He moved farther into the living room and listened. But it wasn’t what he heard, it was what he smelled that made his heart beat faster. Oh hell to the no. Pulsations of soft amber floated in the air. Fu-uck. Here we go again.
His gut flopped, and he forgot to exhale the scent he knew too well. Why would she be here, in his apartment, now? He’d never admit it to anyone, but he kept tabs on her schedule. He needed to know her whereabouts so they didn’t accidentally run into each other.
I can’t locate her. The last time he’d reached out to ping her location was a couple months ago and that’s what he’d been told. He’d figured it had been because she was undercover. He had to avoid her. It was his only line of defense when it came to Arabella Nox.
He let his Glock fall to his side. He wasn’t going to shoot anyone tonight. Probably. If she were there to kill him, he’d already be dead. Not that she hadn’t tried in the past, but the woman always learned from her mistakes. He wished he could say the same.
The only question in his mind was whether or not the Italian vixen from his past would be sleeping, awake, and/or naked. And fuck him that he didn’t know which one he was rooting for. He headed for his bedroom on instinct.
His bedroom door was wide open, and he stopped short of his king-size bed.
“Took you long enough.” Her sultry voice cut through the darkness. “I could’ve shot you five times already.”
“Arabella,” he ground out and took a step back. She was, indeed, naked. “Get out of my bed.”
“There’s a sentence I don’t hear . . . mmm, ever.” Sheets swished, and he could make out her curvy silhouette. She found a robe he didn’t know he owned and draped it around her dark olive skin, careful to leave a shoulder bare.
“Why are you here?” He didn’t actually want to ask, but, fuck, she was in his bed naked and hadn’t picked a fight yet. They either fought or made love—there was rarely an in-between when it came to their relationship.
“An old friend can’t stop in for a visit?” She took a step toward him.
“I don’t think visit is in your wheelhouse.” He backed out of his room and into the open spread of the living room/kitchen area. “Tell me why you’re here.” He couldn’t have a conversation with her in his bedroom knowing what was under her robe. This wasn’t much better, but considering the only comfortable piece of furniture he owned in the living room was a big boy recliner, there was less chance of a compromising situation happening. He’d never been great at not giving into temptation when it came to her.
“I came to warn you.” She played with the belt on the robe and sank into his brown microfiber recliner.
He flipped on the switch that controlled a skinny floor lamp in the far corner of the living room, by a bank of windows overlooking a port for local fishermen. “About what?” He dug in his fridge for a beer.
“A threat.”
“Arabella.” God, her name flowed off his tongue so easily. Her name alone was sexy. Besides her obvious spec-fucking-tacular figure and eyes that could haunt a dead man, her name had sealed the deal for him. A man could get used to uttering it when he came. It was also a name he’d thought he was going to get to say for the rest of his life. What an idiot he’d been.
She stared at him, her alluring, bright, amber eyes cut through the expanse that separated them and tugged at memories buried down deep. “There’s a price on your head.”
He took a swig from his beer. “Nothing new.” Is this an excuse to get in my bed? She’d have to do better than that. Shit. Who was he kidding?
“But this time he’s found you.”
Her words sucker punched him in the gut, but all he did was grit his teeth and concentrate on keeping his breathing steady. He’d shown her weakness once; for shame if he did it again.
“Define found.” New identity, cash, travel arrangements. Most of what he needed was already in a hidden go bag.
“Darek’s sending a team. At least one I know about. I think I’m ahead of them by about a day, maybe as little as twelve hours.”
God, he wanted to believe she was sincere, that she was being a Good Samaritan. But with Arabella, nothing was ever what it seemed. There’d be a catch or something in it for her.
“While you’re being helpful, you may as well tell me now if you had anything to do with this sudden epiphany about my location and the need to do something about it.” The issue she warned him about was nothing new. He used his real name to this day; he wasn’t trying to hide. Something must have changed for Darek to be after him now.
She smiled, stood, and stepped closer—one slow hip swing at a time. With each movement, his body tensed. He didn’t know what the hell to do—walk out of his own damn place, grab her hips and kiss her, or use a little bit of the psychological warfare he’d picked up from the years in the army.
“I’m not going to pretend to be offended. I rather enjoy that you think I could do that to you. Puts us on even ground.”
“For the last time, I didn’t get you captured on purpose.”
She didn’t have a quick response, but the set to her lips and the momentary ice in her stare said plenty. Their past was a holy goat-fuck of a read. Not that any files officially existed of their missions together, and if they did, they’d be so redacted it would be one big pile of black paper.
There was no trust left between them.
He blinked first. He always fucking blinked first. “I raided the compound, but you’d already been moved. No one was still alive to tell me where. They forced me to hand the retrieval to another team.” Worst thirty hours of his life.
He chugged his beer again, needing to push down the lumps of “what ifs” that clamored to escape every time he thought about how he’d failed her.
He would challenge anyone who thought they had a fucked-up relationship to the details of his, and he was 100 percent certain he’d win every time.
When he stared back in her intense, brown eyes, he saw it. He’d struck a nerve. He smiled to himself. Arabella didn’t have many tells, but the one he’d learned—an oh-so-slight twitch in her right eye—was a dead giveaway every time. If a person wasn’t concentrating on seeing it, it was easily missed. He’d never told her about it, because the gesture was clearly involuntary, and he enjoyed having something of hers she couldn’t take from him.
“No one has ever accused militants of moving slowly. They don’t have bureaucrats to go through.” She pivoted on her red-polished toes and walked farther into his living room. “Sparse.”
“I’m not big on decorations.” He checked out her ass, mostly out of habit, because the robe was clunky. Even though he couldn’t see much, he knew her body was part of her arsenal and she kept it tight. “Why don’t we get back to figuring out if you’re telling me the whole truth about this new development on my whereabouts?”
She whirled around and faced him, her long, flowing, brown curls swooshing past her shoulder to rest on her chest. “He’s coming for you, Felix. Full force. You need to run.”
There was no smile on her cheeks, no teasing in her eyes. He’d known that someday this moment would come—a person couldn’t successfully run from their past while laying down roots. He just hadn’t expected Arabella to be the one to warn him.
“I’m not running,” he partially lied.
Fleeing was definitely still on the table. The appeal was there—the documents for a new identity were already prepared. He’d made a lot of enemies in his military career. Maybe it was the new fucking office, the security team he trusted, or the woman standing in front of him telling him what to do, but he didn’t want to take the coward’s way out. If Darek was coming for him, he’d stand his ground and fight. At least that way, if he died, he’d go defending his love, his honor, and his country. Dying for glory. Heh, wouldn’t that make the angels laugh.
“Then you better be ready for one hell of a fight.”
“I am.”
“Have you kept up with world events? Are you dialed in to the
base? It’s not good, and if I’m saying that . . . ” She shook her head. “What’s your plan then?”
“You just told me minutes ago there was a problem. I don’t have a plan yet.” Did she think he was a novice now, too? He wasn’t about to share his plan to leave the country or the route he’d take once he was on foreign soil.
“That’s not the Felix I know. The Felix that I know would’ve had a plan in place and already made three more while we were speaking.”
“There is no ‘Felix you know.’ Not anymore,” he muttered and finished his beer.
“Don’t feed me that bullshit.”
He snorted. She deserved nothing else.
He’d been out of her type of game for a long time—two years constituted a lifetime in espionage. He’d been placed in the army’s Company A unit under the command of Louis Jackson to scout dignitaries in the Middle East and leaders on the opposing side. Mostly. The other reason was the unit stationed in southern Afghanistan had given him great cover and access to locations to do missions for Delta Force—a part of the army that didn’t officially exist. All of his training as a sharpshooter, recon specialist, and undercover expert had made him damn useful in that part of the world. He had never talked about it with Louis, and the old man was smart and had never asked questions when Felix disappeared for weeks or months at a time.
Felix stared at her all-too-innocent stance. “How do you know Darek found me?”
“I have my ways.” She winked, and he was suddenly more annoyed. If possible. Did she really think that basic shit would work on him? They were past being teammates, friends, and lovers. They weren’t anything now, so an attempt at flirting or softening him up wasn’t going to get her anywhere.
“How do you know your intel is good?”
“It is.”
“And I’m just supposed to take your word for it? Did you really think you could waltz in here and I would drop to my knees and thank my lucky stars you decided I was worthy enough to know a hit team is coming for me?” Maybe he was being too harsh, but, shit, this woman brought a tsunami of emotions with her and he wasn’t thinking straight.
“You’re such an ass.” She walked back to his bedroom door and dropped the robe to the ground. “And to think I couldn’t remember why we weren’t together anymore.”
He watched her bare curves fade into darkness.
Fuck. There was no way she’d forgotten why they couldn’t share the same zip code. They were horrible together—neither one of them had been disillusioned enough not to see that. He swiped another bottle from his fridge and leaned on the island that separated the two spaces.
Arabella was a lot of things to a lot of people, but she’d never lied to him about a job before. Lied about her feelings and what she saw for their future, yes. Work? No. Yet distrust nagged at him.
She appeared in front of him in a fitted red pants romper and damn near made him jump. “I see you still move like a cat.” He glanced at her feet. “Even in heels.”
“Helps with the job.” She took the beer out of his hand and sipped it.
He blew out a sigh. “I’m ready to listen. Tell me what you know.” He had options—he could send a message back of his own that it wasn’t worth the trouble to mess with him. Darek and Felix had gone their separate ways years ago, and bygones should stay in the past.
“I’ve told you everything.” Her right eye stayed steady.
“That’s it? He’s gunning for me and probably close to being at my doorstep, and that’s all you’ve got?”
“Yep.” The “p” popped off her lips, and their plumpness stole his glance.
“You don’t know how many there are or whose guys he hired?”
“Nope.” This time her eyes flicked to his lips.
Well, fuck me running then, ’cause I need more to go off of than “they’re coming.” Maybe she had shown up only to warn him and leave. With her standing squarely in his personal space, it was hard to think.
“If this fucktard had listened to me five years ago, he could’ve saved his money.”
“Yep.” The sides of her eyes crinkled with satisfaction. She was fucking enjoying this.
If he could back away from her, he would. As it was, he was going to have to physically move her to escape her trap.
“Is that all you’re going to say now? One word answers?” There was a time and place for one word answers, like when asked “do you want fries with that?” but elaboration was required when you brought someone bad news and said you were just trying to help out. Helping required words.
He probably had his own set of tells that she was well versed in. No doubt she was pushing his buttons on purpose.
She set the bottle down behind him, leaning close enough for him to get another strong whiff of warm amber salted with flowers, and skimmed his forearm with her fingertips on her retreat. The places she touched burned—the heat lit into him like only she had the power to do.
She searched his eyes, her hard shell disappearing. “Kiss me,” she whispered.
His brows rose. Muscle memory egged him to comply. After the last time they’d spent together, he’d never guess in a million years she’d be standing in his apartment asking for a kiss. Attraction between them had never been simple.
When he didn’t move, she didn’t repeat herself, but let her I-want-you gaze do the talking. She rocked to her tiptoes and pressed her full lips against his. She kissed him again, rubbing her body against his chest, groin, and thighs as she slid her hands around his sides. He gave in, massaging his tongue into her mouth, holding her cheeks in his palms. Deep down, no matter their history, he always wanted their bodies intertwined—and he knew she shared his agony.
To recap how his night was going: He had a band of mercenaries on their way to kill him and his devious wife was kissing him in his kitchen. Fan-fucking-tastic.
• • •
Arabella Nox soaked in the feel of Felix’s edges and planes against her body. Her palms wrapped around his thick neck, and her fingertips grazed the stubble on his head. She drank in his salty, woodsy scent. With her eyes closed, she willed time to stop—she had to remember how his embrace felt, how his hands grasped and rubbed her sides, hips, and ass. The thrills that consumed all of her nerve endings every time they were close were better than adrenaline or a manmade drug.
She knew what she was doing was wrong and that he might not forgive her this time for her deception—the thrills that she’d once craved more than air now also made her want to cry. Especially when she knew this time there wasn’t going to be a next time.
There had never been a guaranteed next time for them anyway. They loved like crazy, fought like they had nothing to lose, and ran from each other like they might burn if they stayed any longer.
The funny thing was, when she’d first met Felix, she’d never expected to leave his side again—but the world twisted, and pretty soon they were on opposite sides.
She captured his bottom lip and gently bit down as he reached for the front of her pants. There was no button or zipper to undo on her red romper, though.
She had to walk away. Her new plan depended on it.
Yet, instead of leaving, she relaxed into him, opening her mouth to his and pressing her hands around his jaw.
She wanted him.
She’d crawled naked into his bed to relate to him in the best way she knew how, and to get up the courage to tell him why she was really here. She’d desperately wanted to drop her usual guise and come at him straight with the information, but he’d been in no mood to hear her plight. She chickened out.
But she’d be lying if she said a part of her didn’t want him to take her up on her clear offer of pleasure. Right now, all of her was mad that he hadn’t. If he had fallen into bed with her, if they had made love and then slept in each other’s arms, then she could’ve come clean. Maybe she would’ve had the courage to tell him what was going on after all. Maybe he’d have wanted to save her life on his own instead of being tricked
into it.
But now she had to throw him off kilter, plant thoughts in his head, to get him on her side.
This is for the best. You’re doing what needs to be done. She readied her mind to walk away, steadied herself so no lust or disappointment would show through as she backed away, and slid her hands down to his hard pecs. “Always a pleasure, Felix.”
His eyelids were low with desire. So sexy. She stifled a moan because, ohhh, the man in front of her made her panties wet. She could stay and have sexy-time fun. Her meeting wasn’t for a little while. But she’d already set up the lie. If she took it back now, he surely wouldn’t trust her.
“Nox.” He nodded as his cool blue eyes hardened.
That one little word was a mood killer every time. Her last name was reserved for when they were in the field and he meant business. He didn’t usually use it when they were alone. The blissful bubble they’d been in for a few moments officially popped.
He was always the hardest to walk away from. But she had to—when he found out the real reason she’d returned, he wasn’t going to be happy, and she didn’t need extra emotions complicating the matter. All she needed was his help. His body would have to wait.
She gave a little, sultry smile that made most men putty in her hands, pivoted on her heels, and added an extra swing to her hips as she walked out his front door and into the parking lot. He was still watching; she’d bet her life on it. She was betting her life on it.
He must’ve had one hell of a night not to notice the black sedan and the driver who had brought her here.
As the car rolled past his living room, she could see Felix’s tank-like shadow, hands on hips, probably cussing her out. She gritted her teeth at what she’d just done. There was no one after Felix. Not directly. There was, however, someone after her. And if she didn’t get to Darek first, it would be only a matter of time before he did go after Felix. None of those scenarios were pleasant.
Hearts Are Wild Page 59