by Tiffany Snow
“And I love you,” I said. “Thank you for taking care of me.” Cradling his face in my palms, I leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his cheek. The truck bobbed a little as Devon climbed inside.
“Shall we?” Devon asked, as though he hadn’t just been held at gunpoint.
I settled back between them in the seat and Logan didn’t reply, just shifted the truck into drive and hit the gas. Minutes later, we were back at the house, the burning car a red glow in the distance.
Hurrying inside, I was glad not to be soaked through, like Devon and Logan were. I watched as Logan went upstairs and Devon disappeared into the bath on the first level to shower and change.
The need for something to steady my nerves had me heading for my grandpa’s liquor cabinet. It was locked, like it always had been, but I opened the drawer in the end table next to the sofa and felt around in the back until the cold metal of the key touched my fingertips. After unlocking the cabinet, I pulled out a bottle of bourbon and poured myself a stiff shot. I tossed it back like the pro I wasn’t, then poured another. I sipped this one, settling myself on the couch and staring at nothing.
A while later, Devon appeared. He took in the scene at a glance, then headed over and poured himself a shot, too. I noticed it was about twice the amount I’d poured.
“Is this just another day at the office for you?” I asked, my gaze following him. He’d changed into dry, dark-washed jeans and a long-sleeved black Henley. The sleeves were pushed up and I watched the muscles flex in his arm as he raised the glass to his mouth.
“This one was a bit unusual,” he admitted, taking another long drink. His throat moved as he swallowed.
“How so?”
His gaze met mine. “It’s not often someone I’m protecting tries to kill me.”
The curt indictment of Logan’s actions stung, but there wasn’t anything I could do about it. “He didn’t, though,” I said with a shrug. “So that’s something.”
Devon didn’t reply as we stared at each other. After a moment, his lips twitched, and that was enough for a full-out smile from me.
“So are we safe now?” I asked.
Devon took the seat beside me, sitting down with a sigh that spoke of exhaustion. “Clive is dead,” he said. “The other people were on a mission for you. So while I think Logan is safe, I think you are not.”
I’d kind of been expecting that, but the words still provoked a twinge of fear.
“What do I do?” Once Devon left, how would I protect myself? Should I go on the run or something? How did somebody even do that?
“You come with me.”
I twisted around so I could look at him. “Come with you?” I reiterated. “For how long?”
“Don’t misunderstand,” he interrupted. “It’s not a permanent thing. But until I can find out who is hunting you and why, it might be our best course of action.”
I was simultaneously glad and disappointed. Glad because we would have more time together, and disappointed because he’d already set a limit on it. It was disheartening and made my stomach feel as though I’d swallowed a ball of lead.
“What about Logan?” I asked. “You’re sure he’s safe?”
“Reasonably sure,” he said. “Either way, he’s not coming. He would slow us down.”
“But—” I began.
“I saved his life because he meant something to you,” he interrupted. “But make no mistake. If you think I won’t sacrifice him—or anyone else, for that matter—to save your life, then you’re quite wrong. I’ll choose you, every time.”
And in that moment, I believed him. I’d seen what Devon had done to the man they’d captured. There was a part of him capable of turning off his emotions completely. He’d have to in order to do all he’d done.
“Fine,” I said, frustration overwhelming my other emotions. “I’ll come with you. But you can’t think I’ll leave Logan behind and thank you for it.”
“Perhaps you’ll feel otherwise the next time I save your life,” he replied.
“Or perhaps you’re conveniently ignoring that my life wouldn’t be in danger if it weren’t for you. I’ve been shot—twice—and Logan nearly killed because of you and me being together.”
That felt like hitting below the belt, though all of it was true. Perhaps he knew it as well because his eyes narrowed, but he didn’t reply.
“Go pack,” he said at last.
There was an overwhelming intensity coming off Devon. He’d been in a battle of life and death tonight, and it seemed he was still raw from the fight. His gaze dropped from my eyes to my mouth and I unconsciously licked my lips. The pulse underneath his jaw jumped at the sight and I saw his hands curl into fists. In that moment, I could understand the need to have sex after a battle. All that energy, aggression, and adrenaline was still unused and searching for an outlet.
Sidestepping him, I hurried down the hall and up the stairs, feeling his eyes burning a hole in my back as I left.
Packing didn’t take long. I was leaving my bedroom when I ran into Logan.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
I took a breath. “With Devon,” I said.
“But Clive is dead,” he argued. “You don’t need him anymore.”
“He thinks I’m still in danger,” I replied.
“Of course he does,” Logan sneered. “He’ll tell you anything so you’ll go with him.”
“He didn’t make up those men,” I said, pushing past him and starting down the stairs. Logan followed.
“Yes, but they’re gone. He’s just using the situation to take you away again. And you’re letting him.”
“I’ll be back soon,” I said, setting the suitcase down and turning toward him. “I promise.”
“What am I supposed to tell Grams?”
Crap. I hadn’t thought of that. “Tell her the truth,” I said.
“The truth?”
“Sort of. Say that we were the victims of a . . . a home invasion or something,” I said, thinking quickly. “But you and Devon fought them off, then Devon got called away for work and I went with him.”
“And where are you going?” he asked.
I didn’t know. Of course I didn’t. It wasn’t like Devon had told me, after all. “I’m not sure,” I hedged, “but I’ll call you.”
“You’re going to leave with just an ‘I’ll call you?’ ” Logan was incredulous. “Do you even give a shit that I’ll be worried sick?”
“Don’t worry,” I pleaded with him. “I’m not doing this to hurt you.”
“If you’re going to walk out that door, then you’re going to think about me while you’re with him.”
I opened my mouth to tell him that of course I’d think about him, but I didn’t get the chance. Logan had me pressed against the wall in the span of a moment, his hands grasping my hips as his mouth came down on mine.
I immediately tried to push him away, but he wouldn’t let me. His hands gripped my flesh and his chest pressed against mine, holding me in place.
He was kissing me, his lips coaxing me to respond, and I remembered that I’d promised him this. I’d promised him a kiss, and even though he was just taking it rather than asking me first, I stopped trying to get away. Logan wanted to prove a point? Fine. I’d let him. But he’d see that there was nothing between us, at least from my side. He was like a brother to me. That was all.
I felt nothing. Just the bland feel of a man’s mouth on mine.
“Try, Ives,” Logan breathed against my lips. “Please. For me. Just try.”
I didn’t know what else I could do, so I closed my eyes. It was nice, Logan kissing me. I opened beneath him and he deepened the kiss. His tongue slid alongside mine, tangling in a wet heat.
With my eyes closed, I could smell him better—the warm scent of Logan that had been a comfort to me for as long as I could remember. Tentatively, I lifted my arms and wrapped them around his neck. His hair was soft against my fingers.
At my touch, Logan gr
oaned, deep in his throat. His teeth nipped at my lip, his tongue swiping gently to soothe the skin. He was a very good kisser. As good as Devon. But I didn’t feel the fire and spark like when Devon kissed me.
“Don’t let me interrupt.”
I started in surprise at the sound of Devon’s voice, jerking back and breaking our kiss, but Logan didn’t move. His cheek brushed mine as he spoke.
“Then get lost,” he growled.
“Ivy’s coming with me, and I suggest you get your hands off her before I forget to be nice.” The menace in those words was unmistakable.
“I’ve got to go,” I said, squirming out from between the wall and Logan. He caught my hand.
“Stay,” he said. “For me. You can’t deny there’s more between us. Not now.”
And he was right. There could be more. Maybe. But the circumstances hadn’t changed and I didn’t want a man who loved me because he wanted to save me.
“I can’t.”
Logan’s expression turned cold. “If you leave, then we’re done, Ives. I don’t want to see you again.”
That stopped me in my tracks and I turned to stare at him in disbelief.
“I can’t do this anymore,” he said. “I can’t watch you in this toxic relationship. And I won’t be your second choice.”
“Don’t,” I warned him. “Don’t make me choose between the two of you.”
“It’s the way it is.” His tone was implacable.
Time seemed to slow, in that way it does when something so awful is happening to you that every moment is drawn out in endless agony. The unthinkable was happening. Logan was ending our friendship. In all our years together, I’d never considered for one second that he would do such a thing.
My voice was a raspy whisper when I spoke. “Then I guess it’s goodbye, Logan.”
The shock across his face was brief, then hidden, and I realized he’d never expected me to choose Devon over him in such a stark way. But he’d given me an ultimatum, and even if Devon’s threat wasn’t there, I didn’t do ultimatums.
Devon already had my suitcase in hand as I passed him on the way to the door. I heard him fall in step behind me, then we were outside and climbing into his car.
I glanced back at the house as Devon started the engine. Logan stood on the porch, staring after us. Then he blurred as I began to cry. I watched him as we headed down the drive until he was out of sight.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Dawn was breaking as we drove out of town, heading east. Devon hadn’t said anything as I’d silently cried. I’d forced myself to stop and now stared blindly out the window.
I’d lost him. I’d lost my best friend.
My stomach ached and my head hurt. I was exhausted, heartbroken, hungry, and sore.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“Kansas City,” Devon replied.
“Why?”
“It’s where I was heading in the first place,” he said. “My mission is there.”
I processed this. “If you’re a spy for the British, why are you in America?”
“We go where the threat is,” he replied. “It could be anywhere. Not every danger to British national security is on our soil.”
I nodded, but didn’t care if he saw me or not.
“I’m cold,” I said, pulling my knees to my chest and resting my feet on the seat. I wrapped my arms around my legs. Devon reached for the heat, flipping the switch to a warmer setting.
“Other than that, how are you?” he asked.
“Awful. Miserable.” Inside and out, but I didn’t say that part.
Devon flicked a glance at me. “You’ll feel better when we stop,” he said. “Get some food and some rest.”
“How do you keep going?” I asked. “Aren’t you tired?”
“Maybe,” he said. “But you have to do what needs to be done. Sometimes there’s not enough time to eat or sleep. You train yourself—and they train you as well—to put the mission first, always.”
“But you didn’t,” I said. “Otherwise you would have left Logan and me to fend for ourselves in St. Louis.”
Devon didn’t reply and I wished, not for the first time, that I could see inside his head.
“What did you mean?” I asked. “Earlier. When you said that you’d choose me, every time?”
“I thought the words were pretty self-explanatory,” he said dryly.
“I know, but why?” I turned to look at him. “I’m nothing more than your fuck buddy, so why would—”
“My what?” he interrupted, turning sharply toward me. “What did you say?”
“Your . . . fuck buddy,” I muttered, my face heating. “It-it’s what Scott said, and pretty much how all my friends see our relationship. Even me.”
“Scott doesn’t know a bloody thing,” Devon snapped, “and neither do your friends. Other than filling your head with a load of nonsense.”
Relief at his obvious irritation eased the ache in my chest.
“What was I supposed to think?” I asked. “The only thing we’ve done until the last few days is have sex.”
“Firstly, I would never use such a derogatory term in relation to you,” he said. “Secondly, you have no idea the risks I took getting to you the few times I could. Any more or longer would have been dangerous for us both. And lastly,” his cool blue gaze met mine, “just because we can’t have more doesn’t mean what we do have isn’t worth something. At least, something more than what the term ‘fuck buddy’ encompasses.”
One of those things stood out the most to me. “What do you mean by it being ‘dangerous for us both’?” He’d put himself at risk just to come see me?
Devon turned back to the road, sliding his sunglasses on as the sun shone brightly above the horizon. “I told you what happened to Kira,” he said. “If anyone sees me with you one too many times or gets an inkling of our relationship, they’ll use it against me in a heartbeat. Clive is a perfect example of that.”
“Anyone?” I asked, wondering if he meant just his enemies, though Vega’s face floated through my mind.
“Anyone.”
“So quit,” I said. “Leave your job. Do something else. There’s got to be other careers out there for you where we could be together.” I held my breath, hoping his answer would be different. He cared for me. He’d nearly come out and said it, plain as could be.
“I won’t quit my job,” he said. “The only way I’ll stop is when they carry me away in a body bag.”
The absolute certainly in his voice made despair well inside me. Hearing Devon tell me how he cared for me—that I was “dear” to him—was wonderful . . . until he followed it up with the fact that he didn’t care enough.
I turned away to stare out the window, leaning my head against the cool glass. I closed my eyes and tried not to think.
I woke when the car stopped. Sitting up from where I’d slumped against the door, I saw we were outside a hotel downtown.
“Wake up, darling,” Devon said. “We’re here.”
A valet opened my door and I stepped out, rubbing my eyes and still trying to clear my head from the cloud of sleep. Devon took my elbow and steered me inside. I didn’t say anything until he was telling the front desk the kind of room he wanted.
“I want a separate room,” I interjected. I felt Devon’s gaze on me, but I stared straight ahead at the man typing on his computer behind the desk.
“Two rooms, sir?” he asked Devon.
I looked down at the counter where my hands were tightly clasped.
“Yes, please,” Devon replied. “Connecting, if you have it.”
“Yes, sir.”
They did have it and a few minutes later we were being shown into our connecting rooms. I noticed Devon took one of the two keys to my room, but I didn’t object. He was paying, so he could do what he wanted, but having my own space would help in my resolve to put some distance between us and not sleep with him.
“I’ll order some room service,” he said. “Get s
ome rest and I’ll wake you when it comes.”
I nodded, already toeing off my shoes and crawling underneath the covers of the king-size bed. I heard Devon go through the connecting door to his room, then I was out again.
Devon must’ve thought I needed sleep more than food because he didn’t wake me. I woke on my own when twilight was darkening the sky. The room was in deep shadows and I sighed. I didn’t yet feel rested, but I felt a helluva lot better than I had earlier.
I got up to use the bathroom and splash water on my face, then dug in my suitcase for my toothbrush. When I was finished, I hesitantly approached the connecting door. It was open, but pulled nearly shut. I rapped lightly on the surface and waited. Nothing. I knocked again. Still nothing. Cautiously, in case Devon was sleeping, I eased the door open.
But the room was empty. Not only was it empty, it looked completely undisturbed. The sheets on the bed were pristine and there were no dirty dishes from the room service Devon had supposedly ordered. Not even a pillow was out of place.
It was odd that he wasn’t there, and I paused for a moment, thinking. It made me a bit uneasy that he’d left me alone. Perhaps he’d been called to duty by Vega, I thought with more than a little bitterness. He’d already professed that his devotion to her superseded his feelings for me. So why was I still here? I could leave if I wanted to. I deserved more than what Devon was offering me, it had just taken a while for me to see it.
Was it wrong to love someone to the point of self-destruction? I’d been unable to help myself before—my need for Devon stronger than my sense of self-preservation—but hearing him so unequivocally state the boundaries of his affection left my love for him cold.
Decision made, I went back to my room and dug in my suitcase for a change of clothes. I’d have the hotel take me to a car rental place, and I’d drive back to St. Louis. As for the people supposedly after me . . .
One problem at a time.
I’d slipped on my shoes and was just wheeling my suitcase to the door when I heard the lock click. I froze in place as the door swung open and Devon walked in.
“Sorry, darling,” Devon said. “Meant to be back earlier, but got held up.” He said this as he unknotted his tie and I saw there was a tear in the sleeve of his jacket. His gaze was sharp as he took in the sight of me standing there fully dressed, suitcase in hand.