The way she slides over to the driver side and holds out her hand for the keys without making this more awkward than it already is makes me want to hug the shit out of her. Okay, more than hug her. In fact, if she were open to it, I'd lay her back against the cheap, cracked leather and put my face between her thighs. It seems like an acceptable sentiment of gratitude to me.
"Are you getting in?" she asks, snapping me out of the very vivid daydream I was enjoying. After digging the keys out of my pocket, I slide beside her and hand them over. "It might be a bad time to mention this, but I don't exactly have my driver’s license. But it can't be hard, right? Gas, brake, stick shifty thing."
Wide-eyed, I stare out the windshield. "Yep, and this is an automatic, so no stick shifty thing, as you like to call it. I like living on the edge with you, Pops. African adventures, driving dangerously, what's next?"
"Hell, don't say that," she half laughs. "It could get a lot worse. This is me we’re talking about."
Turning to face her, I take in the pink hair I've only seen in dreams. The thin brown brows that accentuate her bright blue eyes. The tiny perky nose sprinkled with light brown freckles that blend over to the top of each cheek. And damn, her perfect pink lips. Those lips have haunted my dreams. Pressed against mine, gliding across my stomach as she goes down until they’re wrapped around me and fucking loving it.
I watch her throat bob and her hands tighten to a white-knuckled grip on the steering wheel. She feels it too, this overwhelming heat pulsing through the cab. This small space intensifies everything that's built since yesterday. Hell, since Africa.
"I thought you were giving me time," she breathes, still staring out the window like she's too scared to turn and face me. At least now I know it's not because she's actually scared of me. Hell, if she knew everything I wanted to do to her, everywhere I want her lips on me and mine on her, she might be scared.
My hands tremble from the energy required to keep them at my side. "I am trying."
"Are you?" Her laugh is nervous as she wets her lips.
"You have no damn idea if you're actually questioning it. If I wasn't, you'd be under me right now."
She turns with a gasp. "Why would you want me? I'm nobody. Look at me."
"I am looking, and you're gorgeous as hell, funny if someone's paying attention to catch it, selfless, and did I mention gorgeous? You have no idea how bad I want to search every inch of you to find more of those damn freckles."
A vein in her neck pulses faster and faster, mimicking her breathing.
Fuck. Knowing she feels it too breaks all remaining restraint.
Gripping the back of her neck, I pull her close to press my lips against hers. She doesn't pull back, doesn't hesitate. Eyes closed, she offers a soft moan and angles her head, urging me harder with a hand now wrapped around my neck.
I trace the tip of my tongue along the seam of her lips, begging her to open for me. My hand tangles in her hair as her lips part, granting me full access. Fuck, this kiss is both too much and not enough.
Knowing I'm pushing her faster than she wants, I hold back from taking more. But it's her who slides across the seat to straddle my lap.
Not caring why it happened, I grip the ass I've coveted over the past twenty-four hours and yank her closer. Another moan escapes her lips, making my dick strain against my jeans, eager to feel something other than my hand for the first time in months. But I let her lead, show me how far she's okay with going. For now. Even if my other head has other plans, just having her in my arms, her lips against mine is enough.
"I'm bad news," she whispers as she kisses along my jawline toward my ear. "If I stay you'll get hurt."
"You're worth the storm, and I'm tougher than I look," I manage to get out somehow. My hands tighten their grip on her firm ass to keep them in place instead of skimming up her shirt. "Just don't leave, okay?"
"Okay," she breathes into my ear, making me groan and pull her harder against me. Her knees slide along the seat, spreading her legs wider and allowing her full weight, what little she has, to settle down. But it's the slight rocking motion she adds that makes me hiss and slam my head against the headrest.
"Pops." I pull her lips from my neck to look at me. Our breathing ragged, all the windows in the truck are now fogged like we’re necking teenagers. "Not here. Let's get your snacks, find the bastard who's searching for you, and then pick up where we're leaving off. I'd like to think I'm a more of a gentleman than fucking you in the truck. Our first time," I say with a wink.
"And we need to talk," she says as she slides off my lap to position herself behind the wheel once again.
"Damn women and their talking."
"If I remember correctly, you talked, a lot, a few nights. Don't go saying it's a girl thing."
Hands up in surrender, I smile at her pursed-lipped glare. "Hey, easy there, Pops. I don't mind the talking. Just making small talk."
Her nostrils flare before she leans forward to examine the dash. "Now where do the keys go again?"
"You know what, I'm actually feeling more confident by the second in my readiness to drive. Why don't—"
"I'm kidding, Nash." She rolls her eyes and starts the truck. "Just tell me where we're going and I'll make sure we get there."
"In one piece," I add as I grip the door handle.
"You say potato, I say where's the fun in that."
As we inch down the gravel drive, her wide smile makes everything okay. Hell, if we die, at least she’s having fun.
Chapter 26
Fate
Today
Using the strawberry Twizzler, which took us three different convenience stores to find, I suck up the last drop of milk from the glass. He's not even trying to hide the look of pure disgust from the other side of the room as I gnaw on the yummy, chewy vine.
As I stare at the blank screen, my pulse beats faster and faster knowing the answer to my fear is only a few clicks away. This is it. This is the moment I learn if I'm done with this whole ordeal, able to pass it all off to the FBI without looking over my shoulder the rest of my life, or not.
Massaging my right hand, still aching from my attempt to break the truck window those months ago, I glance to Nash, who's watching like he's on some kind of patrol. The assault rifle now slung across his back amps up my nerves.
"Here we go," I whisper and start the search. It’s a challenge finding my rhythm, but I keep my focus even as Nash's cell phone rings. It's not until his voice rises to the person on the other end of the line that I pause, fingers hovering over the keyboard as I listen.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa there. I don't know what you're talking about. Yeah, she's right here, just logged on.... Okay." Noticing my attention, he nods to the phone and tosses it toward me. "He's freaking out about something."
"Who?" I ask before putting the phone to my ear.
Mac’s voice pours through the receiver. "Tell me it's not you. You wouldn't do this, not to me."
My brows narrow as I try to decipher what the hell he's talking about. "Hey, it's me. What's going on?"
"I'm being fucking hacked! Or someone’s trying to. I'm holding whoever off, but they're good.”
“Shit.”
“What?”
“I think I know who it is, but how-”
“It's like they’re searching for something specific. I'm trying to keep my files secure but—"
Files.
Pushing out of the chair, I pace the room, Nash and Dobby hot on my heels. "Do you still have the file you found? The one I planted before I left?"
"Yes, but that's not—"
"Get anything to download it on, now. Flash drive, disk, anything, but get it off your computer before he can see it. Now. Do it."
"What's going on, Fate? Tell me what's in that file."
With a sigh, I stop, Nash stumbling against my back. Turning with a scowl, I flop onto the bed. "I'll fill you in later, but you have to save that information. If he sees it, then he’ll know how I found him, w
hat digital fingerprints he leaves behind. If he gets it...."
"Who's ‘he’?"
"The jackass searching for me," I shout into the phone. “I don’t know how he found you. Maybe he tracked you through me but he’s probably trying to see if you know where I am. Searching for me through you. If he finds that file and learns... I might never find him again if he adapts.”
Silence on the other end says he's either working on keeping his computers secure or saving the information I spent a better part of a year gathering.
"Done," he breathes into the phone. "He's still kicking my ass though, and I cannot let him see the case files I’m working on or find you. Help."
Leaping off the bed, I fall into the uncomfortable chair and do what I do best. It takes a few minutes to use the jackass’s wormhole as my own entrance into Mac’s system, then begin reinforcing every firewall and security feature Mac has, plus installing a few of my own that I created before Africa. I’m careful though, double securing my tracks so he can’t trace anything back to this house. Knowing Jace, that could be his reason for hacking Mac, luring me out to trace my whereabouts.
Reaching over, I hit the Speaker button with my elbow. "Okay I'm in, trying to help."
"I'm getting rusty, sitting in meetings too much these days it seems. It took me too long to even identify what was going on."
With a small smile, I keep adding layer after layer of security to his system. "It's okay. Getting bypassed by a younger generation always happens to the old folks. Don't worry, I’ll visit you in the nursing home."
"Brat. Okay, I think we're good. Don't see any more alerts or attempts to crack my firewalls."
Doing one more scan, I nod. "I need to get that file from you."
"I'm coming with the agent in charge of your debriefing tomorrow. I'll give it to you then."
Hitting the End button, I angle the half-liter Coke bottle and down several gulps. Using the sleeve of my hoodie as a makeshift napkin, I wipe the remnants from my lips and turn to Nash, who's back to watching out the window.
"You know what I can’t figure out, Fate." His cold tone has a heavy sense of dread settling in. "How in the hell does this guy know to look for you? We couldn't find you and thought you were dead, so why did he know you weren’t? And not only that, when you do finally pop up, he knows you're a threat. Why is that?"
Shit. Okay, time to lay it all out there.
"I—"
"Don't lie. Just tell me," he demands as he leans against the wall, his narrowed stare locked with my wide eyes.
Heat creeps up my neck and spreads to my cheeks. "I just wanted them off you," I whisper. "I was desperate, frantic. And I... I told them."
His muscles bunch and flex as he pushes off the wall to stalk across the room. Looming over the chair, he holds our intense stare. "Told them what, exactly."
"That I was there for him, that he would pay for everything." Breaking his gaze, I look to Dobby sound asleep on the floor. "Pay for Destiny."
His released breath brushes across my cheeks. "Okay, that's not too bad."
"And I might’ve mentioned some involvement with the CIA. And that they were coming for him. Which is when he ripped off my tracker and dragged me away."
"Anything else?" he seethes.
"His second-in-command was right there, listening. He heard it all."
"Did you also give them your social and mother’s maiden name?" I snap my head up, jaw slack at the barely restrained rage in his voice. "I had one rule. One damn rule. Fuck, Fate!"
With a shake of his head, he storms out. The echo of his footsteps pounding down the stairs reverberates in my ears. I figured he'd be mad, but he's kind of overreacting. I did save his life, kind of. Well, not really.
This is getting confusing. Am I the bad guy?
Massaging my temples with the heels of my palms, I make to follow him but pause at the top of the stairs at the sound of his voice. Giving him some privacy with whoever he's on the phone with, I head back to the spare room and fall into the chair. Staring at the screens, I debate my next move with this asshole. No need to verify my suspicions—the attack on Mac’s computer confirms everything.
I'm still staring at the blank screens when Nash walks back in, slapping his phone on his palm as he stares across the room "I talked to my boss. Effective today, I'm back to work. The boys will check in every hour to make sure things are good here and will be ready if I need backup. We're safe here for now, since this fucker doesn't know exactly where you are, but if that changes, we'll figure it out. I should probably show you the safe room at some point."
"Sounds good to me," I say in a peppy voice I've never heard before. Overcompensate much, Fate? "Are you still mad?"
His gaze flicks over and his shoulders relax. "I'm not mad at you, Pops. Furious at your actions, but not at you. I know you were trying to save me, but don't do it again, okay? All I want is you safe."
"Why?"
"It's a guy thing."
"Is that it?" I ask, more hopeful than I intended for it to come out.
"Are you ready for that talk?" he asks with a smirk, knowing I'll back down. I hate that he knows me as well as he does.
"Fine, promise." I stand and stretch. His hungry gaze tracks every movement, sending my stomach quivering, eager for more of his rough touch. "What's for dinner?" I ask breathlessly, trying to redirect both our thoughts. Even though he knows about my little lie by omission, I still need to know his intentions, as old-school as it sounds. When I gather enough courage to actually have said conversation, that is. "Please don't say breakfast again."
Gaze zeroed in on my lips, he smiles. "Frozen pizza it is."
THE FRUSTRATION FADES during dinner, allowing us to talk and laugh, almost like a first date, except we already know so much about each other that it's deeper. He talks about his physical therapy and the awkwardness of learning to live with the new addition to his body. He also tells me about the hot nurses who begged to give him daily sponge baths, which of course pisses me off and only makes his smile widen.
"So, you said you 'did' have a girlfriend," I say as I bite through a piece of pizza. "What happened?"
He shrugs and reaches for his sixth slice. "It just wasn't right. I knew it wasn't before I left, and she knew it too, but it was fun. She wasn't too torn up about not having to stick around and help me cope with it all."
"That's awful."
"Yeah well, in the past I haven't dated the most... character-filled women."
"In the past? You hope to change that?"
"Yeah, yeah I do, Pops."
His intense stare shakes my nerves. "Have you ever dated one who was right? You know, someone you thought could last."
"I have."
"And...?" I prompt, motioning with my hand for him to continue.
"It didn't."
"Didn't?"
"Last."
"Why?"
"Ask her." His jaw muscles tense as he shifts his stare to the living room. "It was a long time ago."
Now I'm curious. "How long ago?"
"High school, Army time frame."
"How long did you date?"
"What's with the fifty questions, Pops? Why does it matter who came before you? All that matters is you're here now, with me, and you promised not to leave."
Everything, every word in his statement, throw my thoughts into overdrive, but the hurt in his last words directs my next question.
"Did she?"
"Did she what?" he responds with an exaggerated sigh.
"Leave."
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Again, you'd have to ask her. Not that you'll ever meet her. Come on, I'm tired." He stands and reaches for my hand. "Have you ever thought of going into interrogation?"
"Huh?"
"You ask a lot of questions," he says with a smile, then tugs me off the stool. "Listen, you've dated people and I've dated people, and I really don't give two shits about any of them. What matters is I don't want them. I w
ant you."
"You do?"
We pause at the bottom of the stairs, me one step higher, putting us eye to eye.
"I do." He leans in, but I turn and bolt up the stairs. Always been good at running away, it seems.
"Seriously?" he says behind me. Once we reach my bedroom, he leans against the doorframe and nods to the bed. "Where do you want me?" He grins. "I'd prefer not to sleep outside your door again tonight. My ass hurt like hell this morning. But I'm not letting you sleep unprotected, so it's your call here, Pops."
With a nod, I turn and scan the room, silently hoping a spare bed will magically appear out of nowhere. "Um, I... I don't know."
"I won't bite, unless you ask me to," he whispers into my ear, having silently crept up behind me.
With a yelp, I jump at least a foot in the air. Placing his hands on my shoulders, he turns me to face him. "I'll sleep on the floor, it's fine. If you're going to stroke out, I'd rather it be from me being in the bed with you instead of the fear of it."
"I'm not scared of you."
"Sure as hell feels that way. You're about to cause an aneurysm trying to figure out where I can sleep without being too close."
"It's just...." I fall to the unmade bed with a huff and stare at the ceiling. "I'm awkward with this stuff anyway, and you're... well, you, so I'm even more awkward."
His loud chuckling makes me smile. "What the hell does that even mean?"
"It means...." Ugh. I can't have this conversation to his face. Sitting up, I eye him, then the queen-size bed. I'm a fool to think inviting him into this bed is as innocent as not wanting to make him sleep on the floor. I want him in this bed, want him beside me. It's all I wanted all those nights in Africa, to have him beside me without any looming threats or walls between us. Now I have my chance, so what in the hell am I doing holding back?
"Get in the bed," I say, then point to the other side of the mattress.
"Whoa, what just happened?" Palms up, he takes a cautious step back. "I'm not making fun of you."
"Just get in," I say again and point with more force. "I'll get the light." Before flipping the switch, I turn to make sure he's obeying. Which he is, kind of. His jeans are halfway down his thighs, shirt already discarded to the floor. "Seriously?"
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