Hold On Tight

by Cynthia Eden

  And it was those same things that would force him to leave her.

  He lived at the base. He wasn’t allowed to stay away unless he was on a mission. His handler said he was too dangerous…

  His fingers slid over her arm.

  In her sleep, she smiled and murmured his name.

  His chest got tight.

  Then she rolled away from him. His gaze drifted over her naked back. The gorgeous dip of her spine and her—

  Tattoos.

  A small, black dragon waited near the curve of her back. The beast’s long, serpentine tail slid toward her second tattoo. A dark red rose. When she’d been in the hospital gown, he’d been too distracted by her sexy ass. He hadn’t even noticed a hint of the tats.

  He found himself smiling. And leaning forward to kiss the rose. His lips pressed over the slightly raised skin—

  She gave a little gasp and immediately spun back over, almost hitting him, but he moved quickly. He had fast reflexes, after all.

  “Jett?” Her eyes were wide. “Oh, God, did I fall asleep? Right after? That is so embarrassing!”

  He had to laugh. She just made him feel good. “You needed a rest, before the second round.” He brushed his lips over hers. “By the way, I love the tats.” He pulled her up and on top of him, so that she straddled his hips and her knees pressed into the bed.

  He made sure that when he positioned her, his cock slid against her sensitive core. Not going inside, not yet.

  “I was…ah….” She rocked her hips along his length.

  Sexy as fuck.

  “I was born…in the…um, the year of the dragon…” She gave him a quick smile. “Always had a…a thing for dragons.”

  She was driving him crazy. “And the rose?”

  Her eyelids flickered. She laughed. He loved that sound. Loved it.

  And I could love her.

  Jett immediately shut down the thought. This was a mission. This was—

  “I figure if you’re lucky enough to be that close to my ass, you deserve a rose.”

  He laughed.

  Her hands splayed over his chest. She moved her hips, slid her sex down, and took his cock into her.

  She moaned.

  He stopped laughing.

  His hands locked on her hips.

  “Slow?” Savannah whispered. “Or fast?”

  He couldn’t look away from her. “How about…both?”

  She rose slowly, taking her time as she pushed up onto her knees. Sliding that hot heaven of her sex up the length of his cock, then, one small move at a time…going back down until he was balls deep in her.

  Once…

  Twice…

  Three times. Four. So slow…

  So—

  He flipped her, tumbling her back so that he was on top. “Fast. Fucking fast.”

  And he drove into her, pistoning his hips even as his fingers stroked over the center of her need. He stroked, rubbed, and didn’t let go. Didn’t ease up on the tempo of his frantic thrusts, not until she came for him. Not until she choked out his name.

  Then he let go. He poured into her.

  The pleasure nearly gutted him. His heart was a sledge hammer in his chest, pounding and pounding, and his breath sawed from his lungs. He’d braced his body on his forearms so he could look down and stare at her. She was fucking beautiful.

  And she smiled at him. Smiled at him and flashed those cute dimples like he was the best thing she’d ever seen.

  She had no clue.

  Not for the first time, he hated the fact that he’d been lying to her. But he still leaned down. He still tasted her sweet lips.

  Then he eased out of her. Pulled her close. Held her.

  What would it be like, if she was really his? If they were lovers with no secrets? Lovers with some kind of hope for a future?

  A dream that he couldn’t ever have. One that would never come true for him.

  “It’s…not usually like that for me.” Her voice was soft, husky. So sexy. “Is it like that for you?”

  To be honest, he had no clue. Sex before her? He didn’t remember sex before Lazarus, and she was the only one who’d tempted him since he’d woken in that cold lab. But in his gut, he knew… “No, baby, it’s not like that.” So intense the pleasure swept away everything else? So consuming, he already wanted to sink into her again? And again? That he wanted to say screw it to everything else, and just be with her?

  You didn’t need to remember other times, other lovers, to know that something was special. You could feel it.

  She was special.

  Her hand was over his heart. A soft hand.

  “Tell me about you.” She snuggled closer. “I don’t know much about you at all. I only know that you were a SEAL, and you can kick ass really well.”

  He was stroking her hair. When had he started doing that?

  “Why did you become a SEAL?”

  He didn’t know.

  “I bet your family is proud of you.”

  His heart rate kicked up, and he knew she had to feel the acceleration beneath her hand. Were they proud? His dad, ex-crime boss? His mom? The woman who’d raised him on her own after his father had been shot down? Who knew?

  “You…aren’t talking.”

  No, he wasn’t. And he could hear the whisper of pain in her voice. She thought he was just holding back on her. Savannah didn’t get it—he didn’t have those memories. He couldn’t share with her. But he couldn’t tell her that truth, either. So, Jett cleared his throat. “There are…things I can’t say.”

  She rolled her body, peering up at him.

  “The job means that certain parts of my life have to stay confidential.”

  “I…see.”

  No, she didn’t. If he tried the full truth with her…Savannah, baby, I’m a dead man. The guy who was just feasting on your body? He died, got taken out by a hail of bullets on a mission. But because I’d signed some paperwork and done a video providing my consent to participate in Project Lazarus before those bullets came at me…well, I was brought back from the dead. Lucky me, right?

  Oh, sure. She’d be totally cool with that.

  Never.

  “You can tell me other things.” Her voice was low.

  He was still stroking her. His fingers had moved to her back. He just liked touching her.

  “Non-confidential things,” Savannah added. “And I can tell you things about me, too. Because I want to know you. I want you to know me.”

  Fuck, he was going to hurt her. “When the mission ends, I have to leave.” He would not be given a choice.

  Silence. The kind that made his muscles clench. The kind that—

  “I still want to know you.”

  His breath released. When had he started holding it?

  “Though for future reference, don’t tell a woman you’re going to leave when you’re still in bed with her.”

  He kissed her. Caught her chin and tipped her head back and kissed her with all of the need and the desperate craving that he felt for her.

  Because I don’t want to leave. He could already feel it. Inside, he wanted her. Wanted to grab tight. Wanted to stay with her. Wanted to say fuck it to the world. Take her, vanish with her. Would it be possible? He had the skills. He could disappear with her. He could—

  “My life is here,” Savannah continued in her careful voice, and his wild, desperate plans stopped. “My family is here. My job is here. My friends are here.”

  Of course. She wouldn’t want to vanish with a dead man. With a killer. And I’m both.

  “I get that your world is somewhere else.”

  In a lab. On the battlefield. Wherever the hell Uncle Sam sent him.

  “But I still want to know you because I don’t have random lovers. You aren’t random. You matter to me, and I want to know more about you.”

  He kissed her once more and knew that he’d always long for her taste. No one else would ever do for him again. “What do you want to know?” He’d tell her what he
could.

  Not much. It couldn’t be anything about Lazarus. About his life before—

  “What’s your favorite kind of ice cream?”

  The question surprised a laugh out of him. “What?”

  “Your favorite kind of ice cream. What is it?”

  He had no clue.

  “Come on, surely you can tell me that.”

  Jett had to clear his throat again. “I’m not sure.” She’d think he was lying to her. He wasn’t. Ice cream wasn’t exactly on the menu at the base. And when he’d been on missions, well, a lot of those hell-holes didn’t have ice cream shops on the corners. Even when he’d been handling domestic cases, stopping by an ice cream shop hadn’t been something he’d even thought of doing.

  “That is an absolute shame,” she told him, voice quite serious. “We’ll find out tomorrow. I promise.”

  He pulled the bedding up to cover her.

  “I like chocolate. I’m traditional—just give me chocolate, and I’m in heaven.” A little yawn. “What’s your favorite color?”

  He thought of her eyes. “Hazel.”

  She gave a sleepy laugh. “That’s different. Didn’t expect it.” A pause. “I like red. And my favorite place to go in the world? It’s a beach. I love beaches. Love the sound of the water hitting the sand. Love to watch the sunset or to just stay on a beach at night and see a million stars over me.”

  Made sense. Certainly explained why she lived right on the beach. If he could live anywhere, where would he go? Jett hadn’t considered the question before.

  “Where’s your favorite place?” Savannah asked him.

  And the answer that rolled straight through his mind was…

  With you.

  She stiffened. “I heard that,” she whispered. “And it was so sweet.” A sleepy laugh. “Though probably not true.”

  Actually, it was.

  “How did you become…like me?” The question was halting. “Were you in an accident, too?”

  Now he was making extra sure to guard his thoughts. “Something like that.”

  “I don’t think anyone has ever been able to hear my thoughts before. Not like you can. That makes us special, doesn’t it?”

  She was special. He was a freak produced by a lab.

  “I-I don’t pick up from everyone.” Another yawn from her. “I learned to shut down. I put up a guard, and it blocks most people. I try not to let that guard down.”

  “Why?”

  “Because people don’t always think good thoughts. Sometimes, the things you can see…” Her voice was drifting away with sleep. “The things you see, they can scare you.” A pause. “But you get past my guard. Sometimes, your thoughts just slip right into my mind.”

  “Savannah…”

  “And I like it when you’re in my mind. Because you don’t scare me.”

  If she knew the full truth about him, she’d be terrified.

  Her breathing evened out. She didn’t speak again. Just curled against him.

  He replayed her words in his head. Savannah was right. People projected images to the world. Showed you only what they wanted. The true part of people—no, that part wasn’t always pretty.

  If she’d used her powers, though, would she have seen the truth about Patrick before he took her? Would she have known her lover was a monster?

  If I weren’t blocking my deepest thoughts, wouldn’t she know I’m a monster, too?

  Fuck.

  ***

  The phone rang, jarring Savannah from crazy, terrifying dreams. Dreams in which Jett stared at her with his dark turbulent eyes…and died.

  Died, only to come back. To rise with blood on his chest and come toward her.

  Even as more bullets blasted.

  The phone rang again.

  She jerked upright and saw that the replacement phone Jett had gotten for her was ringing on the night stand.

  “Answer it,” Jett directed quietly.

  He’d told her his team would monitor her calls, just in case Patrick tried to contact her. Just in case…

  The new phone had been programmed to receive calls from her old number. Patrick had that number. He’d called her dozens of times before the bastard had shown his true colors—

  The phone rang again, vibrating against the wood of the night stand. Her hand flew out. Caught the phone. Her fingers swiped over the screen, and Savannah made sure to turn on the speaker option so that Jett could hear the call. “Hello?”

  A quick rush of breath. Then… “I didn’t want it to be this way.” Patrick’s voice. She’d know his voice anywhere.

  “You mean you didn’t want me to escape? You wanted me dead? Like those other poor women?”

  “They didn’t matter. You were different. I wasn’t going to kill you, Savannah. That wasn’t part of the plan.”

  Like she would believe him.

  “There’s more happening here than you can understand,” Patrick continued as static crackled along the line. “You’re in danger.”

  Uh, yeah. “From you!”

  “Savannah—”

  “You tried to shoot me today!” She was supposed to keep him talking. Jett had told her that before. If he called, she had to keep the guy on the line. The longer they talked, the better chance Jett’s team had to triangulate the location of Patrick’s cell. The better chance they had to find him.

  Jett had climbed from the bed. Dressed silently.

  “It wasn’t me,” Patrick told her doggedly.

  She gave a bitter laugh. “I think I know you. You were the one trying to cut off my finger, remember?”

  “I wasn’t going to kill you, though! I was going to take you away! To keep you!”

  Shivers slid over her body.

  “You can’t trust him,” Patrick told her. “You can’t trust any of them.”

  What?

  “He’s not who you think. Not what you think. It’s all a game, and you’re a pawn.”

  Her heart was beating too fast. She dragged the sheets up to cover her naked body.

  “I’m your only hope,” Patrick insisted. “Baby, I love you. I can get you out of here! I can take you so far away that no one will ever be able to use you again.”

  This didn’t make any sense to her. “You…you killed those other women.”

  “I was hired for a job. I did my job.”

  Was he saying he’d been paid to kill those women?

  “Things aren’t what they appear to be,” Patrick added. A car horn sounded behind him. No, not a car horn. A boat horn? “You’re in danger.”

  From the man who’d abducted her and tried to use his knife on her.

  “Your hero is a dead man,” Patrick’s voice deepened as he spoke those words.

  Immediately, her gaze flew to Jett. And instead of feeling fear, rage burned inside of her. “You won’t hurt him!” Her voice was fierce and hard. “You won’t—”

  “Fucking hell. He’s right there.”

  Right there. In her bedroom. He’d been in her bed.

  “Savannah…you made a mistake.”

  The line went dead. She was left just holding the phone in her left hand, clutching the sheet in her right, and feeling a dark rage burn inside of her. He can’t hurt Jett. Jett was good. Decent. Jett was—

  Jett’s phone rang. When had he even grabbed it? But it was in his hand right then. He put it to his ear. Listened a moment. Then looked at her. “We’ve got him. We know the bastard’s location.”

  Chapter Eight

  “Everything…okay?” Maddox eyed Jett with an air of caution. “You seem extra tense.”

  No, things were not fucking okay. But he couldn’t damn well say that. “We got the bastard’s location.” He checked his gun, then shoved it into his shoulder holster. They’d just arrived at the dock, and it was time to take down Patrick Zane. “In five minutes, this will be over. Savannah will be safe.” He took a step forward.

  Maddox grabbed his arm. “You slept with her.”

  “This isn�
�t the time for any jackshit talk about—”

  “I need to make sure your head is clear. I don’t know what we’ll find in there.” There. The small building that waited on the edge of the dock, shuttered in darkness. “Can I count on you?”

  “He tried to hurt Savannah. You can count on me to end him.” Was that fair enough?

  “It’s not just about revenge. It’s about your team.” Maddox kept his voice flat. “Luna is working back-up. I need to make sure you aren’t going to pull some cowboy bullshit and risk her.”

  Ah. Of course. Maddox didn’t like to admit it, but the guy had always been soft on Luna. Soft, obsessed, same thing. “Don’t worry.” Jett gave him a thin smile. “I’ve never been the cowboy type.” Did he look like a cowboy? Screw that shit. He went in first, keeping low and moving fast, and Maddox was on his six.

  They didn’t make a sound as they approached the shack. The water bobbed nearby, and he could hear the waves pounding against the dock. When they reached the door, Maddox motioned with his hand.

  Hell, yes. Time to end this. Jett kicked the door open while Maddox covered him. They rushed inside, guns out now, ready to take out—

  Patrick was on the floor, a pool of blood spreading near his neck. A gun was just inches from his right hand.

  Another man lay beside him, stiff, unmoving. The guy’s hand still clutched a knife. A bloody knife.

  “What in the hell?” Jett crouched next to Patrick Zane. Touched his neck. Felt for a pulse.

  “This guy’s dead. Took a bullet to the heart,” Maddox muttered as he knelt next to the other man. “Didn’t hear a damn thing when we arrived. Bastards must have turned on each other before we got here.”

  That was what it looked like. The two men had taken each other out. The redhead near Maddox had sliced Patrick’s throat, and Patrick had fired his gun before he fell to the floor and—

  Patrick’s pulse gave a jerk beneath Jett’s hand. “He’s still alive!”

  With all that blood loss, he wouldn’t stay alive for long.

  Shit.

  “Patrick? Patrick Zane!” Jett snarled. “Look at me!” He needed to make sure there weren’t any other bastards out there who were working for this prick. Other jerks who might come after Savannah.

  Patrick’s lips parted. No sound emerged, but his mouth formed, “Savannah…”