He rinsed her back and moved to her calves, massaging her tired muscles as he went. He spared no inch of her flesh from his attentions, lifting first one foot and then the other to spread soap on her arches and between her toes before rinsing them clean. Thighs, belly, breasts, he moved up until he faced her once more and dipped his head to brush his mouth against her kiss-swollen lips.
Much more quickly, he soaped up his armpits and own sweat-encrusted skin. Alex watched him from half-closed lids and leaned against the tiles until he rinsed himself clean and shut off the water.
“Thank you.” The throaty quality to her voice trilled over him. He envisioned laying her down in his bed where he could make love to her for days.
“For what?” He handed her a fluffy white towel from the thick stack.
Contemplating the bath sheet, Alex seemed to consider her answer as water pattered from her skin to the floor. Simon rubbed at his hair with the towel and waited for her to speak.
“For asking me to stay. For…” Her voice faltered. “For not hating me.”
Standing there with her naked and vulnerable shouldn’t have been so effortless, but there it was. He could have any conversation with this woman, at any time, and it would feel as natural as breathing. Even the arguments came easy. He never felt like anyone but who he was with her. Wrapping his towel around his waist, he handed her another for her hair. He forced himself to hold her wide-eyed gaze with its damp lashes and too-stark need. Too open and vulnerable for what they’d been through. He released a short, sharp huff of breath through his nostrils.
“Sorry.” She turned away to wrap her hair with the towel. “I know. Sex is just sex. I’m fine.”
The trouble was, it wasn’t just sex. It never was. Not with her. He wrapped her upper arm in his palm and gently turned her to face him. The tears shining in her eyes kicked him in the stomach. Jesus. She was in deep. Way over both their heads.
“Look.” He trailed his thumb over the skin of her upper arm. “I don’t know what’s going on between us, but I have never, not even for a moment, hated you.”
She seemed to search his face for hidden truths.
“Why?” she asked finally. “How could you not hate me? I can’t imagine what you went through.”
His fingers tightened a fraction and his thumb ceased its caress. How much should he reveal? Deciding they were way past hiding from one another, he settled on complete honesty.
“Oh, I’ve been angry with you. Even thought I hated you.” He shook his head a fraction when she opened her mouth to speak. “Let me finish.”
She pressed full lips together.
“I’m still pretty angry… And I don’t trust you yet.” She paled and he tightened his grip. “I said yet. That’s going to take time.”
She nodded and stayed silent for once, letting him say his piece. He couldn’t remember a time when he’d been so open and unguarded with anyone. Even Günter. Usually he’d deflect with humor or close down to deal with the rougher stuff, but after what they’d been through? Well, the façade simply wasn’t there. Not now.
Folding her in his arms, he pressed her head against his chest and held her next to his skin. Water dripped from the tap, a lonely and echoing plink plink that seemed to highlight the feeling he faced a blank map. Uncharted territory where he had no compass or landmark by which to orient his direction.
“I’m glad you brought us together so we can resolve whatever it is between us.”
Her “thank you” muffled in his chest, she squeezed him once, tight. Then she stepped away. “I’ll try to be worthy of the chance you’ve given me.”
He gave her a little smile, faint and sad, and wished he had more to give. Time to change the subject.
“Are you hungry?” he asked.
“Famished.” She dropped her towels in a hamper and pulled on the clothes he’d scooped up and brought with them on their way in the shower room.
“Comb your hair and I’ll order Chinese.”
Her stomach grumbled and he laughed. She grinned.
Forty minutes later they sat at his kitchen table, the only light the pendant fixture hanging above his table, and dug chopsticks into white boxes full of sticky rice, garlic chicken and sesame noodles.
“Carb central.” Alex slurped at a noodle and shook her head. “I’d better run tomorrow.”
Looking up from the book in his hand, Simon peered over the rim of his glasses at her. “We need to meet with Jenny and Gun at eight, and I have to hack into the MoMA employee database to find out when shift changes are, but other than that I think we’re free. I can go with you after lunch if you want.”
She shrugged. “I can run by myself. I don’t want to bug you.”
“I’ll go with you.”
Alex cocked her head and frowned. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“Nothing.” Simon set the book, a hacker’s dictionary, facedown on the table. “We just haven’t talked about my visit with John Downing yet.”
Merely mentioning the man sent a surge of fury so strong through his muscles he would’ve cracked his chopsticks had he still been holding them. The humiliation of having to let that piece of shit lord it over him wouldn’t be washed down by anything less than several pints of the man’s blood. Simon’s pulse beat in a scattered rhythm as he thought of how he’d failed Lily. They hadn’t gotten to her in time, and now Downing had her under surveillance. If they took her away he’d know and when he found her the man would make her and Simon pay double.
“I thought it was Gibbons in that car,” Alex said, drawing him out.
Simon shook his head. “No. The driver brought me to Downing.”
“And?”
“And…” Simon pushed away from the table and put his box of food in the fridge. “And he knows who you are…who you work for. He’s definitely the one who had your place ransacked.”
Withdrawing a beer, he held it out to her. She shook her head and he popped the top before taking a long swallow. The bitterness seemed to wash away the metallic taste of his anger and he took another sip before he set the bottle on the counter.
“So why are you still alive?” Alex’s skin appeared more pale than normal, but otherwise she seemed the epitome of focus.
Simon let out a wry snort and leaned against the fridge. “Probably because he…”
His eyes went wide as he realized they were in an unsecure space talking about things that could get them both killed if Downing knew he’d mentioned them. He shook his head and raised a finger to his lips.
Alex nodded, understanding his signal.
“Probably because…” he began again, scrambling for a way to fix the problem he’d potentially created. “He’s sure he can get what he wants out of me without incriminating himself.”
As he said the words, Simon realized that was exactly what had happened today. More than threats, an iron-clad alibi and inside connections would keep Downing safe if Simon tried to turn on him. The man couldn’t count on controlling Simon, but he could count on his own power and Simon’s rap sheet to protect him if the story of their business relationship came out.
Alex worried her lower lip between her teeth and glanced toward the bag he knew held the laptop she’d stolen from the FBI evidence room. Did she think something might be on there that could help? He jerked his head toward the bag and brought his brows together.
She mouthed, “Later.”
He nodded.
“Well, anyway,” he said, warming up to his act. “I’m working for him and not for you. If it means my sister’s life, you can forget about my cooperating with you fully. There will just have to be some things you’re content not to know unless you just want to throw me in jail now.”
Alex smiled and rolled her eyes before she put on a mock frown. “If you think we’re going to tolerate you slipping past our security net on this, Dr. Jakes, you can think again. We’re serious about bringing Downing to justice.”
“Ha!” He mock laughed. “You and
what army? Are you crazy, Alex? Just let this one go. Get on with your career in another way. If you want to live.”
She shuddered and nodded once.
“We’ll talk tomorrow,” she said.
“We’ll talk when I say.”
“Get your bag,” he mouthed.
She got up and grabbed the bag. “Where are we going?”
“Somewhere you can’t snoop through my things.” He put his arm around her shoulders and kissed her softly on top of her head.
Taking the stairs, they descended toward the security flat. A place where they could talk without potentially being overheard. The guest room there was comfortable enough. They’d stay there tonight to keep things simple.
At the door, Simon keyed in the code and listened for the solid thunk of bars sliding away from the steel core door. The lights flicked on automatically as they entered, bringing to life several screens on the far side of the room.
“Lights. Dim,” Simon said, and the voice-activated system dimmed the overhead lights. “Display. Off.”
The LCD screens turned off and he led Alex down a hallway to a bedroom. Inside, a platform bed with black satin sheets and a view of Central Park East in the distance beckoned.
They entered and she gave a low whistle as he closed the door. “How much money do you make from this business?”
He laughed. “It’s Tallis’ safe house really. We just use it as offices.”
“Is he paranoid much?”
“Unfortunately, it’s with good reason.” Simon made a wry face. “C’mon. Let’s go to bed. We can talk about the rest tomorrow.”
“Did you mean what you said about not involving me?” Alex drew her top over her head and shook out her hair. “Fully?”
Simon trailed his fingers over her lower lip. “Not a word. You have my back and I’ll have yours.”
She gave him a solemn look. “I can’t go against my boss’s orders.”
He sat on the edge of the bed to pull off his shoes. “Has your boss ordered you to keep me in the dark or endanger my sister’s life?”
“No.” She kicked off her jeans now and he went to the far side of the bed to draw down the covers. “Where’s the bath?”
“I’ll go with you in a sec.” Gripping the edge of the bed, he reasserted his point. “We won’t have a problem. Not as long as you’ve got my six.”
Grinning at his use of military slang, she rolled her eyes. “I promise to have your back.”
“Then there’s only one thing left to be done.” He grabbed her hand and jerked her two steps toward him.
Alex giggled. “Oh?”
“Yes.” He gave her the most serious stare he could muster and she sobered.
“What?”
“Brush our teeth.” He made a face. “You have garlic breath.”
She groaned and he grinned wide before pulling her onto his lap and into his equally fragrant embrace. Squealing, she pushed at his shoulders. He tightened his grip, refusing to let her go until she relented. And then he kissed her. After everything he’d been through today a little garlic wasn’t going to stop him from getting what he wanted, and right now what he wanted was her.
Chapter Nine
Pink dawn tinted the morning light outside the security flat window. Shifting to better watch the lightening sky, Alex absentmindedly traced the ropes of muscle along Simon’s forearm. He made an approving sound and nestled closer until the heated insistence of his morning erection pressed against her ass. Sore in the most pleasant of ways, her body tingled as if he still touched her deep inside.
Obviously he still had feelings for her. She wouldn’t play coy and pretend his reaction to her was only physical. There was an emotional connection there as well. Yet so much baggage existed between them. He mistrusted her, and with good reason. Though she hadn’t been the one to turn him into the authorities as he seemed to think, she hadn’t lifted a finger in his defense at the trial.
Taking the stand against him had been one of the hardest things she’d ever done, but she’d done her duty and conformed action to conscience. If he were guilty he deserved to go to prison. The FBI had presented her with such a watertight case she hadn’t thought to question Simon’s guilt after the initial shock and his refusal to see her.
A sparrow flitted by and landed on the sill. Alex watched the grays and browns of its feathers and remembered the weight of Simon’s attention as he’d followed her approach to the witness stand. Cold and flat, always somewhere other than her face, his stare made her feel as if she were the one on trial and she’d resented it. She’d resented him for ruining the relationship they’d built and wondered how she could’ve been so wrong about a person she’d loved so deeply.
His defense had been weak at best. First his lawyers said he didn’t do it. When the FBI presented their evidence, too solid to be denied, Simon’s inept legal team performed an about-face and said if he had, hypothetically, stolen the files that it was within his purview as a CIA hacker.
So why did she believe him now? Alex nibbled her lower lip. If she were completely honest with herself, Simon’s actions with Gibbons made him appear more guilty, not less. Except he’d taken them for his sister, and only after he had no other recourse.
Alex rolled and studied Simon’s sleeping face. Ginger-tipped lashes rested against pale skin. The sensual peak of his upper lip parted lightly from the lush sweep of the lower and he breathed softly, innocently, in repose. Before her was an honorable man. One who would fight to keep those he loved safe, but who would never ever harm someone who hadn’t tried to harm him first. When he’d finally stated his innocence she’d known he hadn’t committed the crimes of which he’d been convicted.
Simon sighed and pulled her closer. Nestled against the heated expanse of his chest, she found herself flooded with a sense of rightness. And even a measure of joy and peace. Right here, right now, she had love. Simon might not be perfect, but neither was she. Somehow they’d figure it out, if he’d just give her time to earn his trust.
With his heart thudding in her ear and the sound of his breath wrapping her in tranquility, Alex returned to sleep. When she awoke again the sun had moved high in the sky. She stretched her hands over her head and loosened the ache in her muscles from so long a rest. Her gaze alighted on a yellow sticky on Simon’s pillow. It read, Gibbons called. Went to pick up the frame. Back at 1:00. The key to his flat lay next to the note.
Alex glanced to the clock. Its red letters flashed an accusatory 12:48.
“Shit.” She bounded to the floor and raced upstairs with the key in her fist.
A quick shower, the winding of her wet hair into a French twist, and dressing took fifteen minutes. Alex grinned as she remembered how Simon used to say he’d corrupted the most punctual woman in the world. Usually on time, she always seemed to be running late while with him.
She checked the fridge for last night’s takeout and found it empty. Figuring Simon must’ve snagged it while she showered, Alex arrived at the door to the security flat out of breath, but grinning. She rang the bell, anticipation fluttering in her belly at the thought of kissing Simon good morning. When no chime made its way to the other side of the portal her smile broadened. Now there was some serious soundproofing.
Looking around, she spotted new paint she’d failed to detect the night before. Then the pinhole. A camera.
“Let me in,” she said at the camera. “I’m hungry.”
A few more seconds went by and she began to examine the pin pad. While not exactly a simple device to crack, she’d likely be able to get herself inside if she didn’t mind setting off their alarms. More than a little famished and feeling a tad impish, she set about doing just that.
She’d no more than begun to jimmy open the panel when the door swung open on Günter’s, “Not breaking a forty-thousand-dollar security system because you were stuffing your face!”
The scent of Chinese takeout wafted to Alex’s nostrils as she stepped over the threshold into the tech M
ecca of chrome, glass and glowing LCD screens. Refreshing her memory from last night’s brief glimpse of the room, she stared with open interest at the wall of six embedded video displays. Taking in the snoop-proof coating on the windows and an array of servers exposed behind an open closet door made her unsure whether her mouth watered from hunger or envy.
Drawers built into the wall under the display were also open, their contents strewn around the tables. It appeared as if the guys were taking an inventory or searching for something they’d misplaced. High-powered binoculars with digital recording capability, microphones, tiny listening devices, earpieces and objects called dead drops—things designed to look like real items only hollowed out so something could be concealed within—had been pulled from their resting places.
Alex finally turned to Simon. In a black tee, wearing his jeans and his glasses, he sat, hunched over a Chinese takeout carton and shoveled food into his face with the speed of a feral animal.
She wrinkled her nose. “You’re going to choke.”
“I know you an’ Chinee fooh.” Mouth full, he pointed his chopsticks at her. “Yer goin’ to sfeel my lun.”
Alex eyed the container with her initials on it. “Hey! Those are my sesame noodles!”
Günter moved to position himself between Simon and Alex when she stepped forward. “Sorry. Can’t let you by.”
“What? Why?” Alex frowned up at Günter.
“I promised him.” The man jerked one thumb in Simon’s direction. “You wouldn’t get his lunch if I let you in.”
Her stomach made an obscene noise. “He’s eating my dinner. From last night.”
Günter shrugged. “Sorry. Promised.”
Simon winked at her and shoveled noodles from the upside-down carton into his mouth. Alex mock-glared at him.
“Can I at least have a fortune cookie?” she asked.
Günter looked to the three cookies on the table resting innocently in their plastic wrappers. Simon scooped them into his lap.
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