Conard County Spy

by Rachel Lee

  He nodded because he didn’t know what to say. She was right. He was using her. And he was trying like mad to keep her as safe as he could, but he wasn’t allowing himself to feel one other thing. Feelings were dangerous.

  “You live in an awfully cold, ugly world, Trace Archer. Now you’re about to escape it, but will you ever change? I doubt you can. I doubt you can cut the job out of you enough to ever be like the rest of us.”

  “I haven’t been off the job long enough to know what I can become. Hell, I’m still on the job.”

  “Obviously. Well, I want you to think about what this job has cost you. How much it has stolen from you. You might have been doing important work. Well, clearly you were. But not important enough that the people you work for aren’t as willing to see you physically dead as they’ve made you become emotionally.”

  He tried to tell himself she was just reacting to all the strain of the last couple of days, but there was truth in what she said. Enough truth that it hit him like a gut punch. “I made my choices. Now I live with them.”

  “Each little choice added up, apparently. And you never counted the cost.”

  It was true, but now he was getting angry. “This is no time to pick apart my life. Here we are. Unfortunately you’re involved. If you want, I’ll leave right now. But what I can’t do is change what’s already done. The past is fixed.”

  “But the future doesn’t have to be,” she said quietly. “Right now you have two friends who really care about you. Try caring back, just a little. I know I’ll feel better.”

  “You think I haven’t been sweating your involvement? You think I haven’t been worrying about you? I care more about what happens to you than what happens to me. From the minute I saw you putting smiley faces and stars on those papers in the diner, I’ve thought you were a beautiful human being. The world would be a poorer place without you, and I never wanted to drag you into the middle of this.”

  “I’m sure.” She didn’t sound sarcastic, merely weary.

  “But there you were at Ryker’s house before we’d sorted everything out. Ryker was hoping once he told you how dangerous this was you’d back away. But you didn’t, did you? So here we are, and I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe.”

  She looked down, and he thought he heard a small sigh escape her. “I know you will. That scares me, too. I don’t want anyone to die, least of all for me.”

  Something deep inside him felt as if it were cracking. Feelings better left caged were beginning to bend the bars to get out. All of a sudden the pain in his arm and hand seemed minor compared to what was trying to erupt inside him. Yes, he’d made his choices, and to this day he would stand by them. They’d been his best options at the time. But some...some might follow him to his grave.

  He realized that Julie was rising, moving. Going to bed to escape him and all of this? He wouldn’t blame her. For the first time he was facing just how much concrete he’d packed himself in, how many times he’d refused to evaluate himself and what he was doing. He’d believed he had a mission, a higher purpose, that he was serving his country. Right now, all of that seemed like so much dross layered over reality. Because the reality, however essential, had often violated him and others. Yes, it was a job that had to be done. But now he was wondering about the people who had given him his missions. What had they intended? Had he merely been a tool for purposes he would have hated had he known them?

  How could this not make him wonder?

  Julie sat beside him on the couch. “I’m sorry, Trace.”

  “For what?”

  “For being so... I don’t know. You need your head in the game right now and I’m going on about feelings. I have no right to question you or criticize you. I’ve never walked in your shoes.”

  He responded with bitter humor. “Under the circumstances, maybe you have a better right to question me than anyone else. I cast my shadows over your life. I never should have done that.”

  “Like you said, the past can’t be changed.” She surprised him again, this time by reaching out to rest her hand on his thigh.

  At once his thoughts shifted downward, to his groin. She had lit his fuse once again with a single touch. She did that so easily that he wondered if he should be terrified of it. Everything she did seemed to ease past walls he’d built over many years. The throbbing in his loins did not make him feel any easier.

  “Do you feel safe tonight?” she asked him.

  “Pretty much, thanks to the storm.” He figured tomorrow morning would be soon enough to tackle this problem again. A Monday morning, unfortunately, when even the CIA offices at Langley would be in high gear for the start of a new week.

  “Then let’s look for those files you want to see, if my accounts haven’t been shut down.”

  Startled once again, he looked at her. She had an odd little smile on her face. “What?”

  “Take a look,” she said. “Even if you don’t want to backdoor your way into classified files tonight. Make sure my accounts are still good.”

  “You know, you’re bouncing all over the place.”

  “Not really.” Her smile broadened a hair. “I want you as relaxed as you can get tonight.”

  “Why?”

  “Because, spy man, I want you to be thinking about nothing but me for a few hours. Because I want you to take me to bed.”

  Well, he could do that right now, he realized. At her words, every pleasure nerve in his body leaped to life, and he felt his erection begin to throb. That easily, she turned him on like a blast from a furnace. Yeah, he could put it all on hold for a few hours. No reason not to. But as he tried to read her expressive face, he understood that she needed to be able to put it aside for a little while, too. They wanted each other, and right now he didn’t want to resist for another instant. She had routed his defenses with a surprising frontal attack.

  He was not the only one in this leaky boat. Finally he nodded. “You can check your two accounts and see.”

  “I suppose I could, but if you want to go further...”

  “I’m not sure I do, not just yet. But I might take a peek at a few things.”

  “Then peek away. Something’s got to give us a few hours off. I don’t know about you, but I think I’m ready to go nuts with wondering.”

  * * *

  Typing proved painful for Trace, and he was doing this only so she could shove this off her plate. So she would be thinking of nothing else when he gave in to his pounding desire and made love to her. Damn, he wanted her so badly he might as well have had five thumbs. Her honesty had made it impossible to hide from himself any longer, but he kept at it. He didn’t want her even wondering about this for the next few hours.

  He was essentially operating with one working hand and one finger from the other. Julie waited patiently while he turned off the internet block and selected a city from a menu. He reached it without any trouble. “Okay, so far.”

  “You want me to type for you?” It seemed the least she could do. She knew she was pushing him on several fronts, but she was becoming frustrated, and not just sexually. So much she didn’t know, so much he wouldn’t say, death lurking around some invisible corner... Yeah, the desire to make love with him was only a piece of the picture. Something inside her was pressing to get to know the real Trace, but she’d begun to wonder if there was one, apart from his job. He’d warned her that he was a chameleon, but she didn’t think that was what she was seeing.

  She was seeing a man who’d pared himself to the bone emotionally to do his job. Maybe he could act any part he thought he needed to, but she was fairly certain he wasn’t acting with her. Why would he? He could push her away as easily as he’d pushed away so many people in the past. He wasn’t trying to be charming, or persuasive, or to manipulate her in any way she could detect.

  So for all he could change and
adapt as needed, she figured she was seeing the real Trace Archer. The things he said sometimes made her ache for him. He didn’t seem to have a very high self-opinion. Mephistopheles? That was a bit over the top, she thought. But if that’s how he thought of himself, he needed to undergo a major renovation. He needed to find the part of him that he was still proud of, the man who had set out on a mission for his country, probably with the highest of ideals.

  Considering that she devoted her life to making youngsters feel good about themselves, she knew she was inclined to do that with others as well. But would she even have time? Likely not.

  “Trace?”

  “Yeah?”

  “How did your parents make you feel about yourself?”

  “Just a sec. I want to back out of all this and shut your internet down quickly. To be extra safe.”

  “Are both accounts working?”

  “Believe it. If I can remember how, I may even piggyback them and use them both at once.” He clicked on the kill button, then turned to face her. “You were saying?”

  “How did your parents make you feel about yourself? Truthfully.” Her heart pounded a little at her temerity, but she had a great need to know.

  He shrugged his good shoulder. “Like most kids, I guess. The only thing that griped me was...” He caught himself.

  “What? Just say it.”

  One corner of his mouth twisted upward. “My dad used to tell me to give glory to God every time I succeeded at something because it was God’s doing.”

  “But?”

  “But everything I did wrong was my own dang fault.”

  She caught her breath. “That’s awful,” she murmured.

  “I don’t think he intended it that way, truthfully. He wasn’t a cruel man. But I kinda grew up thinking my successes were God’s and my failings were my own.”

  That would sure ding any kid’s self-esteem, she thought. No pride in doing something well, but all the blame when something went wrong? Inside her, something clicked.

  “So how about this?” she said. “Stop blaming yourself for me being in the middle of this. I put myself here. I won’t say I’m enjoying every second, but I didn’t have to ask you to stay here. I didn’t have to insert myself. That wasn’t your fault.”

  “Thanks. But maybe at its root, it is. Maybe I did something wrong without knowing it, and now it’s catching up to me.”

  That did it. She jumped to her feet. “The only thing I see here is some major butt-covering by some people who are probably responsible for all this.” She knew she was talking too loudly, too emphatically, but didn’t care.

  “I hope we find out,” he said.

  “We probably will, one way or another. Has it occurred to you that you’re not responsible for ensuring that everything in the world goes right, that the planets continue to revolve around the sun?”

  “Do they?” Then he amazed her by laughing. “You’re a beautiful woman, Julie Ardlow. Your students are blessed to have you.”

  “Don’t make fun of me!” Tension, tension of all kinds, was making her irritable and edgy. She was shocking herself because she wasn’t generally a snappish person. But she was snapping now.

  “I’m not making fun of you,” he said flatly. “I was telling the truth as I see it. Isn’t that what you want from me? Truth?”

  “Yes, dang it. Truth.”

  “Then I’ve been giving it to you. I’ve explained why I can’t let feelings take over. Maybe I’ve had to do that enough over the years that I’ve become crippled in some ways, but it’s still important. It’ll remain important until I deal with this mess. I need my head to be clear. But you keep distracting me.”

  God, that made her feel awful. She was distracting him with her whining, her criticisms, her demands for his attention, even with her inexplicable need to have sex with him. What the hell was happening to her? She couldn’t even understand herself, and usually she felt pretty comfortable with who she was. It was as if this experience was turning her into someone else.

  “Julie?”

  “I’m sorry. I have no business giving you a hard time like this. I should shut up.” And go crawl away into her bedroom and just leave him alone. Didn’t this man have enough on his mind right now?

  “No, don’t shut up. Express yourself. This situation is difficult enough without you bottling everything inside.”

  “But you have enough on your mind. You don’t need me adding to it. It’s just that...” She finally turned to stare at him, realizing that she was devouring him with her eyes. Somehow the man she had once thought looked ordinary enough to pass anywhere unnoticed no longer looked ordinary to her.

  Crazy thoughts were seeping into her mind. Memories of his brief hugs, of the way his hard body had felt against hers. His scent, uniquely his own, yet utterly masculine. The brush of his flannel shirt against her cheek. The way his skin had felt when she seized his hand to kiss it.

  How long had it been since she had felt like this, as if she stood on the cusp of a wonderful experience, as if every cell in her body was crying out for this man’s touch? Everything else was slipping away as her body called out. She needed strong arms around her. She craved this man’s hardness against her and inside her. She hardly dared hope he would give her what she wanted. He’d ignored her blatant invitations so far. But oh, how she ached for him, for his skin against hers, his weight on her, his mouth and hands exploring her.

  A drumbeat of desire began pounding in her body, seeming to fill her ears until she could hardly hear. The ache between her legs consumed her universe. Nothing existed except her hunger for Trace. Suspended on the knife-edge of anticipation, hoping against hope, expecting rejection, fearing rejection, she waited. Helpless, defenseless, so very vulnerable.

  “Ah, God, Julie,” he whispered.

  She thought she saw the flare of recognition in his gaze, a flare that might reflect his own desire. But what if he didn’t want her? What if all his evasions had been because she’d thrown herself at him and he just didn’t want her?

  Just as fear began to conquer her desire, just as she felt she might shatter into a million pieces, he came to her. Cradling her cheek in one hand, he looked directly into her eyes. Reading her, she supposed. Seeking her certainty.

  She had never been so certain in her life, at least not for years now. She needed this. As her desire seemed to suck the last air from the universe, leaving her breathless and shaking, he wrapped his left arm around her and drew her up hard against him.

  Then his mouth swallowed hers, feeling as if it swallowed her entire being. His tongue, with absolutely no gentleness, plunged into her mouth, claiming her with his demand.

  Oh, it felt so good to be wrapped in his embrace, so good to feel a man’s strength surrounding her once more. It had been so long, and she hadn’t realized how much she had missed this.

  But it wasn’t just a hug. It felt supremely important that it was Trace hugging her. She wondered if he felt the same, and wrapped her arms around his waist, trying to get him even closer. They’d both been alone too long, she thought hazily. Too long.

  Then the world spun away as heavy heat focused in her very core, demanding more, demanding answers from him, answers only he could provide.

  When he tore his mouth from hers, they were both panting. She opened her eyes to a slit and saw him through her eyelashes. He looked different, as if some deep tension in him had let go. Relaxed.

  “Trace...” She whispered his name, afraid he would withdraw.

  He touched a finger across her lips. “Shh,” he murmured roughly. “We’ll talk later. For right now...heaven.”

  Heaven, indeed. When he pulled back a little, a shaft of fear pierced her, then vanished as she realized he was tugging her toward the bedroom. She didn’t care which one. His sheets would smell of him now, and
that appealed to her.

  Inside his darkened room, he drew her close once more for a feverish kiss. “So sweet,” he muttered.

  Sweet? It felt hot, his mouth like fire on hers. With each plunge of his tongue, he seemed to drive the fire deeper into her until she burned everywhere.

  Then he eased back a bit. She wanted to snatch him closer, and opened her eyes reluctantly. “Trace?”

  “I can’t be graceful about this,” he said, his voice husky. “Not now. It’s hard enough to get my own clothes off.”

  So he wasn’t getting ready to change his mind. Far from it. Her personal imp sprang to life, reminding her that despite everything she still had one. “Well, I can do something about that, gorgeous.”

  Odd, but she had never undressed a man before. They’d been the ones in a rush to pull clothes away, and then when the relationship had become less fresh, undressing had been something she’d done for herself.

  This was new. She smiled and reached for the buttons on his shirt. She’d had no idea what to expect, but what she found deprived her of breath once again. A smooth, expansive, well-muscled chest, as if despite all he’d been through he was taking care of himself. She felt a little shudder run through him as she began to ease the shirt off his shoulders.

  She froze. “Did I hurt you?”

  “No!” He sounded almost winded, and she smiled inwardly. Clearly she was not going to take this ride alone.

  As the shirt fell to the floor, she answered another craving by running her hands over him, feeling him against her palms, savoring his warmth and surprisingly silken skin. As her palms passed over his small nipples, hard now, he shuddered again and a groan escaped him. Delighting in the power he was giving her, in the ability to make this self-contained man give himself up to her, she returned to those nipples again and again until finally she leaned in and sucked on each. As she did so, his arms snapped around her, pulling her as close as he could.

  “Tease,” he muttered.