by Black, Regan
“What did you say?”
“A rock.” She might have pointed, if her arms had been free. No, she decided, wriggling a bit for space. She wouldn’t waste the opportunity. In the absence of more danger, she shifted again and indulged her curiosity, running her fingertips across the dark, rough stubble shading the unscarred side of his jaw. This close, she found another scar near his hairline just above his ear. Had the man grown up on a firing range? His eyelids slammed closed over those enigmatic green eyes and his teeth clenched.
“Stop,” he rasped.
She hesitated, listening for any noise that would signal another threat. There was only wind and rain, so she resumed her exploration of John. He flinched, acting as if she was hurting him, when she knew the opposite was true. It was obvious in every hard line of his body that he wanted to relax, needed to let go, and still he fought against it.
Astonishing, she thought, unable to come up with any viable reason why someone would resist something as valuable as a touch. Of course she needed the contact too, more than she realized. How long had it been since she’d let anyone this close to her?
“Please,” he whispered.
Yes, please! She studied his lips, parted slightly, unsure if his plea was for her to stop or keep going. She knew her preference. His eyes remained closed, his body tense all around her. She seized the moment as she vowed she would after surviving the nonsense of this morning.
Eyes open, she closed the narrow gap and touched her mouth lightly to his. The heat from that small contact seared her, but it was nothing compared to the sizzle in his eyes as he watched her.
“Not smart,” he said, but though they were apparently safe, he didn’t relinquish his protective, all-encompassing hold on her.
“Hmm.” To hell with smart. Her breath rattled in and out of her lungs with a thready shiver. Amelia held his gaze as she leaned in once more. This time as lips met, she was ready.
Ready for everything but his immediate response.
His arms banded tight, bringing her flush against the length of his body. One hand spanned her shoulder blades while his other slid low, cupping her ass. When his hips flexed, she responded in kind. No mistaking that hard ridge between them as anything other than him. She wanted to explore his body, to touch and taste, but her free hand was trapped between their hammering heartbeats. Parting her lips, she welcomed the soft, hot invasion of his tongue. Accepting, caressing, she angled her mouth for better access.
She moaned when he twisted in the small space so that she was on top of him. His head flopped back to the floor. “We can’t do this. It’s not safe.”
He made her feel safe. She nipped at his jaw. “The rock was alone.” She was ready to celebrate every second of life that ticked by without another near-disaster coming at them.
“But we don’t know who threw it.”
He was right. Where was her head? In denial, evidently. She feathered kisses down the column of his throat, inhaled the tempting, spicy scent that was his alone. “Do we care?”
His arms relaxed, sliding away from her body and she wanted to scream in protest. “Yes, we care.”
“That’s a pretty liberal use of ‘we’.” She should care. She told herself in any other circumstance she would care.
His laughter rumbled from his chest into hers. A delicious sensation she wanted to linger over. “It was just a neighborhood kid taking a shot at the haunted mansion.”
“No sale. This place is in great condition,” he said, sitting up. “Your neighbors wouldn’t believe this place is haunted.”
“My grandmother had high standards.” Clearly the moment was over. She tried to ignore the tingle in her system as she sat up and leaned back against the wall. She smoothed her hair back from her face and straightened her ponytail.
“When did she die?”
“A few years back.”
“I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thanks.” He didn’t quite meet her gaze, but she recognized the sincerity.
His mouth set in a grim line, he pushed the couch aside with his shoulders and exited the cramped space with more dignity than they’d arrived.
She accepted the hand he offered to help her to her feet. “I’ll just start cleaning up.” Pausing, she stared at the billowing curtains and the rain blowing in. How to deal with that? “There might be a plastic poncho in the coat closet by the front door. Will you take a look?” She stepped closer to the window, but John caught her arm.
“Stay back.”
“Fine.” Arguing would only ruin the delightful moment more. “I’ll get the broom.”
“May as well wait until I’m done with the repair. I’ll probably add to the mess.”
“You can fix it?”
He shot her that look that wasn’t quite a smile, as if he enjoyed it when she underestimated him. “I have some skills. There’s some plywood in the garage that will suffice until I can get a buddy out here with a new window.”
“You have a buddy with windows.” She folded her arms and leaned against the door jamb, studying him. “I thought no one was supposed to know where we are.”
“Based on what you’ve told me and what I’ve seen, unless we leave town with good disguises and fake IDs, anonymity is a pipe dream.”
He nudged at the offending rock with the toe of his shoe. “That might not even be enough. Someone has a good arm.”
She shrugged. If it had been someone after her, wouldn’t an attack have followed the broken window? “Maybe some kid’s holding a grudge because I wasn’t here to give out candy at Halloween.”
“Maybe.” He turned it over and she saw the message: Come out and play, Noble. “Or maybe not.”
“What does that mean?” An icy dread lifted the hair on the back of her neck. Maybe the threat was still out there, waiting to eliminate her protection and make her an easier target. Had she managed to hire the only bodyguard in town who could compound her precarious situation with his own enemies? What if this was one of the senator’s dogs trying the divide and conquer technique?
“I’m not sure yet, but I’ll take care of it.”
John’s cell phone started ringing and she jumped at the sound. Being closer, she picked her way through the razor-sharp glass to check the display. “It’s Bernie,” she said, preparing to answer.
“Tell him we’re fine. Blame the signal or a low battery, but don’t mention anything else.”
She nodded. His calm voice smoothed away the leading edge of her anxiety. It was tempting to ask who was waiting for him, how they’d followed him, and above all, why, but she wasn’t sure she wanted the answers. Yet.
“Do me a favor and take the call back in the kitchen,” he murmured, turning her that way. “And keep him on the line until I get back.”
She nodded again, wishing she had the courage to tell him to be careful.
“Be smart,” he said. “I won’t be long.”
Then he walked out of the front door.
* * *
John paused on the steps, applying his enhanced senses and confirming the potential risks. Nothing out here that he hadn’t expected. It wasn’t much relief. Crossing the front yard in long strides, he headed around the house for the garage. Only one man would be stupid enough to put a rock through a window rather than pick up a phone.
A man John knew as explosives expert, Ben Thompson.
And only one place was private enough for any type of conversation between them, even out here on this quiet, narrow strip of land.
“You got my message,” the voice said from the dark corner.
Even recognizing Ben’s voice, John didn’t breathe easy yet. They’d met during the first week at Gabriel’s torturous survival training. Thomas had disappeared two days in and the rest of them assumed he’d died.
But the crazy adrenaline junkie had haunted John’s trail and tried to convince him to break away from the program. Whatever they’d done to him, winning the game was all that mattered to Ben now.
In the years since, he’d utilized his pyrotechnic expertise to interfere with two of John’s assignments, but John had prevailed. Ben seemed to take great pride in being a pain in the ass, but he was the closest thing John had to a friend of sorts.
Pathetic, but true.
“Which one?” John asked, standing fast in the garage doorway, uncertain what kind of reception he’d receive. Ben was dangerous and a solitary life had pushed him toward the crumbling edge of sanity. And there was only one logical reason for Ben to be here: for the bounty on Amelia’s head.
Which meant he would have to go through John to collect it.
“Either. Both.” The other man only shifted, just one more shadow flexing among many. “Took you long enough to get out here. Was she scared?” His excitement grated John’s nerves. “Did you have to knock her out to stop the screaming?”
“She didn’t scream,” John said, refusing to give him the satisfaction of any kind of reaction. Instead he thought of the cursory tour Amelia had given him as well as his more thorough examination of the property after finding Ben’s light bulb bomb.
“You weren’t in here earlier,” he stated.
“Everything but rocks and sharpies in here,” the other man said. “I had to go shopping.” Relax, Noble. I’m on your side. Always on your side.”
Ben hadn’t attacked yet, but John stayed wary.
“Here.” A pale hand nudged two items along the work bench toward John. “Figured you’d want those back.”
It took all of John’s training not to show his relief at the sight of the revolver and knife he’d dumped at the airport before they entered the security line. “Thanks.” His senses wide open, he didn’t immediately reach for the weapons. Was the other man handing them over so they could have a fair fight?
“Why are you tailing me, Ben?”
“You’ve been a civilian too long if you’re seriously asking me that.”
His only shot at becoming a civilian was to finish this job. John resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Ben moved faster than lightning when he wanted to and he could teach classes on disappearing. “Do you need something?”
“You’re the one in need. You need intel, man. I’m here to tell you the little lady’s about to get dead.”
“Shit.” He turned toward the house, forgetting the plywood, Ben, anything beyond saving her.
“Ease up. Not dead as in right this second. But the bounty on her head is bringing everyone out of the fucking woodwork. Someone with serious resources wants her done.”
“What did you think your bomb would do?”
“Make her scream. Flush her out. Make me rich. Does it matter?”
It did matter. It suddenly mattered a great deal. Amelia alive was his one-way ticket to freedom. “I’m not letting anyone kill her.”
“Anyone but you, got it. I can keep the others away, give you room to work. We can split the proceeds later.”
“I’m not here for the bounty,” he clarified. “She stays alive.” He paused, braced for an attack, but his senses only picked up Ben’s even breath and steady heart rate. “Are we on the same side?”
“Always.”
John hoped so. When Ben latched onto an idea, he didn’t let go. “How’s Gabriel?” John assumed Ben had been working freelance since ditching survival training, but maybe Gabriel had reeled him back in.
A sly, slippery little laugh spilled out of Ben. “Man’s still a snake. Head says one thing while the tail’s twitching. A snake in a three piece suit, man.” More shuffling and a new, clean piece of plywood slid neatly across the garage floor between the car and the workbench while Ben remained cloaked in shadows. “Can’t believe you’re still with him. I told you before, you need to break free.”
“It’s my last job,” John said, “I’ll keep her alive and then I’m out.”
Ben chuckled. “That’s how you’ll play it? It could work. For you. I could never pull that protector bullshit off.”
“You’ll watch my back?”
“Yeah, man. I’m on it, just like always,” Ben said. “You give me the sign and I’ll do what needs done if you get too attached. You don’t even have to share the bounty.”
“That’ll never happen,” John lied smoothly as he took the plywood.
“I picked up the power screwdriver for you. This lady was only old school. You gonna call your buddy from the construction site?”
Ben knew far too much, and John pretended he’d been aware of his shadow the whole time. Trouble was, he should have been. “First chance I get.”
“You always cared too much,” Ben said. “That’s why they left you in Mexico so long. To toughen you up.”
John clenched his teeth against the flood of questions. He’d suspected Gabriel had left him there on purpose. Any man worth the code name Bulletproof should have known that without being told point blank by the ‘one who got away’.
Two years he’d rotted in a prison Satan himself would condemn, taking the abuse, not daring to heal himself. He’d known it was a setup, had been alternately too pissed off or too injured to spend time on why.
Then Gabriel had hauled him back to the states on the condition that he’d add those lost years to his commitment.
Ben might be playing with a few extra wildcards in his deck, but he seemed to know everything. John just had to sort out which intel was warped by Ben’s damaged mind and which was on target.
“An important scientist died last week on her way home from work,” John noted aloud.
“You haven’t changed.” Ben snickered. “Always worried about more than you should be. That wasn’t your fault. You haven’t been on her detail for years.”
Clearly Ben was firing on all cylinders tonight.
“So it was an accident.”
Ben laughed. “You’re a funny man, Noble. Strange, but funny. I like that.” He cleared his throat. “It was a single car collision, no other passengers. But it was no accident.”
“What about her bodyguard?”
“You really should pay more attention to the world, man. He was terminally reassigned earlier that day.”
The people behind Gabriel’s program had no reason to offer agents a 401k plan. With less than a moment’s notice a career – or life – could end in any number of swift or slow ways. His first week in the prison, he’d prayed for death, but whatever they’d pumped into him during training had fought the internal wounds on his behalf. He’d learned the hard way that survival was a bitch.
John desperately wanted to give Amelia the confirmation she was looking for regarding Larimore’s daughter, but it would be as good as signing her death certificate. Anything he could remember – and there wasn’t much – anything he shared with Amelia would only put her in harm’s way once more.
“It was a Cleaner at the airport wasn’t it?”
“If it had been you’d be dead.”
John thought about the scratch on his side and didn’t know what to believe. Gabriel wouldn’t have sent a Cleaner when the goal was keeping Amelia alive. Unless he’d intended for John to take out the Cleaner knowing John couldn’t afford to fail on this mission. Just the kind of sick logic Gabriel would use.
“The first burst took out the lead escort,” John said.
“I know. That’s protocol standard, man.”
Precisely. “The second burst nearly caught Amelia.” He didn’t mention the third shot grazing his side. Ben wouldn’t care.
“Was there screaming?”
“Lots of it,” John replied. “The crowd mobbed the shooter.”
“Courage is a beautiful thing. You should ask the reporter where the shooter wound up. She’s good at finding out stuff.”
“You don’t know?”
“I had other things to do.”
Like collecting his gun and knife from the airport or wiring the house for fun, John thought. “The guard bringing up the rear was in on the take down,” he said. “I’m sure of it.”
“Then for sure it w
asn’t a Cleaner. They’re loners.”
John nearly laughed. Gabriel’s program had turned them all into loners, but he understood Ben’s point. Cleaners didn’t converse. They didn’t think beyond firing solutions.
“Do me a favor?”
“Anything.”
“Go by her office. Make sure her boss runs the story when she sends it.”
“All right. Want me to mess him up a little if he refuses?”
“No messing him up.” He glanced toward the door. “I’ve got to go,” he said to Ben, finally picking up the gun and knife the other man had recovered and sliding them back into their proper places.
“Sure, man.” Ben’s quiet voice said from the darkness. “You can relax. I’ll be around.”
“Thanks.” John hurried back to the house with the tools for the repair.
How could he tell Amelia the pieces of the truth she needed without scaring her off, or worse, making her dead and failing them both?
Chapter Nine
Phone in one hand and a kitchen knife in the other, Amelia pressed her back to the pantry door so she could watch both entrances to the kitchen. Bernie was in rare form and she answered his rapid-fire questions with terse replies in the same vein.
“It was just some bored kid with a rock,” she lied. “Probably crazed by all this rain. My biggest problem is the broken glass and rain taking me away from the story.” Because John wouldn’t go out and ‘play’ if it left her in real danger. At least that’s what she kept telling herself.
“What kid? Do you have a name or description? If you catch him, don’t let him give you a bogus name or phone number. His parents should have to pay for the damages.”
“Now you sound like the bodyguard. Let him handle it.” At least Bernie had bought her story.
Unable to sit still in the kitchen, she tucked the dustpan under her arm and returned to the living room. Pinching the phone between her ear and shoulder, she set the knife by her knee while she crawled around gathering up splintered glass. “It was probably some kid on a dare.”