by Anna Durand
"Business or pleasure?"
"A bit of both." I glanced at her sideways but couldn't gauge her mood. "Nadya and I worked together on various assignments, and we shagged a few times. That's all."
"Are you saying Nadya was your spy fuck buddy? She kissed you, Logan."
"Yes, but, ah... That's the Egyptian way of saying hello."
A laugh spluttered out of Serena. "Really? That's what you're going with? Egyptians say hello with a big sloppy kiss. Looked like she had her tongue in your mouth."
"She didn't."
"Nadya said it was good to see you, which is code for 'please fuck me, Logan.' Right?"
Mullane snorted as if he were trying not to laugh.
I glared at him over my shoulder. "I told you to haud yer wheesht, ye bod ceann."
The cacan bowed his head and stopped snorting.
Serena was giving me a crooked smirk.
We drove to the hotel in silence. Alex had made the reservation, so naturally, it was posh and expensive and had a view of the Nile River. While we'd waited for Nadya to arrive, Serena had gone outside to call Chase and I'd called Alex to update him, while I kept an eye on our prisoners. Alex wasn't happy to hear Falk's claim that Reginald had betrayed him, but he didn't answer when I asked what he meant to do about it. I suggested he find some way to make sure Falk hadn't lied about Reginald. I even offered to interrogate the twat some more, but Alex told me not to bother. He said only, "I will deal with it in my own way."
He'd insisted we spend the night in Cairo and fly to Cyprus in the morning, so we'd be well rested. I had to agree with him. After our long flight from Utah and the trouble in the warehouse, Serena and I needed a good night's sleep.
A good poke first, though.
But Alex had reserved one suite. With one bed. How could I make love to Serena with Mullane in the room? The snickering twat would ruin the mood.
Luckily, Alex had booked us the Royal Suite at the Conrad Cairo, a luxury hotel. The suite had one bedroom, but also a spacious living room. I'd brought ropes in the trunk, though I'd decided I wouldn't need them at the warehouse. Now, I used them to tie Mullane to the sofa in the living room. I also sealed his mouth shut with duct tape I'd found in the warehouse.
Serena studied my handiwork. "You really know how to restrain someone, don't you?"
"Aye."
"You've got impressive skills." She grabbed my hand and towed me into the bedroom, slamming the door. "Fuck me, Logan."
"What?" I'd been hoping for this, but her bluntness stunned me speechless, more so this time than on that morning at Evan's house.
"I said fuck me." She whipped off her shirt and bra, flinging them across the room. "Watching you handle the bad guys made me want to rip your clothes off."
She removed the rest of her clothes while I stared dumbly.
"Get naked," she said with a hint of annoyance.
"This is probably adrenaline talking," I said. "Wait until it fades—"
"Screw that." She took hold of my shirt and yanked it up and over my head. "I need your cock, Logan. Inside me. Now."
"But—"
She unbuttoned my trousers and shoved them down to my ankles. "Why are you arguing? I want sex, and you're acting like you've never done this before."
Why the bloody hell was I arguing?
I shed the rest of my clothes and dragged her toward me, our bodies crashing into each other at the same instant our mouths did the same. Our tongues tangled, the hunger that burned in us both making our kiss wild and raw. I tried to maneuver us toward the bed, but she pushed me backward toward the balcony.
"Outside," she mumbled against my lips. "I want you outside."
Take Serena outside? On a balcony? In the middle of a crowded city? Fuck, I wanted that. I wanted her, like I'd never wanted any woman before.
Somehow, I managed to open the sliding glass doors while stumbling backward with my eyes closed and a ravenous woman glued to my body. I ran into a chair and cracked my eyes open enough to see the table near the chair and avoid toppling us into it. My erse smacked into the sturdy railing.
Her hand found my cock.
I spun us around, pinned her wrists behind her back with one hand, and thrust deep into her. Her head fell back, her mouth open, her eyes closed. She was stunning, her expression full of lust and hunger. I let go of her wrists to hold her with one arm around her waist while I held on to the railing with the other. She locked one leg around mine. I plowed into her hard and fast, gasping for breath, already on the edge.
"Come for me, Serena," I growled. "Do it now."
"Logan," she moaned. "Oh God, yes, do it harder."
I bent to suck her nipple into my mouth and scrape my teeth over it, and I fucked her harder. She threw her arms around my neck and shackled both legs around me, while I slammed her into the railing. In the back of my mind, I worried I might be hurting her, so I flipped us around to lay her across the table, pumping into her all the while, spellbound by the look on her face and the sensation of her body tightening around me. The first spasm of her release gripped me, while I pounded into her with brutal thrusts.
She cried out, her entire body bowing inward.
I threw my head back, a hoarse shout exploding out of me when I came inside her. She screamed while her climax intensified, and I kept pumping until I'd spent myself inside her completely.
She went limp on the table, one arm dangling off the edge. Her breasts heaved with every breath she hauled into her lungs.
I couldn't speak until I'd caught my breath, which took a few minutes. While we both recovered, we stayed where we were. Serena laid out across the table, me bent over her with my elbows on the glass surface. Her legs stayed lashed around me, and my cock stayed buried inside her incredible body.
"Mm," she hummed with satisfaction, running her fingers through my hair. "That was unbelievable."
"Adrenaline," I said, and kissed her forehead. "It heightens the senses and makes for fantastic sex."
"So this was nothing special for you."
I drew my head back to see her face. "Is that what you think? Oh aye, I've fucked loads of women on the balconies of top-floor suites at luxury hotels all around the world. Being with you is nothing special."
She smacked my chest with the back of her hand. "I'm serious."
The look on her face convinced me of that.
I brushed hair away from her eyes. "No, Serena, I've never experienced anything like this before. Making love to you is a revelation."
"Then why did you say adrenaline always makes sex better?"
I had said that, hadn't I? "No, I didn't mean it that way. I've gone on dangerous missions and had sex while adrenaline was burning through my veins, but it was just sex. What we've done can't compare to anything else."
"For me too."
Reluctantly, I pulled out of her body and carried her into the bedroom. With one arm, I cradled her to me while I tossed the covers aside. Then I laid her on the bed with her head on the pillow.
"Are you hungry?" I asked. "It's late, so I don't know if room service is available. But I'm sure I can find you something."
"Not hungry." She ran her palm over the sheet beside her. "Lie down with me, please. I need to tell you something."
I crawled across her body to lie down beside her, turning onto my side and bending my elbow to prop my head on my hand. "You can tell me anything, mo gaol. I hope you know that."
"Yes, I know that." She trailed a fingertip over my lips. "You're amazing, Logan. I've seen you in action, and I'm not terrified or intimidated. I love your badass side, your sweet side, and especially that dirty mouth of yours. You are the second relationship I've had in my entire life."
"Being with you is the only real relationship I've had with a woman."
"I figured, based on what you said about dating." She turned onto her side and tucked her hands under the pillow. "I convinced myself I hated you because I wanted
you so much, more than I ever wanted Rob. Even back when I called you disgusting, deep down I knew I liked you. It was terrifying. Partly, I was afraid I was betraying Rob. Mostly, I've been afraid you'll die like he did. I mean, you're ex-military, ex-MI6..." She looked straight into my eyes. "Today, I prayed that nothing would happen to you. I prayed harder than I ever have before."
"Serena..."
"You don't have to say anything, just listen. Keely told me something that's been banging around in my brain for a while. She suggested that maybe I could have more than one love of my life, one for each stage of my life. Rob was that person for me, in that time."
She couldn't mean to imply what I thought she was implying.
A thump originated from the living room, followed by a crash.
"Mullane," I hissed.
"Better go check on him."
"I don't want to."
"Would you rather I checked on him?"
"No, I would not." I heaved myself off the bed. "Stay here. We'll finish this conversation as soon as I get that cacan sorted."
I threw the bedroom door open and stalked to the sofa, where Mullane lay half off it, his head on the floor. A lamp had fallen off the table beside the sofa, accounting for the crash. The thump would've been his worthless head hitting the floor. I ripped the tape off his mouth.
"Are you all right?" I asked, probably sounding annoyed, since I was.
"Yeah, I'm okay." He wriggled. "Could you help me up? The blood's all rushing to my head and making me woozy."
I hefted him off the floor and back onto the sofa.
As I was about to reapply the duct tape, he said, "If you guys are gonna hook up again, could you at least get me some earplugs?"
"No."
I slapped the tape over his mouth and strode into the bedroom.
Serena lay on the bed, asleep.
The mystery of what she'd been about to tell me would have to wait.
I slipped into bed with her and pulled the covers over us.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Serena
I woke in the morning feeling fabulous, physically, but less than spectacular on the inside. Nightmares had tormented me while I slept, and I knew Logan must have noticed my tossing and turning. Once, I'd bashed my elbow into his chest. Instead of grousing or snapping at me, he'd pulled me against his big, muscular body and murmured soothing sounds until I fell asleep again. When I woke this morning, he was gone.
But I heard his voice in the living room. He sounded annoyed, so I assumed Falk was being an ass again. Did the twerp know how to be anything else?
I crawled out of bed and got dressed.
The nightmares replayed in my mind, despite my attempts to forget about them. I got queasy thinking about those images of pain and death and sorrow. It was like being thrown back in time to eleven years ago, when I'd been informed of Rob's death, except in the dreams I witnessed all of it. They didn't afford me any distance from the pain, and I didn't know if I could handle it in real life. Not again.
Yes, I'd dreamed of Logan dying. Over and over and over. The images wrenched my stomach into knots and poisoned my mouth with a sour taste.
While I pulled on some clothes, I reflected on yesterday and the thrill of going on an adventure with Logan, witnessing a side of him I was pretty sure his family and friends had never seen. His spy buddies had seen his lethal side, but only I truly knew that part of him. Logan was the most capable, intelligent, determined, and trustworthy man I'd ever met.
So why did I feel sick when I thought about our relationship?
Maybe it was the aftermath of a thrilling experience. I'd come down from the adrenaline high, and it had left me drained.
I wandered into the living room to find Logan looming over Falk, who lay on the sofa with his hands still bound but the tape removed from his mouth.
Logan glanced at me. "The cacan won't stop whining."
Falk whimpered with exaggerated agony. "I'm starving. This must be some kind of violation of the Genevieve Convention, holding me against my will and not giving me food or water."
Logan rolled his eyes. "It's the Geneva Convention, ye eejit, and it doesn't apply."
"Why not?"
"Because we aren't at war. Nobody knows I've kidnapped you, anyway."
I came up beside Logan. "I'm hungry too. If you don't care about our prisoner, at least feed me."
That ended their argument. Logan ordered breakfast, and even cut the zip tie off Falk's wrists so he could eat more easily. The second the twerp was done, Logan cinched the zip tie around his wrists.
We took Evan's jet to Cyprus, flying over the Mediterranean until we touched down on the island. Logan rented a car at the airport and threatened to stow Falk in the trunk but relented when the idiot wised up enough to realize he ought to stop complaining. The house owned by Falk's parents turned out to be a large villa perched atop a jagged cliff with a stunning view of the aqua-blue waters of a small bay. The sun beamed down on us as we got out of the car in the semicircular gravel driveway.
At the large front doors, we waited while Falk searched every planter on the porch for the spare key. He'd managed to lose his key, naturally. Some criminal mastermind he'd turned out to be.
I closed my eyes and tipped my head back to let the sun warm my face. Even that couldn't melt away the unease that lingered inside me.
Did Logan and I belong together? Or was a little while all we could have?
Those thoughts popped up out of nowhere. I turned my face away from the sun, wondering why the hell I'd wondered such a thing about my relationship with Logan. The obvious answer was that I worried something might happen to him. Yes, of course I worried about that. But could there be something else, something I hadn't consciously realized yet?
The inside of the villa featured that modern, industrial style so many people liked these days. I hated it. The sterile white walls and concrete floor seemed cold and soulless. The stainless-steel accents gave it the aura of a meat locker. Everything in this place sent a chill through me, one so bone deep I couldn't shake it.
Logan hooked an arm around my shoulders. "Are you feeling all right? Maybe you've come down with something."
"I'm fine, I swear." Physically, I was.
Falk led us into a bedroom—the one reserved for him, as it turned out—and pulled a storage trunk out of the closet. He opened it up, carefully withdrawing three objects the size and shape of letter-size paper, though they were thicker than any paper sheets. They were fashioned from clay and stamped with chicken scratches.
The cuneiform tablets.
At the airport, Logan had bought a hard-sided suitcase and a bunch of cotton gauze. Now, he and Falk wrapped the tablets in the gauze and stowed them in the suitcase. Falk tried to take the case, but Logan hit the twerp with his coldest glare and Falk gave up.
Half an hour later, we were back on the jet and taking off.
I tried to admire the scenery as the plane lifted off and soared over the Mediterranean. Even the crystal-clear aqua waters of the bays around the island couldn't interest me. I kept glancing at Logan, and every time I did, my chest hurt.
He made numerous attempts to engage me in conversation, but I wasn't much use for that. Saying "uh-huh" or "uh-huh" hardly qualified as talking. Finally, he gave up and coaxed me into lying on the sofa with him. I fell asleep for the rest of the flight.
Two state troopers met us on the tarmac as soon as the jet landed. They took Falk into custody, along with the tablets. Those would be returned to the museum once Falk had gone to trial or pleaded guilty. Logan suggested, in that frighteningly calm voice of his, that Falk should "make the right choice" and enter a guilty plea. Considering how terrified he was of Logan, I had a feeling Falk would sign a confession as quickly as possible.
When we reached Alex's house, the sun was setting.
Before Logan could push the doorbell, the doors swung open.
Alex hunched
at the threshold, his posture and facial expression exuding contained fury.
For a second, I thought he must have a twin brother and that's who had opened the door. But no, it was Alex. His charming-rogue persona had disintegrated, replaced by a murderous expression that seemed to darken his eyes. He wore rumpled jeans and a rumpled T-shirt, and even his hair was a mess. Dark circles discolored the skin under his eyes, while a shadow beard speckled his face.
Logan eyed Alex like he hadn't seen the man before. "Is everything all right, mate?"
"Yes," Alex said, drawing the word out almost like a snake hissing. "Everything's fine. Reggie and I had a nice long chat."
Alex sounded as edgy as he looked, his voice rougher and lower, and he spat the butler's name.
I suffered a fleeting thought that he'd murdered Reginald, but I dismissed it right away. Alex didn't seem like a killer. He was angry, for sure. Seriously angry. But homicidal? No, I couldn't believe that.
"What did Reginald say?" Logan asked.
Alex stepped aside so we could go into the house. He shut the door and rubbed his jaw. "Reggie admitted to taking a bribe from Falk. He said he's bloody sick of taking care of a narcissistic arse, and the money Falk gave him will buy Reggie a first-class trip back to Australia."
Logan's gaze flicked around the foyer before settling on Alex again. "Where is Reginald?"
"The state police have him. He confessed to aiding and abetting Falk." A ghost of Alex's old smile made his lips twitch at the corners. "I hope they wind up in the same cell block. Good old Reggie will get bloody sick of listening to that whingeing little wanker and beg me to get him out so he can clean my toilet with his tongue."
Even Logan seemed to have no clue how to respond to that.
I supposed we had to cut Alex some slack. He'd found out last night that his longtime employee, someone he'd clearly thought of as a friend, had sold him out.
"Come," Alex said, almost snarling the word as he waved for us to follow him down the hall.
Logan and I seated ourselves in the chairs across the desk from where Alex normally sat, but our host didn't sit. He leaned against the windowsill, gazing out at the ever-deepening twilight.