by Sabrina York
It had been. “Yeah. It was okay.”
He growled at her, something playful and heartbreaking, because it was a glimpse of the boy he’d once been. “Do you want me to give you something to remember?”
She cocked her head to the side. “Like what?”
“A spanking sounds pretty good right now.”
A thrill shot through her at the thought, but she merely smiled. “I’d like to see you try, Hot Rod.”
Clearly this intrigued him. “Would you?”
She lifted the hem of her jeans, exposing her KA-BAR and reminding him she was hardly a simpering maiden. “I’ve gutted a man for less.”
She didn’t expect his rolling laughter. But then, maybe she did.
They both knew the score here. Neither of them was a romantic at heart.
“So…” he said, settling that penetrating gaze on her once more. “What do we do about this?”
“What?”
“Where do we go from here?”
Shit. Was he really asking what she thought he was asking? She firmed her jaw and adopted a nonchalant mien. “We’re making our way to Salvation, I recall.”
He frowned. “I’m not talking about the mission. I’m talking about us.”
Us? A blade lanced her heart. “There is no us.”
He waved at the spot where they’d joined. Twice. “Isn’t there? What was that?”
“Two horny people scratching an itch?”
She had no idea why he looked so wounded. “Is that all it was to you?”
No. No. Not hardly.
“Of course.” It cost her, but she managed a flippant tone.
He stilled. Studied her. For far too long.
“Don’t get me wrong. It was awesome.” She tossed in a touch of, like, a Valley girl cant, just to underscore her insouciance.
“I see.” He stood and began collecting their things. “We should go.”
Fuck. She hated the detachment in his voice. Even though this was what she wanted, what she’d been trying for.
Or had she been?
If she was being honest with herself, it wasn’t.
She didn’t want him to be remote and cold. She’d only wanted to put that wall between them so she could feel safe again…and maybe sting him with a barb. Give him a taste of his own medicine.
But now, she regretted it.
The gratification, ersatz as it was, wasn’t worth the cost.
But it was too late, wasn’t it? The words could not be unsaid. Beyond that, she needed the wall. Craved it. Barren and cold though it was on her side of it.
Without a word, because surely she would say something extremely stupid at this point—such as, I love you—she stood as well and prepared for the remainder of their hike.
That was the true horror here, wasn’t it?
She did still love him. Even though he’d broken her heart and left her alone in a hard world. Even though she still suffered the sting of his betrayal.
She loved this man, and she would love him until the day she died.
It eviscerated her that they could not be together—especially after that scorching tryst—but she didn’t see how such a thing could work. She was too damaged to succeed at anything as fragile as a happy ever after. And she didn’t think she could trust him—really trust him—again.
So there it was.
An afternoon of delight meant to sustain her for an eternity.
Hardly enough. But it would have to be. She could stretch it thin and make it last.
Although her soul rebelled at the thought.
“Ready?” he asked. His voice was bleak.
She shouldered the pack. “Yup.”
“I calculate about three hours to town, barring any major deviation.”
“Sounds good.” She shot one more look around their shelter, ostensibly checking for things left behind, but it was more than that. It was one last glimpse of what could have been if fate had not stepped between them and ripped them apart.
Two horny people scratching an itch.
Her words circled like buzzards in his head. Goddamn her.
How easily she had shattered his fragile hope.
For years, he’d searched for this. This feeling. This glory. This connection.
He’d never found it, not with any woman since Sam. Not until now. It had been an awakening, an epiphany, a redemption of sorts. He wanted to hold on to it. It was a visceral ache, a hunger, a need.
To her, it had been a casual fuck, a conflagration of hormones and adrenaline, an itch to scratch.
His fury fueled his pace as they lit out of the cave into the darkening night. She had to scramble to keep up with him, but he didn’t care.
And yeah, that was the heart of it. The crux of it.
He’d spent much of his life trying so hard not to care about anything, because a world without his Sam wasn’t worth his attention. He’d focused on his career, his job. He’d struggled to be the best goddamn SEAL, the best goddamn agent, the best goddam warrior he could be. It had become his everything. Filled his mind, his heart and his soul. Driven him.
But now he saw that for the illusion it was.
He’d just been killing time. Walking through each and every day, a wraith, an empty shell.
For ten years, he’d been nothing more than a machine following his program.
But now…now he’d glimpsed a reality, a life that was warm and fertile and that fed his soul.
Now, he realized how utterly bereft his existence was.
Now, he needed more.
Two horny people scratching an itch.
He couldn’t believe she felt that way. How could she, when he’d been so certain, so convinced, that this had been no less than transformative for them both?
He shot a look at her beneath his lashes and studied her expression as they made their way over the rocky landscape. Her features were tight, hard, determined.
Something flickered in his chest. If she truly were apathetic about what had happened, she would not seem so defiant, would she?
Judging from her cries, her passion, her desperation during their lovemaking, he knew he’d reached her core. He’d touched her soul and she’d touched his. At least she could admit that.
But she hadn’t.
No. Her response had been the immediate erection of her battlements—battlements he’d taken down stone by stone. He hated to see that wall go back up, but a part of him acknowledged it was indicative of something.
One didn’t need such protection if one didn’t feel threatened. And one didn’t feel threatened unless one felt at risk of losing something.
That in itself proved her indifference a lie.
Matt set his teeth and increased his pace, almost to a jog.
Yeah. He was going to get her to safety, and then he was going to seduce her again.
He was going to make her admit the truth. That she felt this connection as deeply as he did.
He would make her admit it. Or die in the attempt.
They arrived on the outskirts of Salvation in record time, probably because Matt set a grueling pace. It had taken everything in Sam to keep up. Even now, her lungs ached.
She could hardly blame him for wanting this over. She wanted it over too.
Well, part of her did.
As they crested the rise and the lights of the tiny township came into view, she battled with relief and misery. Soon they would be safe. Soon they would be parted.
Matt pulled out a pair of binoculars and scanned the town. “There’s a motel, there.” He pointed to the far end of town. “We should head for that.”
“A motel?” Jesus God. She couldn’t bear spending time with him in a room with a bed.
As though he’d read her mind, he shot her a caustic glance. “They’ll have a phone. We can call in the cavalry.”
“Cooper will have thought of that.”
“Yeah. Let’s keep that in mind.” He studied the layout. “We can approach under that cover there,
then circle around and come in on the back side.”
“Right.” That was her thought too.
“Check your ammo.”
In concert, they both pulled out their weapons, checked the clips and then slapped them back in. “Fully loaded,” she said.
“Same here.” He glanced at her. “You ready?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be.”
“Okay.” His lips quirked up, just a tad. “Let’s do this thing.”
They moved slowly through the brush toward the town. Every now and then, Matt would lift his fist and they’d stop so he could scan the shadows. It was a good thing it was night. If they’d arrived in the daylight, they would have been in full view. Still, they didn’t know if Cooper had night-vision glasses—he very well could have—in which case they would be walking into a trap.
But they had no other option.
They needed to get to a phone.
The closer they came to the motel—a rundown remnant from a more prosperous era, dubiously named the OK Corral—the more slowly they moved.
They reached the back of the structure with no incident and edged into the shadows.
“I’ll go,” Matt said as they sidled up to the office, flattening themselves against the stucco wall.
Sam glared at him. “I’ll go.”
He huffed a sigh. “I can’t let you walk out into the open.”
“I can’t let you walk out into the open.”
“I’m supposed to be protecting you, Vixen.”
For some reason, his use of her fake name grated on her nerves. Just once she wanted him to call her Sam. Just once. “And I’m supposed to be protecting you.” She set her chin and they glared at each other with matching resolve.
He broke first. “How about we see if there is a rear entrance? And go in together?”
She narrowed her eyes, searching for a hint of condescension. There was none. Not a whiff of it. “All right.” A grumble.
Together they slipped around to the back and, to Sam’s delight, she spotted a service door. She let Matt go first, but only because he seemed to want to and she didn’t want to start an argument in the middle of an already tense moment. She put her energies into covering their rear, watching for any movement in the scrub around the motel. If Cooper was out there, he could pick them off one at a time.
Her heart thrummed with tension and—if she was being honest—a hint of excitement. She was a risk taker at her core and she loved this. The screen door squeaked as Matt opened it and he froze. They both waited, hearts pounding, for any response. When there was none, he nodded and ushered her in. The hallway was shadowed and illuminated only by the neon lights coming in from the flickering sign out front.
With his weapon held up before him, Matt scuttled to the corner and peeked around, into the office, from which a rumbling snore arose. And then, to her horror, he bent low and slipped out of sight.
What the hell was he doing? her mind wailed. If the clerk awoke, they’d be caught. If Cooper was watching the office, they’d be spotted. If—
Oh thank God. Her heart started thudding again as Matt reappeared.
She didn’t want to explore the panic she’d felt as he’d slipped from view. As though the world was only right when she could see him. Instead, she focused on her annoyance. When he returned to her, she smacked him. “What do you think you’re doing?” she snarled, in a hissed whisper.
He lifted a finger to his lips and then held something up. It dangled there and caught the light. A key.
Without a word, he led the way to a unit on the back side of the hotel. He glanced around before he slipped the key into the lock, and then opened the door, quickly ushering her in.
He closed the curtains before he switched on the light. When he turned to her, he froze.
Probably turned to ice by the force of her frigid glare. “What the hell were you thinking, going into that office without backup?”
“I was thinking, the clerk was sleeping.”
“He could have woken up.”
“He didn’t.”
“He could have.”
“He didn’t.”
She threw up her hands in exasperation. “I swear to God, Devereaux. You’re going to be the death of me.”
Why he grinned, some cocky smirk, she had no clue. “I also thought it would be nice to have a place to hole up while we wait for Grey.” He lifted a finger. “And on that note…” He picked up the phone and punched in a sequence of numbers.
Though she was tempted to rail at him, Sam remained silent so she could hear both sides of the conversation. To do so, she had to step closer to him, which was a trial. Because she wanted to smack him and kiss him and…well, more. She curled her hands into fists so she wouldn’t do anything stupid like touch him, and focused.
The phone rang once before it was picked up on the other end. “Yes?” A dark voice, tense and clipped.
“It was Cooper.” No preamble. “He killed Ace.”
“Shit. Okay.”
“Vixen and I are requesting an extraction.”
“Where are you?”
“At the OK Corral.”
Silence. “Are you serious?”
“Deadly. Coop’s still out there, armed and dangerous, so be advised.”
“Right. When you didn’t check in, I sent a team to the safe house. I’ll let them know where you are. About an hour?”
Matt glanced at Sam, though she didn’t know why. He hardly needed her concurrence. Still, she nodded.
“Sounds good.”
“I’ll let Jon know.”
“Thanks.” Matt sighed and hung up the phone. He scrubbed his face with his palm. “Did you get all that?”
“Yeah.”
“We got about an hour.” He glanced at the bathroom. “Maybe you should take a shower.”
Sam frowned. A shower sounded awesome. “I’d better wait. If Coop spotted us, we could have company.”
“True.” He turned off the light and parted the curtains with a finger, peering out into the night. They both knew this wasn’t over yet. And wouldn’t be until Cooper was caught.
She threw herself into a chair facing the door, with her weapon on her lap.
This was going to be the longest hour of her life.
Chapter Nine
Tension thrummed through him as they waited for backup to arrive. Not just because Cooper was out there and gunning for them both and not just because he was worried about her safety—though he was.
But because something had gone wrong between them.
Matt ached to fix it. To go back to where they’d been, in complete and utter concert, body and soul.
He glanced at her through the shadows. He knew he shouldn’t say it, but he couldn’t stop the words. “Did you mean what you said?”
She flicked a look at him; her eyes glimmered in the darkness. “What did I say?”
Irritation bubbled through him, an acidic grumble in his gut. “About scratching an itch? And give me the truth, Vixen. I deserve that much at least.”
She didn’t respond for a long time. Each breath in the interim was an agony. When she finally answered, it was nearly too soft for him to catch. “No.”
“No?” He stared at her. “Did you say no?”
She sighed. “I said no.”
“So it wasn’t just a fling?”
“I didn’t say that.” Her voice was far too sharp. In a methinks the lady doth protest too much kind of way.
“But it was spectacular.” He held his breath.
“It was…fairly spectacular.”
Okay. He could live with that. He tried to hide his smile, then remembered it was too dark for her to make it out. Silence settled around them once more, but he could hear her shifting in her seat.
“Who hurt you?” he asked. The question hovered there in the ether. He felt her shock radiate the room.
“What?”
“Someone hurt you. That’s why you’re so gun-shy.”
“I
’m not gun-shy.” She cocked her SIG, to prove a point, perhaps.
He chuckled. “You can’t fool me. I see through your façade, Vixen.” And yeah, he’d love to know her real name, because that sure as shit wasn’t it.
Instead of contradicting him, she murmured, “We all have our façades, Hot Rod.”
“And what is this animosity you have for Hot Rods? Where does that come from?”
She made a sound, like a growl. “My dad loved them.”
Shit. Not what he’d expected to hear. “Your dad? Was he the one who caused all this resentment?”
“What is this, a therapy session? Mind your own business.”
“I want to know. What did he do that pissed you off so much? Did he hurt you? Abuse you? Ignore you?”
“He left me. All right? He left me. He went off to war and didn’t come back.”
Ah.
“I’m…sorry.”
She laughed, though there was no real amusement in it. “Not as sorry as I was. Mom fell apart. Crumbled. Our entire life went to shit.”
“I’m—”
“Don’t say you’re sorry again.” There was a tremor in her voice, one that indicated she was close to tears. “Or I won’t tell you the rest.”
“Okay.” He wanted to hear the rest. Needed to.
“Then there was Jimmy. My mom’s new boyfriend.”
“Jimmy? Classy name.”
“For a classy guy.” Sarcasm, like a thick cloud, choked the room.
“And he hurt you too?”
“You could say that.” A bleakness joined the cynicism and they danced in the dismal silence. “And then…there was the worst one. The worst betrayal of all.”
“Who was he?” He almost didn’t ask, but he had to know.
“The man I loved.”
Ah. A stake in the heart.
“When things got bad, unbearable with Jimmy, I turned to him for help.”
“And?”
“And he ignored me.”
His heart ached for her. Yeah, three men pounding down her spirit would cause a woman to build walls. To resist anything tender and fine.
“Apathy is the worst, I think,” she said, almost musingly. “Worse than anger or rage or desertion.”
It ripped him apart that she’d known even one of those. Still, that was all in the past. If one could not turn the page on it, the past became a prison.