by Madelon Smid
“Take action or change your attitude.”
“How does that work precisely?” She rested her cheek on her knees and tilted her head to watch him.
“You have to decide if one works better than the other, or you might choose from both menus. For instance, did you do all you are able for the women who survived the attack? If you’ve taken action without bettering the situation, then you’re left changing how you think about the experience. You can build fear in your mind by holding the memory close so you keep the fear alive. Or you can let the fear go by acknowledging you did your best with what you had at the time. No one person carries the responsibility for the team. If you’ve taken all the action you can, accept the experience as part of your life. Move on without letting it diminish you. Use it to make yourself stronger.”
She looked away. “I’ll try.”
“Try.” He shook her, squeezed her arm. “Don’t try, do. Or take the Zen approach and be free of guilt, free of nightmares, free of anger.”
When she didn’t respond, he put his hand under her chin and forced her face up until their eyes met. He didn’t know why it was so important to help her, but instincts drove him to continue. “Life exists in the present or nowhere at all. Anything outside this moment is not happening. Your nightmares are not real. Tell yourself this truth. Believe this truth. Refuse to let your mind go outside of your now.”
Her eyes stayed locked on his. Awareness sparked in their depths, pushing back the defeat. The spark glowed and grew stronger. Enlightenment leapt up like flames, piercing darkness. She understood. Elated, he stroked his finger down her cheek, leaned in to press a kiss on her brow. He’d given her a valuable tool. She would apply the lesson to the rest of her life.
He took the glass from her gloved hand. “Slide down now and get some rest. Tomorrow, you’ll be back in fierce warrior mode.” He couldn’t stop himself from brushing the hair away from her face. Surprised by the heat radiating off her, he pressed his hand to her forehead. “You have a slight fever. Are you feeling ill?”
Slipping toward sleep, she barely registered the question.
Resting his knee on the bed, he helped her slide down. His hands settled over her narrow ribcage, closed as he pulled her lower.
She cried out. Jerked away.
Josh tossed back the blankets and lifted the edge of the T-shirt she wore over her bikini panties. A dressing covered her waist and half of her stomach. “What the hell?” Shocked, he took immense care to loosen the adhesive strips. He stared at the long bullet burn cutting from hip to navel, unable to absorb its meaning.
“You took a bullet, and you didn’t tell me.” Icicles speared from the words.
“Gee, I wonder why.” She glared at him.
He pushed his anger deep, softened his voice. “I’ll get you an analgesic to help with the pain and lower that fever. Did you put antibiotic cream on it?”
“Yes, and took a shot. I’ll be okay in the morning.” Her heavy lids drooped again.
Josh routed through her bathroom finding pain killers and the ointment. She lay half asleep while he attended to the wound. He pulled the sheet up to her chin, settled the beanie bag around her throat, and pushed the hair back from her forehead. Forcing himself toward the door, he fought from sinking onto the bed and taking her in his arms. He could lend her his strength. Seeing his Amazon wounded twisted his heart.
“Josh.” Her voice lifted in alarm. She struggled up. “Stay in here with me. I need to guard you.” Her gaze took in the empty nightstand. “Where’s my gun?”
He smiled, thinking right now she couldn’t guard a kitten sleeping on her chest. A gush of tenderness collided with a spurt of annoyance.
“You’re kidding, right?” He crossed to the dresser, lifted the gun, set it back on the bedside table. With a push of his finger, he spun the stock toward her. He headed for the door.
She lifted the Glock and checked the load. “Josh,” she called, pushing aside the blankets, she staggered from the bed. “You can’t go.”
Resigned to a night with no sleep, he pressed her back onto the bed. “I’ll stay. Now settle down.” Again, he pulled up the blankets, arranged the heated bag. “But if I’m staying in here, I’m lying down.”
“As long as it’s on the far side of me.” She shifted as she spoke, sliding to the side nearest the door. She tucked her Glock under her pillow.
He kicked off his moccasins and settled on to the bed beside her. It dipped slightly under his weight, rolling her closer. Her back to him, she faced the door and any approaching danger.
He muffled a chuckle, making himself comfortable on his back.
“Goodnight, Cat.”
“Josh.” Her whisper came out of the dark. “My name is Catarina. They started calling me Cat went I enlisted. The other women said Catarina sounded too precious.”
He crossed his hands behind his head. “Catarina is a beautiful name. It belongs to the quadroon beauty sitting in my chair. It doesn’t suit the woman who forces me around the track, whoops my butt on the practice mats, throws herself over me in a rain of bullets.” His lips pursed. “Definitely not a Catarina. No. You’re Cat. Elegant and sleek and impossible to read, winding your way into a man’s soul. Sleep now.” He’d taken advantage of her vulnerability, and now a Fibber Magee closet of her secrets spilled over him. A fist squeezed his heart when he thought of her imprisoned, tortured. Like Siree, Cat had been heated in the fires of hell and came out stronger.
Cat mine, I’m claiming you whether you agree or not. You’re the missing piece of my soul, my forever.
He woke just before dawn, felt the weight of her against his side. Thinking he’d rolled into her in his sleep, he started to ease away. Her arm tightened, her lips pressed a kiss to his naked chest.
“Don’t leave me.” Her sleep-drugged voice stirred his libido to life with an urgency that shocked him.
“It’s almost morning. I should go.” He searched for reason.
“Don’t go. Kiss me.” Her lips pressed into his neck, his jaw, she nibbled around his mouth.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He tried again to extract himself from her honeyed aura. If he accepted her invitation, she would regret asking him, at some point.
“I do.” Her tongue dipped into his ear. His blood fired with desire.
“Last chance to rescind your invite,” he panted. He counted ten, then lifted the hem of her T-shirt and pulled it over her head. She left her arms raised toward the headboard. She stretched beneath his avid perusal. One hand formed a bracelet around her wrists, while his other stroked down her arms, across her clavicles, and traced a pattern over the top of her breasts. He circled them, with an ever decreasing radius, until she whimpered. Pressing a kiss to each distended nipple, he moved on past her ribcage, the silky pliancy of her stomach. The field dressing, sharply white against her caramel skin, gave him pause.
She moaned and wriggled, lifting her hips off the bed.
The scarlet thong beckoned him to her secret places. His fingers followed, delved beneath and into her, testing her liquid response.
“Josh, I need you, now.” She tucked her hands into his sweat pants, slid them over his hips. He kicked them off.
Taking his weight on elbows and knees, he held himself above her. Her endless legs wrapped around him like sea weed, her slender body undulated in the current of her need.
“Protection,” he ground out. “I have to get protection.” He pulled back with the intention of racing to his nightstand.
Her eyes snapped open. “Protection. What am I doing? This is wrong. I’m supposed to protect you, not complicate an already complicated situation with sex.”
Her legs unwound, her slender hands pushed against his chest urging him to move off her. Her face turned until her breath no longer caressed him. He felt he peeled off his skin when he pulled away from her dewy body. She left the bed. He felt like a dirt bag for giving in to her. He’d known she’d regret her actions.
&nb
sp; She ran into her bathroom. He didn’t pursue her. Sex? He knew sex, quick gratification, no investment. They’d been making love. He’d invested every part of himself and felt an equal return from her. He didn’t contradict her. She’d slammed her mind shut along with the bathroom door. He crossed to his own bedroom, dropped his sweats in the hamper, and stepped into his shower. Hands braced against the tiles, he let streams of cold water from multiple jets pummel his desire limp.
He let go of his irrational anger at Cat. His anger rose from the fear of losing her. The fear had mothered his weak resistance. He’d wanted to claim her, mark her as his. Knowing a physical relationship wasn’t in her best interest he’d succumbed, damaging her in the process.
Cat was the woman he’d waited for, believed would complete him. The shock sent shivers through his body. He’d assumed he’d recognize his life mate on sight. He knocked his head against the wet tiles. But my subconscious placed her face on my dream lover the first night.
She would pull back now. She had to re-establish her objectivity in order to do the job. Or, if she couldn’t, she’d quit, putting his safety ahead of her desire. A finely-tuned approach would be needed, if he wanted to win her. Her relationship phobia rested on problems outside of doing her job. He’d figure a strategy and keep her in his life until she acknowledged her feelings for him. He would pull back, help her feel safe again. It meant distancing himself, not just physically, but emotionally. He’d act like he’d experienced a pleasurable incident, rather than a turning point in his life. Winning Cat was a long term goal.
He entered the kitchen as he would have any other day, kept his comments to the necessary, his expression bland and his hands in his pockets. The stiffness eased from her shoulders. The muscles around her mouth relaxed. She kept herself busy in a different section of the loft until they left for the hearing.
Chapter Six
Josh correctly calculated the amount of time the White House would allow the senators to whittle away at him. Three days of hearing was apparently all they would get. He emerged early on the third afternoon, having given them succinct facts around the methods the Chinese hacker utilized to break into a weak spot in their system. He didn’t give them a scapegoat; they couldn’t pin anything on the government agency involved or the White House. He walked away clean, an expert witness who’d done his job.
Cat, on high alert in the roles of lover pretending to be his P.A. for the world, in the real role of covert bodyguard, changed from one to the other constantly. She fielded communication with the other agents through her ear bud and mike, handed Josh the next piece of information he required, and read her texts for his next instructions. As Josh had posited, the committee was on a witch hunt. They hoped Josh would finger an innocent they could burn at the stake of their commitment to find answers. Her estimation of his brilliance ratcheted higher. He gave them just enough to make them feel safe and satisfied they’d done their jobs, while he kept his colleagues on the team set up by the defense committee looking clean as sterilized petri dishes.
The senators leading this charge would go away empty handed. It bothered her the CIA would walk away clean, too, because, like RG, she didn’t for a second think they weren’t involved in something underhanded that had triggered this close look at China. They always had their own agenda, often outside White House interests. Elated they hadn’t caught her principal in their nets, this time, she stacked her paperwork and gathered her collection of pens and post-it notes into piles. The colorful squares black with Josh’s notes stuck on many of the pages she’d passed him.
The post-its had flown back and forth between them like falling confetti, at times. She turned to pick up the leather backpack she used to carry the files and supplies, leaving her hands free for action, and ran smack into a suit. She recognized him as one of the CIA agents working the hearing.
“Sorry.” He grabbed her shoulders to steady her. “My fault.” He released her, opening the space between them by a few steps. “I recognized you and just wanted to say hi.”
“No problem. Foster, isn’t it?”
He looked pleased she’d remembered. “Yeah, what did you make of the hearing?”
Too smart to answer him directly, she dropped her pages into her backpack, swept up the pens and notepads, and tossed them in. Zipping the pockets, she shrugged into the arm straps. “I’m just glad it’s over,” she responded, wondering how and why he’d gotten so close to her. Had he tried to get a look at her notes? Planted something on her? Casually, she tucked her hand in her pocket. Empty.
He put his hand to his ear bud. “My partner wants to know what’s keeping me.” His smile invited her to flirt back. “Shall I tell him you are?”
She raised an eyebrow in reproach. “I’m working.”
He got the message. “Too bad. Give me a call when you’re off duty. Nice running into you, Cat.” He wove past Josh and a senator, disappearing out a side door.
She joined Josh, and while he politely wrapped up the conversation with the older man, she checked her other pocket, swept her lapels and sleeves. Nothing. Don’t succumb to paranoia. He’s with Homeland for goodness sake. You worked the same detail together at the Inaugural Ball three years ago.
She forgot his ploy to gain her interest. Her principal took precedence over everything. All business, she descended the steps of the Dirkson building ahead of him. RG’s men had swept the limousine waiting at the bottom and given her the all clear. The driver stood by the nearside passenger door. Only a handful of people knew of his military training. He wore a Kevlar vest, as did Josh and Cat.
Max’s funeral had been set for this afternoon, and Josh insisted on attending. Pretty much everyone involved had tried to dissuade him. He’d stood firm. She understood, secretly admired him for insisting on supporting the wife and children of his driver.
She in turn had supported his decision, insisting on the Kevlar body armor and extra back-up. They were going directly to the service, but would not attend the ceremony at the graveside. It provided too many opportunities for a sniper to get off a shot.
As soon as she settled in the limo and connected with the FBI agents patiently waiting outside, Cat pulled out a bug detector and ran it over them.
“I take it you don’t trust someone inside the hearing?” Josh leaned back, as she ran the handheld device over her breasts. He took it from her and scanned her back.
“I don’t take chances. We’ll go into the church through the side door leading to the choir room. RG and the FBI have men stationed outside the church and inside. You’ll speak with the family just before the service starts, exit just behind them. The limo will be in line with the hearse and limousine carrying Max’s wife and daughters, along with her brother and his wife. We’ll peel off one street before we reach the cemetery.”
Relief hit when she stepped from the limo to the sidewalk in front of Josh’s loft. Everything had gone as planned. Josh had spoken with Max’s wife, hugged his daughters and hopefully got some kind of closure. If a sniper had waited at the cemetery, they’d thwarted his plan. She wondered if Maddox had shown up in hopes of seeing Josh die. She spoke to security, crossed the short distance in the circle of Josh’s body, his long frame draped around her, lips inches apart. Playing the lover tortured her.
Since their real love scene, badly aborted by her, Josh had withdrawn. He showed up for briefings, sparring sessions, running, followed her plans without argument, spoke to her in a cool off-hand style, and spent as much time as possible at the computer. His avoidance of her left her awash in shame. She had instigated the sex against his better judgment and received infinite pleasure from the experience. Then she pushed him away.
His withdrawal left her teetering between the belief he feared she’d expect more from him and the thought she might have hurt him with her rejection. She factored out the idea he was sulking immediately. Josh didn’t do negative. She’d never know the answer because she couldn’t raise the subject. His calmness allowed her to
stay and keeping him safe mattered more than ever. She refused to ask herself why.
Once inside the loft, she made a point of going over her notes and debriefing Josh. They discussed the outcome of the hearing. He asked her about the presence of other agents in the room and how communication with RG’s agents had worked.
“You did an excellent job of handling security while acting as my P.A.,” he summed up.
****
After changing into jeans and sweaters, they took up their customary positions at their desks. While Josh had assigned her a single computer, he sat in front of a bank of them, sophisticatedly interfaced for the hard core programming he handled.
He peered at her surreptitiously over the top of his computer screen. She typed steadily, scanning the room every few seconds, her key strokes slowing as she listened alertly. Her gaze always swept across him for a second, and he felt it like a lover’s touch, even though he knew to her it was business. She handled the routine security checks easily. She appeared content, more relaxed than usual, while she ran his programs and checked for intruders. She seemed to enjoy virtual security. He teased himself with the idea of offering her a fulltime job, keeping her with him when he no longer needed a bodyguard. But he held back. Hiring her would put her out of bounds for the intimate relationship he desired. It would also make her presence extremely painful if she continued to reject him.
The higher security clearance he’d obtained for her allowed her to monitor all his contracts. He could focus on his prototype, ATP-1, fulltime. His creative break-through brought him one step closer. Tonight, he’d build a piece of hardware and install the final safeguard to his spyware.
The long hours catching up with work helped dilute the tension between them. Since their “near sex” experience, as he thought of it, Cat had exercised and eaten apart from him. He would soon circumvent her tactics. He needed to find a way to bring her close again, get her to spend time with him outside the job.
When Jake phoned, Josh took the call and started smiling. Ask and you shall receive. He was whistling when he hung up and went looking for Cat.