Hot For His Hostage

by Angel Payne

“No shit.”

  Her expression softened. She was an insightful woman, and obviously honed in on his gritted undertone. “You’re conflicted about being involved with him, aren’t you?”

  He took a deep breath. Here went nothing. Or perhaps everything. But knowing the nursing station had only a video surveillance monitor, which Justine had been using for the latest episode of Dance Moms the last time he checked, this could be his only chance for full disclosure with Zoe.

  “He’s a monster, a murderer, and a world-class cocksucker on several other levels,” he professed. “And as long as I’m dropping your jaw, I know exactly how you know that. I know about how Stock played the boys in the First Special Forces Group as a double agent, setting the trap for them that included Ethan Archer and Ava Chestain—your sister. And I know how the bastard and his buddies bribed Archer to dance to their tune by almost unleashing a thousand bees on your sister, making certain her epi pen for her allergy to them was nowhere nearby.”

  “Mierda.” The word quivered as much as her fingers, still pressed between his hand and his chest. Shay tightened his hold, hoping she felt how she made his heart hammer.

  “I understand now why you clocked him,” he murmured. “Though I’ve been wanting to do the same thing for months, so now I’m jealous as fuck.”

  She drew her hand back. He let her, not giving her a dispute. The bafflement on her face explained a lot. He’d just thrown some wild revelations at her, and the biggest was yet to come.

  “Why?” she blurted at last. “Why do you know all this? How do you know all this?”

  Shay paused to make sure he regulated every note of his reply. “Read it while you were sleeping. In the final mission report.”

  She arched sarcastic brows. “‘Final mission report,’ huh? Which you—what—conveniently pulled off the internet between checking your Facebook and watching videos of masturbating cats?”

  He couldn’t help quirking his lips. “As intriguing as the cats sound, I used a simpler firewall.”

  Her brows descended. “Firewall? How? Why?”

  “Well, everyone needs a good cover story, especially reading detailed shit off a classified mission report.”

  She nodded with mock understanding. “Sure. The one you obtained with your magical, ultra-high security clearance, right?”

  He took another long breath. Her suspicion pegged right at the center of his expectations, justifying his decision to come clean now. He desperately hoped she saw enough of his honesty—as well as the connection, compassion, and care he still had for her—to know he was being real with her. “I know it sounds crazy. But I don’t have to worry about clearance, Zoe.”

  She straightened a little. Cocked her head to regard him carefully again, her eyes glinting as if she’d already crayoned the outlines for this picture and now waited for help on coloring in the shapes. “How?”

  “Because I’m Special Forces, too.”

  Fuck, it felt good to say it again. Yeah. I am one of the good guys. Part of him even wondered if she’d been clever enough to piece it all together, though that possibility worried him. Zoe was one of the most perceptive people he’d met, but if she could sniff out his cover, there was a chance one of Cameron’s guys would, too.

  Needless to say, her shocked blinks came as reassuring signs. And more than sexy triggers. “What? Are you joking?”

  He leaned more closely over her. At the same time, he kicked his voice down a couple of decibels. It was a decent price to pay for the gift of speaking the truth about himself for the first time in six months.

  “My name isn’t Shane Burnett. I’m not really a random businessman who uses LAX as my second home, and I usually don’t get to sit around the bar there—or the bar anywhere—waiting for my dream woman to appear.” He warmed his tone and stared deeper into her eyes, ensuring she didn’t harbor a single doubt about the subject of his assertion. “My real name is Sergeant Shay Bommer. I proudly serve with the US Army’s Seventh Special Forces Group—except for the last six months, in which I’ve been deep undercover with Stock and his shitheads, on voluntary ‘loan’ to the CIA.”

  “The CIA!”

  He flattened a finger over her lips to quash her blurt. Nevertheless, she repeated it in a harsh whisper.

  He answered her with a short nod. “In reality, the spooks actually have exclusive SFG battalions assigned for their use on missions that require our soldiers’ training in things like unconventional warfare and negotiation tactics,” he explained. “But this inroad to Stock happened as a result of intel I brought to them, based on digging I’d been doing on my own.”

  Her features pursed with skepticism again. He really wished it didn’t make her so damn beguiling. “Digging?” she quipped. “What, in your ‘secret spare time’ on a few missions?”

  He laughed on top of a grunt. “There’s more of it than you think. And this particular search…was important to me.”

  It shouldn’t have surprised him that she picked up on the subtle emotion that snuck into his voice, causing her to press her hand over his. Shouldn’t have but it did—pleasantly so. “Why?” she followed up.

  Shay lifted her hand and twined his fingers through hers. She’d insisted on the truth from him. He’d vowed she’d always get it now, no matter how difficult the information. But in this instance, he was damn glad he’d made that promise—and finally had someone he no longer had to hide the words from.

  “Because, after eighteen years, I think I’ve finally found where Cameron Stock has been hiding my mother.”

  Chapter Ten

  Zoe didn’t say anything for a long moment. She couldn’t.

  Every word he spoke was true. She saw it in every tormented facet of his gaze, felt it in every inch of pressure from his touch.

  Which opened the floodgates on a new skirmish in her own soul. Mierda. She’d barely learned the man’s name—which she’d learned wasn’t his name—before stripping and sleeping with him last night! No. That was no ordinary we’re-stuck-here-so-let’s-fuck-here little appointment. She’d opened herself to him, exposed something she’d sworn never to show anyone again. Her submissive soul and all the vulnerability that went with it.

  But who the hell had she entrusted herself to? Shane or Shay? Who the hell had shown up in that hotel room last night to rule her body with such knowing dominance, to capture her soul with such perfect care? Had she given herself to a man that never truly existed? And what did her instant confidence in him last night reflect about her now? Had she become the blind-trust idiot she’d always cautioned Ava from turning into?

  Unbelievably, the chaos of her heart yielded an answer.

  Perhaps the man’s name hadn’t been real last night. Perhaps the clothes on his muscled back weren’t his own, and the ID in his pocket was forged. But none of those things could cancel out what was the truth: the connection her senses had twined with his. The bridge of energy between their gazes. The electricity, sweet yet sizzling, in every touch they shared. The flawless fulfillment of welcoming his body into hers. The exquisite knowledge of surrendering everything to him.

  Bridges. Sparks. Fulfillment. Surrender.

  Everything she’d sought for months with Bryce—and found in an hour with Shay.

  So yeah, she believed him.

  And right away, knew it was one of the best decisions she’d made in a very long while.

  But believing him and comprehending him were two different things, actions much farther apart than she thought.

  He hadn’t seen his mom for eighteen years. That was only two more than her, but knowing one’s mother was really dead, as opposed to knowing she still lived yet never getting to be with her…

  To her confusion, tears sprang again. Because of him. For him.

  Damn him.

  Connection or not, he’d deceived her on a bunch of levels. And while she recognized his reasons for it, that didn’t justify letting him back down the mine shaft of her soul now. The man’s life was a mess. He’d
helped turn hers into one, too. But she had to believe this ordeal would be over soon—and once life was back to a semblance of normal, she didn’t need any extra illusions about him hanging out, mucking her judgment. It was best to let him clear the air now, since he was clearly so willing. It would be good for them both. Surely hearing every one of his dirty details would help her mental pickax about him, breaking free some much-needed chunks of clarity.

  “Tell me.” She repeated her command of five minutes ago, gazing up to emphasize the follow-up hadn’t changed. And spare the damn sugar.

  Shane—Shay—curled his other hand around hers. In the fervency of his hold, she comprehended so much. She felt the miles and months of sacrifice he’d endured before this moment, so much more than the single-day ordeal she’d been through.

  In that wonderful second, they were connected again.

  “It’s probably best to start at the beginning.” He uttered it like an apology. She smiled back.

  “I don’t scare that easily, Sergeant Shay Bommer.” She lifted her arm, dragging her IV and monitor lines, too. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Okay, then. Ready or not…” He drew in a deep, hard breath. “It begins with my mom and dad. They met when she was conducting some cutting-edge projects at the Naval Research Lab in DC. He was a base guard, assigned to walk her home every night. They both liked classic movies, going to the zoo, and wishing for a simpler life. Over the course of her year assignment there, they fell in love. I always knew that, always felt that soul connection they had, but as the years went by, it was clear that Mom’s brain needed a lot more feeding than what my dad, my brother, and I could provide, in the middle of a tiny town in Idaho. She started going into Boise on Saturdays, taking long trips to the library, attending scientific lectures at the university…” He pressed his fingers a little tighter around hers. “It made Dad tense. Maybe a little more than tense. Saturdays started to be his drinking days.”

  Zoe sighed and pulled his hands closer to her heart. “That doesn’t sound like a fun weekend.”

  He attempted a shrug. “He always sobered up before she got back home but after a while, Tait and I started making excuses to be gone on Saturdays.”

  Damn. She got weepy again. After quickly palming her cheeks, she rasped, “Dios. Sorry.”

  “Don’t be.” He quirked up one side of his mouth while thumbing away the tears at the corner of hers.

  “Go on before I decide to really like the way you said that, and end up mauling you instead of listening to you.”

  He let the other side curl up, distinctly wicked this time. “Don’t you mean letting me maul you?”

  “I stand corrected.” She tried to filter out her creamy undertone but the feat was impossible when his eyes warmed like buttered rum. That magic thickened as they held each other’s gaze, letting their eyes communicate what they yearned their bodies to be doing. She forced the fantasy away before finally prodding, “Move on, Sergeant, before Justine comes tearing back in here because my monitors are going Gagnam on her.”

  He groaned. “Right. On to the relevant shit, as my brother would say.”

  She brushed away a bunch of hair that had fallen into his eyes. “How long did the awkward Saturdays go on for?”

  “Little over a year.” Painful shadows appeared in his gaze but he blinked them away. “By that time, I was just past eight years old and Tait was waiting to turn ten. That was when things got interesting.”

  She frowned. “They weren’t already?”

  “I’m just getting started, remember? One day, Mom received a call—a summons, really—to go to Washington. The Pentagon, to be exact.”

  “Whoa.”

  “Right?” He grinned wider. “Tait and I thought it was hot shit, at least.”

  She couldn’t help tossing in half a giggle. “How long was she there?”

  “A long time. Well, at least to us. About two weeks. But man, when she got home, we wondered if she hadn’t gone to some miracle spa, instead. Our mother was a different woman.”

  She liked the little tug at one side of his mouth, and felt herself emulating it. “How so?”

  “She had this new…light. I know it sounds corny, but it’s true. She was excited all the time. Really happy.” His grin softened into a wistful half-smile. “Things changed fast after that. Really fast.”

  “How so?”

  “By the following week, there were workmen all over our backyard. They converted the old tool barn into a bio-lab for Mom’s use.”

  “You’re right.” Zoe blinked a couple of times. “That’s fast.”

  “No shit.” A soft laugh touched his lips now. She didn’t complain about having to watch it. She’d never get tired of gazing at his mouth, just as she’d never forget what it felt like when taking over hers… “Of course, Tait and I thought it was the hugest adventure ever, and—what?”

  His question came as she gave in to a careful frown. “Tait,” she repeated. “Tait…Bommer.” Amazement zinged through her. “Caramba. Your brother’s in the same battalion with Ethan Archer, my sister’s fiancé.”

  “Bingo,” he replied, “at least until last July. Tait’s taken an assignment with a new team.”

  “You don’t look like a proud little brother about that.” Even a blind person would’ve noticed the about-face of his demeanor.

  “Oh, I’m proud as hell. He’s damn good at his job. Just wish that detail didn’t include hunting me.”

  “So he doesn’t know you’re undercover.”

  “Nobody does outside the CIA assets I’ve been working with—and now you.”

  Zoe forced down a long breath to calm her careening pulse. Even without the purposeful regard he gave her, the meaning of his statement wouldn’t have been lost. And the honor. He was entrusting her with his most valuable secrets. The keys to his kingdom.

  His life.

  “So I take it that he believes what a lot of the world does now? That you’ve pulled a Judas and taken up with the enemy?”

  “Worse,” he returned. “The enemy who helped kill the woman he loved. But T’s always had a weak spot for drama. The week the G-boys took over our tool shed, Tait was convinced they were enlisting Mom to design a new bomb inside.”

  “Was she?” After the insane twists her life had taken in the last twenty-four hours, Zoe would believe just about anything short of aliens from cheese planets. And perhaps even that, given the setting for this stolen moment.

  “Wrong field. Mom was a bio-scientist, not a chemical or explosive engineer. Didn’t matter to Tait, no matter how many times she told him. Even after she punished him for trying to float the story at Sunday School, he kept it alive on the regular school playground, turning us both into mini celebrities for a while.” He attempted another laugh but didn’t get very far. “It helped a little, I guess. Distracted us from the tension that was really going down at home.”

  Zoe sighed in empathy. “Sounds like things weren’t going great.”

  “They weren’t,” he replied. “The lab was the beginning of the end. To get even more cliché, it was the best of times and the worst of times. On one hand, we’d never had it so good financially. Whatever Mom was doing, the feds considered it worthy. We had two new cars, repairs to the house, a new in-ground pool, all the video game shit we could ever want or ask for…not that we went home to enjoy it much, after Dad decided every day was Saturday.”

  “Shit,” Zoe mumbled. “Really?”

  His affirming nod was tight. “At least he could buy the good stuff, right? Pickling one’s liver on a daily basis is so much easier with high-end hooch.”

  “But it wasn’t like your mom could tell the feds to take a flying leap, either. They clearly needed her help, and it was important.”

  Shay stunned her by suddenly pulling his focus. His gaze lost its reminiscent haze and beamed into her like a golden laser. “You really are all about being a good girl, aren’t you?”

  She straightened against the pillows,
arching her brows. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”

  “Not a goddamn thing, beautiful.”

  So much for indignation. Getting hit by a head-to-toe blush wasn’t the turn Zoe envisioned for the conversation but it was difficult not to enjoy the heat of his stare. Except for Papi, nobody had ever acknowledged her “responsibility fetish” as a good thing. It felt nice. Better than nice.

  “So what happened then?” she prompted. “Things were good but not so good. Your mom was building a bomb in the garage—”

  “Yeah.” He laughed it out, though his mouth was the only thing carrying the ball on the sentiment. “Damn. She was a lot like you, Zoe, at least what I can remember of her. She was smart, funny…she always smelled good, too, like Juicy Fruit and sunshine…and she was so, so beautiful.” The misty overlay returned to his eyes. “Dad never stopped telling her that, either. Even when things got weird, he told her how beautiful she was.”

  The middle of her chest burst into butterflies as his smile finally climbed to his eyes. “Amor mágico,” she murmured. “Sí?”

  Shay gave the stud in her nose a gentle tap. “Sí.”

  “What did she call him?”

  “Her handsome stud.” He shrugged as she giggled. “Yeah, it was the corniest of the corn fests. T and I gave them shit for it once we understood the mush, but they didn’t stop. He loved her despite the work demands, and she loved him despite the booze.” His lips contorted for a second. “That was why so much didn’t make sense to me, when I looked back and tried to put it all together. I mean, after Homer started hanging out with us, and—”

  “Whoa. Pause button. Ummm…Homer?”

  “Sorry,” he muttered. “Sprinting ahead of the pack, huh?”

  “A little.” She squeezed his hand in reassurance. “Who was Homer? A ‘friend’ from DC?”

  “You could say that.” A discomfited air began to roll off of him. “The suits were always sending specialists, a new round every week. It was a revolving door of government geeks. But one of them stayed longer than just a week.”

  “Homer.”