by Sheila Kell
He groaned at the pleasure that skittered through his veins. His heart nearly thrust from his chest when she lowered her head. Another groan escaped, one of pleasure and pain. She wasn’t actually hurting him, but it hurt to hold back and hold back he needed to do. Hot and wet, her mouth mimicked the actions of her hand.
Reaching down, he guided her hair aside so he could watch her as she set a rhythm that would have buckled his knees had he been standing. Completeness filled him at the sight and the feel of her wrapped around him.
Tingling at the base of his spine sent passion like he’d never known before gripping him tightly. Without uttering a word, he reached down and hauled her up and on top of him with the hope he didn’t come before he got a condom on.
Seeming to know his thoughts, she reached over and shuffled in his pants pockets, retrieving the foil packet. She opened it and sweat beaded on his forehead while she put it on him.
Checking her readiness, he slid a finger inside her and her pussy clenched around it. Damn, she was all hot, wet, and ready for him.
He had to be inside her, fast.
Leveraging her over him, he positioned himself for entry. “You’re beautiful.” He thrust up, sliding into her in one swift motion and he gritted his teeth to stave off his releasing too soon.
Moaning, Rylee rode him like a champion, moving up, down, circling, everything they both needed.
“I’m not gonna last long.”
A smile and a pleasurable sigh left her. “I didn’t think you would.”
Pride in her work. He liked that. Hell, he liked everything about her. How the hell did he get so damn lucky? Best he not question it. She was his and that was all that mattered.
Her free breasts called to him and he reached out and massaged them. Just enough for each of his hands. Anything more would have been a waste.
That was when she changed their rhythm, and he could tell she was getting close. With a growl, he increased the pressure of his thrusts. Between finger and thumb, he pinched her nipples. Immediately, she gasped, her head falling back.
Playing with her nipples, he rode with her while she circled. He needed her to stop doing it before he was a goner ahead of her.
Then, her pussy clamped on him and she slid up and down, crying out her orgasm, before her sated body began to slump.
Not wanting to flip her to the hard ground, he grasped her hips and slid her up and down until the pressure at the base of his spine he’d been holding back rode its way through his balls to shooting out of his cock into the condom with an intensity that ripped through his body, breaking him momentarily away from time and place, leaving him in a heaping mess of useless limbs.
Rylee collapsed on top of him and he managed to wrap his arms around her. “That was amazing.”
“Mm… hmm.”
SATED AND RELAXED, Devon stared at the fire, thinking about what had just occurred. Incredible fucking sex—outdoors. He wasn’t a prude by any means, but he’d never just opened himself up that much. It was exhilarating.
“Tell me why you left the CIA,” Rylee requested softly.
Turning to her, he realized that he wanted to tell her. Even though it meant admitting he knew Robert Carver. Hell, he’d have to chance it. He wouldn’t keep secrets from her. Not any longer.
With Rylee sitting quietly beside him, comfort swam into his body in waves. He wanted to wrap her back in his arms, but instead, he leaned back against the cave wall, and began, “I was leaving the agency after a long day of sifting through computer data when Greg Donovan, an operative, approached me and asked for assistance. At first, I thought he might need me to research something for him, but he requested me to act as backup.” Devon lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “I could have refused, but was told if I accepted, no one in the agency was to know. You see, an informant had contacted him for an immediate meeting and there were few people at the agency that late.”
With his left hand, he ran it across the back of his neck. “I didn’t understand why he’d need backup, but he explained that it was actually for the protection of this informant. He worried someone would get to Jackie.”
“Jackie?” Rylee queried.
“Yeah—the informant’s name. Whether it is the real one or an alias, I don’t know. Anyhow, I agreed. When we reached Greg’s car, he opened the trunk and extended a Glock to me. I took it, kind of excited about playing CIA spy.”
Swallowing past the lump building in his throat, he continued reciting the events of that horrific evening, “The rain came down in sheets.” He chuckled lightly. “Kind of like now.” Taking a deep breath, his humor faded and he continued, “But, that didn’t deter Greg from meeting this informant on the street. Heck, you could barely see the streetlights through the hazy rain. But, we waited.”
Reliving the night so many years ago wasn’t something he wanted to do, but he needed to share this with her, to make her understand she shouldn’t be relying on him alone.
Mentally shaking himself, he focused on the story. “It slacked up a bit close to meeting time, and he had me move to the next corner so I could see but not hear or scare Jackie.” Devon shook his head. “I didn’t like it since he seemed anxious, but I obeyed. Truly, what did I know about how to handle covert operations? Greg was the trained one. He gave me some rules for the meeting: Don’t get too close and don’t harm his CI. Apparently, Jackie and the information were valuable.”
His heartbeat sped up at the memory. “So, I waited and kept an eye out for any trouble. The streets were empty, so it wasn’t a difficult assignment. When a petite figure with a hoodie approached Greg, I watched but kept my distance as directed.”
Palms sweaty, he closed his eyes to regain his internal balance, visualizing Jackie’s approach to Greg, dressed in gray with the hood covering Jackie’s head. When he reopened them, Rylee watched him with concern lacing her expression. She slipped her hand into his as if realizing he needed the strength, offering Devon hers.
Bolstered by her action, he went on with the tale. “They appeared to argue and then Greg put his arms up… like when someone is held up at gunpoint.” He demonstrated the movement, not letting go of her hand, and then shrugged while lowering them. “I couldn’t wait. I rushed down the block and that’s when I saw the knife in Jackie’s hand. Not thinking, I pulled my weapon and screamed, ‘Drop it,’ or something like that.”
Agony sliced through him. If only I’d reacted sooner. It hadn’t mattered what he’d ordered me to do or not do. “They both turned to me and I froze when I saw that Jackie was a young woman. My hands shook, but I knew what I’d have to do. However, Greg told me not to shoot, and he tried to disarm her while she’d been distracted by my appearance. So, I held my fire.” Devon dropped Rylee’s hand and jumped from his spot on the ground. Restless, he paced in front of Rylee while running his hand through his hair. “Christ, everything in me told me to shoot her, but my morals slammed forward reminding me she was a woman.” Devon stopped and captured her gaze. “You see, we’d been raised to protect and value women.”
A small smile split her face and a warmth breached the self-loathing attempting to set in like it did every time he remembered that night.
The moment evaporated when reality crashed back in, his shoulders dropped and he resumed pacing. “Anyhow, I guess with the rain making her jacket slick, Greg lost hold of her arm, and she stabbed him in the abdomen before I realized he’d lost control. I shot and hit her in the side, but the damage was done to Greg.” Dropping back on the ground with a thud, he scooted against the cave wall again and slouched, trying to fight the gnawing in his gut at his inadequacy. If only….
“Greg staggered to the ground with his hands clutching his gut, the blood thinned in the rain and ran rivulets through his hold.” Leaning his head in his right hand, he sighed. “I’ll never forget the sight.”
An arm wrapped around his bicep and Rylee’s other hand settled on his thigh. She helped ground and support him. The knowledge swept into his system,
leaving a semblance of calm in its wake.
“What happened next?” she asked him.
He lifted his head. “I moved to them. I’d seen enough TV to know to kick away the knife by where Jackie lay unconscious, then I knelt beside Greg to check on him.”
Deep breath in and slowly out. “I’m not a doctor, but I could tell he didn’t look good.” Reaching out and clasping her hand in his, he turned it so her palm faced up and he studied it as if reading her fortune or trying to distract himself from his remembrance. “When I told him that I’d get an ambulance there right away, he stopped me.”
Weaving his fingers through hers, he placed their entwined palms in his lap. “My eyes probably widened to the size of saucers at his demand. He said I could call 911 from his phone, but I was to take everything on him and leave before anyone showed up. Then, I was to notify the CIA and tell them what happened.”
Rylee inhaled sharply and he figured she had an inkling how this ended, so he ignored it and continued, “Unfortunately, he slipped into unconsciousness before he told me who I should contact at the agency or what number to use. Hell, I had no clue about the operatives.”
Squeezing his hand, she nodded. “I understand. It was the same with other departments at the bureau.”
Taking a deep breath and releasing it slowly, he eased some of his anxiety. “Well. I was unsure what to do, but knew, based on what Greg had briefed me on, keeping his identity secret was important, so I held my hand on the wound on his stomach and called 911.”
“Oh, Devon,” she whispered and leaned her head on his shoulder.
God, where had she been all his life? It didn’t appear as daunting with her touching him, consoling him. Understanding him.
Needing to get the story out, he rushed the remainder. “I left Greg’s side and checked on Jackie. I wasn’t sure why she was unconscious. Maybe she hit her head when she fell. Her side was bleeding fairly badly, and I couldn’t feel any pity for her. I knew Greg would probably die because of her. Then again, the fact that I might have killed her slammed into me, and I almost didn’t leave the scene fast enough. When I heard sirens, I sprang into action and did as instructed, grabbing Greg’s wallet, keys, and weapon. Then I walked away while calling my boss.” He cleared his throat nervously. It was time to tell her. “Robert Carver.”
“Carver?” Her head popped off his shoulder and her voice held the bewilderment he’d expected at this admission. Thank God it didn’t contain anger.
“Yes, the same Robert Carver who owns the ranch house we searched.”
Her grip tightened and he expected if he looked down that her knuckles would be white. Okay, maybe the anger hadn’t been in her voice, but it appeared to have quickly followed her realization that Devon knew the man who might’ve kidnapped, and planned to sell, two girls.
“Be mad at me for not telling you later.”
“Oh, I will be.” She yanked her hand from his and crossed her arms in a huff. “First, I want to hear what this man did.”
He picked up a twig and tossed it on the fire and watched the sparks fly into the air and dissolve into nothing. “Carver told me that I’d done right to call him first. He informed me that everything would be taken care of with the utmost urgency. I mean, fuck, they had me leave a dying man by himself with the person who tried to kill him only feet away.”
“Oh, Devon.” Her arms unfolded and she turned toward him, her soft voice speaking to his soul.
He released a heavily burdened sigh. So much pain in his heart over the event… over Greg’s death. There was the ever-present question of whether he could’ve saved the man.
“I take it there’s more.”
Glancing at Rylee, he chanced it and captured her hand and pressed the back of it to his lips. She offered no fight, but he chose to leave their clasped hands in her lap. That settled, he nodded. “I took Greg’s car back to the office where Carver met me. I couldn’t believe they’d allow Greg to be treated as a John Doe if he died. My boss told me not to worry that they took care of their own, though people didn’t know about it.”
People didn’t know the half of it. The shit the CIA kept quiet because whoever was in charge at the time deemed it necessary was amazing. Like Greg's death.
“I take it Greg died.”
“Yeah, he died. Jackie had disappeared before anyone arrived at the scene. I was a wreck. I’d been too weak to shoot and protect the man who’d asked for my help. And, when I did shoot, I thought I’d possibly killed a young woman.”
The bandage had been ripped off with precision as he’d spoken his failure out loud to someone other than Carver. The fist that grappled with a tight hold on his soul—reminding him that because of him a man had died—loosened, and he breathed easier for the first time in four years. While a hold remained, something told him that Rylee was the balm to ease his burden… his pain… his sense of failure. With her, he believed the haunting at any time, day or night, would diminish. She was his salvation. No way would he let her go.
Devon knew she had to feel his trembling hand, but she kept quiet, holding it firmly. Since he didn’t want to spill all of his epiphany to her, he spoke again, as if he hadn’t stopped, “I spent countless hours searching for Jackie and wanted to tell everyone what happened, but Carver wouldn’t allow it. He hadn’t been happy about my accompanying Greg since that wasn’t what I’d been hired or trained to do and almost angry that I’d spent my time trying to track down Jackie. That’s also how he tried to console me—I hadn’t been trained to be an operative.”
He shook his head. “It didn’t work. I couldn’t stand the looks others at the agency gave me. Even though it had been kept secret that I’d been involved, it was obvious many knew it was my fault Greg had died. Never think you can keep secrets from spooks,” he added with fake joviality.
She bounced her head a bit in obvious agreement to his joke. Then brushing it off, she asked, “How can you say it was your fault? He told you not to shoot.”
“Even if he hadn’t, I couldn’t bring myself to pull the trigger on a young woman.”
“Yet, you did.”
He snatched his hand back and ran it through his hair in frustration. Fuck. She was supposed to be a damn balm. “Too damn late.”
“Hmm. What happened with the CIA?”
“I couldn’t let the situation go and eventually Carver helped me decide to leave the CIA since I couldn’t deal with cover-ups. I wallowed in misery for a while until Jesse wanted to start up HIS. I needed something, but I couldn’t allow anyone’s protection to be in my hands. I’d proved how terrible an idea that was.” He snorted.
Rylee turned and pointed her index finger at him. “Devon Hamilton, you followed orders. I don’t mean this to sound harsh, but Greg is responsible for your not stopping the stabbing. You could’ve saved him if he hadn’t directed you to hold your fire. I’m going to say this again. You followed orders.”
“I don’t know.”
“Hadn’t you been ready to fire when he told you not to?”
“Yes, but I hesitated when I actually saw Jackie.”
She smacked his thigh. “Dammit, but you recovered. You would’ve done what was needed to save him. He didn’t let you.”
“You’re saying that I should’ve shot anyway.” That was a fucked-up question, Hamilton.
Rylee responded before he could tell her to ignore it. “That’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying you did as the leader of your mission told you. That’s how it has to be. Think of what would happen if someone didn’t listen to Jesse when he was leading a mission.”
Clasping his right hand between the two of hers, she smiled. “I understand your strong feelings about your actions, as do most agents and officers after something happens in the line of duty, but I don’t see how you can think it was your fault. First, you shouldn’t have been there since you weren’t trained for that job. Second, Greg never should’ve told you not to allow Jackie to come to any harm. And, finally, he shouldn’t have
stopped you from trying to save him.”
Devon chuckled. “You make it sound so simple.”
“It really is.”
“Is this like the missing girls weren’t your responsibility?”
She shook her head. “This is different. I haven’t taken the blame for their being gone. I just won’t allow them to fall through the cracks.”
“But, don’t you see, you can’t rely on me if something ever goes wrong.”
She leaned close to him, her mouth close, and whispered, “I’ll take my chances.” Then, she kissed him and he didn’t care a bit about anything but taking her to bed. Or, in this case, to the blanket he’d thankfully packed for their picnic.
CONFUSED BY WAKING on a hard surface, Devon took a quick inventory of his surroundings without moving. Relieved at seeing Rylee lying on her side next to him, he sat and shivered from the chill still hanging in the air. Instead of covering himself, he pulled the blanket over as much of his sleeping wife as it would cover. Using his forefinger, he slid a bit of hair behind her ear and then traced down her jaw.
The resulting smile warmed him. But, he couldn’t allow himself to be distracted. He had to hurry to collect their stashed items so they could get back to the animals. He snuck away from her and dressed quietly before taking his pack and leaving her to rest.
Pretty sure he’d get lost, he pulled the GPS from his backpack and marked the cave’s location. Then, he pulled up where they’d stashed their weapons and phone, and headed off in the direction it indicated. He kept up a fast pace, cursing each branch that came into his path.
The night before, she’d listened to him and not judged. He’d opened his torn soul and she’d come in and stitched it up until it was almost good as new. To have such love and tenderness all the time, almost overwhelmed him, but from her, he’d take it every day of the week.
To ease him, she’d simply said he wasn’t at fault, and explained it better than the only other person who knew—his bastard of an ex-boss.