by C. A. Szarek
“Don’t tell me what I want.”
Nate smirked. “I don’t have to. Your body is screaming at me. For me.”
Like he read my mind.
He dragged two fingers down her bare forearm to her wrist. He caressed her knuckles and squeezed her hand.
Goosebumps rose and she shivered. Both reactions she couldn’t hide from him. “No.”
“No? I see it. Straining nipples. The rise and fall of your gorgeous breasts. You’re panting. Flushed cheeks, swollen lips. I see you tremble and beg for my touch. You can’t hide it, Selena Dawson. You. Want. Me.”
His hand fell to his side, but he didn’t have to touch her. Nate’s words rolled over her body like a caress.
Lee bit her lip so she wouldn’t moan. Glued her back to the wall so she wouldn’t lean in to him. Arch and rub her aching nipples against him.
“Don’t tell me what I want.” She put more force behind the words with the repetition. Like that would help. “Get out of my way before I knock you on your ass.” Lee buried her shoulder in his chest and shoved.
Air whooshed out audibly as Nate stumbled backwards.
She whirled on him, glaring. Her body screamed a protest, but Lee ignored it, mustering all the anger she could.
He’d put her in a corner, backed her into a wall, literally.
Made her lose control.
Fuck. That.
“When I say no, I mean it,” Lee barked.
Nate shook his head. “You’re a liar.” His voice mirrored hers. Gone was the calm she’d seen moments before.
Rage roiled her gut and boiled over. She made two tight fists, planted them at her sides so she wouldn’t hit him. She wanted to scream. Shout. Tell him how wrong he was.
If you do, you prove him right.
Lee growled and narrowed her eyes. She turned on her heel and fled to the bedroom she’d picked, calling herself a coward the whole way.
Chapter Eight
Nate cursed under his breath and whipped the towel off the rack in the master bathroom. He yanked up his swim trunks, ignoring his half-hard dick. With a groan, he adjusted himself to a more comfortable position. His cock throbbed but he wasn’t even tempted to find release using his own hand.
He left the room open when he was through. When he’d made it into the hallway, he glared at the closed door to the bedroom she’d hidden herself away in.
She’d run from him.
Lee could stay in there all night as far as he was concerned. She was lying to him, to herself.
The hurt in those dark eyes had told him his words had hit home, but for the first time she’d shut him down instead of rising to his challenge. But of course, his little FBI agent wouldn’t admit she had feelings for him—back home or now.
Her eyes spoke of…something.
Nate’s stomach jumped. He wouldn’t read into it—he couldn’t. He’d been crushed by her already.
“If you’re afraid of getting hurt, why did you bother coming here?” The statement in his head made its way out of his mouth and Nate straightened his shoulders.
Pete had told him it would be the greatest risk of his life. His older brother had reminded him it’d be worth it in the end. But Pete had won—he’d got the girl. What if Nate couldn’t because Lee didn’t feel the same?
Nate sighed and shook his head. He needed to blow off some steam. A dozen hard laps in the rooftop indoor pool should do it.
Tell her you’re stepping out, his mind chided, but the hurt in his heart won out. Screw it. Let her find out he’d left if she gave a damn.
Cool air greeted him when he exited the apartment. A chill crawled down his spine and Nate regretted his attire of only flip-flops and shorts. The towel over his shoulder did nothing for winter’s bite in the unheated hallway. A reminder that he was far from home.
He surveyed the wide corridor, all the apartment doors. No one in sight. If there were cameras, they weren’t overt. Nate jogged to the elevators. He wasn’t sure how many floors were between the third and the pool.
The question was answered when he stepped inside the mirror panelled elevator. He punched the button labelled Pool and sighed.
What was he going to do about Lee? Having her stuck with him wasn’t supposed to end in arguments after stolen kisses.
“What did you expect?” The scorn in his own voice made him cringe. But what had he expected? For Lee to rush into his arms, declare she loved him? If she felt that way, she would’ve never broken his heart on her way out of Texas.
Dammit, Nate. Grow a pair.
He yanked one of the glass doors to the pool entrance open with more force than necessary. The sharp corner of the long handle caught the side of his hand and bit his skin.
“Shit.” Nate inspected the burning spot. Blood seeped from a small cut. Nothing serious, but the chlorine of the pool water would sting like a bitch. He didn’t care. Maybe physical pain would counteract the agony in his chest.
Humidity from the vast pool wrapped around him like a cape. The familiar scent of chemicals and mugginess brought back memories.
Nate closed his eyes, hearing the rush of the crowd at many a competition. He’d been a Longhorn, burnt orange and white all the way. Full scholarship for his undergrad at the University of Texas at Austin because he’d been a hell of a swimmer. Could’ve made the Olympic team at one point, but he’d turned down the opportunity to attend try-outs after earning the spot.
He loved swimming, competition, but the law had always been his passion. So he’d completed his four-year degree in three and had made the decision to come to New York before the acceptance letter from Columbia Law had even been cool from the heat of a Texas summer afternoon in his parents’ mailbox.
Nate had only gone up from there. Valedictorian of his class, and hired as a county prosecutor in the DA’s Office at the tender age of twenty-four.
Winning his first case on his own—a horrific double murder—had been the start of the fame in his office, and had sped him to the top of the podium. The District Attorney, Dean Foreman, his boss and mentor, had seen him as the star of the office.
Now a lead prosecutor at thirty-two, he didn’t care about recognition or prestige, not really. Growing up had shed his need for such feelings. It all boiled down to justice for the victim and putting the bad guy away. Nate thrived on it. What was good. Right. His career.
After slipping out of his flip-flops and dropping the towel on a lounger, he shook out his arms and jumped in place. He’d neglected to hit the locker room for a rinse, but this was about blowing off steam, not having a proper workout-swim.
Nate went to the deep end and jumped in the water, banishing all thought. No Lee. No work. No dwelling on the sadness of losing Angelo. Not even fears of Caselli and all the man was capable of.
He swam down, letting the water caress his body as he sliced through it, travelling to the bottom of the twelve foot depth. He wanted to touch the bottom. Feel the roughness of the textured surface with both hands.
Maybe it would help reality wash away. Put him back to simpler times, when he’d thought he’d known everything. When he’d had a naïve outlook on life. Before he’d been crushed by what he wanted most.
* * * *
“Nate?” She hollered at the encroaching panic to leave her the hell alone when he didn’t answer her second or third calls.
Lee had pissed him off. Hurt his feelings. She didn’t blame him for ignoring her. She made her way into the master bedroom. His duffel was on the bed, open. The green shirt and jeans he’d worn all day lay next to his bag on top of the black comforter. Cowboy boots on the floor, one standing and the other on its side.
Was he in the shower?
But it was quiet—too quiet—and the bathroom door was open.
When she’d searched the whole apartment and had failed to find him, terror came back full force. Visions of him lying bloodied and broken danced into her head, then morphed to a twisted SUV in the middle of a Texas four-lane state highway la
te at night.
Six years ago.
Glass everywhere.
The scents of burnt rubber and engine oil were real, in front of her face, like yesterday. Steam rolled off both vehicles.
Cops everywhere.
She’d flashed her FBI ID. But as soon as the first detective had realised who she was, he’d tried to get her away from the scene.
Lee had started screaming even before the Medical Examiner’s van had made scene. Knees had buckled and she’d hit the pavement. Ripped her pants and a rock broke the skin, but she didn’t give a shit.
Dylan and Russ…
Some local cop she didn’t know had wrapped his arms around her and hauled her to her feet, but numbness had taken over her by then.
“It’s going to be okay, Special Agent.”
The lie hadn’t given comfort, because her gut had told her it wasn’t going to be okay. And it hadn’t been okay since that night.
Until Nate.
Lee shook herself as her whole body quivered. “No.” She cleared her throat. “No!” The denial was a shout this time.
The six-year-old memory melted into the background, and she panted until her breathing regulated. Her eyes darted around the living room of the large apartment. Big screen TV, matching maroon furniture—couch, loveseat and two recliners. Dark wood coffee and end tables. But no Nate.
Eerie silence burned her ears and her heartbeat kicked up all over again.
“Where the hell is he?” Lee’s hand hovered over the Glock at her waist.
She ran to her bedroom and grabbed her small rolling suitcase. Ripped the zipper open and grabbed her backup pistol, a smaller version of her duty weapon. Lee perched her foot on the trunk at the end of the bed and strapped her ankle holster on. After yanking her jeans over it, she ordered herself to calm. Sucked in a breath, then another.
He couldn’t have left on his own. Nate wasn’t stupid. He, too, was familiar with Caselli’s abilities, so he couldn’t be far, either. Maybe he’d gone for a walk.
“No,” she whispered.
The pool. He’d gone up to the swimming pool. Nate had been a swimmer in high school and college. Swimming was a part of his normal workout, even now.
God, please let him be up there.
Lee was torn between relief and anger. He hadn’t told her he was leaving the apartment. She looked for a note in the living room and kitchen. Nothing.
She snorted.
Do you blame him?
Ignoring her conscience, she bolted out into the hallway, yanking the apartment door shut with a thud. She jogged to the elevator, her stomach somersaulting on the aggravating two floor ride. Lee shut down the what-ifs turning through her head. Disregarded the shaking in her limbs and the shortness of her breath. She could ream him all she wanted later. She had to find him first.
Lee encountered no one as she walked down the long corridor to the pool. Artificial light reflected off the glass double doors. She opened the one on the right, the splash of water greeting her ears even before she saw his long, lean form slicing through the water.
She tore her eyes off Nate, surveying the vast area. No one visible. Her gaze darted to the entrances to the locker rooms. Quiet. Still nothing. Good. They were alone.
The pool was large, three different depths, with two diving boards at the end. There were lounging areas, picnic tables, as well as two covered hot tubs on the far end of the room.
It was dim, no overhead lights were on, but the underwater lighting inside the pool made the water glimmer, a different hue denoting each depth. Nate was in the deep end making long strokes on the surface of the water. He disappeared below as he turned his body to go the other direction. Laps. He was swimming back and forth, going fast.
Humidity made her shirt damp, but the room was warm, had an inviting feel. However, safety was an illusion, even in a federally-owned building.
His skin glowed golden because of the pool lights, and Lee couldn’t look away as he moved up and down the deep end. He hadn’t seen her yet, but her feet were frozen. She couldn’t move closer. She didn’t want to leave, either.
Nate disappeared again as he flipped around, but he was swimming towards her now. He slowed in the water, then made his way to the side of the pool, head and shoulders bobbing up and down. “Lee?” His voice echoed in the cavernous room.
“You left.” Instead of the accusation she’d intended, the words were a cracked whisper.
Nate didn’t answer, but he pushed himself up and out of the pool, water flowing off him as he walked to her. Rivulets played around his pecs, running to his trim waist, and Lee swallowed against the sudden lump in her throat.
His sparse golden hair was soaked and flat to his chest, but her eyes trailed down, and she shivered at the small strip of tight curls dividing his defined abs. It disappeared into the waistband of his swim pants.
Lee’s fingers itched to touch him.
Yellow trunks were plastered to his body, outlining powerful thighs, hugging his package. She tried not to look there. Tried not to remember what he’d felt like. Tasted like. How he’d made her combust when he’d been moving in and out of her.
“Lee.”
She looked into his hazel eyes. The emotion staring back at her made her whole frame shake, but she ignored what she couldn’t acknowledge and tried to glare. “Don’t leave like that again.”
“I’m sorry. I was angry. I’m not sorry I came here, but I should’ve told you.”
Lee shook her head. “I’m supposed to protect you. I can’t do it if you disappear.”
“I didn’t disappear. I knew you’d know where I went.” The ghost of a smile played at his lips and twisted her stomach. “You know me well.”
She didn’t deny it. She did. And it was killing her.
“Nate, this is serious.”
“I know. I didn’t leave the building.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“You said the FBI owns this building.”
“So?” Lee made a cutting gesture with her hand. “Agents undercover crash here. Who knows who could be around? Sometimes cases have to come home, too.”
Nate sighed, shoving his wet hair back. “I didn’t run into anyone else. Did you?”
“Doesn’t matter, like I said.”
His shoulders sank. “I don’t want to fight with you. It gets us nowhere.”
“You said you understood.”
“What?” He arched a fair eyebrow.
Lee frowned. “You said you understood what had to be done because of Caselli.”
“I do.”
“Then let me do what I need to do to protect you.”
“I plan on it. I am.”
“That doesn’t include taking off.”
“Lee, I said I was sorry for not telling you.”
Hands on her hips, she glared. “Doesn’t. Matter. Promise me you won’t take off again. Getting mad will happen. God knows, you piss me off.”
He smirked. Then laughed. “I piss you off?”
Lee fought a smile. The look on his face was gorgeous, his laugh infectious. “Yes.” She bit her lip to keep the giggle inside.
Nate growled and grabbed her, pinning her to his wet chest.
“Hey! Let me go!” But her protest was weak, and they both knew it.
“You need to loosen up.” His mouth hovered over hers, and Lee’s breath caught when he didn’t kiss her.
“You’re getting me wet.”
Nate lifted his head and grinned. “Not touching that.”
I wish you would.
Lee searched his face, but no words would come.
“Come swim with me,” he whispered.
“W-w-w-what?”
Nate brushed his lips against hers in a tease that wasn’t nearly enough. Her libido kicked up and she fought the urge to grind against him.
“Let’s get in the water. It’s warm.”
“I don’t have a suit.”
He waggled his eyebrows and beamed. “You
don’t need it.”
Chapter Nine
Jeremy buried his hands in his hair and tugged until pain made his temples ache. He stared at the forty calibre Beretta lying on the bed of the safe house. Hiding out in the back bedroom wasn’t going to change what he had to do. And he was running out of time.
His partner, Evan Roberts, had only run out to get food for them and their witness, Miranda Parker. Even in New York traffic, the hour and a half he’d been gone was pushing it.
He dug his cell out of his pocket and sent a quick text to his buddy.
Where ya at?
Stuck in traffic. Bad accident. Looks like I’ll be a while. Sorry.
The answer was quick, even before he could slip his iPhone away. “Thank God.” The whisper was anguished, and Jeremy’s stomach twisted.
Info for cash that resulted in someone’s death was different than pulling the trigger.
I have to.
Caselli would kill Beth and the girls. The bastard had been at his daughters’ school when he’d called the day before. Childish laughter had filled the background. After they’d disconnected, his phone had received four pictures of his kids.
His own children.
Caselli had been within twenty feet of them.
“That fucker.” Jeremy gripped the gift the gangster had included with his fifty thousand dollars and a tremor shot down his spine.
The note included had read Welcome to the family. A Beretta was Caselli-standard issue.
He’d have to get rid of it as soon as the pretty blonde was dead. And hope to God he didn’t get caught.
Jeremy was fucked either way.
Not only Angelo Fiato, but he’d also been the reason for the location and murder of two other Caselli witnesses.
Twenty-five years at best. Not including the minor bribes he’d taken to pay back his gambling debts. He’d been stupid to think Caselli wouldn’t find out he was FBI. He’d been an even bigger idiot to play tables when he’d known the mob boss owned his three favourite locations.