Dare Me (Take Me Series Book 2)

by Calista Fox

  No luck there.

  Damen had a hell of a lot on his mind. Most of it was wrapped around Nikki and her computer. The fact that she’d no doubt be out the door tomorrow morning, once she was rested and refreshed.

  Chances were damn slim he’d ever see her again, and that gutted him.

  He toiled over all of this and it seemed to eat away at his very soul.

  But he had more on his mind that he couldn’t quite reconcile.

  Damen’s superiors weren’t the least bit pleased by how a civilian had been roped into the investigation…and put in harm’s way.

  That meant Garcia was on their radar—and Damen had to file an official report regarding the agent’s involvement from start to finish.

  And bad news…all the dings against her meant this wasn’t going to end well for Fiora Garcia.

  As pissed as Damen was at her, he would never discount she had talent, drive and chutzpah. She was a fast-thinker and learner, highly resourceful and had a knack for being at the right place at the right time.

  The truth was, Damen had trusted her enough to take Nikki to Little Tijuana. Sure, he knew Garcia’s relatives were all heavily armed and many of them worked for federal agencies. But beyond her family serving as a protective shield for Nikki, he didn’t doubt for a second that Fiora would as well.

  Making it painful and hypocritical, in his head, to have to report her.

  Fuck his life, he was just getting more and more entangled in emotional conflicts, and his good conscience seemed to be tested at every turn.

  On the plus side, Nikki was currently easy to deal with while she was drowsy and malleable and apparently stuffed to the gills, because she made the most contented sighs as she napped.

  He regretted having to wake her when they arrived at his estate.

  As the car passed through the gates, he gently roused her. A light kiss on the temple, a whisper in her ear, the wisp of his fingertips along her cheek.

  Her eyelids drifted open and she gazed up at him, her sooty, velvety lashes fluttering, making his pulse pound a bit harder in his veins.

  “I was out again?” she queried as he gathered her in his arms once more and carried her to the front door, which opened upon their approach. “Jesus, what is with me?”

  “You’ve had some trying times of late. I doubt you’ve actually gotten any real length of quality sleep since the explosions in Mexico City.”

  “You’re not the least bit incorrect there,” she confessed.

  “Tomorrow’s Christmas Eve. Why don’t you take one of my mother’s sleeping pills and get a full night of uninterrupted slumber—you’ll be fresh and alert in the morning.”

  “Yeah, about the morning…”

  “Let’s not talk about that just yet.” He took the stairs up to the second-floor mezzanine and to his wing. He entered his suite and headed straight to the bathroom. He’d texted the butler to draw a bath again, before they’d arrived.

  Nikki eyed the tub filled with bubbles and blew out a long, leisurely breath. “That’s exactly what I want and need,” she said.

  “Had a feeling.”

  The fireplace in the bathroom had a nice blaze in the hearth and several candles glowed in the dimly lit room. Soft music flowed from hidden speakers.

  He set her in a plush armchair and slipped off her boots, then helped her out of the rest of her clothing.

  Nikki crossed to the tub, encased in grey marble, ascended the short set of steps and settled into the suds, up to her chin.

  She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, drawing in the rich aroma.

  Damen watched her for several moments, riveted. And…anchored. To her. To this moment. Fleeting though it was. Fleeting though the rest of his time with her would be.

  Eventually, he tore himself away, showered, changed into a pair of loose black drawstring pants and situated himself in front of the fireplace in the sitting room of his master suite. He sipped brandy and contemplated exactly what morning would bring with it. No doubt the exit of Dr. Nikki Kane.

  There was no reason for her to stay—unless she felt the need for Damen’s protection.

  But hadn’t he conceded earlier that she likely didn’t need him for anything, including protection?

  The terrorists weren’t tracking her. They knew who had their intel.

  The only recourse they had at this point would be to kidnap Nikki and hold her for ransom in an attempt to get their data back. But…one, it was too late for that. The data was already being dissected. And two, Damen intended to have Nikki covered by a small team of agents. Discreetly, so that she wouldn’t even know she was being followed, so that she wouldn’t know she essentially had bodyguards as she traveled, he assumed, to Switzerland.

  He had no choice but to let her go.

  For so many reasons.

  Because his mission had to continue, without her.

  Because she was devastated over the fate of her laptop.

  Because…this was one instance when love was not going to conquer all.

  And just as he was sinking deeper into his melancholy and heartache, he heard her soft, sultry voice in his ear.

  “Damen—”

  40

  Nikki rounded the sofa and sank into the corner, a couple of feet from where Damen was also settled, with his laptop opened on the coffee table before him, several file folders spread out on the surface and a snifter of brandy in his hand.

  Which he promptly offered to her.

  She snickered. “You think the tequila has had time to wear off?”

  “I’m not privy to how many shots you had.”

  “Sadly, I lost count.”

  “Well,” he said with a low chuckle. “I’m glad you had a respite—you deserved an intermission.” He sipped his drink.

  Nikki said, “I agree. I was losing it completely. Still might be, I fear.” She did a quick mind search in hopes of wrangling all of her scattered thoughts. No luck there. She gave a slight shake of her head and said, “Seems I remain a little unstable at present.”

  “But you relaxed with Garcia and her family. That’s good.”

  “Absolutely. They were wonderful, Damen. I felt perfectly protected—and am clearly well-fed.” She laughed quietly. “Not to mention, I fully imbibed.”

  “It was fully warranted.”

  She sighed now as guilt and remorse slithered through her.

  She said, “I apologize for the scene I made at the ops center. I hit a wall. Emotionally. Physically. Certainly in a gastric capacity. I couldn’t take anymore, Damen. I needed a break. Some levity. Some food. And, eventually…some sleep.”

  “Nik.” He groaned. Then he dragged a hand down his face as though he were wholly unsure of what he was to say next.

  He took a deeper drink from his snifter, then set it aside.

  Finally, he turned back to her, shifting on the sofa so he faced her, stretching his arm along the top.

  He told her, “You have nothing to apologize for, Nikki. And I honestly don’t want you thinking that you do. Ever. You’ve endured a hell of a lot, and you continually have more and more heaped onto you. For that…I’m truly sorry.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate the sentiment.”

  Not that it corrected anything in their skewed sphere, but… She knew he was being sincere.

  She said, “Garcia feels equally regretful.”

  Nikki gave this further thought, including her previous indication of it not righting their collective axis.

  Her eyes closed for a moment.

  She wasn’t one to obsess over what was singularly correct in her own, personal sphere. She was a big-picture sort. Her individual tragedies weighed heavy on her mind and within her heart, most definitely. But Nikki had never placed her hardships, her heartbreaks, her struggles above anyone else’s. She wouldn’t do so now.

  In fact, there was a grander scheme to assess, evaluate and comprehend in this particular situation.

  So she very earnestly told Damen, “Neit
her you nor Fiora have done anything short of ensuring national security. International security, even. I recognize and validate that. Your intentions are honorable and highly prized, regardless of who does or doesn’t know precisely what the two of you do to guarantee people’s safety—what your entire team does,” she added.

  At great peril to their lives. This she didn’t have to say. It was naturally implied. In fact, it lingered in the air between them, despite the notion being an unspoken one.

  She did tell him, however, “Being a general citizen, as I am, exposed to the lengths your operatives are willing to go in order to thwart terrorist attacks against this country and its residents… Jesus, Damen…”

  She raised her hands in the air, in surrender.

  How the hell was she supposed to argue her personal inconvenience when they were saving more lives than she could fathom?

  And while—true fact, her own life had been in danger—she’d never been left to fend for herself. Not once.

  Damen had been with her every step of the way, fiercely protecting her—and trying to secure her property, her belongings, her memories that meant so much to her.

  And when Nikki had needed a reprieve from him, from the too-intense situation and the dire outcome she’d been facing… Fiora Garcia had stepped in to pick up the torch and continue carrying it, to make sure Nikki was covered, that she could breathe without fearing for every second of her life. Without having to make an instant, impulsive decision as to where to go once she’d left Damen.

  A decision that could have, in the long run, proved detrimental to her, because she’d been too hasty in attempting to escape all that plagued her and threatened her mental capacity and capabilities.

  Garcia had offered her a sanctuary so that Nikki could chill for a while.

  She didn’t even need to collect her thoughts—nor had she invested energy in that. She’d had the prime opportunity to just veg and bring her heart rate down. Let her chakras realign.

  So that when she was good and ready, she could make some sound choices.

  That involved moving on from this scenario with Damen and his family.

  Just…not at this very moment.

  And she was eternally grateful that he, too, offered her a sanctuary. A safe space. A comfortable and secure harbor.

  She pushed out of the pillow-filled corner of the couch and got to her feet. She combed her fingers through her damp, dark-auburn strands of hair. The bubble bath she’d taken had helped to loosen her bunched muscles and also aided in her breathing better.

  She now wore a midnight-blue nightgown with cream-colored lace trim and a matching robe. Making her feel a bit more human again. A bit less high-strung and erratic.

  It was time to continue with her own life, so she told Damen, “I’m all packed up. If you wouldn’t mind directing me to a room I can have for the evening, I’d be grateful. Then I’ll leave in the morning.”

  He drained his glass, stood and crossed to the wet bar, where he deposited the snifter.

  Turning to her, he said, “You can have my bed, Nikki. I’ll take the sofa.”

  “That’s not necessary, Damen.” She cringed over the sudden formality between them. But plunged forward. “I know you have plenty of spare rooms. I don’t want you sleeping on the couch because of me. And I’ll be up early, so—”

  “Nik,” he said, his tone lowering to that deep, intimate level that curled her toes and sent a ribbon of warmth and desire through her. His gaze captured hers as he quietly, though vehemently, added, “Stay in my suite tonight. Where you’re close by, close to me. One last time.”

  41

  Damen wasn’t the sort to plead or beg or negotiate.

  When he wanted something, he went after it. And he typically got it.

  This constantly precarious situation with Nikki, however, put him continually in compromising positions, where he had to maneuver strategically, appropriately. Carefully.

  Every single instance with her since they’d met had been wrapped around a give and take—for both of them. Nothing was ever cut and dried. It sure as hell wasn’t plain and simple. Easy.

  He honestly couldn’t imagine desperately needing to convince a woman to stay with him.

  He did, however, with Nikki Kane.

  He was also willing to—with Nikki Kane.

  Damen stepped toward her. He said, “You like the bed. You’re comfortable in it. And you feel safe here at the house. Before you leave to go wherever you’re intending to go, get a good night’s sleep.”

  He knew his expression was an imploring one. It was also a sincere one.

  He would earnestly fulfill his promise. He’d take the couch, let her have the bed all to herself. He wouldn’t encroach.

  No, that was not his preference. Naturally, he wanted to slip between the sheets with her, curl his naked body around hers, feel her silky skin and inhale her sultry scent.

  But Damen knew the fine line they once again teetered on, like a sliver-thin tightrope.

  He recognized it was a miracle she’d ended up at his house tonight, after she’d walked out on him at the ops center today.

  Regardless of Garcia having intervened and taken Nikki to her family’s compound, Nikki didn’t have to come here at the end of the night. She could have asked—demanded—Damen take her to a hotel. She could have stayed in Little Tijuana. She could have gone home with Garcia.

  Instead, she’d allowed Damen to collect her and bring her here.

  So, clearly, this was a haven for her.

  He’d let her soak up the security of it all without imposing on her, difficult though that had been since her return—and continued to be.

  All he asked was that she stay near him. Here, in his suite.

  She appeared wary of his intentions. But also weary, in general.

  She was still exhausted.

  So he said, “May I?” He extended his arms toward her.

  She eyed him for a moment, debated his offering, then nodded her head.

  He scooped her up and carried her to the bed. He set her on the side he knew she liked, then kissed her forehead.

  Nikki settled under the thick covers and Damen returned to the sofa.

  It was a bittersweet ending to something that had started in a bed—a hospital bed.

  But then he mentally amended this wasn’t bittersweet at all. This was downright devastating. Agonizing. Excruciating.

  She’d leave in the morning and…

  That would be that?

  He didn’t know. He had absolutely no answers where Nikki was concerned.

  Thus, Damen attempted to focus on his work. His very crucial work.

  He stared at his laptop and also referred to the spreadsheets he’d fanned out on the coffee table.

  He had endless amounts of data to filter through as it was generated in hard copy from the main computer in the IT division and via their encrypted program that had all sorts of broken communications scrolling down his screen at the moment.

  There was plenty to piece together, so much to decipher. All so incredibly critical, the absolute last thing on his mind should be Dr. Nikki Kane.

  But as her soft, wispy breaths wafted his way on the otherwise quiet night air, he found it damn-near impossible not to feel the torment of losing her, not to suffer the sheer torture of all the pain he’d inflicted on her since they’d met, which had boomeranged back to all-but self-destruct within him.

  He’d done his job. From start to finish.

  In addition, he’d worked his ass off to protect her.

  But he’d also hurt her. He’d taken so much from her.

  And come morning…

  She would leave, taking something of his with her.

  Damen’s heart.

  The next morning, Nikki was up at five and in the shower moments later. She had the double doors to the bathroom closed and was certain that, given the vastness of Damen’s master suite—and the en suite—he couldn’t hear her bustling about behind those clos
ed doors. Her expensive blow dryer was even whisper-quiet.

  She applied a little makeup, dressed and then checked her phone to ensure her flight to Switzerland was on-time.

  All good there.

  It was the rest of her existence that was in turmoil.

  The thought of leaving this bathroom, traipsing as inconspicuously through the suite and out into the hallway as possible, without waking Damen, was the most mind-bending one she’d had in a long time.

  For one thing… She didn’t really want to leave him. She was in love with him.

  But… Given all they’d been through and where Nikki had ended up at the culmination of their insane adventure, what choice did she have?

  Everything in her world had been turned upside-down and Nikki desperately needed to flip it back over, set it upright.

  The facts were, she’d inadvertently found herself in a dangerous and personally detrimental position and now it was time to extricate her entire being from this situation, these delicate circumstances.

  That thought sort of lent itself to point number two when it came to finding it difficult to sneak out.

  Damen didn’t deserve her sneaking out on him. He deserved her forthrightness.

  Granted, she mentally contended, she’d forewarned him the previous evening of her intentions.

  It was just…he’d never been anything but upfront with her—so bailing on him at the crack of dawn felt wrong.

  You. Are. Not. Wrong.

  Hell, she could even reasonably claim she was the victim here. If she were the type to cling to the victim mentality.

  Because she wasn’t, she bucked up.

  She was in control of her destiny, no matter how badly derailed it’d gotten. She now needed to put it back on track.

  Nikki yanked on the handle of her rollaboard, slung her notably lighter than usual laptop bag over her shoulder and left the room. She crossed the suite slowly and quietly. Opened one of the doors and slipped through it.

  She was only two steps down the marbled corridor when a butler greeted her.

  He gave her an easy (and nonjudgmental) grin and extended a hand toward her luggage as he inquired, “May I, miss?”