“You think I’d lure you to the Ritz and forget the condoms? That would be like planning an op but forgetting to bring bullets.”
She laughed. “Where?”
“Nightstand drawer.”
She released him and crawled across the king-size bed. Her ass looked amazing as she bent over the drawer to grab the box.
She returned with a condom, pushed him onto his back again, and tore open the packet. But she surprised him and took him into her mouth and sucked all the way down before releasing him and rolling the condom over his erection.
Once he was sheathed, she straddled him and took him inside, slowly descending until he was seated to the hilt.
She felt fucking amazing. And the way she panted and mewed as he filled her only added to the intensity. She leaned forward, bringing them skin to skin—her soft, flat belly to his abs, her nipples brushed against his chest—as his cock thickened even more inside her.
He placed his hands on her hips and thrust from below, holding her for a slow, sensuous slide as his cock stroked her inside. She kissed him as she rode him, her tongue doing to him what his cock did to her.
He shifted his hands to her cheeks, releasing her mouth so he could look in her eyes. “Babe, I can’t touch your clit unless you sit up. Do you need—?”
She shook her head and gasped. “No. I’m there.” And then she arched her back and let out the sexiest breathy sound he’d ever heard. Her body quaked. She didn’t stop rocking her hips against his, even as her orgasm continued. The hot friction of his thrusts combined with the electric-like jolts of her body pushed him over the edge, and pleasure ripped through him in a sharp, intense torrent.
She gasped and collapsed against him. “Holy hell, that was amazing.”
He chuckled, causing her to bounce on his chest. “Agreed.”
“I suppose I should have taken my glasses off, but I wanted to see you.” She ran a hand across his chest and down his abs, tracing the indentations between muscles, as if his body were a maze to be solved.
“I frigging love your glasses. Leave them on. Always.” He tugged at her bun, which had loosened as they made love. “I sort of have a thing for your sexy-librarian look.”
She laughed. “It’s not a look—it’s just easier to wear my hair up, and I’ve never liked contact lenses.”
He nibbled on her neck, his heart still slowing, loving everything about holding her and feeling a contentment that was new to him.
She shifted, and he slid out of her. He disposed of the condom, then gathered her against him.
“How long do we have?” she asked.
“If you want, Sean can pick you up and deliver you to work in the morning. Cressida sent over an overnight bag—in case you decided to stay.”
She cupped his cheeks. “I want to stay.”
He kissed her. “We’ll order room service for dinner.”
“Sounds perfect.”
Keith made the order, then they lay in bed, touching and talking, avoiding serious subjects like bombs and destroyed homes and top-secret navy ops. She told him about her family—she was the middle child of three girls and moved to DC from Ohio for graduate school—and he indicated that he had a family but didn’t offer more.
“I know you went straight from high school to the navy. Did you always want to be a SEAL?”
He paused. Her question came dangerously close to one subject he wanted to avoid—his father. But if this were going to develop into something more than a tryst in an expensive hotel, he’d have to share his past. And he did want more with Trina. For the first time in his life, he didn’t have to worry about leaving someone behind when he was deployed. He didn’t have to settle for a superficial relationship.
“No. I wanted to be quarterback for the San Francisco 49ers. I even had a full-ride scholarship to Notre Dame—just like Joe Montana.”
“But you went into the navy instead. Why didn’t you go to the Academy in Annapolis, where you could have played football?”
“It was too late to apply to the Academy when I joined.” He pulled her close to his side and tucked a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. “I attended Notre Dame for all of two weeks and played in one college football game. I was a true freshman, backup QB. Opening game of the season and we were losing—badly. I was sent in at the very end. I threw two passes—both completed—but I was also sacked twice. We lost. Three days later, September eleventh happened.”
He paused. Trina, a military historian, might understand how that day had changed him, but few people in his life then had. His girlfriend at the time hadn’t gotten it. Some teammates hadn’t understood. His dad certainly didn’t.
His dad still didn’t get it.
He hoped to hell Trina would understand.
“Dreams of being Joe Montana didn’t sit well with you after that, did they? You were, what? Eighteen? Physically fit if you were playing college ball, and you had nothing holding you back. Someone had to go to Afghanistan and find bin Laden.”
He pulled her tightly against him, unable to mask the surge of emotion. “Yes. Everything I’d dreamed before that day felt hollow. There was a navy man in me all along. I just hadn’t known it.” Here, he came close to the sensitive subject, but telling her felt right. “The military had never been an option when I was growing up—my dad was adamantly opposed, pretty much antigovernment in whatever form.
“My teammates, some of them understood. Others felt like I was judging them for not stepping forward, like I thought football was worthless and if they chose a sport over service, they were shallow. But I was doing what I needed to do, what felt right for me. There was no judgment. And, hell, I still love football.” He stroked her back. “I quit school that week and joined the navy. I’ve never regretted it.”
“I’m curious. Why the navy? Afghanistan is landlocked.”
“That decision was for the SEALs. My goal from the first moment I joined was to get into the SEALs.”
She touched the healing cuts on his shoulders and arms, the last remnants of the explosion they’d survived. “Why did you leave?”
“I’d served. I decided it was time to have a life. Plus I have a friend who is going through some stuff…health issues…and I wanted to be nearby. I left the navy three months ago. When you’ve lived on adrenaline for years, it’s hard to come down, so I was taking a break before looking for work. I’d considered using the GI bill to start school in September, but now Rav has offered me a job. Something better than anything I’d be offered even with a college degree.”
“Do you think the explosion has something to do with the job?”
“It’s more likely it has to do with the SEALs.” His heart kicked up again. “Trina, I assume you know what I did for the SEALs.”
She nodded. “I’ve read your service file. You were a sniper.”
He let out the breath he’d been holding. “You’re okay with that?”
“Of course. I know one well-placed bullet can save a thousand lives.”
Sometimes the number can be as high as five thousand.
Given her background and the firmness of her words, he believed she meant it. He could fall in love with this woman, and crazily enough, the idea didn’t seem…crazy. A knock on the door stopped him from saying something foolish. He kissed her lightly on the lips, then got up and threw on jeans while she ducked into the bathroom.
Minutes later, room service delivered, she joined him, wearing a plush hotel robe, and sat next to him at the small table.
She took a sip of her wine, then asked, “So how long do we play hide-and-seek and meet only for covert trysts?”
“We won’t do this again. If someone was following you, it won’t work twice. I only decided it was worth the risk because there’s been no sign you’re being monitored at all. But that could change, and I don’t want anyone realizing you’re important to me, and coming after you.” He’d just admitted she was important to him—probably too soon, but like joining the navy, something he
refused to regret.
Her gaze held an intensity that she left unvoiced. She cleared her throat. “So… What are we going to do?”
“I haven’t figured that out yet.” He set down his fork. “I’m hoping you’ll be willing to wait. At least until we know more.”
“Of course.” She paused. “I’m not ready to put a name to this”—she swept out her hand to indicate her robe, him, the ornate hotel room—“but I know it—you—are worth waiting for.”
He’d heard those words before—once he’d even wanted to hear them—but this was the first time he both wanted the words and believed them.
CHAPTER NINE
TRINA COULDN’T CONCENTRATE on work Tuesday morning. Her mother would say she was twitterpated. And she’d be right.
The night with Keith had been nothing short of amazing. Just thinking about how he’d arranged it took her breath away. Memories of the sex was enough to make her combust, but thoughts of the connection behind it made her knees weak. In her experience, hot, perfect men like Keith eschewed relationships for flings with women who were taller, prettier, and bustier than she was, but he clearly wanted her—repeatedly, in fact—and there had been more going on than two people getting off together.
She could fall head over heels for him and wasn’t even freaked out by the idea. Truth was, it might already have happened, but it was too soon to even consider the L-word.
It was still early in the morning when Mara looked over the cubicle wall in her best Kilroy impersonation, sparking the idea of writing a paper on the significance of Kilroy graffiti to the war effort during World War II. But unlike the cartoon figure, Mara had a Cheshire cat grin. And Trina couldn’t help but return it.
“Sorry I had to bail last night,” Mara said without an ounce of sorrow in her tone.
Trina responded with her own grin. “I forgive you.”
“I figured you might,” Mara said, then continued down the corridor.
Trina gathered a notebook and digital recorder. She had to interview Walt’s Desert Storm vet, a former navy aviator. Walt had originally scheduled the interview for last Tuesday, the day after the explosion, but she wasn’t fit for work. When she didn’t show for the interview, Walt took it upon himself to reschedule, and Trina didn’t have the energy to fight him on it when she returned to work. Now it was too late to back out.
Instead of taking the Metro, Sean gave her a ride to the coffee shop near Union Station. There was something to be said for having a permanent bodyguard with a car. Plus he was a nice guy, good-looking—his ebony skin, big muscles, and a great smile reminded her of the football player Russell Wilson in looks and physique—and good company when she wanted someone to talk to but also unobtrusive when she wanted to pretend she didn’t have a babysitter.
Sean sat two tables away in the crowded coffee shop and gave no indication they were together. Trina settled into a seat across from Lieutenant Brian Ruby, noticing right away that his body language was all wrong. He was hostile or agitated. He kept his head down, barely acknowledging her when she introduced herself.
With a frown, she set her digital recorder on the table between them and hit Record. May as well begin. “Lieutenant,” she said, “in late fall of 1991, you were transferred to a temporary assignment with a UN peacekeeping force, a post-Desert Storm coalition. According to my colleague’s notes, you left that six-month assignment after only three weeks. The record is scant at best. Can you tell me why you left before completing the assignment?”
She had walked into this interview with less background information than she liked. Walt had given her the man’s service files last week, but they’d been incomplete. Distracted by replacing her lost computer files, she had forgotten to follow up on the missing documents and had foolishly entered this interview cold, with little more than starting questions drafted by Walt.
Ruby leaned forward. His gaze darted around the room, then he said loudly, “Blow me, and I’ll tell you everything.”
Trina bolted to her feet, her face flushing as she caught the startled stares from the couple at the next table. “Lieutenant,” she said through clenched teeth, “this interview is being recorded. You aren’t doing yourself any favors.”
“Listen, honey, I’m just asking for the same service you give your other interviewees. Did Hatcher tell you everything you wanted to know?”
Her stomach went cold. Her name had been in the news with Keith’s after the explosion, and Keith had insisted the official press release state she was there to interview him, to prevent anyone who was after him from thinking she was important to him. But any number of Falls Church officers and FBI agents knew the truth. They’d both been honest about where they were and what they were doing at the time of the first explosion. Which meant either someone had talked or Lieutenant Ruby had tossed out the accusation simply to offend her. Neither option sat well. She plucked her digital recorder from the table and grabbed her purse.
Ruby glanced around the shop again and raised his lip in a sneer. “What’s wrong, honey? You don’t want word to get out that you’ll fuck for information? I suppose that could be a problem for you. Then you might have to blow the older guys too, not just the young SEALs.”
A hand on her arm gently nudged her aside. She turned, almost expecting to see Keith, but her champion was Sean, who planted his hands on the table and leaned into Ruby’s face. “Apologize to Dr. Sorensen.”
“Are you the guy she’s fucking now?” He met Trina’s gaze. “You sure do get around.”
Sean grasped the front of the lieutenant’s shirt and yanked him to his feet as Trina rocked back on her heels. “Apologize to the lady.” Sean’s voice was low, carrying more than a hint of menace.
“Lady, my ass. She’s just another whore and a government hack. I’m sick of bitches like her.”
Sonofabitch. What the hell had Walt set her up for?
The tables around them cleared. One woman appeared to be calling 911. Not your typical morning at Starbucks. “Let him go, Sean. He’s not worth it.” She’d been saying that a lot lately.
He sighed. “I know. But, damn, it would be so satisfying.” He released Ruby, and the man dropped into his seat. Ruby, a former naval officer and only about ten years older than Sean, was no slouch, but he was still no match for the Raptor operative in his prime.
Back in Sean’s car, Trina buckled her seat belt and flopped back into the seat. “I wish I knew what just happened there.”
“What was the interview supposed to be about?”
“Walt’s questions were about UN Security Forces post-Desert Storm.”
Sean pulled out his cell phone and hit a speed dial button. After a moment, he said, “Keith, something strange just happened… No. Trina is fine. She’s right next to me. She was just interviewing a dickhead pilot who”—he looked apologetically at Trina—“implied she had sex with you to get you to talk.”
“He more than implied,” Trina said, loud enough for Keith to hear. She had to admit, she was jealous Sean was able to call Keith. She didn’t even have his phone number.
“My gut says there’s more going on here. The guy was a dick, sure, but he came spoiling for a fight and armed with your name.” Sean paused. “Will do.” Then he hit the End button and tucked his phone away. He put his car in gear and pulled into traffic.
“Where are we going?”
“To your office. We need to talk to Walt.”
KEITH WATCHED LIEUTENANT Ruby with a riflescope from a vantage point nearly a block away from the man’s apartment in the Anacostia neighborhood. The man arrived home minutes after Keith took his position. He appeared twitchy, ready to bolt. Keith would bet good money his bag was packed; he was just waiting for his moment.
He needed to know why this bastard had insulted Trina, and why he had mentioned Keith specifically.
Ruby looked furtively out the window, and Keith wondered if he had gone soft or if he was just stupid. Backlit behind thin curtains, he might as well have painted
a target on his face.
Keith plucked out his phone and dialed. “Something stinks about this, Rav. Ruby is a tool.”
“After work, Sean is going to bring Trina here. Her roommate Cressida too. I don’t like the security at her place, and I’m starting to wonder if this could be about her, not you.”
“A safe house is a better idea. You’re knee-deep in a campaign. Too many people coming and going.”
“She can’t join you, Keith. Not until we determine who the intended target is.”
Keith held back a sigh. “I know that. I meant a different safe house.”
“I’ll see what I can arrange.”
Down the street, Ruby checked the roadway in front of his apartment again. “I think Ruby is going to rabbit.”
“I’m sending an operative to take over surveillance. I don’t like you leaving the safe house. Give me thirty minutes.”
“I can take care of myself. I used a surveillance detection route. No one followed me.”
“The point of a safe house is to hide.”
Keith grimaced. “I was going insane hiding.”
“Then go back to the Virginia compound and use the shooting range again.”
He’d spent two days at the compound last week, sighting in a new M110 rifle and Sig handgun, replacements for the ones he’d lost in the blast. He’d blown through hundreds of rounds to fight the frustration of knowing there’d been zero progress in the investigation of the explosion. The idea of more target shooting held no appeal. “No, thanks.”
“After your replacement gets there, come in to the office. Lee is coming in to map out the computer issues at the Alaska compound. We can bring you up to speed on the issues at the same time.”
“Fine.” Keith hung up and watched. Waited, all the while feeling uneasy. Anxious. At least going in to Rav’s office would give him something to do. Ten minutes passed, then his phone vibrated. Hopefully Sean had located Walt Fryer.
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