Deep Disclosure

by Dee Davis

  Alexis opened her mouth to question this revelation, but then closed it again, leaning back against the sofa’s torn cushions, pulling her hand free from Tucker’s.

  “I don’t remember the bottom of the chairs being ripped out,” Drake said, noting the foam spilling out from beneath an armchair. “And the paintings—they’ve all been removed from the walls.” Two of them had been slashed, corner to corner.

  “But there isn’t anything here for them to find,” Alexis protested. “Except my money, and somehow they managed to miss that.”

  “Where was it hidden?” Tyler asked, placing the disabled bomb in a padded duffel.

  “There’s a secret compartment under the window seat in the living room. The previous tenant showed it to me when I took possession of the house. It seemed the obvious place for a backup stash. George was big on backup plans.”

  “Plan B,” Drake said with a smile, “my favorite.”

  “So is there anything else in this hidey-hole?” Nash asked. “Anything that you might have hidden away and forgotten?”

  “No. There was just the pouch with the money and Milo’s IDs and the gun. That’s it.”

  “Harrison, you and Tyler check it out anyway, okay? It might be the only place in the house the intruders didn’t manage to tear apart.”

  “If the house was searched twice,” Tyler said, “does that mean you think both groups made a search? Or that one of them just made a second attempt to find whatever they’re all so desperately after?”

  “No way to know for sure,” Tucker said. “But if Ramos and the bomber were here first, I’m guessing they were the ones searching this time. And since they were clearly planning to destroy the place, that would seem to mean they were ultimately convinced there was nothing here to find.”

  “Or they found it. Whatever the hell ‘it’ is.”

  “It’s possible,” Nash said. “But based on Ramos’s untimely demise, and the fact that our bomber fled under duress, I’m thinking it’s pretty unlikely. Maybe the bomber’s just trying to get rid of anything that might link back to Omega.”

  “Or maybe the guy just likes to see things go boom,” Drake suggested.

  “I’m thinking it’s time to get Alexis out of here.” Hannah shot her a sympathetic look. “She’s had more than enough for one night.”

  “I can’t go back to the cottage.” Alexis shook her head.

  “No one expects you to,” Tucker said. “But you’re going to have to stay with us. We can’t be sure of your safety otherwise. We’ll set you up in a hotel for tonight. Hannah or Tyler can stay with you, and the rest of us will be nearby.”

  She looked down at her hands, blew out a long breath, and then lifted her gaze to his. “If someone is going to watch over me, I’d just as soon it be you, if that’s okay.”

  It wasn’t a complete vote of confidence. But it was a start.

  CHAPTER 20

  Steam from the shower filled the hotel bathroom. The mirror had fogged over, rivulets running down the glass reminding her of tears. She closed her eyes, shivering, not so much from cold as from the memory of everything she’d been through. Her clothes lay in a pile on the floor, her jeans soaked with a stranger’s blood, her shirt stained with her own. The bullet wound on her arm had been stitched closed, but the ache was a constant reminder of that moment in the garden. It could all have ended so differently. If Tucker hadn’t been there.

  She shivered again, this time with the memory of the warmth of his hands, the conflicting thoughts threatening to undo her. She was holding on by a thread. Intellectually, she knew she was a strong woman, but emotionally, she wasn’t sure how much longer she could hang on.

  Case in point. She was standing in the bathroom of a hotel, bruised and shaken, with an ex-lover just outside—if you could count a one-night stand—who had lied about his background to seduce her into admitting she had something she didn’t. And as much as she wanted to wash it all way, she couldn’t quite convince her fingers to release their hold on the counter and step into the shower.

  “Alexis?” Tucker’s voice sounded frantic.

  It was the second time he’d called to her. And to be honest, a perverse little part of her thought he deserved the worry, after everything he’d done. But the rational side of her brain insisted that he’d saved her life on so many occasions now it had to trump any lies he’d told. And the reality was that she simply didn’t know what to think. Let alone feel.

  Tucker had said this might happen, that shock was a funny thing. But she’d handled the situation at her house with clarity. She’d held it together and pushed her fear into the background. She’d even accepted all of Tucker’s friends, government operatives no less. Opened up and discussed events, even though what she really wanted was to crawl under the covers and pretend this was a really bad dream.

  Only it wasn’t.

  “Alexis, if you don’t answer me, I’m going to break down the door,” Tucker called. And Alexis knew it wasn’t an idle threat.

  Sucking in a deep breath, she reached over to unlock the door, but hesitated, not sure whether she’d been locking him out or herself in. She knew that being with Tucker was a bad idea. And yet her body craved the contact. Maybe it was just a reminder that there was something out there besides death and destruction.

  But Tucker was a liar.

  Or maybe she’d given him no other choice. If she’d known the truth from the beginning, she’d have ditched him at the first opportunity. And she’d most likely be dead.

  “Alexis.” He shook the knob, anxiety mixing with the anger in his voice.

  With a slow sigh she opened the door, and he stepped inside the bathroom.

  For a moment, they just stood staring at each other, eyes locked in a duel that had no easy resolution. And then, with a sigh, she threw herself into his arms, her desire for him outweighing the need for caution.

  With one finger under her chin, Tucker tipped her face so that he could see her. “Are you all right?”

  She nodded, then shook her head, unable to speak, losing herself in the cool blue of his eyes. Where he was concerned, she wasn’t sure she’d ever really be all right again. “I can’t… I don’t… I mean—oh, God, Tucker, everything is so confusing. I don’t know who to trust. What to believe. I just—”

  “You can trust me,” he said, pressing a finger against her lips. “I know it’s counterintuitive considering the lies I told, but it’s still the truth. I only want to keep you safe and figure out how to put a stop to this. You’ve got to know that all I really want is for you to be okay.”

  “I don’t know if that’s ever going to be possible. I’ve been running my whole life, and I’ve never really known why. And now someone out there believes I’ve got something they want. Only I haven’t got anything, and I don’t know how to fight back. So I just keep running. And I’m so tired, Tucker. I can’t even find the strength to take a shower.”

  He cupped her face in his hands. “Let me help you forget, at least for a little while. Just the two of us. Here. Now. Tomorrow we’ll figure out the rest of it.”

  She held his gaze for a moment, relishing the feel of his fingers against her skin and the heated mist from the shower as it enfolded them. “Yes,” she whispered, not sure exactly what she was agreeing to, but certain it was more important than breathing.

  He pulled off his shirt, his muscles tightening with the motion, the scars on his chest softened in the misty light. She traced a finger down one of them. A rough and jagged line that slid beneath the pectoral muscle on his left side. “Does it hurt?” she asked, her voice hushed as she laid her palm against his chest.

  “Not anymore,” he said, framing her face again as his mouth slanted down over hers. There was so much about this man she didn’t know. Questions bubbled to the surface, but she forced them back, lifting her mouth to his instead. He was right. There’d be time for talking later.

  His kiss was hard. His mouth demanding. And she tasted him in return, explorin
g his lips. Then she opened to him, her tongue meeting his. The kiss built in intensity, passion coiling deep within her, waiting—wanting. She pressed against him, satisfied to feel the hard heat of him against her stomach, relieved to know that he wanted her as badly as she wanted him.

  He trailed kisses down her neck, caressing her ear with his tongue, sending a delicious warmth spiraling through her. God, she wanted him—wanted him with mounting urgency, some deep inner part of her driving her onward, oblivious to everything but him. She sucked in a breath, whimpering with need, as his hand found her breast, his palm kneading the tender flesh, his kiss an echo of things to come. His tongue thrust possessively, robbing her of all rational thought.

  He pushed her backward until they’d reached the tub and, after stripping off the rest of his clothes, they stepped into the bathtub, the warm spray from the shower caressing their skin. She stood still in the circle of his arms, tilting her head up, letting the water stream down her face and throat.

  Tucker took the bar of soap and slowly, gently began to wash her, starting with her shoulders and working down in slow soothing circles. She closed her eyes, letting sensation take over, her body tightening with need as he slid his hands around her, soaping her breasts and her stomach, suds sliding down between her thighs. Her nipples hardened as he ran his hand lower, her heart pounding so loudly she was certain he could hear it. And then with a little moan she leaned back against him, lifting her hands to stroke his face. Moving slowly against him, pushing closer into the curve of his body, the water forming a curtain around them.

  For a moment, they stayed like that, his hands working their magic. Then she turned, and with a groan, he bent his head, taking possession of her mouth, his hands spreading across the small of her back as the water beat down on them.

  She pressed against him, sensation overcoming everything else, reveling in the feel of his tongue against hers, his hands as they kneaded and circled, exploring, and the heat from the water as it swirled around them. Raising her arms, she threaded her fingers through his hair, her breasts pressed against his chest, the sensation of their bodies rubbing together intensified by the pulsing water.

  With a slow smile he bent and took one of her breasts into his mouth, circling it with his tongue, and she arched against him at the touch. Holding her with one hand, he moved the other in slow circles down her abdomen, sliding lower and then lower still, until he slid one finger inside. Swallowing a moan, she pushed against him, forcing the finger deeper, arching backward. As he gently bit her nipple, she closed her eyes, offering herself to him, the steam and the water only heightening the pleasure.

  Gently, he pushed her backward until she felt the warm, wet tiles. The water cascaded between them now, the feeling beyond erotic, his kiss making her knees go weak. Then, with a crooked smile, he moved back, kneeling before her, lifting her leg so that her foot rested on the rim of the tub.

  She sucked in a ragged breath as he bent low, his hands holding her steady as his tongue delved deep inside her. Grasping the towel rod behind her, she arched back, urging him on as he licked and tasted, thrusting with his tongue, the pressure ratcheting upwards until it was almost painful, her body writhing under his ministrations.

  Then, just when she thought that she couldn’t possibly take any more, he rose to his feet, the water behind them now, a fine mist caressing them both.

  “Please, Tucker,” she whispered, her body literally throbbing with need. “Please.”

  He cupped his hands under her hips, lifting her up as she twined a leg around him, his penis pulsing against her. With a moan, she felt him thrust inside her, and then slowly withdraw with a gentle rocking motion that teased her already heightened senses. In and out, in and out, slowing sliding until she thought she’d go insane.

  “Please,” she cried again.

  The word echoed around them, and with one long thrust, he filled her. With driving need, she begged for more, wrapping her arms around him, holding tightly as he held her pinned above the world, her entire being concentrated on the exquisite feel of his body as he pounded deeper and deeper, harder and harder, until there was nothing left except the two of them locked together—spiraling toward release.

  Suddenly he cried her name, and the world spun out of control, pleasure exploding through her with a strength beyond anything she’d ever experienced. And as the powerful contractions consumed her, she realized that she could no longer tell where he ended and she began. Somehow, in joining, they’d become one.

  There would be a price to pay, of that she was certain. But right now, in this moment, she didn’t give a damn.

  “I think you ought to know that just because we’ve been, well… you know,” Alexis said, as she took a bite of her cheeseburger, “it doesn’t mean that I’ve forgiven you for lying to me.”

  They were sitting on the hotel bed eating room service, Alexis still draped in a sheet. The room-service dude’s eyes had bugged out of his sockets, and Tucker had to fight against the urge to clock the kid. He’d wanted to write his reaction off as being protective, but sitting here now, looking at her with ketchup on her chin, all he was feeling was possessive.

  Which didn’t bode well for the fragile bridge they were rebuilding. Alexis wasn’t the kind of woman to appreciate a man who tried to hold on too tightly. And hell, truth be told, he hadn’t realized he wanted to be that kind of man.

  With Lena, it had been a partnership for so long that when they finally fell in love, the routines were already in place. She was already a defined part of his life and their relationship shifted the focus slightly, but it didn’t really change the reality of who they already were. With Alexis, it was different.

  He’d been telling himself it was because of his lies. But now here they were, truth on the table, and despite the wedge he’d jammed between them, she was still here in his bed. Or at least a bed. So either she was so spooked by the shooting at her house that she figured fraternizing with a friendly enemy beat the alternative, or maybe—just maybe—he still had a chance with her.

  Although he wasn’t sure exactly when he’d decided it mattered so damn much. Maybe after the third time they’d made love. On the chair by the desk, ergonomic taking on a completely new meaning.

  He smiled.

  “I’m not kidding. You’re not off the hook just because you can”—she waved at the chair, wiping at the ketchup, her cheeks turning a corresponding red. “I’m serious, Tucker,” she said, eyes flashing.

  “I know. I was just remembering”—his gaze shot to the chair—“fondly.”

  She turned a deeper shade of red but she also smiled, and his heart did a little flip. Hell, she made him feel like a teenager.

  They ate in silence, the normalcy of the scene comforting. But eventually, he knew, they needed to talk. There were things she needed to know. And, more importantly, he needed to try to reestablish some of the trust he’d lost, both professionally and personally. Although instinct deemed the latter a dangerous game.

  Alexis pushed away her plate, leaning back against the pillows, the sheet slipping low on one side, her hair falling across her shoulders to splay across her breasts. He was reminded of the first night he’d spent with her, in the apartment in New Orleans. She was still alluring, and despite her blush, still totally unaware of the effect she had on men. The dichotomy pulled at him. And again he thought about his need to protect and possess her. Man’s most deeply ingrained instincts. And yet, something about her made the need even more pressing.

  “So,” she said, her eyes darkening as her fingers fidgeted with the sheet, “the things you told me, I mean I know the stuff about George was a lie, but the stuff about your dad and baseball—and your fiancée…” She trailed off, staring down at her hands, and he heard the vulnerability in her voice and hated himself for putting it there. She squared her shoulders and lifted her gaze to meet his. “Was any of that the truth? Or was that all a lie too? Things you made up to make me believe in you?”

  T
ucker grabbed the room-service tray and carried it over to the table, playing for time while he ordered his thoughts. “What I told you about my mother. That was the complete truth. She abandoned us and never looked back. And we really did find solace in baseball. Some families go to church. We went to Angels games.”

  “Sort of an odd symmetry there, I guess.” She smiled, then sobered. “And Lena? Is she really dead?”

  “Yes,” he confirmed, memory surfacing, and guilt—along with the pain he’d come to know so well. “She was my partner.” He started to leave it there, then realized Alexis would need more, something to assure her that he was finally telling the whole truth. “We worked for a black-ops division of the CIA.”

  “Division something or other?” she asked, her frown forming a line between her eyes.

  “Right, D-5,” he said. “We did a lot of undercover work. And our last assignment was in Colombia.”

  She waited, listening, her fingers still kneading the sheet.

  “We infiltrated the resistance movement, with an eye toward gaining intel on certain drug cartels.”

  “That sounds dangerous,” she said, her eyes widening.

  “It was. But we were used to that kind of thing. Anyway, no one knew who we really were, and for the most part, we found that the guerrillas were as interested in eliminating the cartels as we were. In fact, we were closing in on one particular drug lord when someone blew our cover. We were blindsided. And most of my team was killed. Only three of us got away.”

  “You, Lena,” Alexis said, her fingers stilling.

  “Right. And Hector.”

  She nodded. “You called his name during the nightmare.”

  “Anyway, we were separated, and I was captured by government forces. I managed to keep my cover, but I was, of course, considered a political prisoner. And as such, I was shipped off to a prison in northwestern Colombia. A place called San Mateo.”

  “But couldn’t you have told them who you were?”

  “No.” Tucker shook his head, memories swirling. “I believed Lena and Hector were still alive but I didn’t know where they were, and I couldn’t risk blowing their cover. Only Hector had betrayed us. And Lena was dead. He hunted her down and killed her. Only I didn’t know that until much later.”