Conceal, Protect

by Carol Ericson

  She blew out a shaky breath that rattled her frame. They’d broken into her apartment and ranch house. They’d tried to run her off the road. They’d abducted her brother. She wanted to know why. Even though she already knew why.

  She pressed the redial button and hunched her shoulders while it rang. Once. Twice.

  “Yes?”

  The voice had a slight accent—a normal voice. He didn’t sound like Darth Vader at all.

  J.D. reached over and pressed the speaker button on the side of the phone.

  Noelle squeezed her eyes shut and mastered her shallow breath before speaking. “I got your message. What do you want from me? What do you want from my brother? Where is he? Why are you harassing us?”

  The man clicked his tongue. “So many questions. We just want to talk, Noelle.”

  Her name on his lips caused the knots to tighten in her belly. “You have a funny way of initiating a conversation. Why did you break into my apartment in D.C.? It was you, wasn’t it?”

  “We were looking for something.”

  “No kidding. You trashed my place. Is my brother okay? Can I talk to him?”

  “Perhaps. Are the police listening in on this conversation?”

  Her gaze shifted to J.D., and he shook his head.

  “No. I’m alone.”

  “That...ranch hand is not with you?”

  Again, J.D. shook his head.

  “He’s in the guesthouse.”

  “Who is he?”

  “My employee and an old friend, and I don’t think he’s going to stick around much longer, thanks to you. His truck was totaled when you forced us off the road. Why did you do that?”

  “I told you, Noelle. We just want to talk to you.”

  “Well, you’re talking to me now. Did you have something to do with my husband’s murder? If so, you have to know that I can’t identify you. I couldn’t give the police anything.”

  “This has nothing to do with your husband. We want to ask you a few questions about your roommate, Abby Warren.”

  “Abby?” Her voice squeaked, and J.D. flashed her a thumbs-up.

  “Yes.”

  “Ask away. The police told me she had some...uh...personal issues. I don’t know anything more than that.”

  “Our questioning cannot be done over the telephone. We’d like to meet with you in person.”

  “Are you kidding? You tried to kill me last night. Why would I want to meet you in person?”

  “We had no intention of killing you, Noelle.”

  “You could’ve fooled me. Now I want to talk to my brother. And how do I know you even have him? I have no way of contacting him to find out if it’s true or not.”

  “We’ll send you a picture of him. And know this, Noelle. If you don’t agree to meet with us in person, alone, the consequences could be very grave for your brother.”

  “Just ask me your damned questions. If you’re trying to get some dirt on Abby, I’ll tell you everything I know about her situation...over the phone.”

  “We’ll be in touch to set up a meeting.” The phone went dead, and Noelle dropped it into her lap.

  “You did great.” J.D.’s fingers skimmed her cheek.

  “Not great enough that he believed me. He still must think I know something. Is that why he’s insisting we meet face-to-face?”

  “That—and other reasons.”

  She fisted her hands so that her nails dug into the flesh of her palms. “Will they try to torture the truth out of me?”

  “They might shoot you up with truth serum.”

  “Maybe that’s the way to go.” She pressed her fists against her stomach. “Let them give me truth serum. I know nothing about those plans.”

  “But you do. You know they exist, which is another reason why I wanted to keep you in the dark.”

  “And once they find out I know about the anti-drone plans, even if I don’t know their whereabouts, they’ll kill me.” She grabbed his arm. “Won’t they?”

  “Noelle.”

  She flung his arm away from her and jumped from the love seat. Order. She needed order.

  She marched to the bookcase and inspected the row of old hardback books from her parents’ collection. The titles faced every which way. Some of the books were upside down. Some of the spines were turned inward.

  “Noelle, are you okay?”

  J.D.’s voice sounded distant, an echo from a million miles away.

  She pulled the first book out and put it in the same direction as the next two. She snatched the fourth book and turned it around.

  “Noelle?”

  J.D.’s warm breath tickled the back of her neck, but the disordered books called to her, demanded her full attention.

  The fifth book. The sixth book. Get in line. Face the same direction. Her mind gave the commands and her motions followed as if on autopilot. She couldn’t stop now even if she wanted to.

  And she wanted to.

  J.D.’s arms engulfed her from behind, wrapping her in a warm cocoon of safety. But she wasn’t safe. She’d never be safe again.

  “It’s okay, Noelle. I’ll make it okay for you.”

  She spun around, burying her face in his chest. “It’s out of control. It’s all out of control.”

  “Shh.” He cupped her face, tilting it toward his.

  His kisses rained down across her nose, her cheeks, her chin.

  She grabbed his flannel shirt, dizzy from his kisses, not her concussion, the books forgotten.

  He sifted his fingers through the back of her hair, pulling it loose from the ponytail. After meandering around her face, his lips found their target and his mouth moved over hers, caressing, inviting.

  She wanted this. She wanted wild, messy sex. She wanted to shove all the fear and hopelessness of the past few years into a dark corner. She wanted to let go.

  She skimmed her hands across J.D.’s unshaven face, the bristles of his beard scratching her palms. When he deepened the kiss, she nipped at his bottom lip.

  He murmured against her mouth, “Are you ready? Do you want to do this?”

  For an answer, she slid her hands beneath his T-shirt and raked her nails across his back.

  The breath hissed between his teeth as he planted his hands on her hips. “Slow down.”

  But she couldn’t slow down. She didn’t want to slow down. If she did, she’d have to return to the books. She’d have to move the love seat back to its original location. She’d have to pick up her towel from the bathroom floor and hang it over the rack so the ends lined up evenly.

  She pressed the lines of her body along his, her soft curves molding to the sharp planes and hard muscles of his frame. Plowing her fingers through his tangled hair, she pulled his head down for another kiss. This time, she took control, plunging her tongue into his depths, setting the pace of their passion—fast and furious.

  He rubbed her arms beneath the sleeves of her robe. “You feel cold. Let’s go back to the fire.”

  He didn’t wait for an answer, sweeping her off her feet, cradling her against his chest. He carried her back to the love seat, aptly named, and settled her on a cushion.

  When he sat beside her, she crawled into his lap, straddling him. Her robe opened beneath her, and the rough denim of J.D.’s jeans chafed her inner thighs.

  Tilting his head against the back of the love seat, he measured her with hooded eyes and expelled a ragged breath. “You’re killing me here.”

  The top of her bathrobe gaped open, and she shrugged the terry cloth off her shoulders, slipping her arms from the sleeves. She cupped her breasts and offered them to J.D.

  Groaning, he took her right nipple between his lips and sucked it into his mouth.

  The pleasure of his touch spiraled right down to her core, and she gasped while undulating against his lap. He thrust his pelvis upward, and she felt the hard outline of his erection.

  He switched his attention from her right breast to her left, tracing her aching nipple with the tip of his ton
gue. He drew back and blew on it, and she arched her back for more.

  Sensation. She craved sensation. The senses had to rule over the mind. Had to blot out reasonable thought.

  “You’re overdressed.” She pulled at the buttons on his shirt, her movements so clumsy, he had to finish the job. He tossed the flannel shirt behind him, and then yanked off his T-shirt in one motion.

  She drank in the sight of his chiseled chest sprinkled with tawny hair. She brushed her cheek against one perfectly formed pec, his hair tickling her ear. She inhaled his scent—clean and natural. He must’ve showered at the hotel this morning, and not one for using colognes, he smelled all male.

  Alex had always worn that cologne. She’d grown to hate it, and now she hated it even more since one of her attackers seemed to favor it, too.

  Stop thinking.

  Her fingers crept down his belly and tugged at the button on his fly. Then she moved to the zipper on his jeans, and he cinched her wrist.

  “Are you sure about this?”

  Spies must have incredible self-control because judging by the bulge in J.D.’s jeans and his erratic breathing he’d have a hard time stopping this train now.

  “Why are you asking me that?” She shook off his hands and peeled back his fly. She skimmed her fingernails across the cotton of his briefs.

  His entire body shuddered, and he swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “It’s just...” He clenched his jaw as her nails made another pass across his briefs. “You were so upset before. What were you do—?”

  She yanked at his waistband and caressed his tight, smooth flesh.

  He sighed and repositioned his hips so that she slid off his thighs. Then he pulled his jeans and underwear off together and dragged her back into this lap.

  That’s right. No thinking allowed. No questions.

  She kicked off the robe, still clinging to her lower body, and pressed her inner thighs against his outer thighs. Skin against heated skin, they sizzled when they met.

  He ran his hands down her sides, circling her hips. “Do you want to move to the bedroom?”

  Shaking her head, she pulled the band from her hair that held the remains of her ponytail. She tilted forward and trailed her hair from J.D.’s chin to his belly.

  J.D. reached behind him, grabbed the throw pillow tilted into the corner of the love seat and tossed it to the ground. Then he reclined.

  The cushion belongs in the corner.

  Noelle clenched her teeth and dug her fingers into J.D.’s shoulders, moving her hips against him.

  He cupped her buttocks, the biceps in his arms bunching. “Let’s take this onto the floor. We’re going to end up falling off this little couch and breaking our necks.”

  Lifting her against his chest, he slid to the floor. On the way down, Noelle made a grab for her bathrobe, discarded in a tangled heap.

  She needed to hang it up.

  J.D. rolled on top of her, the firelight picking out the golden highlights in his hair and casting a glow over his bronzed skin. If she couldn’t allow herself to let go with this fine specimen of manhood, the crazies really had taken control of her mind.

  He dipped his head and ran the tip of his tongue between her breasts.

  She rolled her head to the side and caught sight of the edge of the rug, curled under from when J.D. dragged the love seat before the fire.

  Her fingers crept toward the wavy rug, and she stared at her hand as if it were some part of her body with a mind of its own. In the confines of her head she screamed, Stop!

  But the hand wouldn’t obey. Slowly, the fingers stretched out and flattened the rug into submission.

  “Noelle?” J.D.’s voice rasped in her ear.

  “Mmm?”

  Is the rug straight enough? Should I try again?

  Her fingers walked toward the edge.

  “Don’t you like that?”

  Noelle blinked. “What?”

  J.D. pinched her left nipple between calloused fingers while drawing the right between his lips for a soft kiss. The contrast between pain and pleasure drew a garbled cry from her throat as her hips bounced from the floor.

  “That’s more like it. Thought I lost you.” His fingers and his lips switched places and he continued his exquisite torture.

  She thrashed her head from side to side as tension coiled in her belly. The fire warmed her face as J.D. warmed her body. A log slipped off the grate and the wood popped.

  The log should be on the grate.

  The basket holding the logs is too close to the edge and not lined up with the horizontal cement grout between the bricks.

  She squeezed her eyes closed and wrapped her legs around J.D.’s hips. “Hurry. Let’s go.”

  J.D.’s body stopped its delicious movements. His fingers, which had been stroking her inner thighs, froze.

  Her words had sounded bad.

  “I—I want you. I want you inside me. I can’t wait.”

  He rolled from her body, taking all his warmth with him. Sitting up, he rested his forearms on his knees, which he’d drawn up to his chest. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.”

  She reached out and rubbed her knuckles along the back of his calf. “Come back to me.”

  “You come back to me, Noelle, because you’re not into this at all.” He dropped his hand and toyed with her fingers. His tone softened. “You’re not ready for this. It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have pushed you. You just found out about your brother. What kind of idiot seduces a woman after she’s just found out her brother has been kidnapped?”

  “It’s not you.” She clutched his fingers. “You don’t have to be gallant here. You know I jumped your bones. I came on to you—practically ripped off your clothes.”

  Grinning, he spread his arms wide. “Do you see me complaining?”

  She sat up and rubbed the side of her breast against his leg. “We can still do this. I won’t rush you. We can spend all afternoon in front of this fire making love.”

  Her hand hovered over the throw pillow wedged between the love seat and the end table. She curled her hand into a fist, but it was no use. She plucked the pillow from its spot, placed it flat on the floor and began smoothing out the wrinkles in its cover with agitated fingers.

  J.D. traced his index finger from the inside of her elbow to her wrist. “What’s wrong, Noelle?”

  She wanted to deny that there was anything wrong. She wanted to deny the compulsion for order that had crept over her the past few days, ever since she’d returned to the ranch. She wanted to deny that she hadn’t made love with a man since the death of Alex.

  But J.D. could spot a psycho a mile away.

  She punched the pillow and raised her gaze to his, tears flooding her eyes, her nose stinging. “I...I...”

  He scooted next to her and wrapped her in a hug, all the sexual content drained from the embrace, despite the fact that they both remained naked, parts of her body still tender and sensitive.

  Kissing the side of her head, he tucked her hair behind one ear. “Do you have OCD?”

  She shook her head, and a tear crested and dropped onto her cheek. “No—not all the time. I mean, not for a long time and never before—before Alex’s murder.”

  A sob welled in her throat, and she choked it back, but another came on its heels, overwhelming her ability to contain it. Everything the past few days had overwhelmed her ability to contain.

  The tears rolled down her face unabated now, the sobs shaking her body.

  J.D.’s arms grew tighter around her. Of course he felt sorry for her. Who wouldn’t feel sorry for someone whose life was controlled by straightening and organizing and counting and checking?

  Her father had felt so sorry for her mother he couldn’t leave her—even for someone he really loved.

  J.D. pinched her chin, forcing her to look him in the face even though she knew her nose was red and running, her eyes puffy, her lips trembling.

  “Why exactly did you think it was
a good idea to have wild, hot sex on the living room floor? Not that I minded in the least.”

  Her bottom lip quivered as she tried to form a coherent response. “I th-thought if I lost myself—” another sob contorted her face “—in—in my senses, I could forget about my compulsions.”

  He stroked her face, catching her tears on the ends of his thumbs. “Didn’t work, huh?”

  Shame burned her cheeks as she gazed into his whiskey eyes. She’d used him and he knew it. She’d seduced him, stoked his passion, whipped him up to the point of release—and then denied him.

  His chest, still flushed with desire, had just stopped heaving seconds before. His rasping breath had just slowed to a normal pace. She didn’t even want to look at the other parts of his body.

  “I’m sorry, J.D. What I felt, what I did—I wasn’t faking it. I wanted to be with you. I just...”

  “You’re not ready. Even if you were, this isn’t the time or the place.”

  Her gaze wandered past his body to the nest they’d created before the fire. She couldn’t think of a more perfect place.

  He snatched the pillow and, crushing it against his crotch, he stood up. He extended a hand to her. “Why don’t you lie down and get some rest, and I’ll start on some work around this place while we wait to hear from Zendaris’s men? I still want to help you out around here.”

  She pulled her robe into her lap and took his hand. Her nakedness now seemed a sham, and she wrapped her bathrobe around her body and secured the tie.

  He must’ve felt the same because he struggled into his jeans behind the love seat with his back toward her. He said over his shoulder, “Do you need to call someone about your symptoms? Were you seeing a psychiatrist?”

  Another wave of shame flooded her body. The humiliation just kept on piling on. “Yes, someone in D.C.”

  He buttoned his fly and snapped his fingers. “The meds. That’s what the meds were for. Will your doctor in D.C. phone in a prescription for you? Can doctors even prescribe meds across state lines? I’m not even sure.”

  That’s it. He’d relegated her to crazy town.

  “I’ve already done that. A prescription is waiting at the pharmacy, but I don’t need medication. This is just a slight—” she circled a hand in the air “—setback.”