Emotions he didn’t care to dissect intensified with every touch. His temperature had risen so high he couldn’t help pressing chest to chest to get as close to her possible.
They wrapped around each other and kissed again with tongues dancing and hands groping at bared body parts. Each time she shifted, Dane moved the ice to a new location on her body. Red marked each iced area. The cold had no effect on him, as his body heat overtook all other sensations. Somehow she managed to pull one hand free and invade his boxers, providing him with the most sensual massage he’d ever received. Pushing the material down his legs, she didn’t beg, she demanded him inside her. She assisted with the condom, letting her fingers roam across every sensitive inch of him. He moved his body over hers. Once he had her, how could he ever let her go? His need for her seemed endless.
He pressed into her and was met by a moist, welcoming thrust. His phone rang in the background, but Dane ignored it. They continued to duel hip to hip, force against force, need against need. He drove into her while she kissed his shoulders and made raspy demands for even more pressure, more friction, more heat.
Someone banged on the door.
“Open up, O’Brien.” Simon? What the hell did he want?
“Don’t stop. Not for anything,” Eve cried out. The emotions, the heat, the connection, swirled through them. He sped up. Her muscles tightened around him.
The banging on the door intensified, but Dane ignored the bastard in the hall and focused on Eve’s lust-filled eyes.
His urgency rose along with the ecstasy in her expression. Those sexy lips opened in a silent scream, her breasts arched toward him, and her body completely surrendered. He pushed into her, deeper.
And then the door crashed open.
With a frustrated rage, Dane separated from Eve and watched Simon thunder into his apartment. The asshole couldn’t wait two minutes?
Dane’s breathing was hard and his erection still stood tall, a few seconds short of satisfaction. He watched Eve haul ass to her bedroom. Her shirt and boots left behind on the floor. Her limp wasn’t too pronounced. The ankle would be fine, but Dane wouldn’t be.
“Seriously? You felt the need to break down my door at this exact moment? Did you follow me from your house? You are one sick son of a bitch.”
“My mother was a saint. You, on the other hand, deserve to be castrated for messing with my business.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Your new friend in Columbia wasn’t pleased that we decided against using his property and paying him for the privilege. He located one of my men in Bogotá and tried to publicly execute him. I have better fighters than he does, so my man is alive, his is dead. Juan Carlos needs to back off my operation, and I’m holding you responsible for making sure it happens.”
“Shit. I didn’t realize just how far he’d go for a dollar.” And if he’d attack Simon’s men, what would he do to Trista, aka Eve ? Or Jenny?
“With the time difference, I want to make sure this is done before the sun falls in that asshole’s section of the world.” Simon poured two glasses of whisky, which meant he was preparing for a long night trying to extricate them both from the mess in Columbia.
Dane should first check on Eve, but she probably preferred to be alone after Simon’s invasion. Instead, he put on his boxers, grabbed a glass from Simon, and took a long calming drink.
The shower in Eve’s room turned on. So much for his night ending well. He walked to his bedroom to dress. He needed a shower as well. A very cold one.
Chapter Seven
Eve revised her opinion of Simon. He wasn’t some mysterious alpha dude with a gorgeous wife. Nope, he was a jerk. Period. Nothing in the entire world could be so important that he needed to break up a perfect evening with Dane. Jerk.
The next morning, she found Simon asleep on the couch. The bottle of whisky was empty and turned on its side. The room had the distinct scent of Jack Daniels. Dane had probably moved himself to his bedroom, a location she would have been, too, if Simon hadn’t interrupted them. Careful to avoid waking anyone, she limped into the kitchen and poured herself some water. She also made a new bag of ice for her ankle, which was feeling much better.
She headed back toward her bedroom, but tripped over her own boot. The water in her glass and the ice went flying directly at Simon. Shit. Frosty blue eyes sprung open when the tsunami of water rained down on Simon’s head, and the bag of ice thunked against his chest. Before the last drop had landed, she was on her back on the floor, the glass was broken against the wall, and Simon was holding her down.
“What the hell?” he hollered. His expression softened when he focused on her face. “Damn. Are you…”
She didn’t hear the rest, because in a flash and a thud, Simon was flying across the room away from her. Dane soared through the air after him, a deep thunderous roar coming from his lungs. The two men crashed into the wall, but didn’t stop moving. Eve bounced up and moved to the other side of the couch to avoid either of them pummeling her by accident during their battle.
Dane could throw a great punch, but Simon blocked more than he received. They knocked over a Queen Anne chair and toppled an end table. The porcelain lamp on top of it broke into three pieces. Simon’s shirt shredded at some point, and he was fighting to remain standing. It didn’t work.
In under a minute, Dane had flipped Simon onto his stomach and held him down by twisting his arm over his head. Both men were breathing hard. Hot damn. Dane had the moves of a professional killer. She’d never have bet on him over Simon in hand-to-hand combat, yet he’d kicked his ass.
“You ever touch her again, so help me God, you’re a dead man.” His fist froze, a foot and a half from breaking Simon’s nose. He then slammed the fist into the floor and backed away.
Simon leaped to his feet and into a more defensive posture, still breathing hard. “I didn’t know it was her. I woke thinking I was being attacked.”
Dane glanced over at her and then at the smashed glass. “With fucking water, you moron. You let your guard down. Don’t take it out on Eve.”
Simon’s eyes softened. His tension seemed to mellow, perhaps when he noticed Eve’s position in the furthest point in the room from him. Dane also glanced back in her direction, wearing a frown and a bruised eye.
She left the living room more than a little shaken. Dane had fought for her. He’d tackled a guy tougher and bigger than himself and took him down, all for her. A grin appeared on her face. She shouldn’t be smiling, but how cool was that? He’d fought for her, thinking someone was harming her. And she loved him for it. And didn’t that just make this marriage all the more impossible.
When the door slammed several minutes later, Eve returned to the living room. Simon must have gone. Dane was holding a cloth over his eye with one hand and picking up the broken glass with the other.
“Leave it. I’ll clean up. It was my fault.” She picked up the largest section of the broken lamp. “I should have stayed in my room until he’d left.”
He dropped a few pieces of glass into the trash and walked over to her. The cloth wasn’t bloody, but the exposed part of his eyelid had turned black and blue. He examined her neck with a gentle touch that hid the violence and aggression she’d seen in him only moments before. The contrast twisted her perception of this man in front of her. No longer just a smart businessman, there was something darker inside him. Very dark.
His fingertips lingered at the base of her neck, but he made no further move to comfort her. “You’re okay?”
“I’m fine. Simon overreacted. It’s not a problem,” she insisted.
“It’s a huge problem. He could have hurt you…” His voice trailed off, and he brushed his hand through his hair and turned to pace the room. “And I could have done even worse. Someone could have been killed.”
“I don’t think Simon would have killed me.”
He paused and turned to her. A heavy shadow masked features that had appeared happy and ca
refree before this disaster. “I could have killed Simon. Damn it. You make me crazy.”
He shook his head and walked away, leaving a chill behind him. He remained hidden in his room for hours.
When he emerged, he announced that he needed some air and then left without waiting for her response. Was he mad at her? If he wasn’t, he sure wasn’t making her feel welcome.
Time alone in the apartment created feelings of alienation and abandonment. Familiar feelings, actually. She’d felt abandoned by her parents when the new sets of children arrived. And now her make-believe husband had abandoned her. She’d been alone and capable most of her life, so Dane’s inability to remain and talk out any issues at first didn’t bother her. The more she thought about their past few days together, however, the more his actions hurt. Apparently she didn’t mean anything to him except as a temporary female companion. And yet she’d started to feel more for him. Much more.
She dressed and went in search of a decent pub for fish and chips and a pint of beer. A block away she discovered the Royal Guard Tavern. A carved wooden sign welcomed her, and the windows were dressed with lace curtains. A perfect respite.
Before she finished opening the heavy wooden door, she spied Dane. The eyes that could steal a woman’s soul had a different victim in their sights. She was blond and giggly and built for one-night stands and a stripper pole. Emptiness drained Eve’s lungs, ripping away her ability to breathe. They weren’t married. Not really. They owed nothing to each other. So why did the view in front of her slash into her confidence and beat down her heart?
“Are you in or out? You’re blocking the door,” some college-aged kid said. He pushed her aside, and her shoulder slammed into the wall. More pain. Perfect.
Stinging with the pain of rejection and the pain in her arm, she turned to leave and caught Dane’s gaze on her. Those irresistible eyes seemed devoid of emotion, as though he was trying to block her out of his vision. That caused the knife in her heart to twist even more. She stared at him for a few seconds, waiting for something, even a mere acknowledgment of her existence. Instead he turned his focus back to his beer, away from her and back to the bimbo. How ironic. She didn’t want a man in her life, but losing her fictional husband shredded her sense of well-being.
She slammed the door behind her. The loud boom was the only sound she heard all the way back to her room.
When she woke in the morning, he was gone. His suitcase, his coat, his scent.
He’d left her a note, the considerate two-timing loser. He had to return to San Francisco. But he wasn’t two-timing her. Not really. They weren’t technically married. In fact, they weren’t even dating. Just two people stuck together under strange circumstances. Still, it would have been nice if he’d respected the sacred vows they’d never said to each other.
The air around London had grown colder, and the gray skies further depressed her. A huge hole dug into her stomach, making her want to fall on the floor and clutch her waist and sob. Loss hurt, even though she’d had no expectations of the person who had pierced her heart.
She dressed and pulled out her suitcase to pack. Toughen up. Their relationship didn’t matter. Dane didn’t matter. Time to move on and begin again.
…
Simon hated appearing less than perfect to Cassie, but he’d handled himself like an amateur. He had to tell her, or, God help him, Dane would inform her, and with a less than accurate description of the events of that morning.
Cassie sat at their kitchen table, her hair pulled back in a ponytail. Without makeup, she looked like a teenager—perfect skin, perfect blue eyes, and their perfect daughter pressing through her stomach and stretching Cassie’s white T-shirt. He’d give this woman anything, and all she’d ever asked for was honesty. At this point, he’d prefer handing over all of his personal wealth, his right arm, his kidney, and his life, if necessary. The truth sucked.
He whipped up a vegetable stir-fry for dinner. Her favorite. Asparagus, tomatoes, black olives, white beans, and green peas cooked with a spoonful of salsa and placed over wild grain rice. He should have told her as soon as he’d arrived, but his mortification kept him silent until he could think of a solution.
After he handed her the food and a large cup of tea, he confessed.
Cassie’s eyebrows shot up. “You threw her on the ground?”
Non-violence would always be Cassie’s modus operandi, although she had a killer instinct hidden under that hippie exterior.
“In my defense, I was sleeping off a bottle of whisky, and she poured water over my head. The combination made me lose it.”
“You need to think about retiring. You never make mistakes, and now you’re making them hourly. To begin with, never barge in on a couple of newlyweds. I’m surprised Dane didn’t shoot you.”
“He couldn’t reach his gun until Eve removed herself from under him.”
Her fork stopped partway to her lips. “Oh. My. God. She must be mortified.”
“I didn’t notice. I was focused on kicking Dane’s arse.”
“And then you attacked her?”
“The next morning. I wouldn’t have hurt her. My instincts are too good for that, besides Dane pulled me off her so fast I wouldn’t have had a chance to kill her even if I’d wanted to.”
Her fork remained hovering in front of her. “Dane knocked you off her? Wow. I wish I’d seen that.”
“Are you finished mocking me?”
She ate her meal in silence for a minute before laughing out loud. “You were lucky. Dane’s more of a murder first, ask questions later kind of guy. And all you received was a swollen jaw and a sore shoulder?” She touched the sore spot on his chin and let her finger remain on the bruise. Dear God, she was beautiful when she was concerned.
“He has a nice black eye.” Simon loved Dane’s ability to disarm a man in under a minute. The guy had no qualms about taking the tough shot, the one that risked everything but gained even more. It was the chief reason Simon wanted him to lead his operation in Central and South America. Someone would betray him once, Dane’s retaliation would be swift and brutal, and the rest of their clients would fall in line immediately.
“The problem with the black eye is you’ve destroyed his secret weapon.”
“Excuse me?”
“Admit it, he’s gorgeous, and he uses those looks to disarm his victims.”
“You think he’s handsome?” The son of a bitch had snogged Cassie in the past, and she’d never complained about it. Not really.
“Definitely, but you kiss better, and you’ll make a better father, a total pushover for the little guy.”
“Little girl.”
“We’ll see.” Cassie took a sip of her tea, her brain in genius mode, gears cranking, biting down on lips made for Simon alone. “He must really love her.”
“Love? Dane doesn’t do love. He does hot women who know when to back away.”
“You’re wrong. His gaze never left Eve all night at dinner. Not a hot and heavy gaze, more reverent. The way you look at me when you don’t think I’m paying attention.”
“I look at you because you turn me on. It’s strictly a sex thing.”
“Right.”
“I have proof he doesn’t love her.”
“What?”
“He’s on a plane bound for California as we speak.”
“He ran?”
“I did tell him to take care of the mess in Columbia in the next forty-eight hours or I’d have you hack into his bank accounts and freeze his assets.”
She smiled and brushed her fingers over his cheek. “I appreciate being used as your weapon of choice.”
“Angel, you are lethal in so many ways.”
“I still think he’s crazy about her.” She stroked her hand up his thigh until Simon caught it, one centimeter before she knocked out his concentration. She leaned in and kissed him with a promise of a great evening, one that would let him forget the horrors of the day.
If Cassie could destroy all
rational thinking in Simon, could Eve do the same to Dane? This would change everything. “He did act like a crazed nut, even though I was almost strangling his wife. He even warned me away from her after she’d fled.”
“He’s in love. I guarantee it. And to make things even more interesting, he doesn’t know it yet.”
Simon shifted her onto his lap and nibbled on her ear until she made a noise halfway between a moan and a squeal. His palm covered her stomach and their baby. Their world. “You think he’d do anything to protect her?”
Her head rested on his shoulder. “Absolutely.”
“Even work with me?”
“Are you going to kidnap her and hold her hostage?”
“No. I need an assistant, one who understands guns and speaks Spanish fluently. And Eve wants to neuter me, so you won’t be jealous of me traveling around with her. She’s perfect.”
“Dane will kill you for real if something happens to her.”
“Then he’d better get his arse back here and take my job offer.”
“And how will you recruit her?”
No idea. Everyone had skeletons in their closet, and he’d locate hers. “Find out what you can about her background. I need powerful ammunition. Stay off the MI6 mainframe, just use your personal system.”
“A hell of a recruitment technique. Place the woman he loves on the front lines? I don’t think so.”
Simon frowned. “Even if she wants to go to the front lines?”
“I suppose if she chooses that line of work, then you’re actually helping both of them.”
“Exactly.”
She turned toward him and kissed his chin. Not enough. With a lift of his finger, he positioned her mouth directly in front of his and then deepened the kiss so he could taste the sweetest confection on Earth. She sighed and rubbed her fingers up and down his arm.
He stood and pulled her to her feet. Dane in love, what a hell of a bargaining chip. “He’ll thank us for this someday. He needs to commit to me.”
“He needs to commit to Eve.”
True Peril Page 8