by Kris Norris
Brett had acted similarity. He’d been affectionate but not overly so. Not to the point his buddies would have questioned it. Would have thought it was different to how he’d been worried about her the previous night. Looked out for her well-being. Nothing overt that screamed they’d had mind-altering sex. The kind that set standards. Made it impossible to consider being with anyone else.
Hell, Brett had already had that effect on her. Last night had only driven home the truth—she was hopelessly in love with him.
But his team, his freaking brothers, had sussed it out. In fact, now that she thought about it, at least a couple of them would have been awake last night. Standing watch. Safehouse might be what the Marshal Service called this place, but nowhere was truly safe. Not from McCormick. From his resources. So, it only stood to reason that they’d set up a rotating watch. Ensure they weren’t caught by surprise, again. Which ultimately meant…
Christ, they’d probably heard her and Brett going at it. Bed springs creaking. Low moans. Ellis didn’t really remember any peripheral noises. Couldn’t swear that the headboard hadn’t been tapping against the wall, or that she hadn’t cried out Brett’s name. She thought they’d been discreet, but she’d been too damn invested, too in-the-moment to register anything beyond Brett, and what he was doing to her. His hands smoothing along her skin. His voice deep and raspy in her ear. The way he’d stayed on top of her because she’d confessed it made her feel safe.
This was quickly becoming much more than a simple mission. But what really scared her was that she didn’t want it to stop. Wanted to stay there, with him. Let the rest of the world fade. Slide sideways because he was enough. He’d always been enough.
Ellis pushed her hand through her hair, glancing around the table—the truth evident in the way the other men smiled at her—then back to Brett. “I’m fine.”
He scowled. It was like a punch of emotion right to her stomach, and she had to fight not to lift her hand—smooth the lines creasing his face.
That would be a strategic mistake. Like waving a white flag in the air. Surrendering her will to his. Couldn’t happen. Not with CIA bastards on their tail. With the horizon an empty slate. The true course of her mission unknown. She needed to maintain some semblance of distance, if for no other reason than to keep him safe. Hopefully removed enough that if she went down, he didn’t burn right alongside of her.
So, she made a point of rolling her eyes, hoping it might ease the tension. “When did you become this giant mother hen? Yeah, I’m a bit tired. Like I told Hank before, it’s been a long freaking five years, but I can push through.”
Brett’s eye twitched a bit, then he was leaning in. Invading her space. “We can pick up from last night if you need to.”
For one split second, Ellis froze. Just froze, because the look in his eyes. Having him so close, his heat warming her skin. She thought he was talking about the sex. About taking her back to the bedroom, stripping them both down, then plunging inside her. Just like that. No foreplay needed. Just him looking at her was enough.
Then, her brain clicked over. Started working, again, and she realized he meant their fight. Not that it had been much of one. She’d thrown a couple of moves at him to ease the restless edge that wouldn’t dissipate—other than when she’d been in his arms. Safe. Loved. But he was standing there, looming over her, looking more than ready to go a few rounds.
Talk about a train wreck.
She was caught up in the fray. Unable to steer clear. Not that it mattered. If she stood her ground, she’d have to be willing to spar with him. Not an option she wanted to explore. Not after last night. After the way he’d touched her. As if she’d break. Was more precious to him than life. But if she acquiesced, he’d gain valuable footing. Would expect her to cave to his wishes at every turn. Not a smart move, and a double-edged sword guaranteed to cut her whatever her decision.
Which left only one route—the truth.
God, she hated resorting to that.
Ellis met Colt’s fierce gaze, shaking her head as she gave him what she hoped was a genuine smile. “You’re right. I am tired. Bone deep. Most of my time is spent trudging through some shithole of a country, lying to men who are just looking for an excuse to blow my head off. Stealing what I can’t bargain for, then racing for some extraction site, only to end up somewhere else. Different op. Different target. Same damn results. When I do get time off, I rarely sleep. Never more than a few hours at a time, just to be safe. I don’t have friends. Don’t go out. Don’t have a life beyond the next mission.”
She leaned one elbow on the table. “So yeah. I’m tired. And if the man who’s been pulling my strings for the past five years wasn’t actively trying to kill me—kill your team—I’d go curl up in that bed for the next week. But he is. And time isn’t a luxury we have, right now.”
She lifted the mug. “So, I’ll keep downing coffee. Keep pushing through until I’m not liable to get you all killed by letting my guard down. Does that work for you?”
Nothing. Not a word. He hadn’t been expecting that. She doubted any of them had. Then, a chuckle, and the kind of gut-wrenching smile that made her want to tell him more. Anything to keep that smile lifting his lips. Crinkling his eyes. Lighting him up like a spotlight.
He palmed her jaw, catching her chin between his thumb and finger. “Just when I think I have you all figured out, you resort to the truth. You don’t fight fair.”
God, he was so close. His fingers so warm against her skin. It was only her chin and yet, it sent waves of heat down her body. Making it hard to breathe. To sit there and not run her fingers along his neck and behind his head—drag him the few scant inches forward so she could taste his mouth. Feel all that soft flesh—the only part of him that was soft—slide over her lips. Delve inside…
She blinked. Gave herself a mental shake, praying the others hadn’t noticed. Someone cleared their throat.
Damn. Busted. Again.
Ellis wet her lips, bit back a moan when Brett followed the path of her tongue, looking as if he was going to dip down, capture it, then shrugged. “Every now and then, I have to pull a secret weapon out of the arsenal. We good?”
She could see his response. Hell yeah, we’re good.
He nodded, released her, then slid into the chair beside her. He didn’t speak, just shifted until his thigh was touching hers. Just a light pressure against her leg, but it meant much more.
Hank raised a brow, glancing between them before sighing. “Okay, so Kameron and I have our plans. Midnight and Bridgette will stay here. Rigs and Addy are heading back to the clinic, just to be safe. Cannon and Jericho said they’d check-in from the Marshal’s office. She’s mapping out more safehouses. Figured you’d insist on moving every few days. They’ll be back tonight. Cannon thought it might be wise to attempt to make it appear as if you were gone, and they were continuing on as normal.”
Ellis froze, again. Cannon and Jericho had…left? Gone into work? Just the two of them? She thought they’d taken the morning rotation. Were catching up on some sleep. It was bad enough Rigs and Addison had made a quick trip over from the clinic at the crack of dawn—checked-in. But, at least, they weren’t putting themselves in the crosshairs by heading somewhere familiar. Somewhere McCormick had to know about.
Colt’s hand landed on hers. Heavy. Strong. Twice the size. “Sweetheart? Talk to us because you just turned five shades whiter.”
She swallowed, didn’t fair that well when it stuck in her throat, but managed to make her tongue work. Form words. “It’s just… While a part of me agrees with Cannon’s thinking. Selling the ruse. Being out there means he’s not afraid of being spotted. That suggests I’m gone. In the wind. But another part of me—the CIA part—just went to whatever is past DEFCON one because all I can think about is how McCormick will hunt them down. Use them to get to me. God, if he hurts them—”
“Not happening.”
She blew out a harsh breath. “The man’s a monster. He’s capa
ble of anything.”
“I don’t doubt that, but Jericho’s a Deputy U.S. Marshal. Cannon a Special Deputy. And Jericho’s uncle is an admiral. Targeting them would put a giant spotlight on McCormick. No way he could attack or kill either of them and not get the Marshal Service—hell, the entire DoD—involved.”
He squeezed her fingers. “You keep telling us how resourceful McCormick is. That he’ll learn everything about us. Once he sees our names, he’ll put it together with you—why you were recruited. He knows we’d die before giving up information. Selling you out. Killing federal officers with the kind of ties Jericho and Cannon have… It’s not worth it to get nothing.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“Hey, it’s not like I’m saying he won’t cap all of us if we get in the way. Stand between him and his ‘asset’. But it won’t be a random spree. He’d want to keep it all contained. One singular incident he can explain away. Gas explosion. Terrorist attack. I’m sure he has more than a few contingencies already planned. So, we just have to make sure he doesn’t track you down before we have what it takes to burn his ass.”
Hank palmed the table then stood. “Which is our cue to get moving. Colt, I’ll keep you updated on the burner. It’s going to take a while, since we won’t be taking any kind of direct route there or back. We’ll be stopping to check up on Six, too.” He smiled at Ellis. “Hang in there, kid.”
“Kid?” Ellis thought about knocking the man down a peg just on principle. “That had better not stick.”
He laughed. “After the way you leaped at Colt last night, I’ll consider that a viable threat.”
Rigs and Addison stood, too, heading for the door. Kameron gave Ellis a tight smile then followed Hank and the others out. Damn, there was definitely something different about the other woman. Something beyond Ellis disappearing. Though that had obviously struck Kam hard. Ellis recognized guilt when she saw it, and knowing the other woman had blamed herself all these years, stung. Maybe, when this was over, Ellis could get her to talk.
Over. Would it ever truly be finished?
Midnight mumbled something about a perimeter check and about Bridgette doing some more discreet investigating, before disappearing with her down the hallway.
“I’d say a penny for your thoughts, but I’m pretty sure I know what they are.” Colt shuffled closer, bracketing his legs around hers. It was the most he’d touched her since leaving the bed. “It’s going to be okay. We’ll get McCormick. Get you your life back.”
He looked so…serious. So confident. He had absolutely no doubts that he and his team would come out on top. Not that she expected anything less. Delta Force soldiers did not accept failure. It happened, sometimes. But none of them ever went into battle considering any other outcome but victory.
“I know you’ll try. It’s just…”
“Don’t you want it to be over?” He frowned. “Do you want to stay with the CIA?”
“Of course not. I would have left years ago if I thought I could get out. Roger McCormick is not the kind of man you double cross unless your life is on the line.” She shrugged. “But it’s not like I had a life. I guess, I didn’t really see the difference. Living on the run, waiting for an operative to catch up with me, or believing I was, at least, helping in some way by carrying out missions. Figured I’d die on an op, so…”
“Fuck that.” He stood, took her with him. “No one’s dying. Least of all you.”
He was all warrior. Fierce eyes fixed on her. Narrowed. Glinting in the light. Brightening up the room. There was no questioning him. They were making it through, alive, and that was it. Case closed, filed, and stored away.
“You always were hardheaded. Okay, we’ll kick ass. But to do that, we need information. Don’t suppose you’re up for a trip to that warehouse? I know it’s a long shot, but if those files don’t give us any answers, it’s the only other lead we have.”
His jaw clenched and released, jumping the muscle in his temple. She didn’t need to read minds to know what he was thinking. Warehouse meant leaving the safehouse. It meant danger and cameras. All of which could end up biting them in the ass. It was also where she’d been tortured. Not memories he’d want to subject her to. But it wasn’t up to him. Ellis wasn’t exactly thrilled at the prospect of going back, either, but it was necessary. And under the circumstances, she could man up.
Brett stared at her for a full minute. Gaze searching hers—observing every tiny movement. “How ‘bout this? We’ll go recon the area. Find a safe place to park and watch who goes in and out for a while. Then, once the main workers leave in a couple of hours, if it still looks remotely safe, we’ll head in. Take a peek. Just don’t do anything rash, okay?”
“Me, do something rash? I’m too cool to resort to that.”
“Try not to kill, anyone, either.”
“Now, you’re just being mean.” She moved sideways. Got some much-needed distance between them because if she stood there another second longer, she’d definitely be doing something rash. Like kissing him. Forgetting all about the warehouse, the mission, and dragging him back to the bedroom. Back into her. “I’ll go grab that stuff from yesterday.”
Brett nodded, half a smile lifting his lips, before she turned—headed for the room. “Oh, and El. Earlier, when I said we could pick up where we left off? I fully intend on holding true to that.”
She stopped, held her breath, forcing herself to meet his gaze over her shoulder.
“And I wasn’t talking about the fight.”
Chapter 16
For someone who’d spent the past five years avoiding any kind of relationship in order to limit emotional pain, Colt found it poetic to discover he was a masochist—not something he’d understood about himself until this exact moment. Until he’d spent two hours doing reconnaissance on the warehouse. All of it sitting one foot away from Ellis. Close enough he could smell the clean scent of soap on her skin. The citrus undertones from the shampoo. Feel the heat from her body—the sexy, desirable one he’d spent all night holding. Touching and tasting. Rediscovering every dip and curve, every spot that made her skin bead in anticipation or her eyes roll slightly. Sitting there, trapped in sensory overload and not being able to act on it. To lift her onto his lap. Spear his fingers into her hair—take down the pony tail and see all that rich brown mass spill around her shoulders and across his hands—taste her mouth. How her body molded to his…
It hurt. More than he’d imagined. And yet, he knew he’d sit there for a thousand more hours, his damn dick painfully swollen against his jeans, his heart ready to pound through his chest, if it meant more time with her.
Yeah, he obviously really loved suffering. Wallowing in it because she didn’t seem to be suffering, at all. Her breathing was steady. Even. Her muscles primed but not strained. Ready to react if necessary, but not stressed from sitting in the Jeep with him. Even her face looked relaxed. No tightness around her eyes or mouth. No sudden blushing that suggested she was reliving their night together.
He was. How soft her skin had been. How she’d looked up at him, lip snagged between her teeth, skin flushed pink as she’d inhaled, then crested, crying out his name—her head pushed back into the pillow. The way she’d wanted him to hold her. Keep her safe.
Every second he’d spent touching her, loving her, over and over until it was all he could do not to scream. To not put that Wrangler in drive and leave—nonstop until he’d reached the tip of South America. Somewhere so remote, so lost to the rest of the world, even Roger McCormick wouldn’t find them.
Then, Colt would lose himself in her. Just dive in and never resurface.
None of which was possible. Nowhere was safe as long as her asshole boss was alive. Colt knew Cannon wanted to take the guy into custody. Let the Marshal Service or the FBI or even the CIA handle the bastard. Lock him up. But alive meant McCormick was still a threat, and Colt didn’t want Ellis spending the rest of her life always looking over her shoulder. Wondering if McCormick would sen
d someone to stick a knife in her back—or put a fifty-cal round between her pretty eyes.
Not happening. One way or another, Colt would find a way to ensure her safety. Of course, having her never leave his side was a good start. A plan he could really get behind—more proof that he enjoyed pain because based on how indifferent she seemed sitting next to him, her thoughts weren’t close to his. That any remaining time they spent together wouldn’t be a repeat of last night.
Damn. Just thinking the words, last night, had his dick jumping against the tight confines of the denim, again, making him inhale sharply against the stab of pain. Great. Another boner. He’d gotten more unwanted wood since Ellis had fallen into his arms than he had in the five years she’d been gone. And it didn’t look as if that was going to change anytime soon.
Her fingers landed on his forearm, making his damn dick throb. She was going to kill him.
Colt pushed out a rough breath then focused on her. Eyes wide, the color of azurite. He’d never seen that exact color before. So pure it looked electrified. Glowing against the creamy white of her skin. No makeup, just a healthy hint of pink in her cheeks. A splash by the vee in her shirt. With her hair pulled back, her cheekbones stood out in soft contrast. High. That pink hue darkening slightly. She never ceased to take his breath away.
Ellis arched one eyebrow, tilting her head to the side. “You okay?”
If having a freaking hard-on from hell that won’t go down because I’m insanely in love with you is fine…
He forced a tight smile. “Fine. Something on your mind?”
Are you thinking about how my mouth felt against your cleft? How you flooded my tongue? Because I am.
Those brows furrowed, this time, as if she’d heard his inner ramblings. “The majority of the workers left twenty minutes, ago. And the sun will be setting soon. It’d be best if we could scout around before we lose all the light. Seeing a beam bouncing inside a deserted warehouse will be a dead giveaway.” She paused. “Addison did say it was vacant, right?”