AMBUSHED
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“Good job,” he said to Jordan. “I knew you were the right man for this assignment.
Before Jordan could answer, another man came charging up.
He was blond, in his late thirties, athletic and dressed in a dark suit. “FBI special agent Lee Overhouse. We’re getting you out of here.”
They were escorted to an SUV and taken to FBI headquarters a few blocks away for debriefing. In a comfortable conference room, Jordan laid down some ground rules.
“We’re a mess,” he said. “Both of us want to take a shower. And change our clothes. I’m sure you’ve got something we can wear.”
Agent Overhouse probably didn’t like the delay, but he complied.
“Thanks,” Elizabeth said to Jordan when they met again in a conference room a half hour later, both wearing FBI sweatpants and tee shirt.
As they ate sandwiches and drank coffee, they told the agent what had happened.
While Elizabeth was finishing up, Jordan called Frank Decorah and made some requests.
Fifteen minutes later, they were back in another Town Car.
As they buckled their seat belts, Elizabeth glanced at him, her expression tense, and he wondered what she was going to say now.
“I’m exhausted,” she murmured.
“Understandable.”
She leaned back and closed her eyes. Was she hiding something from him or just worn out? The question made his stomach knot. When he’d thought they might not get out of the building alive, he’d told her they were going to talk. Now he was cursing himself for making the offer.
They sped north out of the city. When the car finally stopped and the driver cut the engine, Elizabeth sat up and looked around in surprise. “This isn’t the safe house. Where are we?”
“A farm in Western Howard County that Decorah owns. I wanted to take you somewhere you could relax.”
She peered at the Victorian cottage set in landscaped grounds. “This is a farm?”
“It used to be. Now it’s a fortified guesthouse.
They climbed out, and the driver unlocked the front door. “I’ll be in the auxiliary quarters,” he said. “We’ve got three other men here tonight.” He looked at Elizabeth. “You’ve got nothing to worry about.”
“Thank you,” Jordan said to the driver, thinking they might be safe, but he had plenty to worry about.
He led her into the house, through a front hall to a comfortably furnished parlor.
They both stood awkwardly in the middle of the room.
“You should get some rest,” he said.
“Not until you make good on your promise.”
Before he’d absorbed the shock of her words, she stepped forward and pulled him into her arms. Cupping the back of his head, she brought his mouth to hers. Their lips met in an act of spontaneous combustion as they exchanged a hot, frantic kiss.
When they finally broke apart, they were both breathing hard.
“I guess you’re not the man of stone you pretend to be,” she gasped.
“Jesus. Is that what you thought?”
“What was I supposed to think?”
“That I was doing my job.”
She stopped the conversation again with another kiss that damn near emptied his brain of blood.
“You’re reacting to almost getting killed,” he managed to say.
“Damn right. And to you,” she whispered against his lips, “We’ve been through hell today. Now we’re safe, and we can do anything we want. Anything we both want.”
“Elizabeth.” He whispered her name, just a puff of breath against her lips. She seemed to drink in the syllable.
“I assume there are bedrooms here,” she murmured. “Maybe we should find one.”
She linked her hand with his, leading him down the hall to a room that was probably charming. All he saw was the bed–and Elizabeth.
When she reached for him, he surrendered to what he had been feeling for weeks. Gathering her to him, he kissed her with a desperation that he was helpless to deny, plundering her mouth, feasting on her, absorbing her sweetness.
As the kiss broke, she stepped back and reached for the hem of her tee shirt, pulling it over her head and tossing it away before unhooking her bra and sending it to join the shirt.
His breath caught as he looked at her.
He tore off his own shirt, then pulled her close, almost gasping at the feel of her breasts against his chest.
“Oh, Jordan. Oh.”
He sensed her vulnerability, and his own. And this time when he kissed her, it was with a gentle possessiveness that was no less urgent than the whirlwind of passion that had swept over him before.
His hands moved over her naked back, down her ribs; and she did the same, touching, stroking, sending little currents of sensation through his body.
She drove everything from his mind except the need to get closer to her—as close as he could get. When he eased away so that he could get rid of the borrowed sweatpants, she followed suit.
She grinned. “Nice of them to give us clothes that are so easy to discard.”
They were both naked when he pulled her into his arms again, his erection pressing against her middle.
Before he lost the ability to stand, he brought her down to the surface of the bed. Gathering her in his arms, he bent to press his face against her breasts.
She cradled her hands around the back of his head, stroking his hair as he took one taut nipple into his mouth, hungry for the taste of her and hungry to feel her arousal. When she cried out at the wet, tugging pressure, he felt a wave of gratification that staggered him.
He slid his hand down her body, dipping into her moist warmth, parting delicate folds so that he could stroke her, feeling her arousal surge.
She opened her mouth against his shoulder, her teeth worrying his hot flesh. “Please, I want you inside me when I come.”
He wanted that too. Shifting above her, he moved between her legs–then buried himself in her warmth.
With a thrust of her hips, she took him deeper inside her, the power of the moment stunning him.
He raised his head, looking down at her, seeing the passion and the wonder on her face. His first time with her. And it should be his last.
He banished that thought, focusing on this moment out of time as he silently acknowledged how much he’d wanted her. He struggled to keep the pace slow, but it quickly became urgent, demanding.
He felt her nails digging into the slick flesh of his back, felt her body convulsing under him, around him, taking him over the edge with her.
When the storm had swept past, he shifted his weight off of her, holding her in his arms.
He knew what he should say. She beat him to it.
“Don’t tell me you’re going to give up the job of guarding me.”
“I should.”
She kept her gaze on him. “Are you going to tell me why you think so?”
“Because of a mistake I made two years ago.” He swallowed, needing to get it over with now–so she’d know why he was going to leave. “I was on a covert mission for the CIA in . . .” He stopped. “The country doesn’t matter. My partner and I were posing as a married couple, but she and I got too close. It made us careless. We walked into an ambush, and she didn’t make it out alive.”
“Jordan, I’m so sorry.”
“I made an error in judgment.”
“Are you taking all the blame?”
He dredged up an honest answer. “No. But . . .”
“You’ve paid a high price.”
“I resigned from the agency. I might have . . .” He shrugged. “Ended up as a security guard somewhere, but my old boss recommended me to Frank Decorah.”
“I’m so glad he did.”
“Frank’s a tough old ex-Navy seal. You probably don’t know he lost a leg in the service.”
“No.”
“The point is, he beat some sense into me.” He laughed. “Well not literally. But he gave me a purpose again. I was deter
mined I wasn’t going to screw it up. And that meant not putting you in danger by doing anything besides sticking to business.”
“Thank you for telling me. It explains a lot.” She swallowed. “There are things you don’t know about me, either. That I grew up in foreign countries and always felt like a stranger at home. Or that I took the easy way out and stayed away from relationships. Then I met you, and everything changed. I hated that you were keeping your distance.”
“I didn’t want to.”
“I know that now. Thank God. Even when you didn’t say much, I knew you were dedicated to your job and honorable to the core.”
“Maybe you’re reading me wrong.”
“Of course not.” She laughed. “Emma Richards agrees with me.”
“You talked about me?”
“Yes. She thought I’d be good for you. We discussed ways to break through the wall you built around yourself.”
“Oh yeah? Like what?”
Her cheeks took on a pretty flush. “One idea was my stripping to my bra and panties, then screaming that I saw a mouse in the bedroom. When you came rushing up, I might have a chance of getting you into bed.”
“She said that?”
“Well, she was joking. I was considering it.” She sobered. “The point is, I want you with me. Not just as my guard. While you were arranging for our transportation here, Overhouse asked me if I was still willing to testify. I said I’d have to think about it. I’ll feel a lot better about it if you’re with me.”
It was hard to refuse the request–and the conviction in her voice. Still, he heard himself ask, “You’re sure?”
She reached for him, pulling him close. “Absolutely sure. And when this is over, I hope you’ll stay.”
When he didn’t speak, Elizabeth raised her head, studying his face.
“You have that look in your eyes. The same one you got in the stairwell when you told me you were sure one of the terrorists was down there.”
“Do I?”
She nodded gravely.
“My sixth sense,” he said, hearing the wonder in his own voice. “It usually warns me of something bad. Now I think it’s telling me. . .” He stopped and dragged in a breath.
She finished for him. “That taking a chance on us is the right thing to do.”
She stroked his damp hair back from his forehead. “I know this seems fast, but I had a lot of time to think about what I wanted in a man. When I found him, I knew. And I was so damn frustrated that you didn’t feel the same.”
He swallowed. “I felt the same, but I didn’t think I’d be good for you.”
“You are. Don’t ever doubt that again.”
“I have flaws.”
“Everybody does.”
She settled down beside him, closing her eyes, and he knew she had given him her total trust. He liked that. Liked his own feeling of commitment.
For two years he had denied himself joy. Now he felt it bubbling up inside him like a clear spring breaking through desert rocks.
He hadn’t asked for it. But he knew he was starting a whole new chapter of his life. With Elizabeth.
THE END
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PRAISE FOR REBECCA YORK
“Rebecca York delivers page-turning suspense."
—Nora Roberts
“A true master of intrigue.”
—Rave Reviews
"Rebecca York's fast-paced suspense, innovative stories and sexy characters set the standard for paranormal romantic suspense."
—Ann Voss Peterson
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ABOUT REBECCA YORK
A USA Today Best-Selling Author, Rebecca York is a 2011 recipient of the Romance Writers of America Centennial Award. Her career has focused on romantic suspense, often with paranormal elements.
Her 16 Berkley books and novellas include her nine-book werewolf “Moon” series. KILLING MOON was a launch book for the Berkley Sensation imprint. She has written 50 books for Harlequin Intrigue, many in her popular 43 Light Street series. Her recent releases include DARK WARRIOR for Berkley and DARK MAGIC for Carina Press. Two Harlequin Intrigues, SUDDEN INSIGHT and SUDDEN ATTRACTION, will be published early in 2012.
She has written for Harlequin, Berkley, Dell, Tor, Carina Press, and Pageant Books.
Her many awards include two Rita finalist books. She has two Career Achievement awards from Romantic Times: for Series Romantic Suspense and for Series Romantic Mystery. And her Peregrine Connection series won a Lifetime Achievement Award for Romantic Suspense Series.
Many of her novels have been nominated for or won RT Reviewers Choice awards. In addition, she has won a Prism Award, several New Jersey Romance Writers Golden Leaf awards and numerous other chapter awards.
oOo
Web site: www.RebeccaYork.com .
Facebook: Ruth Glick
Twitter: rebeccayork43
oOo
BOOKS BY REBECCA YORK
http://rebeccayork.com/index.php?p=1_5_The-Books
Table of Contents
START OF AMBUSHED
PRAISE FOR REBECCA YORK
ABOUT REBECCA YORK
BOOKS BY REBECCA YORK