herself. She wasn’t keeping her emotions in check. Everything must be showing on her face.

  She caught up with him. “Walburn is dead,” she said without preamble. “Shot execution style by a pro. RIOT is onboard. We have to warn Tate—”

  “I’ll take care of it,” Lash said.

  “I’ll go with you.”

  “No.” Lash caught her arm. “Fieldwork isn’t your area of expertise. Go to my cabin.” He handed her the key. “Lock yourself in and wait for me there. Don’t answer the door until you get a text from me. Not for anyone, and that includes Tate. It could be a trap. Do you understand?” He looked her intently in the eye.

  She nodded.

  “If I don’t return within half an hour, notify your people, MI5, the captain, and the authorities and get the boat on lockdown.” He took her by the shoulders. “You’re our last line of defense.” He pointed her toward his cabin and gave her a gentle shove. “Go!”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Tate couldn’t find Mal. He looked everywhere. One crewman seemed to remember seeing her on the top deck taking a walk. She wasn’t there now. The deck had been cleared as the storm bore down on them. The wind howled. The ship rocked. And Tate’s stomach lurched. He decided to return to the cabin. Mal would have to return eventually.

  He opened the door and slid inside the cabin, closing the door behind him as he looked for threats within. “Mal?” A guy could hope.

  Someone had dimmed the cabin lights. Sophia was free from the handcuffs and lying on her berth, sleeping so soundly she didn’t stir at his entrance or the bouncing of the ferry in the waves.

  There was something unreal and frightening about her position and unflinching slumber. In two steps, he was next to her, taking her pulse as his own roared in his ears, drowning out the wind. She didn’t stir when he took her wrist in his. Her pulse was sluggish.

  Damn! She was drugged. Where was Lash?