After Midnight: (A Penguin Special from Signet Eclipse) (Killer Instincts) (4 page)

Abby nodded tersely.

“And you’re sure there’s nothing you want to talk to me about?”

The knowing glimmer in those blue eyes unnerved her, but it was the offer to talk that gave her pause. She didn’t usually confide in anyone other than Kane or Isabel, but . . . about this potential pregnancy? She was reluctant to share her fears with either of them. Isabel would be overjoyed by the prospect of a baby, and she’d encourage Abby to be happy about it too.

Kane . . . well, he would be equally thrilled. And why shouldn’t he? He came from a perfect family, raised by parents who adored him. His early life hadn’t been tainted by violence the way hers had.

But Noelle . . . the woman knew all about crappy childhoods. Hell, maybe she was the
perfect
person to discuss this with.

“Do you want kids?” Abby asked.

Noelle blinked at the sudden inquiry, then chuckled softly. “You’re pregnant.”

“No,” she blurted out. “I mean, maybe. I don’t know.”

Something akin to helplessness tightened her throat. Control was her middle name, and yet right now, she felt like she was freefalling without a parachute. No way of controlling where she’d land.

“I’m late,” she admitted. “But I haven’t taken the test yet.”

Noelle raised one light-blond eyebrow. “I’m assuming Mr. Sinclair doesn’t know?”

“No, I haven’t told him yet. I . . . I’m . . . scared.” Confessing that was the hardest thing she’d ever done, which was damn ironic coming from a woman who could kill at the blink of an eye.

Noelle’s reaction didn’t ease her nerves, either. The woman actually laughed, as if she found the entire situation comical.

“Abby Sinclair, scared? Oh, honey, I trained you better than that.” The mocking tone faded as Noelle pursed her lips in thought. “You’re worried you’ll screw up the kid’s life, huh?”

Surprise jolted through her. “Why, is that what
you’d
worry about? Screwing up your children?”

“I won’t be having any children.”

The swift, confident reply made her frown. “Why not?”

“Because no child deserves a fucked-up bitch like me for a mother.”

Abby bit her lip. “I . . .” Pain clogged her throat. “I don’t know if I can keep it.”

“There may not be anything to keep.” Her old boss offered a careless shrug. “Take the fucking test, honey.”

“I am. I mean, I will. I just . . . don’t know . . . when.” God. She was stammering, but she was too damn distressed to feel embarrassed about it.

Noelle pointed to the bathroom. “How about now?”

Abby had to roll her eyes. “You don’t just go pee and then a voice from above announces whether or not you’re knocked up. You need the damn stick.”

“You mean this one?” Noelle reached her arm around. For a second Abby thought the woman was going for the gun, but to her extreme shock, Noelle’s hand came back with a narrow cardboard box that she mockingly waved in front of Abby’s face.

The same pink box she’d stashed in her duffel.

Her mouth fell open in indignation. “You’re fucking kidding me! You went through my stuff?”

A hint of a smile graced the other woman’s lips.

“How?” Abby blurted out. “You just got here this morning.”

“Last night, actually,” Noelle said smugly. “I waltzed right into your room while you and hubby were snuggled under the covers. You disappoint me, Abby. Again, I trained you better than that. Which raises the question—what the hell kind of amateur Scooby Doo team does Jim run? In the three years he’s had you, he’s totally stripped away everything I taught you.”

Ignoring the rant, Abby snatched the pregnancy test, still furious. And mortified. And confused again.

“Why the pretense then?” she muttered. “Why ask if I’m cheating and then pretend to be surprised that I’m late when you knew the whole time what this was about?”

“You know me, I never pass up an opportunity for some good, old-fashioned deception.” Noelle grinned. “Do you need me to pull your pants down for you and offer encouragements while you pee?”

“Fuck you.”

“We don’t have all day, Abby. Get this over with already so we can get out of this hellhole.”

Despite the anger still coursing through her veins, she clenched her teeth and headed toward the small bathroom, clutching the box so tight the cardboard began to bend. She relaxed her grip, shut the door behind her, then inhaled deeply.

As she tore open the cardboard and pulled out the plastic white stick, she nearly backed out, but knowing Noelle was on the other side of the door rendered that impossible. She got the feeling the woman would hold her down and
force
her take the test if she didn’t do it herself.

Her heart had never pounded so fast, drumming out a frantic beat as she quickly read the test instructions. The toilet looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in years, so she grabbed handfuls of toilet paper and laid them out around the seat before reluctantly lowering herself down.

A minute later, the stick sat on the dirty counter. She busied herself by washing her hands, but time seemed to have come to a torturous standstill, and two minutes suddenly felt like eternity.

Wiping her hands on the front of her pants, she left the stick on the counter and stumbled out of the bathroom. Noelle was waiting outside the door, just as she’d expected. A questioning brow cocked up.

“Another minute left,” Abby mumbled.

God, she didn’t want to know the answer. A huge part of her wanted the test to be negative, but then she thought about Kane and what a good father he’d be, and her resolve wavered. No, Kane would be a
great
father. He was strong, intelligent, honorable, loving, tender . . . he possessed a million wonderful qualities that made him the perfect candidate for fatherhood.

But what did
she
have to offer? Would she teach their child to kill someone? To wield a knife? To shut down emotionally whenever things got too rough?

Kane brought out her softer side, but she wasn’t sure it was soft enough for a
baby
. She couldn’t envision herself cuddling and cooing and lavishing attention on a child. Sure, maybe her maternal instincts would kick in once the doctor put that newborn in her arms—but what if they didn’t?

“Minute’s up.” Noelle’s mocking voice broke through her terrified thoughts.

Abby’s throat closed up again, and she was embarrassed to realize she was near tears. “I can’t do it. Will you . . . can you . . . go in there and look for me?”

Noelle grumbled with impatience. “I never took you for a pussy, Sinclair.” Then she marched into the bathroom.

She was gone for all of five seconds. When she returned, her face revealed nothing. Not a single hint as to what she’d found.

Gulping, Abby met those expressionless eyes and said, “Well?”

Later that evening, Morgan hung up the phone and turned to the group with a grim look. “That was Special Agent Riggs. They’ve agreed to an exchange with Nazara. Five million for the boy.”

Kane had been taking a catnap on one of the twin beds in Morgan’s suite, but at the boss’s report, he shot into a sitting position, instantly alert. “When is it?”

“Six a.m. tomorrow. At the market. Nazara wants it done in a public place, and he won’t budge on the location.”

Kane hopped off the mattress and made a beeline for the kitchenette, grabbing the pot from the cheap coffeemaker to pour himself a cup. Abby and Noelle were seated at the table, going over the list of associates Aswad had given them, but they hadn’t connected a single name to the abduction. The four of them had spent the entire day and evening visiting every potential safe house where Nazara could be stashing Tommy Aberdeen, all to no avail. They’d run out of places to check and people to talk to, and now it looked like the task force had given up on finding leads too.

Noelle sounded annoyed by the plan Morgan had outlined. “It’ll be impossible to get a perimeter set up. Too many people, too many alleys to hide in. The market is a damn maze.” She leaned back in her chair with a smug look. “Besides, we all know there won’t be an exchange. Nazara’s not stupid—he won’t bring the boy. The second he gets his cash, he’ll order one of his thugs to kill the kid.”

“I know.” Morgan’s tone was laced with displeasure, as if he hated agreeing with the woman even for a second.

The two of them had been exchanging enigmatic words and derisive barbs all evening, which had seriously grated on Kane’s nerves. A part of him wished they’d just get it over with and sleep together. There was no doubt in his mind, especially after watching their interactions today, that a good, hard fuck would do wonders for the pair.

Or at the very least, it might shut them up for a while.

“Which is why we need to find Nazara tonight, before the exchange ever takes place,” Morgan added.

Kane chugged his coffee and poured another cup, desperately needing the caffeine to jump-start his brain. “Riggs still can’t trace the calls? What the fuck are they doing over there?”

“Nazara’s smart. He only calls from payphones,” Morgan said flatly. “He stays on the line for no more than ten seconds, then moves to a different phone, delivers another piece of information, and hangs up.”

Abby joined the conversation, sounding as frustrated as they all felt as she gestured to the papers in front of her. “There are no leads here, Jim.” Along with Noelle, she was one of the rare people who ever used his given name, which always reminded Kane that they had a history. Abby’s adoptive father had been Morgan’s commanding officer in the Rangers, and Morgan had known her since she was a teenager. “Most of these people are dead or living abroad.”

“There has to be another safe house,” Morgan muttered. “A childhood home, a vacation spot. Somewhere Nazara would feel safe.” His tone became accusatory as he glanced at his nemesis. “I’m surprised your magical list of informants hasn’t produced anything yet.”

“Good intel takes time.” Her blue eyes gleamed. “But waiting positively kills you, doesn’t it? God forbid the whole world doesn’t bend over backwards to give you what you want. That silver spoon you were born with really did a number on you, huh, Jim?”

Morgan’s features hardened. “Call your fucking people again, Noelle. Get us something we can use.”

Kane saw the brief flicker of amusement in the blonde’s expression. It was clear she enjoyed the verbal sparring sessions. Morgan, on the other hand, looked like he wanted to murder her each time she opened her mouth.

But at least the man was smart enough to make use of Noelle’s limitless network of resources, even though it clearly killed him to need something from her. The female assassin had ways of producing information from thin air—she seemed to know every scumbag on the planet.

Kane finished his coffee and dropped the cracked mug in the sink. The hotel definitely wasn’t the nicest, but they’d stayed in worse. “What do you want us to do until the intel comes in?”

“Nothing we
can
do.” Morgan grumbled in frustration. “Grab a shower and some grub if you want. I’ll call you when we have something.” He shot Noelle an icy glare. “And you, baby, can take off now. We’ve got things covered.”

“Really? Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like you’re spinning your wheels.”

Stifling an inward groan, Kane glanced at his wife. “Ready to go?” He was desperate to leave Morgan and Noelle to their own devices. The suffocating hostility hanging in the air was beginning to choke him.

After a beat, Abby nodded and slid off the chair. Either he was imagining it, or she was actually reluctant to follow him. As if she’d rather stay in the land of veiled threats and combustible sexual tension than be alone with her husband.

He
had
to have imagined that.

Kane banished his misgivings as they headed back to their room. After he’d closed the door, he turned to Abby and searched her expression, but those yellow eyes revealed nothing. She was a master of hiding her thoughts and emotions, thanks to years of training, and years of emotional detachment.

“I need a shower,” she said in an absentminded tone. “I’ve been walking around in long sleeves all day.”

Kane’s breath lodged in his throat as she proceeded to strip, giving him a hell of a show. Her shirt came off first, which left her in a black bra that hugged her full breasts. Fucking hell. He loved her tits. Loved her body. Loved
her
.

She bent down to unzip her boots then wiggled out of her tight pants. He continued to stand there and watch, his mouth going dry when her underwear and bra hit the floor. Her naked body had successfully distracted him from voicing the questions on his mind, and she seemed to know it, because her lips quirked.

“Wanna shower with me?” she drawled.

“Sweetheart, I’m a red-blooded man and you’re naked. You don’t even need to ask.”

He shrugged out of his clothes on the way to the bathroom. Christ. His cock was already rock hard, eagerly rising up to slap his navel as he ducked into the shower stall after her.

Abby smiled when he joined her. Lukewarm water sluiced down her body, dripping off the ends of her long red hair. He watched in fascination as droplets slid over her firm ass and clung to her golden skin, absolutely floored that this beautiful, addictive creature belonged to
him
.

She stepped aside to give him his turn under the spray. He quickly dunked his head, then shifted around in time to see Abby working a bar of soap over her spectacular curves.

“Oh yeah, keep doing that,” he rasped.

“You sound like you’re in a porno movie.”

He smirked. “You
look
like you’re in a porno movie.”

Rolling her eyes, she glided the soap over her belly and toward the juncture of her thighs. Tiny white bubbles dotted her skin as she worked the soap into a lather. His gaze followed her every move, which might’ve creeped out some women, but not Abby. No, she kept her eyes locked on his as she washed herself, and then, without a word, she handed him the soap and moved back under the spray to rinse off. After he’d lathered up, he stepped in behind her, his cock nestling between her ass cheeks.

He dipped his head so he could kiss her shoulder. “I love you.”

For a second he wondered if she’d heard him over the running water, because she didn’t answer. But then her breathy voice broke through the steady rush of the spray.

“I love you too.”

Fuck, maybe it made him the biggest sap on the planet, but hearing those words leave her mouth sent his heart soaring. He’d known what he’d signed up for when he’d married her. Abby Sinclair didn’t do
feelings
, and she shut down whenever she felt too exposed. It had taken three years of painstaking work to chip away at her hard outer shell and reveal the soft, willing woman inside. And damn, it had been worth the effort.

Truth was, she’d changed him too. After he’d lost his college girlfriend to suicide, he’d thought he’d never fall in love again.

Until he’d met Abby.

With a husky sigh, he rested his hands on her slick hips and brought his mouth to her neck. Her head promptly tilted to the side, allowing him better access, and she moaned when his lips teased her sensitive flesh.

“I need you,” she whispered.

His brows furrowed at the desperate note in her voice. He tugged on her hair, trying to twist her around so he could see her eyes, but she leaned forward and braced both hands against the tiled wall. All but presenting her sweet ass to him.

The wicked sight hardened his cock to a whole new level, drawing a groan from his lips.

“Get inside me.” Desperation again, but her voice was also thick with emotion.

Kane fisted his cock, giving it a slow jerk before guiding it to her pussy. One thrust of the hips and he was buried inside her, a hot rush of pleasure sizzling through his body and settling in his groin. He slid out, then in again, keeping his pace nice and slow as her inner muscles rippled around him.

Her choked plea echoed in the stall. “Harder. Fuck me harder.”

Another groan broke free. “I’m trying to make it last, sweetheart.”

“I don’t want it to last. I want to
come
.” She thrust backward, and he swayed on his feet, the pleasure was so intense. “Please, Kane. Hard and fast.”

Like he could ever say no to
that
.

He gripped her hips and drove deep again, nothing lazy about the tempo anymore. Water coursed over them, streaming down their bodies as he fucked her like an animal with deep, relentless strokes. He grabbed a hunk of her hair and fisted the wet strands as his hips pistoned hard, the slapping noises of their bodies coming together mingling with his low groans and her throaty cries. There was something raw and dangerous about the encounter, and when Abby shuddered in release, he was hit by a wave of male satisfaction that summoned a low growl from his throat. He wished he could see her face, but it was enough to witness her uncontrollable shivers, knowing that
he’d
caused them. That he’d taken her to a place where she felt safe enough to drop her guard and let him in.

“Fuck.
Coming
,” he ground out, his fingers tightening over her wet hips.

Stars danced in front of his eyes as the climax ripped free. Her still-spasming pussy milked him dry, bearing down on his cock as white-hot pulses surged through him.

Breathing hard, he went still and rested his chin on her shoulder. “Goddamn, sweetheart. I can barely stay upright.”

Soft laughter wrapped around him like a warm blanket. Lord, it was the sweetest sound in the world.

“I needed that.” She sounded almost embarrassed to admit it, and this time he wasted no time turning her around.

When he glimpsed the troubled crease in her forehead, he gently smoothed it with his thumb. “What’s going on?”

Her throat bobbed as she swallowed. “I . . .”

The loud chime of his cell phone interrupted her, and his hand quickly fell from her face. “Hold that thought.”

He ducked out of the stall, reached for a towel so he could dry his hands, and picked up the phone he’d left on the sink counter in case Morgan called. When he checked the screen, he found an incoming text message, but not from the boss. Kane looped the towel around his hips as he scanned the message, then burst out laughing.

“Who’s it from?” Abby came up behind him, still naked and dripping wet.

“My mother,” he told her. “God. You’re going to get a kick out of this.”

“Yeah?” Sounding curious, she tucked a towel around her body. “What did she say?”

“She wants my advice on what to get you for your birthday. She and Dad have narrowed it down to two options.”

He wasn’t surprised when Abby’s eyes flickered with discomfort. Although she’d gone to Michigan several times with him to visit his parents, he knew his wholesome upbringing and cozy childhood home still freaked her out sometimes.

During their very first visit, he’d figured she’d act shy and quiet around his folks, but she’d surprised him by being amazingly open. She and his dad had hit it off immediately, and even though his mom was more of a June Cleaver type to Abby’s Lara Croft, the two women were very friendly.

Birthdays, however, always seemed to make her ill at ease. He knew she’d never celebrated hers before she’d married Kane, but his parents were all about birthdays. No matter how much Abby protested, they still bought her a gift every year.

“Do I even want to know what the options are?” she said in alarm.

“Well, they’re torn between a sweater, and a knife that once belonged to a Union general from the Civil War. Apparently he killed hundreds of Confederate soldiers with that knife.”

“Hey, look at that, your mother is learning,” she teased. “Either of those is way better than the make-your-own-potpourri kit she got me last year.”

Kane quickly typed out a text in reply before turning to grin at his wife. “I told her to get both. You can wear the sweater while you’re slicing someone up with the knife.”

“Good plan.” Then, as if a switch had been flicked, her amusement faded, replaced by the uneasy glimmer he’d been noticing far too often lately.

“Okay. Enough.” He narrowed his eyes. “What’s gotten into you?”

The hysterical laugh that popped out of her mouth made him frown. “I’m serious,” he insisted. “You’re distracted, edgy as hell. Something’s going on, and you’re going to tell me what it is. Right now.”

She toyed with the knot on her towel before slowly meeting his eyes. “You’re right. We need to talk about this.”

A pang of concern tugged on his gut. “Okay, then let’s talk. What’s—”

He groaned when his phone rang again. Not a text this time, but a call from Morgan.
Shit
. The boss had the worst timing.

Swallowing his frustration, Kane answered with a quick, “What’s up?”

“Noelle’s contact searched the property records, and Nazara’s name is listed as the coowner of a house in a little rural village just south of Beni Suef. The other owner is a woman named Eshe Salib—apparently she was a good friend of Nazara’s mother. Salib would babysit him when his mother was at work.”