by Pamela Clare
Javier. Her hero.
He’d come into her life, turning her world upside down in a single weekend, showing her a kind of passion she’d found with no other man. But it had been more than a physical connection even then. She’d never felt that close to another soul. He’d reached a place inside her no other man had touched.
Why hadn’t she recognized it for the miracle it was in Dubai?
How arrogant she’d been, so sure of herself, so certain she knew the path her life would take. She’d thought she had all the time in the world. She’d been wrong. She’d come close to losing everything—the past, the future, her identity.
But that didn’t matter any longer because she was alive and free. Because of him, she was alive and free. And they were together again.
She let her lips go pliant, wanting him to take control, wanting to feel the raw side of him, the side of him ruled by instincts. She didn’t need to be afraid—not any longer. She knew this man, knew where he could take her if they both let go.
He slanted his mouth over hers, his tongue teasing hers, his fingers in her hair. But still he held back.
How could she let him know she was ready for more?
Without breaking the kiss, she let the throw fall from her shoulders and straddled his thighs, her hands grasping the waistband of his pajama bottoms and giving them a rough yank.
He took his lips from hers, a questioning look in his eyes as he reached down to shuck the pajama bottoms, kicking them off his feet.
And then they were both naked.
Laura raked her nails down his chest, scraping gently. “I don’t want to be afraid anymore. I don’t want to hide from this. I want this to be what it should be.”
He traced a finger down the valley between her breasts. “There is no ‘should,’ bella. There are no expectations or rules for us to follow. All that matters is what we feel, what we want—your desire and mine.”
She felt a hitch in her chest, that precious flame of love she felt for him growing brighter. “What I want is you—all of you.”
His eyes went dark, a muscle clenching in his cheek.
And she knew he understood.
Still looking into his eyes, she leaned forward and brushed his lips with hers, traced their outline with her tongue, needing him, wanting him. He accommodated her kiss with his own gentle response, but that wasn’t what she wanted. She kissed him harder, brushing her nipples against his chest, grinding herself against his erection. His response rose to match hers, but it wasn’t enough. Frustrated, she dug her nails into his shoulder and gave him a little shake, biting gently down on his lower lip, trying to provoke him. His body tensed, all that muscle going taut.
And she felt his restraint break.
In a heartbeat, he took control from her, claiming her mouth in a fierce kiss, his tongue dominating hers, strong arms crushing her against him.
Oh, God, yes!
She let herself go, desires she’d thought she’d never feel again exploding to life inside her. She dug her nails deeper into his skin, challenging him with her own response, resisting him, forcing him to use his strength, the masculine power of his body delighting some hidden part of her until she had no choice but to yield.
* * *
JAVIER GAVE IN to the animal in his chest, his need for Laura driving every other thought from his mind. She was back. His Laura, his sweet bella, was back.
He wanted to taste nothing unless it was the sweetness of her mouth, the musk of her arousal, the salt of her tears, wanted to touch nothing unless it was the silk of her hair, her soft curves, wanted to breathe nothing unless it had come from her lungs.
Her nails dug into his skin, ten precious points of pain, her body trembling and pliant in his arms, her vulva slick and hot against his cock. And he knew neither of them wanted to wait. They’d already waited so long.
He caught her weight with his arms and stood, her legs locking around his waist, putting pressure on his stitches. But he didn’t care. His first thought was to take her on the floor in front of the fire. But Al-Nassar had raped her on the floor. He didn’t want to dredge up those memories.
Not the floor.
His mouth still on hers, he crossed the room to the dining room table. But the vase of roses he’d given her sat at its center.
Not the table.
He carried her toward the bedroom, but the bedroom was too damned far away, her tongue clashing with his, the little motions she was making with her hips driving him crazy. He turned and pressed her back into the wall, shifting his hips so that the head of his cock nudged against her entrance.
Wanting to be certain, he dragged his mouth from hers, somehow managing to speak. “Is this what you want, bella?”
“Yes!”
And with a single slow thrust he was home.
She gasped, her eyes drifting shut on a moan. She was so wet, her body taking all of him and gripping him tight. He tested her response with a few deep, slow thrusts, saw only pleasure on her face, her inner muscles tightening around him. And then his body took over, his hips thrusting hard and fast, the sheer bliss of it blowing his mind. His mouth sought and claimed hers again, catching her little moans and sighs, her arms wrapped tight around his neck, her thighs clamped like a vise around his waist.
He had imagined this moment a thousand times, but he hadn’t envisioned it like this. He’d imagined tender kisses and caresses, taking her with gentleness and finesse, not fucking her up against a wall. But then sex with Laura had never been what he’d imagined it would be, the chemistry between them volatile.
He’d hoped that coming earlier would have taken the edge off, made it easier for him to last, but he was dick-deep in paradise, his male anatomy threatening to betray him. He was already on the edge, his balls drawing tight against his body, the shimmering tension in his groin growing brighter with each thrust. He fought to relax his ass muscles, shifting his stance and his hold on her hips so that every thrust made the root of his cock graze her swollen clit.
Her head fell to the side, her lips parted, her breath coming in pants as he kept up the rhythm. He lowered his mouth to her throat, biting and nipping the sensitive skin above her pulse, the mingled scents of his sweat and her arousal filling his head.
She gasped, her body going tense, her inner muscles drawing tighter around him, and he knew she was moments away from orgasm. He tried to hold on, thrusting harder, faster, willing to go to the edge for her, his sweet Laura, his bella preciosa.
She came with a cry, ecstasy on her beautiful face, her inner muscles clenching hard around him. And he surrendered, climax overtaking him in a liquid rush, carrying him over the edge and into heaven.
* * *
LAURA AND JAVIER held fast to each other, their bodies slick with sweat, as he carried her to the bed. Javier got his guitar and, still naked, played for her, singing romantic love songs to her in Spanish, his voice deep and smooth. Then, contented and replete, they kissed each other to sleep.
* * *
LAURA JERKED AWAKE.
Just a nightmare.
It was the same nightmare she always had. Only this time it had been different. She hadn’t been alone. Javier had been there. When Zainab had tried to take Klara from her, he’d shot her. But when Laura had reached for her newborn baby, the blanket had been empty.
She glanced down at Javier and watched as he stirred, reaching for her in his sleep, his dark lashes resting against his cheeks. He was such a beautiful man, such an incredibly brave man, the most courageous man she knew.
It still hadn’t sunk in. Javier was the nameless, faceless warrior she’d always thought of as the tall SEAL, the man who had saved her life. She looked back and tried to see beyond the night vision optics, the weapons, and the face camo to recognize the man she knew, but couldn’t, her memories colored by confusion, terror, adrenaline. He’d seemed larger than life
that night, invincible, he and his men the only force in this world capable of bringing her tormenters down.
She thought through what he’d told her about that night, his perception so different from her own. She’d blamed herself for so long for the fact that Klara was still in the hands of terrorists that she didn’t know any other way of thinking. But listening to him run through the different scenarios of what might have happened—Zainab stabbing her the moment she tried to take Klara . . . the women fighting her for the baby, hurting or maybe even killing her little girl . . . the RPGs blowing the chopper to bits—she’d realized he was seeing things more clearly than she had.
And a dark weight she’d carried for so long seemed to lessen.
She glanced at her clock and saw that it was just after five in the morning. Knowing she wouldn’t be able to sleep, she crept out of bed, slipped into her bathrobe, and made her way to her office, where she sent a quick message to her mother letting her know she needed to talk about something important. She logged on to Skype and waited, popping in her earbuds to keep the conversation from waking Javier.
She told her mother and grandmother the terrible news. They spoke for most of an hour, sharing their tears and their fears for Klara, neither her mother nor her grandmother willing to surrender hope.
That was one reason she loved them so much. As long as she believed, they would believe with her, no matter how bad the odds of finding Klara might be.
“What are you doing awake already, bella?” Javier walked in behind her, still naked, apparently unaware she was online. He bent down and kissed her, giving her mother and grandmother an eyeful of grade-A Puerto Rican beefcake, complete with a manscaped package.
Her mother and grandmother stopped speaking and stared.
“You might want to step out of the line of the camera.” Laura pointed to the screen and pulled out her earbuds.
Javier’s eyes went wide, and he took a quick step sideways, hiding his bare, shaven man bits behind her chair.
“Javier, this is my mother, Birgitta, and Inga, my grandmother. This is Javier.”
Her mother’s and grandmother’s faces were pressed as near to the computer screen as they could get, and both of them were smiling shamelessly.
Laura found herself fighting laughter.
“Good morning, Javier,” her mother said, switching to English. “We—my mother and I—are very happy to meet you.”
“It’s good to meet you, too, ma’am. Laura has told me a lot about you.”
Then her grandmother spoke, struggling with every word, her Swedish accent strong. “You are a very handsome man, more handsome even than Laura has told me.”
“Uh . . . Thank you, ma’am.”
“I am glad, Javier, that the two of you found each other again,” her mother said. “I was so afraid Laura would be alone. I’m glad she has taken you to her bed.”
“So am I. I mean . . .” Javier looked like he might choke.
Laura bit her lip to keep from laughing, chiding her mother in Swedish. “Mom, you’re embarrassing him!”
“Oh, forgive me, Javier.” Her mother smiled, still amused, her grandmother staring openly at Javier’s bare chest. “We are so open about such things here. I sometimes forget that it is different there.”
“No worries, ma’am.”
Her mother frowned. “Laura tells me you were shot. I see you are bandaged. I hope you are not in pain.”
He pressed a hand against the bandage on his side. “It was just a graze—nine stitches. No big deal.”
“While I have you here, please let me thank you for all you’ve done to keep Laura safe. She is my only child, my mother’s only grandchild.” Birgitta’s voice quavered. “We lost her once. We couldn’t survive losing her again.”
“I’m glad I was able to help. Laura means a lot to me, too. If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll go . . . uh . . . put something on.” He turned and walked away.
Laura watched her mother’s and grandmother’s gazes follow him, taking in the sight of his ass as he disappeared from view. When he was gone, Laura turned to face the screen again, laughing. “I can’t believe the two of you!”
But they weren’t listening.
“I think I just had a hot flash,” her grandmother said. “Did you see his prick?”
“How could I miss it?” Her mother gave Laura a knowing smile. “You are a lucky woman to have a man like that.”
* * *
LAURA AND JAVIER laughed together over breakfast.
“I don’t think I’ve seen my grandmother that excited since she went on a date with that landscaper. She was seventy-one, and he was in his fifties. She is a very passionate woman. So is my mother.”
“Like mother, like daughter.” Javier grinned. “I’m glad they enjoyed the view. I don’t think I’ve felt that embarrassed since I was a teenager and my mother walked in on me when I was jacking off.”
Laura tried to imagine a teenage Javier caught in the act and couldn’t help but smile. “That would be embarrassing, wouldn’t it?”
“I can’t believe how cool your old ladies were. All I know is that if I were talking to my mother and my abuelita and you walked into the room naked, the two of them would cry, ‘¡Ay, Virgen Santa!’ Or something like that, and then rip my head off for taking advantage of you.”
That seemed like an old-fashioned notion to Laura. What if she’d been the one taking advantage of Javier? “That’s not what my mother and grandmother had to say.”
“Tell me. What did they say?”
Laura leaned forward, brought her face within inches of his. “They both talked about how big your cock is.”
“Yeah?” Javier grinned, not seeming to mind that at all.
* * *
JAVIER LET LAURA work in peace, knowing she had a deadline. McBride had asked him not to leave the building just in case there was anyone else out there who wanted to shoot him, so he went up to the rooftop of The Ironworks for his run, adding crunches, push-ups, and burpees to push himself. With the sun shining and the mountains off to the west, it was a pretty good place to work out.
Afterward, he showered, stuck a large adhesive bandage over his stitches, and went into the guest room to make a few important calls. He’d just finished his last call when his cell phone rang. “Hey, McBride.”
“Agent Petras and I are about to head over. Looks like this Edwards might have been behind all of this. The pieces are definitely coming together.”
“It’s about fucking time.”
“You can say that again. I also wanted to let you know that Tower has been moved out of ICU. He’s off life support and more coherent. I’m stopping by the hospital this afternoon if you want to come. But this time—”
“Yeah, I know. Keep my mouth shut and let you ask the questions.”
* * *
JAVIER TOOK ONE look at Petras’s smug face and remembered why he couldn’t stand the stupid pendejo. He walked in like he owned the place, not even bothering to say hello to Laura or to show her any concern or even to thank her when she took his coat and brought him a cup of coffee.
“How’s Agent Killeen?” Laura asked him.
Petras frowned. “I have no idea how she is. I’ve been working this case.”
“That’s cold, bro, real cold.” Javier couldn’t imagine treating one of his teammates like that. “She’s one of yours. She was wounded in the line of duty, and you haven’t taken the time to find out how she’s doing?”
Petras ignored him and sat in the middle of the sofa. “As you know, the bureau investigated the bombing. We tracked down the components used to make the bomb. The dynamite was stolen from a construction site with no surveillance, so that was no good to us. Everything was purchased with cash, so there was no credit card trail to follow. But using witness descriptions from the various hobby shops and hardware stores where the r
emaining components were purchased, we had an artist create a sketch of the perpetrator.”
He snapped open a black leather briefcase and took out a drawing, which he placed on the coffee table.
There was no doubt about it.
Laura glanced at the sketch. “Sean Michael Edwards.”
Javier nodded. “That’s him.”
“We were able to ID him yesterday—at which time we learned he’d already been shot dead by you, Mr. Corbray.” Petras looked over at Javier. “I understand that shooting is still under investigation.”
Javier opened his mouth to tell Petras how to unfuck himself.
McBride interrupted him. “It was self-defense. I viewed the surveillance footage myself. The man came out of nowhere and tried to shoot Corbray in the back. The DA won’t be filing charges.”
That was good to know.
Petras went on. “We located Edwards’s residence and did a thorough sweep of the place. We found residue from the explosives as well as leftover materials, which we’ve already analyzed in the Denver lab. The materials are a match for those used to make the bomb that exploded outside the newspaper. There’s absolutely no doubt that the bombs were constructed in Edwards’s home.”
“Does he have any roommates or a partner who might have been aware of what he was doing or perhaps even participated?” Laura asked.
McBride shook his head. “According to his landlord, he lived alone and was unemployed, surviving off his disability check. The only prints we found on any of the materials were his. We found an open box of 7.62 NATO AP with military headstamps that match those of the casings we found at the shooting scene. What’s more, two of the weapons we sent to ballistic popped—a Smith and Wesson M&P twenty-two and the M110.”
Petras nodded. “There’s no doubt that Edwards is our doer. He wanted revenge on you for exposing him in Iraq. He bought the components for the bomb. He constructed the device in his home. He no doubt took advantage of flames fanned by Al-Nassar to manipulate Ali Al Zahrani into helping him, then shot Al Zahrani in the head to tie up loose ends. When the bomb didn’t work, he went after you with a sniper rifle. Mr. Corbray foiled that plan, so he went after Mr. Corbray. We’ve got motive, means, opportunity—more than enough conclusive evidence to wrap this case.”