by Debra Webb
Aidan jerked her up into the brightly lit hallway as the crash swelled from fourteen stories below. Frankie trembled under his sheltering body as the explosion roared up the elevator shaft.
“Good Lord,” she whispered into his chest. “I knew we were on the right track.” A shiver rattled her body. “She tried to kill me.” Her mother wanted her dead. The raw awareness was more of a shock than the attack.
“We’re getting out of here,” Aidan said. “No cops.” He rolled to his feet, bringing her with him. “No statements.” He gave her a hard look. “And no arguing.”
She nodded. They were in and out of the apartment with essential gear in less than five minutes. Her back and hip protested, but she’d deal with that later. She let Aidan lead, following him up the stairs to the next floor, down the hall and into another stairwell. He pulled out a device that looked like a key fob and pressed the button.
“Signal jammer?”
He nodded. “Should mix up the building surveillance, too, if we’re lucky.”
Having scoped out the egress options after they’d accepted the corporate apartment, they needed only a few minutes’ head start to disappear into the city. Aidan had his gun drawn and cleared each landing until they were all the way down and outside.
At street level they deftly avoided the police and fire departments. Several blocks away, he hailed a cab.
“Airport,” he said, his voice gruff.
Frankie slid onto the seat beside him. “We can’t leave,” she said. They were too close to the goal. If they gave up now, she might never have another chance. And after that near miss, she refused to let anyone off the hook. “You realize—”
He shot her a quelling glance, his eyes harder than his voice had been.
Apparently the “no argument” rule hadn’t been lifted yet. Fine. The silence gave her plenty of time to calm down so she could state her case in a way that left him no room to argue with her.
* * *
AIDAN WANTED TO hold her and never let go. He wanted to know she was safe, that her back was fine, but those questions would wait. If he touched her now, he’d lose his mind. He forced himself to assess their surroundings as the cab inched by the chaos in front of the building they’d just escaped. There was a killer on the loose, likely watching the result of his handiwork.
Unbidden, the image of Frankie on top of the lift filled Aidan’s vision and his heart slammed against his rib cage. He’d nearly lost her. Mere seconds had separated her from certain death. Even if she hadn’t fallen, she would’ve been wiped out by the explosion.
He pinched the bridge of his nose as the cabbie hit the freeway. In ten minutes they’d be safe in a hotel. In under an hour they could be out of the state or even the country. Not that Aidan would ever convince her to leave. She didn’t have her answers yet.
For the first time since he’d taken the case, he considered cornering Sophia and forcing the issue. Not smart. Not professional.
He felt the soft touch of Frankie’s hand and watched her lace her fingers through his. She gave a gentle squeeze. He could barely swallow through the lump in his throat. He rubbed the band of her engagement ring with his thumb, a welcome reminder that she’d survived. They were out of danger. For how long?
The question iced his skin. They weren’t dealing with speculation or theory anymore. Something they’d discovered was making someone very nervous. The next strike was inevitable and he needed to be prepared.
“I have to report this,” he said, so only she would hear him.
“Yes.”
Her agreement startled him. He told the cabbie to drive through the departure area for the next group of airlines, then on to the circuit of hotels nearby.
Satisfied they hadn’t been tailed, he directed the driver to stop at the next major chain. He wasn’t going to expose their escape hatch just yet. He paid the fare and, with his arm at Frankie’s waist, moved directly to the check-in desk. He used a false ID and credit card, requesting a room on the first floor. He felt her watching him, but there was no way in hell he could deal with an elevator right now.
He didn’t care that it was irrational, only cared about keeping her alive.
They reached the room, and the moment he’d locked the door, his patience evaporated. He dropped the bags and wrapped his arms around her. Holding her close, his hands splayed across her back, he measured every breath. She was alive. In his arms.
He released her long enough to move their gear to the bed and pull the curtains closed. When he turned back to her, she hadn’t moved. He hugged her again, tucking her head to his shoulder. “I was terrified,” he confessed.
“Aidan.”
“Don’t ask me to let go.” He couldn’t do it, not yet. His palm moved up and down her spine, lingering too long at her lower back.
“I’m fine,” she said. Her hands slid under his jacket and fisted in his shirt. “I promise. Thank you for saving me.”
“You had it under control.” He moved just enough to tip up her chin and lay a soft kiss on her lips. Managing to push back the panic and terror, he knew the dam wouldn’t hold for long. She was alive and well. He might remember that for all of five minutes without a touch or word, but he didn’t want to chance it. He smoothed a loose tendril of her hair behind her ear. “I was just moral support.”
“More than that,” she whispered, gazing up at him, her eyes shining with a rush of need that matched his. She pushed her fingers into his hair and brought his mouth back to hers. Her lips parted with a sigh and his tongue swept inside, tangled with hers.
The abrasive odors of oil and machinery, explosives and the smoke grenade, clung to her hair. Her taste, sweet as honey and warm as a summer day, overwhelmed his other senses. He needed her. All of her. He needed to take her into himself and keep her safe. Always. He didn’t want to think how impossible that was.
There was nothing of comfort or reassurance in this blatant mating of mouths, no simple curiosity of attraction. This kiss was full of need hemmed on all sides by sheer desperation. He’d nearly lost her before he had a chance to tell her how much she meant to him.
His hands spanned her trim waist, moved higher so her breasts filled his palms. He tweaked the hard tips through her shirt and she arched into his touch. Gripping her backside, he brought her hips close, pressing her against his erection. He bent his head and explored the softness of her skin, down the column of her throat and back up to her ear. “I need you.”
When she trembled, whispered his name, he kissed her until they were both shaking and breathless.
He shrugged out of his jacket and reached for the hem of her shirt, pulling it up and over her head in one swift move.
Her skin glowed golden around the simple white fabric of her bra. “Francesca,” he whispered across the sensitive skin of her breasts. She wasn’t Frankie the client or pretend fiancée now. The case was irrelevant. The games were over. She was the woman he wanted more than his next breath. The woman he needed to give that breath meaning. His hands on her hips, he drew the stiff peak of her nipple into his mouth, teasing her through the fabric. She held him close, running her fingers through his hair, over his ears.
His hands learned her curves, the dips and hollows, in long, slow strokes from her waist across the flare of her hips.
She shoved at him and he stopped immediately. He had no time to ask what he’d done wrong, as she yanked his shirt from his waistband, gasping, “I need to touch you.”
“I’m all yours.” He’d never spoken words that meant as much.
* * *
FRANKIE PRESSED HER PALMS to Aidan’s wide, lean chest and backed him toward the bed. She could feel the heat of him through the fabric, but she wanted skin. She pushed his shirt up and away and just stared. He was perfect. Smooth skin, hard muscle and ridges she couldn’t wait to trace and tas
te.
Her heart was racing, and though the warning signs of stress were firing in her back, she was done with foreplay. She wouldn’t be denied this moment. The twinges only served as a reminder of how fleeting life was. She’d survived an IED, paralysis, and now a sabotaged elevator. She deserved a little happiness and positive adrenaline. Just to change it up.
She flicked open the button of his jeans, eased the zipper down until she could wrap her hand around his thick erection. Her breath caught in her chest, her pulse throbbing in her ears at the feel of him. So close and yet not nearly close enough.
Moving in a passionate frenzy around and between searing kisses, they shed his interfering clothing until at last he stretched out on the bed, drawing her down beside him. She wanted him fast and hard. The slow and tender could wait. She needed him to hurry and blot out the terror crowding her, to affirm her survival.
She hesitated. In the midst of crawling over his amazing body, she froze.
The sudden bout of nerves surprised her. She hadn’t been with anyone since her recovery, and she wasn’t sure what might happen. Everything in her back felt normal most of the time and she didn’t make a habit of expecting the worst. Sex wasn’t any more rigorous than running, from a functional standpoint. She’d regained her mobility and fitness, but there was nothing she could do about the scars Aidan hadn’t seen.
“Is there a problem?” He sat up, drawing her between his widespread knees. Spearing a hand into her hair, he pulled her lips to his and leveled her with another devastating kiss. “Second thoughts? Please say no.”
She closed her eyes and blurted out an excuse. “No second thoughts. It’s been a while, that’s all.”
He slid her bra straps down over her shoulders, his face so close his breath raised goose bumps on her sensitive skin. “I can’t decide if that’s more or less pressure on me.”
She wanted to laugh, but it sputtered and died on a gasp when he unhooked her bra and took her bared breast into his mouth. “Francesca. You’re beautiful.”
Feeling his words more than she heard them, she decided. She’d shatter his illusions of beauty later. She leaned over to turn out the light.
“Don’t.” He stilled her hand. “Let me see you tonight. All of you.”
“Aidan.” She turned shy, an unprecedented sensation. “You don’t know what you’re asking.” She spoke to his perfect, sculpted chest, unable to meet his eyes. “The repairs are...difficult.” It was the least offensive word she could think of.
“You are perfect.” He was soothing her, hypnotizing her with soft strokes over her shoulders, down her arms. “The strongest woman I know.” His mouth followed, covering her, tasting her, chasing away the chill hiding in her bones. “Let me show you what I see.”
She was no match for him when he looked into her eyes as he stripped away the rest of her clothes. He brought her hands to his shoulders, easing back so she practically melted on top of him, giving her the control and the choice.
“Francesca,” he murmured over and over in that mesmerizing voice. His hands flowed and coaxed, erasing her scars, until she felt her body as he did.
It was like floating through a beautiful, dynamic dream as she lowered her body, taking him in carefully when she wanted to rush. He filled her so well she didn’t want to move. She wanted to savor. Gently at first, she lifted her hips, testing and teasing the limits of his desire and her patience. His hands gripped her hips and he changed the rhythm to suit him. Them.
The pleasure coursed through her with every stroke, building. The climax crashed over her and she cried out as her body shuddered around him. He flexed his hips, driving deep, deeper until she couldn’t discern where he ended and she began. Her body instinctively clung, gripping him tight, reluctant to let go.
When he stretched out beside her with a satisfied sigh, she curled into him, her hand resting over his heart, the light glinting off the diamond on her finger. She stared at the stone and the setting, knowing she’d given him far more than her body.
His hand traced circles over her shoulder and he pressed a kiss to the top of her hair. She’d dropped her heart into his care. Worse, she realized as exhaustion claimed her, she trusted him not to break it.
* * *
FRANKIE WOKE IN the middle of the night, knowing she wouldn’t get any more sleep. There wasn’t a better sign of feeling safe than the fact that they’d slept soundly. She slipped out from under Aidan’s arm, turned out the light and grabbed a T-shirt and yoga pants from her suitcase on her way to the shower. At some point she was going to have to assess what they’d just done in that bed. She’d have to address how she’d left herself open to him, body and soul. Right now she locked on to the easy fib that the sex had been about reaffirming life. They’d experienced a standard biological reaction to the adrenaline spike of survival. Simple.
Under the hot pulse of the shower spray, it didn’t feel simple, but she ignored the new awareness pressing in on her. The priority had to be the work. Her search for answers had gotten her mugged and nearly killed. It was past time to take a stand against her mother’s schemes. Frankie toweled off, dressed and twisted her wet hair into a loose braid.
There had to be hard evidence. Without it, Aidan would continue to do his job and offer conflicting theories. She couldn’t bear the idea of him siding with Sophia on any topic. Worse, she couldn’t bear the small voice in her head that suggested he could be right, that her mother wasn’t guilty of awful things. That was the voice of the heartbroken child inside her, not the woman smart enough to know better.
She opened her laptop, turning it away from Aidan so she wouldn’t wake him while she tried to put the pieces together. Rubbing her temples, she went back to the beginning, to the treason charge, looking at every piece in light of what she and Aidan had found along the way.
It helped, Aidan’s identification of Lennox, and she pushed her research skills to the limit to make the connections between Lennox and her father, her father and the supposed act of treason. He’d been at Bagram, not Kabul. A general didn’t travel around unnoticed. How had her mother, an expert analyst, made such a costly mistake?
Too quickly Frankie wanted to cycle back, pointing to the blatant lies in her mother’s statement, but she fought to stay objective. For Aidan.
She stood, stretching side to side and forward, loosening tight muscles as she let her mind work. Her team had been attacked. Units under her father’s command had been ambushed, the objective compromised presumably because he’d tipped off the other side for money. Her husband found guilty, Sophia had chosen to retire and start her company. Who gained from taking down the Leone family?
“Come back to bed, love.”
Aidan’s voice, gravelly from sleep, tempted her. She didn’t want to resist. “Can’t sleep.” She didn’t dare look at him. “I’m almost there.”
Behind her she heard the mattress give as he got up. He turned on the light and denim rustled as he pulled on his jeans.
His chest was warm on her back when he wrapped his arms around her, linking his hands at her waist. “I think you’re trying too hard. Let it rest.”
“I’ll rest when I have answers. We’re running out of time.”
“Your mother may not have the answers, Frankie.”
The nickname rang hollow in her ears, after he’d called her Francesca when his hands and mouth were heating her body. She shivered. If he was right, what would she do? She moved back to the table, easing into the chair.
“Why do you do that?” he asked. “Sit so carefully.”
“Habit. Early in the rehab my hip would catch and lock up. I would jerk or wince and everyone stared or asked about it. I learned to move so my weaknesses didn’t show.”
His short laughter startled her and she stared at him as he knelt beside her chair. “What weaknesses?”
She l
oved him for that. Kissed him for that. She wrapped his bigger hand in both of hers, needing that contact as she asked a question of her own. “Why are you so convinced Sophia is innocent in all this?”
“I’ve been looking at both of you, past and present, with objective eyes.”
“She’s fooled you,” Frankie protested. “That statement—”
“If the statement is real, she gave it in good faith. The intel might’ve been flawed. If the document you found is fake, who put it there?” His blue eyes were steady on hers. “I’m not fooled. Not by her or you.” Aidan stood and pulled Frankie up with him, his arms banding tight around her. “You’re hurting. You’ve been robbed of everything you valued and you want a hard target to attack.”
She leaned back, just enough to meet his gaze, since she didn’t want him to let go. “I was a target just a few hours ago.”
His face blanched. “I’m well aware.” His lips brushed over her forehead, her nose, then claimed her mouth. “Despite any flaws, Sophia is a mother delighted with her daughter. Awed and inspired by you. Whatever happened, she loves you.”
That only made it worse. Frankie flinched. “Take that back.”
“I won’t.”
“That was before.” Frankie felt the facts dragging her down into a well of despair. She had to know or walk away. Walking away was weakness. “If you’re so sure it wasn’t Sophia, show me why.”
She expected him to sit at the computer, call up something he and Victoria had found. Instead, he stalked over to the duffel bag he’d brought along and unzipped the end pocket. Tossing a folder full of brochures and information onto the table, he glared at her. “Go on. Take a look.”
She poked at the pile, startled by the glossy images of handsome men in tuxedos, couples lounging on a cruise ship, dancing in a classroom. “What is this?”
“Your mother keeps dropping this stuff at my desk. I can pull up the emails, too, if you’d like to read them. Questions about my preferences on tux colors, buffet or plated meals, suggestions for honeymoon destinations. Seems she’s traveled extensively.”