Betrayed (Hostage Rescue Team Series Book 9) (17 page)

“I was tired of it. I wanted out.”

She blinked at that, shocked. “What?”

He nodded. “Villa was my last job. I called Perez on my way to Key West and told him so.”

Right after leaving her bed.

He didn’t say that, but he didn’t have to, the heat and regret in his eyes said it for him. And it couldn’t be coincidence that he’d made the call right after leaving her that morning.

Don’t read anything into it. It doesn’t mean anything.

But her heart wouldn’t listen. The tiny bubble of hope inside her expanded, a painful pressure beneath her ribcage, squeezing her heart and lungs like an invisible fist.

She struggled to remain impassive. “And he was just going to let you walk away afterward? Just like that?” She found that hard to believe.

Perez was notoriously ruthless, and she still suspected he was somehow linked to Frank’s murder, even though she couldn’t prove it yet. The evidence on the others was solid. Emails she’d unencrypted with Trinity’s help.

Recorded snatches of phone conversations. And the forensic evidence from Frank’s house. She’d managed to get it all before the hitters could send in a cleanup crew.

“I wasn’t giving him a choice,” Miguel answered, his arrogant expression somehow only making him hotter. He had been the best in the business as far as hitters went, and he knew it. “But yeah. I think he would’ve let me go.”

She couldn’t believe it. There was no way he could have done the things he had, earned the reputation he had, and still be this naïve about Perez. “There’s no way he would have let you go. Ever.”

A muscle flexed in his jaw. “You don’t know him.”

“No, but I still don’t see him letting you walk away after everything was said and done.”

“I wasn’t going to stay in Miami,” he said, his tone full of sarcasm, “and I wasn’t planning to stay in the States. I had a strategy put together and it would have worked if I hadn’t run into a couple FBI bullets that day.”

She hid a wince at the reminder. God, she’d never forget the terrible helplessness and grief she’d felt when he’d laid bleeding out in front of her.

The silence stretched out between them, each second making the guilt and yearning twist harder in her chest. She needed distance from him, space, and she needed it right
now
. “I’m gonna go take a shower,” she muttered, and fled up the stairs.

She didn’t risk stopping to grab anything on her way to the connecting bathroom because she knew Miguel would be only seconds behind her. Rycroft had ordered him to watch her, and he would.

The bedroom door didn’t lock but the bathroom one did. She turned the lock and let out a slow breath, needing time to think. Alone.

Reaching into the tub, she pulled the shower curtain into place and turned on the faucet. When the water heated up, she hit the valve for the shower. Water rushed against the bottom of the tub in a soothing rhythm.

Turning to face the mirror, she stared at her reflection. She looked…haunted, and that’s exactly how she felt.

Briar had been right about all of it.

She
was
lonely. She was tired of being on the run, of being alone. But what was the point of stopping now? The only man she’d ever fallen for was Miguel, and they would never work out.

Yeah, he still wanted her, might want to rip her clothes off and fuck her six ways from Sunday, but that didn’t mean he wanted a relationship. And even if he did, that was impossible. Neither of them would ever be free now, whether she turned over the flash drive and went along with Rycroft’s plan or not.

And she already knew it would slowly kill her to have him so close and have nothing more.

In the mirror, her expression hardened.

To hell with this. She had a job to do, one she’d sworn to finish, no matter what. If she stayed she had no bargaining power and Rycroft called the shots.

Maybe she wasn’t at a hundred percent yet, but close enough. She had more than enough strength to escape and finish this on her own. But first, she needed to retrieve the flash drive in that safety deposit box in Asheville before Rycroft did.

Mind made up, she glanced toward the locked door. Miguel was probably out there in her room already. Rycroft and Briar were still down in the basement. If she was quiet enough, the noise of the shower might cover any sound she made getting out the window.

Her boots were set beside the vanity cabinet, along with the change of clothes Briar had given her. Lacing them up, she snagged the pistol on the counter and headed for the small, rectangular-shaped window set into the wall beside the toilet. It wasn’t loaded, but she could get ammo later.

With careful motions she unlocked the window, slid it open and boosted herself upward, throwing her right leg out of it to balance herself over the thin frame. She scanned the side of the house and the backyard.

There was nothing to grab onto on the side of the house. The drop wasn’t too bad, she could swing out and jump—

“Don’t.”

Her heart almost seized at the familiar voice behind her.

Whipping her head around, she found Miguel standing inside the bathroom doorway, a coldly furious expression on his face and his dark eyes burning a hole right through her.

Miguel took a menacing step forward. By reflex Georgia drew the pistol from the back of her pants and aimed it at his chest. Hopefully he wouldn’t know it wasn’t loaded.

He stopped, a sardonic curl of his lips. “You gonna shoot me?”

She held the weapon steady. “Just stay back. Don’t come any closer.” Damn, her heart was pounding. “I’m leaving and you can’t stop me.”

“You know I can’t let you go.”

Because he was under direct orders to keep tabs on her from one of the NSA’s top agents. If he disobeyed or tried to help her, he’d be thrown back in jail. “So I’m a hostage now?”

Ignoring the jab, he jerked his chin at the window opening. “From this height you could break something when you land. And even if you didn’t, there are three of us here and one of you. You won’t get far.”

“Two, if I shoot you right now.” Could he tell she was bluffing?

He took a step forward, lifted a mocking eyebrow. “Then do it. But even if you managed to escape all of us, it’s only a matter of time before you wind up dead. Given what and who you’re up against, the odds aren’t in your favor. You wouldn’t last long out there alone now, and you know it.”

Her lips pressed into a thin line of annoyance at the dare and his hard-hitting words. She was well aware of the odds she faced.

“Stop,” she warned sharply, a tendril of panic winding around her chest. Her self-control was already shaky when it came to him. If he touched her, she was afraid he might shatter the rapidly crumbling wall between them.

He didn’t stop. Just kept coming, one slow, deliberate step at a time, never looking away from her.

Georgia’s heart sank even as it beat faster. The arrogant bastard might not know the weapon was unloaded, but he knew she couldn’t pull the trigger regardless. He somehow knew she couldn’t stomach the thought of hurting him.

Which meant she was trapped in this freaking window and there’d be no more chance of escape. After this, the entire team would keep a closer eye on her than ever. They would frame it in a way that they could insist she wasn’t a hostage, but that’s
exactly
what she was and it made her furious.

Paralyzed, she sat perched in the open window, not daring to move as he stopped directly in front of her. They stared at each other in the taut silence, until he reached up to grasp her wrist with one hand.

His long fingers curled around it, firm yet gentle, his touch shooting sparks of heat throughout her body. She barely stifled a gasp.

Staring into her eyes, he reached his other hand up to gently ease the weapon from her numb fingers and set it on the counter behind him. “Come here.”

The low command in the deep timbre of his voice caused more heat to pool deep in her belly. There was nothing to do but allow him to help her down. She only half-resisted as he gripped her waist and pulled her back into the bathroom, placing her gently on her feet before him.

Too close. Way too close.

She leaned back, realized she had her spine pressed against the wall to avoid touching him. Because she was afraid if she did, she wouldn’t be able to stop.

Without pause he reached up behind her to shut and lock the window. And when he looked down at her again, the mix of hunger and yearning in those dark eyes stole what little air remained in her lungs.

Desire pooled in her belly, thick and hot.

Lifting a hand, he brushed a lock of hair away from her temple with one finger, the light caress scattering goose bumps over her skin. He smelled so damn good and the urge to tangle her fingers in his hair and pull his mouth to hers was almost overwhelming.

Their chemistry was insane, had been right from the start, potent enough that part of her was considering ripping off his clothes just to feel that hard, lean body naked against her one more time.

All these months she’d thought he was dead. Now he was right in front of her, and it was clear he still wanted her. She’d lost so much in her life, been denied so many things, any sense of normal.

Except for that one night with him. The urge to take what he was offering was so acute she could barely breathe.

He placed both hands flat on the wall on either side of her head, caging her in with his big body. So close she could smell him, feel his warmth reaching out to her. Tormenting her with the promise of what he could do to her.

His gaze dipped to her mouth briefly before coming back to hers. “Was this part of it real?” he murmured, his smoky voice a seductive caress to her over-stimulated system.

She didn’t pretend not to understand what he meant, all her senses heightened, the anticipation building higher with every heartbeat. Her eyes dropped to his mouth, the only hint of softness about him, set within the thick, dark stubble covering his lower face. Her lips tingled with the need to feel it on hers.

As though sensing her thoughts, Miguel leaned in closer, his chest and thighs barely brushing hers. She sucked in a sharp breath as another rush of heat tightened her nipples, made her breasts and the flesh between her thighs ache with the need to feel his hands and mouth on them.

“Was it?” His voice was a husky, seductive murmur. “Because it felt fucking real to me.”

Yes, it was real
, she wanted to blurt out. Only her ingrained sense of self-preservation kept her from saying it aloud. This was crazy. He was a weakness she couldn’t afford.

He leaned in until only a breath of air separated their lips. Tension poured off him in tangible waves. She gazed into his eyes, felt herself get lost in those dark depths.

“It’s never been like that for me before,” he admitted. “Tell me that part wasn’t a lie, at least.”

It had been the most incredible night of her life. And she couldn’t bear him thinking it was all a lie. But she didn’t dare say it aloud.

Drowning under the weight of his gaze and the longing she heard in his voice, the last of her resistance crumbled. Dying for his kiss, unable to take it any longer, Georgia plunged her fingers into his hair and leaned up to cover his mouth with hers.

Instantly Miguel captured her head between his hands and kissed her back, a low groan tearing from his throat.

It was like pouring accelerant on a fire.

A tidal wave of need swept through her, threatening to drown her and she didn’t care. She couldn’t think, could only feel. The only thing that mattered was now, this moment, being able to touch and taste him again, consequences be damned.

His tongue twined with hers, the kiss turning frantic. With a rough growl he turned them, walked her backward until her spine flattened against the wall beside the shower. A heartbeat later that hard, powerful body was pressed flush to hers.

Georgia moaned into his mouth and held on tight. She gripped his broad shoulders, fingers digging into the muscle there as she wrapped her legs around his waist. He grabbed her butt with one hand, holding her to him as he rubbed his confined erection right over the pulsing ache between her thighs.

He trailed hot kisses down her chin, over her jaw to the side of her neck. The rush of water beside them muted her gasps as his mouth hit every sensitive spot, the rasp of his stubble a rough counterpoint to the heated glide of his tongue.

It wasn’t enough. She needed to feel him skin to skin.

Impatient, she grabbed the bottom of his T-shirt and pulled upward. He stopped kissing her long enough to reach down and peel it over his head, flinging it aside. She flattened her hands on the hard ridges of his pecs, her gaze immediately going to the puckered scars near the base of his throat.

With a distressed sound she pressed her lips to the marks, kept her hands tight to his chest so she could feel his heart thundering beneath her palms. So strong and steady, vital and alive when she’d been so sure she’d lost him forever.

She rubbed her cheek against his chest and closed her eyes, remembering those agonizing few minutes when she’d watched him fade away right in front of her on that boat.

Emotion crashed over her. “God,” she whispered against his hot skin, fighting the rush of tears as she clung to him. It had gutted her to watch him die. For weeks afterward she’d walked around in a fog, feeling like someone had reached into her chest and ripped her heart out of her body.

A strong hand cradled her jaw, tipped her head up until she met his eyes. “Tell me it was real,” he rasped out. “
Say
it.”

There was no way she could deny him that. Not now. “It was real. I was more real with you than I’ve ever been with anyone,” she admitted in a shaky whisper, and sought his mouth once more.

Relief and lust slammed into Bautista so hard it left him dizzy. He growled in triumph and took that sexy, swollen mouth again, desperate to get inside her, exploit this moment of weakness she’d just let him see.