by Regan Black
“The agent in the barn must have left it. He claimed he was acting as a friend.”
“But you think it could still be a trap.”
“Yes.”
She appreciated his honesty, even if she didn’t like it. “We may as well check it out. There’s nowhere else to go is there?”
“Not anywhere safe for you.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because it’s true.” He started the car and resumed their drive east.
“Will you at least admit you’re part of some covert agency? You and the invisible guy. And the man you called a ghost.”
“That one’s more likely a hallucination.”
“What does that mean? We both saw him.”
“Nothing. I still don’t understand how or why you thought getting involved with all this old science research and documentation was a good idea.”
“Diplomats, politicians, and military leaders like to talk trash, for lack of a better term. Most social events are really about bluster, tenuous allies, and hidden meanings.”
“Men strive to impress you.”
“Yes.” She wasn’t ashamed of using any of her God-given gifts. “They often said more than they should in front of me, thinking it would go over my head. Instead I followed the rumors.”
“And you found documents about super soldiers.”
She nodded. “I did. I met with a research scientist in Greece who wanted me to translate some old records for his program. Scientists are very secretive about these things and he couldn’t ask just anyone. The information wasn’t all that exciting, but it was one more step. In the past I’ve offered similar services for museum curators I’ve met along the way.”
“Have you translated scientific documents for other researchers?”
“No. The man sent me a gorgeous watch as a thank you gift through the embassy channels. But after that one experience, I claimed I was too busy when he asked for more assistance. What I learned scared me and I was afraid my translations would go to the wrong people or to an organization like the one that snared you.”
“God forbid there are more organizations like this one.”
“Amen,” she agreed. “After that I became more of a collector than a translator.”
“To get the documents out of circulation?”
He knew her so very well. “Yes.”
“No wonder my boss wants you dead. You’re impeding the work.”
“What does your boss look like?”
“Why do you want to know?”
“I kept running into the same man, an American, at different events and galas. It’s a small, esoteric community that gets off on old paper. We were never introduced, but I was on the phone with a curator one night and before the connection was broken, I overheard a terrible argument about access and ownership of papers from a long-dead scientist. The next day, the curator was found dead at his desk.”
“Murdered?”
“Not officially. It was ruled a heart attack. There,” she pointed. “There’s the place from the card, right there.”
“You think this man you overheard killed the curator?” He slowed down, turning off the main road.
“Isn’t that something he’d do?”
“I’m not sure my boss would get his hands dirty.”
She shrugged. “I recognized his voice. Smooth, controlled. Arrogant. And he overworks his accents when he speaks French. Does that sound like your boss?”
“A lot of people do that.”
She could tell he wanted to believe her and she understood it was a stretch for him. “I know who I heard, Matthew.”
“All right.”
“How did this program change you?”
He met her gaze and a sad smile tipped up one corner of his mouth. “Hold that thought until we get inside.”
At least he wasn’t denying it anymore, she thought as she followed him into the lobby of the quaint, refurbished estate.
Cabbage roses lined the walk, and white lights twinkled in topiaries flanking the wide steps. The porch was a gentle yellow, looking sunny and welcoming despite the cold wintry day.
She listened to Matthew charm the older woman at the front desk, apologizing profusely for the early hour. It soon turned into mutual admiration when she confirmed the reservation for the honeymoon suite. Stating the bill had been paid in advance, she showed them up to the room, telling them about the property and the various amenities as they went.
Renata heard none of the speech, her mind on what Matthew would tell her when they were alone. She tried not to speculate based on the old research she’d read, but she didn’t believe those interested in advancing the science had become any more compassionate with time. If they’d set Matthew up and faked his death just to get him into their system, what would they do if he disobeyed the order to kill her? What wouldn’t they do to protect their interests?
They were in such a bind, she wasn’t sure they could get out again. Maybe he had it right and they should disappear, but if it came to that, he was going to disappear along with her. She wouldn’t accept ‘no’ for an answer.
She smiled, taking in the beautiful space of the suite and thanking their hostess, but when the door was closed, she turned the lock and picked up right where they’d left off. “Tell me what they did to you.”
To her shock he laughed. She didn’t find anything amusing about this. They’d hurt him, she was sure of it. Then he came closer and caught her in a lovely, warm kiss that turned her knees weak and made her sure of nothing.
“What is so funny?” she said when he relinquished her mouth to scatter kisses over her ear and along her shoulder.
“You, standing there like a Mob boss demanding answers and looking ready, willing, and able to exact vengeance.”
“You shouldn’t laugh,” she said, gasping as his hands slipped under her shirt. “I can arrange that.”
“There’s time for that later. Much later.”
His mouth claimed hers again and she welcomed the passion and heat she experienced only with him. Much later sounded far too soon.
“We’ve lost so much time, Renata.”
She wound her arms around his neck and let herself drift in the delightful blend of past and present. His hands were stronger now but the care in his touch was just as tender as she remembered. His shoulders and back had filled out, giving her more of the sleek, muscled territory she longed to explore. She inhaled deeply, letting the masculine scent that was his alone wash over her.
Here was the man she’d always considered hers. She was already wet and eager for him. No wonder she’d never found a way to fill that void, she thought, when he tugged away her shirt and bent her back over his arm, lavishing her breasts with wicked attention.
“Matthew,” she whispered. It was like they’d never been apart.
“Say it again.” He caught her taut nipple between his teeth.
“Matthew,” she gasped.
Kissing her, touching her everywhere, he backed her across the room. He stripped away her clothing until she was naked, caught between his hard body and the plush, bridal-white bedding of the antique four-poster bed. She fisted her hands in his shirt and pulled his face close for a kiss.
He resisted. “You wanted to know how they changed me?”
She nodded, simultaneously irritated by his timing and mesmerized as he removed his shirt. Unwilling to credit the agency that had torn them apart, she couldn’t help but think he’d dealt well with whatever they’d done.
“Are you sure?” his blue eyes glittered with desire and more than a little danger.
She felt absolutely safe. “Yes,” she whispered, trailing her fingertips over his hot skin.
“Stamina.” He kissed her hard, cupping her breasts in his rough palms. “Boundless endurance,” he said, breaking the kiss.
She followed every motion as he removed his cargo pants and kicked them away. He was utterly gorgeous – every dip and plane of his body both sweetly familiar a
nd enticingly new. Not even the unfamiliar slash of white scar tissue at his shoulder muted his grace and magnificence.
“Want to test my limits?”
“Yes.” She wanted to do that and more. Wanted to show him how deeply she’d missed him. Spreading her palms flat against his chest, she kissed all the places she could reach, willing him to understand all these feelings swirling inside her that she couldn’t quite put into words. She let her hands roam lower until she could stroke the full length of him. She wanted him, in any and every way he wanted to take her. Then she wanted to give even more.
“Matthew, my love.”
“Don’t stop.”
She didn’t, giving him what he’d asked for with her hands and mouth, showering him with years of pent up passion.
“No, not that,” he said, catching her hands and wrapping them around his lean hips. “My name.” He looked into her eyes. “Say it again.”
“Oh. Matthew.” Smiling, she pressed up on her toes to kiss him with her lips, hands, and her whole body. “Matthew.”
He urged her back onto the bed, stretching his big frame gently over hers. She took up his name as a chant, as a dare, and finally as a prayer when at last he stopped teasing her and entered her in one swift thrust.
Her body trembled and clutched around him, desperate to keep him deep inside her. Exactly where he belonged.
She ran her hands over the golden stubble shading his jaw, down his biceps, across his back and hips, relearning every inch of him. As the sun climbed higher in the sky, the room filled with the sweet, familiar scents and sounds of their lovemaking while they pushed the limits of his endurance and their combined creativity.
It seemed there were none to be had on either count.
* * *
He held her while she slept, his field combat senses on high alert. His mind sorted through the limited options while his body and heart relaxed in her presence. It was like nothing had changed, and yet everything was new. She was no less stunning or vibrant in her sleep than she was awake and calling out his name.
The sound of his name, spoken in that sexy voice of hers was perfect. It had been so long.
In the quiet he dared to dream of what might have been, before Messenger set him up and ruined it all. He’d never known what happened to the others, had never dared to look for them for fear of endangering them. It made him sick to think they were all dead. Even Rafe.
She stirred, her supple body melting against his. The only thing she wore was the citrine ring and he loved her more for leaving it on. The odds were stacked high against them, so he would soak up every moment of perfection and rectify all the wrongs within his power.
“I didn’t leave you by choice,” he murmured into her hair. “Would never have done that.”
He couldn’t decide if he wanted her to remember those words or not. It would be hell to leave her again in just a few hours. Unless the long shot he’d been considering paid off.
“Will you tell me what happened?” She curled into him, her fine-boned hand resting over his heart.
He sighed, but there was no point in keeping secrets any more. “I did my job, followed orders, but when we got back to base they arrested me, claimed I’d acted outside of mission parameters. I don’t know what they told the team or the commanding officer. There was nothing to support my side of it.”
“You were set up,” she said, kissing his chest. “Forced to join the program.”
He wanted to simply agree, but her honesty deserved an equal response. “I was young. Too scared to say no.”
“Matthew,” she scolded gently. “Do you think saying no would have worked?”
He smiled, despite the lousy memory. “No.”
“Tell me the rest?”
He knew what she was asking and he explained what he’d learned about himself and the world since being altered by the UI experiments.
She shifted, propping herself on her elbow and he was humbled by the admiration and pride in her deep brown eyes.
“You survived,” she said. “That’s what matters. So what is our next step?”
“Now, we make some hard decisions.”
“As long as you aren’t thinking of leaving me to cope with the fallout alone.”
“It’s a logical option and it’s crossed my mind that you’re safer –”
A knock at the door interrupted him. “Mr. Anderson? There’s a note for you.”
He rolled out from under her, a finger to his lips. She nodded, already headed for the bathroom.
He pulled on his pants and tried to kick the rest of their clothes in her direction on his way to answer the door. With his gun in hand, he peered through the peephole.
The only person he could see was the woman who’d checked them in. The hallway was too tight for a team to hide successfully. Keeping the gun out of sight, he opened the door and gave her a sheepish smile.
“Sorry to interrupt,” she said, handing him the note. “But the young lady said it was quite urgent.”
Young lady? “Of course,” Matthew replied, taking it out of her hands. “Thanks for bringing it to us.”
“Well, there’s no phone in this suite,” she said, her cheeks going pink. “One of the selling points.”
“I’m sure it is,” he agreed, easing the door closed.
“Would you like me to make a dinner reservation for you newlyweds?”
“That’s thoughtful, thank you.” He held up the note. “I’ll come downstairs in a minute and let you know for sure.”
With a knowing smile, she turned away.
“What is it?” Renata asked from the bathroom doorway.
She looked damned hot in nothing but the thick, ivory robe and her dark hair tumbling down her shoulders. He wanted to forget the note and get back to what they did best, but he couldn’t take the chance.
He slid his thumb under the flap and broke the seal. The brief, handwritten note shocked him. He had to read it twice. Still unable to speak, dread building in his gut, he handed it to Renata.
“We’ve been played,” he said.
“What do you mean?” She read it, her eyebrows puckering in a small frown.
“The guy I thought was helping me has obviously set us up.”
“The invisible guy?”
He nodded.
“But she said a woman delivered the message.”
“So he hired someone to drop it off.” He pushed a hand through his hair. “Why would I care about Messenger’s lunch plans today? The man’s under constant guard. There’s not enough time to find a firing solution. If I went at him fast and dirty –”
“You’d get caught.”
“Impatience can kill you,” he said, with a jerky nod toward the note. “You know that’s one of the chic restaurants in Manhattan.”
“True.” She tapped the note against her chin. “Maybe whoever sent this doesn’t want you to kill him.”
“What then? Begging for mercy won’t work. He wants you dead and he won’t give up until he knows you aren’t a threat. I failed my assignment, which is always a death sentence.”
“You don’t want to run?”
“Of course I want to run.” He ran his hand across his chest, dug his fingers into the scar at his shoulder.
“But that doesn’t really solve it,” she replied. “We’d be on our own, always on guard.”
He nodded, hating the worry he’d put on her face. Solitude didn’t suit her. As much as he loved her, because he loved her, he knew he couldn’t be everything to her. Eventually, sooner rather than later, she’d want a real social life again. And Messenger would be waiting.
“Don’t think I’ll go into hiding,” she said, pulling him from his dismal thoughts. “Not without you.”
“You should.” He warmed to the idea. “That gives me time to take him out and join you later.”
“No,” she said. She paced to the window and then turned, her face brightening with a sudden smile.
How was that even possible
under the circumstances? Then he remembered that look. It often preceded her enthusiasm for a new adventure. “What are you thinking?”
“I was raised with the understanding that family comes first.”
He looked away, afraid of where she was heading with this. Leaving her was the smart thing to do, for both of them, but the thought caused him something close to physical pain, exacerbated by the knowledge that she’d never stopped loving him.
“Relax.” She rushed across the room and wrapped him in a soft, unshakable embrace. “Let me make a phone call or two. Do you think they have a fax machine here?”
“I don’t know.”
“Either way, I can make it work. Then we’ll go meet your boss. I’ll tell you the rest on the way.”
Chapter Ten
Manhattan, New Year’s Eve, 1:27 p.m.
Renata watched Matthew square off against the man in the gray suit, hoping with every heartbeat she hadn’t overestimated the value of the angle they were bargaining with. They should have done it his way, she thought, and simply disappeared, assumed dead. This had the potential to backfire a dozen different ways. Why had she argued so hard for this?
Because she was greedy. She wanted Matthew and her family. She wanted closure and security. Now all of her wants might very well cost her everything.
The other man, in his expensive, perfectly tailored clothing, looked like the next mature cover model for GQ magazine. It was easy to see why Matthew assumed the man wouldn’t get his hands dirty with something like a murdered museum curator or dangerous research.
Still, something about him put her on edge. Something more than knowing this man had faked Matthew’s death and ordered the hit on Rafe. The man came off too slick, too calculating. He appeared relaxed, as he took a seat and crossed his legs. He felt safe here, and the arrogance she’d noted at social events they’d both attended in other countries was obvious. So were the signs of stress and hyper-vigilance in the way he adjusted his cuff links and scanned the room behind Matthew.
She’d spotted the other suits, the guard detail Matthew warned her about. One man stood outside the main door and the other was loitering at the landing on the restaurant’s second level. She didn’t turn, didn’t need to look to know there would be another man somewhere behind her, covering the kitchen access.