Then he used the small bottle of shampoo—travel-sized—and gently worked the suds through her hair, massaged her scalp.
At first, she kept her eyes screwed shut. When she opened them, the rapt concentration in his eyes floored her.
“You’re beautiful, Rowan.”
She didn’t know what to say, because it had been so long since she’d felt that way.
But as Tristan slowly washed her hair and dried it just as gently with a towel, so that a riot of long, damp waves tumbled over her shoulders, she felt beautiful.
And then the smile broke through—his, that rare and wonderful thing that she wanted to wake up to every morning.
It had taken a long time to get to this place, so the speed in which this thing between them happened shouldn’t have surprised her. She’d been slowly healing inside, and when the right man had shown himself, she’d been ready.
It was like being hit by lightning—painful, startling and very disconcerting, and when she came to, she’d definitely seen stars.
He rinsed her hair clean and then he slowly unwrapped the towel from around her, proceeded to run a washcloth along her body, in the sexiest sponge bath ever. She watched him soap up her breasts, her belly, move the cloth between her legs as his gaze heated her to boiling.
This was pleasure she’d forbade herself, convinced herself she didn’t want—and now realized she couldn’t live without.
Without warning, he picked up another jug of water and poured it over her body, soaking her skin, rinsing away the day—the past—with his hard flesh against her. And when they made love on the old, creaky cot, she knew she’d somehow found home.
It had been forty-eight hours since Olivia had been brought to this safe house in upstate New York. Forty-eight hours straight she’d been awake. She hadn’t been this sleep-deprived since her residency and that wasn’t exactly self-inflicted.
This was. And there was only so far she could pace around the safe house—at least not without driving Dylan and Riley crazy.
Too late, she figured, since they were camped out in the living room pretending not to watch her pace and worry.
Dylan was as worried as she was—she knew that. The only thing keeping him from going back for Zane was her and the kids.
Riley had offered to go, but Dylan had refused. Said they needed to stick together.
All Olivia could do was tell the CIA what she knew—several times. And what she’d done to escape—several times. Dylan had stayed in the room with her, and she swore she heard him growl when they asked her a question he didn’t like.
How he had the authority to stay in the room with her and the agents, she had no idea, and when she’d mentioned it to Riley, she’d simply said, “They owe him this one.”
Olivia was grateful for that, but she couldn’t help wishing Dylan would leave her and go searching for his brother. Immediately.
In the end, the CIA told her to stay where she was, that they needed time to decide a few things on their end.
“It means they don’t know what the hell to do with you,” Dylan told her with a shake of his head when the agents left. “You’re valuable, to both DMH and to them—you’ve given them a lot of intel that will be helpful in making a big dent in the DMH machine. It’s a matter of how they handle it now—and how they’ll want to protect you.”
“Do you think they’ll prosecute me for the clinic bombing, since Americans were killed? And they said that extradition to Morocco is always a possibility.”
Dylan gave a noncommittal shrug. “I think they’re trying to scare you into not running. Honestly, I can’t see them doing anything but saying that it was self-defense and, in my opinion, a fucking public service, and not revisiting it again.”
His phone rang and she crossed her fingers and hoped like hell it was Zane on the other end. Dylan didn’t stay in one place while he talked, but paced, so she only caught a few words like visas before he hung up and was back in front of her.
“He’s on a flight home,” Dylan told her, and for the first time, he looked half-relaxed. “He’s fine. The father’s fine, kids are fine.”
She felt dizzy with relief. Literally, she guessed, since Riley and Dylan were by her side within seconds.
“Doctor needs to take care of herself better,” Dylan said.
“Olivia, you need to eat something and then get to bed.”
“But I want to be awake when he comes in,” she told Riley.
“He’ll kill me if he finds you an exhausted wreck,” Dylan countered. “He won’t be home for hours. He’s in the air. Eat, then sleep.”
She complied—ate a sandwich, and took a shot of whiskey to help with sleep.
Going to her bedroom, Olivia lay down on the soft mattress, the softest she could remember since the new one she’d bought for her apartment over six months ago.
Her eyelids were heavy and she knew fighting sleep any longer wouldn’t work. And so, still wearing Zane’s T-shirt, she hugged the pillow, drew her legs up and let herself drift into slumber.
In her slumbering state, she dreamed that Zane was next to her on the mattress, his body cupping hers. She snuggled closer into the pillow, the whiskey Riley had given her doing its job. Because in her mind it was Zane’s hands rubbing her hip, lingering over the tattoo on her belly, sliding down in between her legs.
She heard herself moan softly as her thighs parted and talented fingers dipped into her core. She opened her legs more, shifted to her back and the fingers were joined by a warm tongue rasping against her already wet sex. Her fingers tangled in thick hair as she writhed against his mouth, cried his name, although she couldn’t be sure if she’d actually called it out loud, because the dream had turned so real.
She was coming, hard, pressing against the mouth and the fingers that held her captive, and then she was coming again, one orgasm toppling over the other until she was covered in a thin sheen of sweat and utterly drained.
She stretched like a contented cat, the orgasm warming her from the inside out. What a way to wake up … she could most definitely get used to that … except she’d been awake for most of it, and it was nowhere near morning.
“Are you still upset that I didn’t leave with you?”
She smiled into the pillow at the sound of his voice, a rough whisper against her ear. This was no dream. He was here, a heavy, warm body pressed to hers—impossibly here, and he’d done what he’d set out to do.
Her part of this journey wasn’t over, but they were close. So close. “I was worried,” she admitted.
“I’ll make it up to you.” He still smelled like the sea, and she turned in his arms to taste the salt on his lips.
“I thought you just did.”
“Not even close,” he murmured against her mouth as her hands roamed his body. From anyone else, that would be a signal that she wanted him. With her, Zane knew she was in doc mode, checking him for injuries.
He didn’t bother telling her he was fine, just lay back and let her see for herself. “We ran into a little trouble with soldiers at the camp.”
“I see.” There were scrapes that had been tended to—bruising, a flesh wound on his thigh. He’d need more antibiotics. Maybe Dylan could get her an IV so they could make sure an infection wouldn’t even think of starting …
“I heard you spoke to the CIA.” His words broke into her mental doctor’s inventory.
She nodded, glanced at him. “It wasn’t so bad.”
He snorted. “Yeah, right. It’s always a walk in the park talking to the feds.”
“Your brother helped. I’m just glad you’re here.”
His arms wrapped more tightly around her. “I’m here, Liv, just like I told you I’d be.”
“Julia?”
“She died not long after I returned to the camp. She knew the kids had gotten off safely.”
Zane had kept every word of his promises. Every single one, and not just to her. “Randy?”
“He’s okay. Devastated about Jul
ia, but physically he’ll be fine. And he’s already with the kids and Julia’s sister. I made sure they were on the damned plane with me.”
“That’s what took so long.”
“The embassy has a different way of doing things—I got a little impatient and my brother’s teammate helped me pull a few strings to get everyone out of the country. The kids didn’t have visas to travel—and these days that can pose a problem when trying to get into the States.”
“You did such a good thing, Zane.” She rubbed some of the bruises along his chest lightly, then moved down to lift the bandage on his naked hip and inspect.
“I stitched that myself,” he told her proudly, and she rolled her eyes. “What? There were hours to fill.”
“Not a bad job.”
“Are you done?” he asked finally, his patience waning. “Because I’m tired, sore and dirty.”
“And alive,” she added. “And no, I’m not even close to being done.”
She tugged him on top of her and he eagerly shifted into that position, was hard against her belly, which thrilled her. “You don’t seem tired.”
“Not when I’m around you.” He didn’t sound sorry at all and she could see the soft glow in his eyes, the absolute, unvarnished desire. “Any regrets?”
“Not a single one,” she whispered against his mouth, eager for his body to find comfort inside of hers. She took comfort in his weight, the feel of the warm flesh pressing hers down. He was grounding her, with every word, every touch, and she wondered if he realized it.
His tongue played with hers, a sensual, demanding kiss that kept her mind to only him. And she could think of nothing better.
Her need had quickly become frantic again and she sought release by rubbing against him, as if they were teenagers making out in the back of a car in the heat of a summer’s night, stealth the most important thing next to pure, unrelenting pleasure.
“Zane,” she whispered as she thrust up, and in one long stroke, he was inside her to provide the sweet relief she sought … the relief they both needed.
For a moment, he didn’t move, simply filled her, his eyelids heavy with lust, a small smile on his face. “I’ve been thinking about this since you left on the boat. Wanting this.”
And then he began to move, pressing her into the mattress so she could gain no quarter from his thrusts.
She didn’t care, hooked her legs around his lower back and let him take her hard and fast, her sex still hot and wet from her earlier orgasm. Her hands trailed over his shoulders, now slick with sweat as they moved in a rhythm that rocked the bed against the wall.
Neither cared. Zane didn’t take his eyes from hers, his face a fierce mask of need—and somehow, of peace. And she knew she wouldn’t be able to hold out much longer. Didn’t want to when she was with him, because she knew it was far from the last time he would have her tonight.
And he knew. “That’s it, Liv … let go.” His hips moved deftly and he bent his head to suck the delicate skin by her collarbone, and her climax came with an explosive burst that nearly tore her apart.
Give me some good news, Gray.” Caleb ran his hands through his hair and looked toward the bathroom, where the shower was running. Through the half-opened door, he could see Vivi’s shadow behind the nearly sheer curtain, and he forced himself to look away.
She’d been working all night on her father’s software, had been so sure of the breakthrough, he’d let her on the computer. When she was done, she’d asked him to email Gray back the program, with the flush of success on her cheeks.
She’d fixed it. And hopefully, that would be enough to get both of them out of some major trouble.
“It’s done. The safeguard’s in place. If DMH is stupid enough to try anything at the power plants, we’ll stop them. We might be able to track their location too,” Gray said. “Of course, that’s only a small part of their operation. They’ve been hacking into hospital databases too.”
Organs were a major source of income for DMH, one that funded their other terrorism schemes. Chatter claimed that Elijah was getting tired of outsourcing, relying on different countries to help him in his quest to be a major threat to the United States. With money of their own, DMH could finally have all the power they’d wanted.
A dangerous game. Cyber crimes were on the rise—and the thought of DMH hacking hospital databases, targeting vulnerable patients …
“They lost their biggest and most profitable clinic in the bombing, and they’ve probably had to cut down on the transplants at the other clinics for now, to avoid detection. The clinics are their biggest moneymaker—they needed a way to make up for their lost funding.”
“Looks that way. Shit, they’re hacking faster than the FBI can keep up with them.”
Cael knew how easy it would potentially be for DMH to shut down the electrical grids. Blow them out, because the parts would take weeks to get, since they were all outsourced to China and Japan, thus causing enough chaos for them to do God knows what.
That had happened already, although on a much smaller scale, in Brazil. Two blackouts of unknown origin, thought to be the work of hackers who’d never taken any credit for the mass confusion in the media or in any intelligence chatter.
It could very well have been DMH. Dry runs for something much larger and far more insidious.
The shower stopped and he caught a glance of a towel and a flash of skin.
The good thing was that Vivi would no doubt be cleared of the mess—and her conscience would be cleared as well.
Where she would go from here though, he had no idea. But the United States needed someone like Vivi on their side. If he couldn’t convince her to give the FBI cyber crimes division offer a chance, he wasn’t sure anyone could.
“Noah needs to speak with you,” Gray said, giving no indication as to whether Cael was in a shitload of trouble or not.
It was a pretty safe bet that he was, regardless of the fact Vivi had done what she was supposed to. “You can put him on the line,” he said.
Gray hesitated and then said, “Vivi really pulled it off. Thank her for me.”
“Will do.” He waited through the silence, heard the rustling in the background and then, without prelude, Noah began to speak.
“Vivienne Clare is free to go,” he said, and although it sounded like goddamned good news at first, Cael knew that, somehow, it wasn’t.
“Free to go where, exactly?” Cael asked. “Ace—aka Dale Robbins—and his merry crew are still out there, looking for her. She’s still in some serious risk.”
He’d lowered his voice so Vivi wouldn’t hear and he waited for Noah’s response which, yes, he could’ve predicted.
“There has been no change in her status, but she’s no longer a person of interest,” Noah said, and Caleb was glad he wasn’t there in front of him.
“What the hell does that mean?”
“You know damned well what it means. Cut her loose and get your ass back to base.”
“And where the hell do I send her? She can’t go home.”
“Homeland Security and the FBI are looking into it.”
Cael laughed then, a bitter sound that he knew would carry into the next room, and so he bit it back. “That could take fucking forever, Noah, because they’re dealing with national security—she’s their lowest priority. The FBI’s too. You and I both know that the post is the safest—the only—place for her. I’ll bring her in with me today.”
“I can’t compromise the entire post for her.”
Just what he hadn’t wanted to hear—and what he’d known his CO would say. “Noah, give me something.”
“The FBI would still take her. But I have a feeling Vivienne Clare would still stubbornly refuse to get on board with that.”
“Yeah, well, beyond that fact, you got what you wanted from her. Now she’s completely on her own.” Cael knew that getting in his CO’s face like this was way beyond protocol.
Noah’s voice remained impassive. “Like I said, Homel
and’s working on it. The FBI’s been notified as well.”
“And until they get off their ass and do something?”
“I know she’s screwed, but there’s nothing else we can really do for her. And while you can stick with her for now, in forty-eight hours I’m going to need you mission-ready.”
“I’m bringing her to post, Noah.”
“Caleb, cut her loose. You’ve gotten attached—that’s obvious. And it’s not a good idea.”
“Then give me another option.”
The click of the line being cut was Noah’s response. Cael cursed and hung up, knowing that calling back for more would be fruitless.
He was surprised when the phone rang again, then saw it was Dylan. Dylan, not Zane, and he cursed and looked at his watch at the same time he answered, saying, “Tell me you have him.”
“He’s fine. He’s back in the States, with the doctor.”
With the doctor meant still in danger. This day had gone from shit to worse, and Cael wondered if he could take Vivi to Mace and then get on a damned plane and get all of this figured out. “Dylan, if you’re lying to me …”
“He’s fine.”
Cael still couldn’t bring himself to fully exhale. Zane home on U.S. soil was exactly what he’d wanted. “Tell him to give me a call.”
“Yeah, I’m sure that’s on the tippy top of his to-do list, Cael.”
Caleb snapped the phone shut. One worry taken care of; another, still a big problem, with no solution in sight. At least not an easy one.
He sketched a picture of Vivi, smiling, the way she had been that morning after they’d made love, for what seemed like the thousandth time, because he couldn’t keep his hands off her. The thought of being mission-ready sounded damned good and horrible at the same time—he never thought he’d be sorry to leave a woman behind when the call came in.
Especially a woman who was still in as much trouble as Vivi. But hell, he was in so much trouble already, so what was a little more?
Your goddamned career.
He sighed heavily. Noah had already let one transgression go—and the fact that Cael had disobeyed a direct order to bring Vivi to the FBI was a big one. Now, reading between the lines, Noah had given him the go-ahead to stay with Vivi for another couple of days, but that was all.
Promises in the Dark Page 28