by Zoe Dawson
“Emma, you’ve got to trust me. He’s my priority.” He hadn’t wanted to say anything until it was certain, but he needed to give her some hope. “I’m waiting for some intel. But until that happens, we wait.”
“Intel?”
His heart stuttering, he tightened his hold, rubbing her hands between his. “I’m using contacts from when I was in service.”
An unquenchable flicker of hope broke free, and she grasped his arms. “This would be solid?”
“Yes, but I’m not saying any more right now until something comes through. I don’t want you involved in this anymore.”
Her eyes narrowed and she pulled her hands free, her expression turning mutinous. “What? You said we were going to do this together.”
“I’ve changed my mind, and I’ve got to do…things to get him back. Things you can’t be involved with.”
Her chin lifted and her eyes flashed. “Why?”
He ran his hand through his hair. When she’d walked into the office, she’d looked like she was on the verge of panic. He didn’t give that panic a chance to gather momentum. She opened her mouth again and he held up his hand. “Emma, stop.”
“But Derrick. You’re not being reasonable. You let me go before. You said I was helpful and valuable. What has changed? Tell me why I—”
“Because it’s too damned awful, Emma,” he said, his voice low and fierce.
She never took her eyes off him, and his gut clenched when she closed her eyes and swallowed. The anguished look on her face said it all. He didn’t want her to see him be as ruthless and brutal as the men who took Matty. There was law and order and polite society. Everyone lived here because men like him and Robin were doing the jobs that no one wanted to do to keep the country safe. Someone had to get their hands dirty, and his were stained in blood already.
He watched her fighting her little fight, and he respected her for that. And he knew it just wasn’t in her nature to go down without a struggle. She took a breath and wrapped her arms around his neck and held on tight. “Derrick,” she whispered. “I would never judge you.”
“I know you’re not naive with the ways of the world. You were a cop, so I know that. It’s just I have to…ah, dammit…do the kind of things that I left in my past. I told you I would do what it takes, and it’s going to take someone like me who knows how to extract information the hard way.”
“What does that mean? Are you going back?”
“Yes.”
“I’m going with you.”
“No, Emma.”
She wasn’t so down and out that she couldn’t even scrape up a decent dirty look. “Yes. Do you think I care what we have to do? Do you think I won’t do anything in my power to have him back safe with us?”
He looked away, knowing that she might say that now, but when faced with the kind of things he was going to have to do to get the information he needed… Faced with that brutality, she would change her mind. It did matter. But that had never stopped him. “It’ll be different. You think you’ll be okay with it until it happens. This won’t be easy, and it’s not legal. You’ve always stayed within the letter of the law as a cop, and as a PI you’re also governed by laws.”
“You’re not?”
A cold sensation spread through his middle, and his insides bunched into a hard knot. “Not in this case. I’m leaving my badge here, and I’m not sure I’ll have a job when I get back.”
Clearly struggling with a whole bunch of emotions, she tipped her head back, wrestling with his plan of action. “Derrick—”
“It’s just a job, Emma. I can get another one.” It hurt, really hurt, to think he wouldn’t be part of NCIS anymore, but he couldn’t work within their parameters on this one. Just like his black op mission to shadow Rock Kaczewski in the Darién Gap, he couldn’t breathe a word of this to anyone. He was as alone as he’d been in the field, the whole of his life. But without his willingness to do what needed to be done, she would surely lose that kid, just as completely as he’d lost his own, and that was something he couldn’t bear. “Compared to the future that awaits Matty if we don’t get him back, it’s inconsequential.”
“I know you’re saying that for my benefit, and I know you believe that, but I also know those people mean something to you. They’re special.”
He closed his eyes and said in a low voice. “They are. But Emma, I’m still doing this.”
“And so am I.”
He huffed out a breath and they separated. He understood her need to go with him. He did, but the thought of her in danger and anywhere near Francisco Flores made his blood run cold. “All right, but you’ll have to do exactly what I say every step of the way.”
“Sounds familiar,” she said with a ghost of a smile.
He looked down at her, humor tugging at his mouth. “Dissension in the ranks already?”
Pulling his head down, she brought his mouth into full contact with hers.
The kiss was slow, soft and so unbelievably gentle that it left him absolutely breathless, and his whole body turned to jelly. “I’ve got to get back to work and let you get back to yours,” she whispered against his mouth. “Tonight?”
“Yes, I should be off at five.”
She caressed his jaw, tipping her head to one side, her expression changing as she considered him. Finally, she spoke, her voice very soft and very husky. “Did anyone ever tell you that you make one hell of a white knight, Very Special Agent Derrick Gunn?”
Caught off guard by her comment, he stared at her. He didn’t want her thinking that. He wasn’t a white knight by a long shot. His intentions toward her were not pure.
Derrick woke up, the vestiges of a nightmare crowding against his now waking mind. The warmth against him made him recalibrate his thinking. He wasn’t accustomed to having someone in his bed. He opened his eyes, so aware of Emma’s body against his. The fading sky that preceded dawn was illuminating the room, and Derrick turned his head and looked at her; the kind of feeling that rushed through him, he wanted it every day of his life.
She was sleeping on her side, facing him, a lone leg drawn up, her breathing deep and even. The windows had been left open all night, and the room was filled with the sound of ocean waves. Bracing his weight on his elbow, he ran his hand down her bare arm; then he reached over, tugged the sheet loose and drew it over her. He watched her sleep for a long time, until parts of his body started sending him messages that had nothing to do with sleep and everything to do with getting closer to her. For an instant he indulged in the sensual memories from last night, the lovemaking off the charts as usual.
Emma sighed and shifted beside him, her hand brushing against his arm, and he glanced back down at her, suddenly feeling things he didn’t want to feel, wanting things he wasn’t sure he could keep, knowing he would never be able to lie in this bed again without seeing her there. The thickness in his chest climbed higher, and he rolled onto his back, resting one arm across his forehead as he stared into the gloom. This part of their relationship was damned easy—so easy.
It was the rest of it that he wasn’t sure about; the uncertainty of the future never used to bother him before but losing Matty and not getting him back could tear her apart. Losing his own son would have if he hadn’t compartmentalized the whole damn thing and tucked it away. He had to because doing so would save many, many soldiers’ lives.
Unsettled about his feelings for Emma, he got up and pulled on his jeans, then went over to the windows and looked at the ocean. Usually it soothed him. Today, there wasn’t enough water on the planet to do that.
Casting one last look at the sleeping form in his bed, he left the room, shutting the door soundlessly behind him.
The breeze through the open patio door rattled the blinds, and Derrick closed the door, then went into the kitchen. He filled the reservoir on the coffeemaker and put fresh grounds in the basket, his movements automatic and detached. Flipping the switch to start it brewing, he went and stood in front of the patio door, a h
ollow feeling unfolding in him. Bracing one arm on the window frame, he stared out, wishing the hole in his gut would go away.
His life had been defined by being alone, but he’d rarely felt lonely, until now. It had been a helluva ride, being part of the CIA. One that took him places he’d never expected to go. There had been times when his aloneness got so big, he felt cloaked by it. And he had figured he would go to the grave with that awful hole in his chest. Then boom. Emma. Boom. Love. Again. A love that held a lot of promise. He had no idea what was going to happen between them, but she was the one he wanted.
The need he had to do what was right, like when he’d sacrificed Afsana and his boy, felt the same damn way this whole mess with Matty felt. Like he was going to have to lose the woman he loved to that part of him that needed justice, needed follow-through, needed someone to get his hands dirty.
He would move heaven and earth for her.
He knew they could never just be friends. And there was no damned way he wanted them to be just lovers.
Looking away, he swallowed hard, his eyes suddenly burning. It was a hell of a thought; he had never found anyone who came close to replacing Afsana in his heart. Now Emma was there as if she had always been.
All he knew for sure was that having her, being with her, had been real for him. As real as it got. He’d never wanted to get blindsided by another woman, and lo and behold. Bam.
Exhaling heavily, Derrick dragged his hand down his face, then tipped his head back, trying to release the tension across his shoulders. Hell, he was going to drive himself crazy if he didn’t stop thinking about it. Especially when there weren’t any answers. He turned from the window, rolling his shoulders. What he needed was a long run. Instead, he headed for the shower.
When he came out, the bed was empty. He dressed in a clean pair of jeans and went out to the kitchen. She was standing at the now-open door, sipping coffee, dressed in his navy blue NCIS T-shirt. It came about midthigh to her. He’d never seen anything look so good in that shirt.
“You had better have saved me some,” he murmured, coming up to her and wrapping his arms around her waist.
She leaned into him and said, “Slowpokes don’t usually get the rewards,” she said with a laugh.
“Emma…” He tickled her and she almost sloshed her coffee.
“I left you some.”
He walked over and poured himself a cup, then sipped the strong brew.
“Why didn’t I buy a house on the ocean?” Her voice was filled with regret and envy.
“Yeah,” he chuckled. “Why didn’t you?”
He went onto the deck and tugged her after him. Folding down onto a lounge chair, he urged her onto his lap.
She snuggled up to him and shrugged. “I think I might have retired instead, getting much too engrossed in living at the beach. I had a business to run, so I thought it was best to leave the vacation living to people who could handle it. I love the ocean, and it’s heavenly to fall asleep with you here. It’s kept me sane.”
Her hair flew around in the wind like thin copper strips. Her delicate features were contemplative.
“I own an island,” he said, all kinds of smugness in his tone.
Her head whipped around, and she scowled. She smacked him on the bare shoulder. “Now you’re just being cruel.”
“No,” he laughed when she made a face at him. “I…inherited it from that old tycoon who thought I was nothing but clay for him to mold. I sold everything else, but that place is paradise. It spoke to me. It’s off the coast of the Bahamas, Tucked Away Cay.”
She turned totally around, straddling him and set her cup on the small table next to his. She shook him. “Are you kidding me?”
He leaned his head back just so he could stare at her. “Derrick…when you look at me like that, I can’t think.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“You’re terrible.”
“Yeah, I know.”
She smacked him again.
He gave her an innocent look. “I’m not kidding. I’m thinking you’d look good there on the sandy beach, not a stitch on.”
She shot him a startled look.
Unable to resist the draw of that daydream, he reached out and ran his finger down the swell of her breast. “Yeah, you sunbathing in the nude, playing in the surf, plenty of bounce…to your step.”
“Ah, you’re not talking about my step, and I know it.”
“You ever make soft, slow love in the surf, Emma?” he asked, his voice low and provocative.
She stared at him, transfixed, looking totally winded. As if she’d finally gotten the rush he’d been living with all morning. She closed her eyes as her chest rose, as if she couldn’t catch her breath. He really expected her to tell him to stuff his soft, slow sex where the sun don’t shine, but this was better. Infinitely better.
Finally getting some air into her lungs, she turned and looked at him, a dangerous glint in her eyes. “You think you’re so smart,” she breathed, well aware of the hard-on she was currently cradling between her bare thighs.
Then she grabbed his hair and planted a kiss on him that had him groaning and itching to get her just as naked as she would be on that beach so far away.
Laughing against her mouth, his whole body going on even more full alert, he slid his arms around her hips. “You drive me completely crazy,” he murmured, tasting her mouth.
She gave his hair another yank and deepened the kiss. Derrick got really serious, really quickly, and he dragged her down against him. She made a low sound and slid her arms around his neck, and suddenly Derrick couldn’t breathe, either. Grabbing the back of her head, he fought for air, his heart hammering. He changed the angle of her face, then sealed his mouth hungrily against hers. He would never get them to the bedroom in time. Never.
She moved against him, and he nearly groaned, a pulsing heat coursing through him. In desperation, he reached down, working her panties off and loosening his jeans. She tightened her knees against his hips and moved to take him deep. And he nearly lost his mind.
She clung to him when it was over, and he couldn’t hold her close enough, clutching her to him, her fingers still in his hair, her face buried in the crook of his neck.
Their breaths came in heavy pants, and she slowly raised her head. At the first hint of movement, his arms tightened around hers, his fingertips digging more deeply into her hair. “Don’t leave me,” he whispered. He closed his eyes when she pressed a damp, heated kiss against his jaw, then dragged her lips to his, her mouth so sweet and gentle.
She raised her head, her face pensive, the magnitude of what had passed between them clearly not lost on her. “What’s going to happen after we find Matty?”
“Everything will go back to normal. I’m going to make sure you’re safe.”
“No, Derrick, this. Between us. Do you want to continue this?”
He wrapped his hand around her throat, caressing her beating pulse with his thumb. “Yes, I do.”
She went to open her mouth, but he covered her lips. “No, don’t say it yet. Tell me after all this is over about what you want to do with…this.”
He kissed her palm just as his phone beeped. He pulled it out of his back pocket.
It was a text from Robin:
Flores is back. Showtime.
Yeah, he would wait to see how everything played out and if Emma would be interested in him after all this was over.
Chapter Seventeen
Former Ortega Hacienda, Caliche, Mexico
“Don’t tell me he’s dead.”
They had come to the abandoned house where Ortega’s son, Arturo, and Mrs. Montoya had been killed. There was still a bloodstain on the kitchen floor where she’d died. Flores probably had been the one to knife her and brutally kill Arturo; the bastard had liked the personal touch. The world was a little safer now that he was gone. Except they both knew there would be another one to take his place. It was the way of the world.
“Yeah, he wasn’t going
to give us anything anyway. Dude was a straight-up, stone-cold killer and he enjoyed every minute of it,” Robin said, facing Derrick, his face bleak. No one, not even hardened operatives, got used to this.
“So that’s exactly what he is. Dead. Good riddance, I say.”
“I didn't expect you to do this on your own. This was my situation, and I would have dealt with it.”
“Look, Derrick. You’re NCIS now, and I jumped the gun to leave you out of this.” He held up his hand. “I know you would have done what was necessary. But I got some cartel guys to get information out of Flores. They were very cooperative and had some questions of their own anyway. This way, no harm, no foul. We’re both out of it.”
“My hands aren’t clean, Robin.”
Robin huffed a breath, setting his hands on his hips, giving Derrick a shuttered look. “None of us are. But you’re clean of this, and that satisfies me. I left it up to them. Believe me, they were thorough.”
“I would have done what needed to be done, but thanks for what you did.”
Robin nodded.
“What did he say?”
“He let slip that Ortega was rebuilding and forging a new business with Diego Lopez.”
This wasn’t exactly what he had planned, but he was glad Flores was dead. He was just as big a threat to Emma, Lily and Matty as Ortega. He was the kind of man who would exact revenge. So he was dead, and he hadn’t given up Ortega’s hidey-hole. Or had he?
“We didn’t get enough, at least not where Ortega is hiding.”
Derrick leaned against the counter. “Oh, but he did give us a clue. He told us Ortega is in bed with Lopez’s cartel. I’m sure part of his deal with Diego Lopez is new and improved routes for their drugs to enter the US. We also know he went to Colombia. That gives me a starting point.”
Robin made a face and ran his hand through his loose blond hair. “You’re going to send me home with the babe, aren’t you?” he whined.