Cold Light of Day (23 page)

Heat flooded him. Her sweetness overwhelmed him. She didn’t pull away. Instead she blew his mind by opening her mouth and sweeping her tongue hungrily across his. If he hadn’t been sitting down he’d have fallen over. He slid his hand into her soft hair and angled the kiss deeper. Dammit he wanted her, and she wanted him, if her parted lips and rapid breathing were anything to go by. The urge to drag her against him was huge. He ignored it.

He pulled back. Her pupils were wide and dilated, giving her the darkest eyes he’d ever seen. The expression in them was a mixture of arousal and wariness.

Dammit. He didn’t want to be the asshole responsible for hurting her this time around.

Her jaw tightened and she got a determined look on her face that replaced the uncertainty, and the desire. It told him she was ready for whatever happened next in the fight to clear her father’s name.

And maybe that was what it was about her that got to him, her unswerving, unwavering loyalty. Nothing had shaken her belief in her father. Not a confession, not a conviction. It was a little humbling when he was the one who was supposed to fight for justice.

The cops had moved inside the store so he ignored the fact his heart was trying to punch its way through his ribcage, and drove calmly away. He didn’t know if Scarlett had seen the police and damned if he was explaining his reasons for kissing her when all he could think about was the way she’d responded, and the knowledge that if they ever got the chance he’d like to take it a hell of a lot further than a kiss.

Frazer had warned him, but he’d thought he could handle it.

She drew her knees up to her chest, and he couldn’t help looking at her bare legs.

Christ
. Sweat broke out on his brow. He cleared his throat. “It’s hot in here.” He adjusted the heater.

She drew in an audible breath. “It is now.”

He huffed out a rueful laugh. Some of the tension that had gripped him let go. They had other things to deal with. His libido would have to wait.

“What’s the plan?” she asked.

He saw the sign for a picnic area up ahead. “I’m starving. Let’s eat.”

She rolled her eyes but looked relieved. “You’re such a
guy
, Lazlo.”

“Hey, I
am
a guy.” If she needed proof all she had to do was kiss him again.

He drove another mile or so out of town, pulled up in a small gravel area off the main highway. Judging from the trickle of people and pooches heading down a nearby pathway, it appeared to be a popular dog walking spot.

He grabbed the shopping bags from the back seat and handed her the wipes.

From the smile on her face you’d think he’d showered her in diamonds.

“Thank you.” She ripped them open and set her foot on the dash as she cleaned every inch of skin.

Fuck. Shit. Perfect.

He was definitely a guy, and so hard it was a wonder he didn’t pass out from lack of blood to the brain. Now he understood why women weren’t in the SEAL teams. All it would take was one look at those legs and all the guys would be standing around drooling like idiots.

Which was a dumb ass reason to penalize women, he realized.

Women were on the firing line of every conflict in history so maybe they should all have combat training. Then, when war broke out, or the psychos got busy with their knives, they’d have a better chance of survival.

His gut churned just thinking about it. Bad enough his best friends being in the firing line. The thought of Scarlett being hurt…the idea made his trigger finger itch.

When she was finished wiping her legs and then very carefully cleaning her hands, he passed her the travel blanket, which she spread over her knees.

Hallelujah
.

“Thanks.” She stroked the soft wool and he did his best to get his mind on the problem at hand. Not think about those hands on him. Obviously he needed some down time. Or sex. Lots of sex.

Or a cold shower.

He swallowed and looked away.

This wasn’t like him. He didn’t go gah-gah over women. Sure, in the old days when he’d gotten back after spending months in stinking hellholes with nothing but hairy guys and the constant threat of death for company. Then he’d obsessed about getting laid. But lately?

He figured he’d matured. Judging the gutter depths to which his brain had sunk, not so much.

She handed him the pack of wet wipes and he used them on the steering wheel and gear stick. Then again on his hands and face before he reached back for the sandwiches. He was starving. “Ham or turkey?”

“Festive sandwiches. Awesome.” But her tone lacked enthusiasm.

“Yeah.” He grew somber. Damn. “Sorry, this is a pretty crappy Christmas, huh.”

“It’s my own fault.” Her lips drooped sadly. “At least I have company.” Then she looked away, but not before he saw the shimmer of tears in her eyes.

Ah, shit.

He unhooked his seatbelt, pushed his chair back as far as it would go, undid her belt, and pulled her across his lap. Her shoulders started to shake as she tried to fight him, but he wasn’t letting her go. Huge great keening cries came out even though she tried to keep it all inside. He thought of what she’d been through over the years, and all the stress of the last twenty-four hours, culminating in finding Maidstone bleeding out in his living room and the idea that someone had finally started to believe her story.

He hoped the guy made it. There was a good chance Maidstone would tell them everything they needed to know, now that he was on Marlon’s shitlist. He rubbed his hand up and down Scarlett’s back, feeling the hard ridges of her spine, knowing she needed to de-stress and let it all out.

“I’m so sorry for getting you caught up in this.” She hiccupped. Her hands gripped his t-shirt so tight she was going to rip out the few chest hairs he possessed. He didn’t care. “I’m sorry you aren’t with your mom for Christmas the way you should be.”

Another bout of tears had him holding her tighter. The weight of her in his arms was insubstantial, fragile and delicate, but he knew it to be deceptive. She was as strong as a spider’s web and had entangled him in her life just as effectively. And she was super smart, which he found to be a total turn on. Obviously his inner high school geek was in heaven.

Her legs were cold. He grabbed the blanket and spread it over her, resting his chin on top of her hair as he rocked her. It took a few minutes for his heat to warm her through and she burrowed closer. Shock, probably. The desire he felt for her wasn’t going anywhere, but right now he was content to hold her until the tears subsided.

“I always hated Christmas Eve.” He felt her focus on his words and not on her own misery, so he carried on. “I tend to give the impression that my dad was never a part of my life, except he showed once on Christmas Eve.”

“What did you do?” Her fingers had eased their iron-man grip on his shirt. He was going to have marks.

“It was like discovering Santa was real because he’d made my greatest wish come true.”

“Santa isn’t real?” She sniffed.

He huffed out a laugh. “My mom let him spend the day with us; probably the night, too.” Matt would put his fist through the guy’s face for that alone—keeping his mother dangling on a string. “But he was gone before I woke up the next day.” Leaving that desperate little boy devastated on what was supposed to be the best day of the year. “We never heard from him again, but every Christmas I’d be wishing as hard as I could that he’d come back…”

“He never did?” Scarlett’s voice was small.

“Not then. Thank God.” But the kid he’d been hadn’t known that until later. “He got in touch once when I was in the Navy. I told him if I ever heard from him again I’d send one of my buddies to kill him.” Her hair tickled his jaw, but he didn’t move. “I was
probably
joking. Anyway, he never tried again.” His arms tightened around her. She felt good. She felt right. “I told myself I didn’t want him hurting my mom’s feelings anymore. I’ve never been a fan of men using women or deceiving them for sex.”

There was silence for a moment. Then a pensive, “Maybe he thought he loved her when he first met her? Maybe it was an honest mistake.”

“Maybe.” Matt allowed himself a slight lessening of tension. “But he married her, he ditched her, and he hurt her. Once I was old enough to figure that out, I never wanted to see him again.”

“How old were you?” she asked.

“Eight.”

Her fingers rubbed his chest. He covered them with his own.

She’d been twelve when she’d lost her father. Richard Stone had been taken away by the justice system, a system Matt believed in and fought for, every day. The idea it might be corrupt was not reassuring. He didn’t want to get to the end of his career and discover he’d been played for a fool by something else he’d believed in.

A rumble filled the car’s interior.

Scarlett’s shoulders started shaking again, with laughter this time. “Sorry.” She pressed her hand to her stomach. “I’m starving.”

He lifted her back onto her own seat. He was damned pleased with himself for not turning the moment into another excuse to kiss her.

Gold star for Lazlo.

He had a handle on this. He wouldn’t mess it up with all the complications that came with sex.

Then she smiled at him and her eyes sparkled with happiness. His heart skittered like a teenage girl’s. If he’d been anywhere except in a semi-public place he would have kissed her, and a whole lot more if she’d let him. Damn. He was doomed.

She took the ham sandwich and he took the turkey. Seemed appropriate under the circumstances. He checked his cell. No signal. Dammit. He needed to speak to Frazer.

T
hey drove for
another hour, down quiet country roads and through small towns all dressed up for the holiday. She didn’t allow herself to dwell on the kiss—she’d seen the cops pull up beside them and knew he’d done it as some sort of camouflage mechanism even though the kiss itself had almost melted her bones.

Later, when he’d held her in his arms and she’d cried like a baby—that had affected her more. She could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times she’d been in a man’s arms since her father had gone to prison.

Matt’s embrace hadn’t felt like any of those other embraces. It had felt super-sized and bulletproof. Strong enough to protect her from Dorokhov. Smart enough to help save her father. Gentle enough to deceive her foolish heart.

She’d never met anyone like Matt Lazlo before. He was not your average man, and her response to him was anything but ordinary. There were plenty of jerks in the world, but it seemed wrong to compare Matt to them.

He was a former SEAL
and
an FBI agent.

Despite what her father had gone through, those things meant something to her. She respected him. Respected what he stood for. Somehow in the short time they’d known one another, they’d become allies. And something else, too, something she didn’t dare put a name to.

They passed a sign. Greenville. For some reason the name of the town seemed vaguely familiar, though she didn’t think she’d ever been out this way before. “Why’ve I heard of this place?”

“It was on the news last month.” He cleared his throat. “Serial…killer…”
Cough
.

The memory connected. “Agent Rooney is Senator Tremont’s daughter? The one whose sister was abducted all those years ago?” A shudder moved through her. “We’re not staying at the same house, right?”

Matt sent her a sideways glance. “Guy’s dead, Scarlett. No one there is going to harm you.”

Oh, my God
. She tried not to breathe too deeply. Tried not to panic. She couldn’t even watch horror movies and he wanted her to sleep in that house? On Christmas Eve? No one in their right mind would want to stay there.

Suck it up, Scar. This is all your own doing anyway.

They drove a few more miles out of town, then turned down a leafy driveway. “Eastborne” was written on a small discreet sign. She sank further into her seat.

The house when it came into view took her breath. An old, red-brick mansion, creeping vines growing over the entire west wing of the house. White trimmed windows. White portico. It was gorgeous, but a little girl had been stolen from this beautiful house eighteen years ago and you could almost see the sadness etched into the stone. “It looks like it has a thousand bedrooms.” A thought hit her. “Is the senator here, too?” The woman had just announced her retirement.

Matt nodded.

Was she putting the senator in danger? Or would the fact they were staying with a senator keep them safe? Maybe it didn’t matter as long as Dorokhov believed she was at the bottom of the seabed.

“Special Agent Rooney helped catch the guy who killed her sister, right?” A light went on in one of the downstairs rooms. A shiver of fear crawled over her shoulders and raised gooseflesh in its wake.

“Yeah. And Frazer shot the guy. He’s dead. He isn’t coming back, Scarlett.”

But the ghosts of his victims seem to hover in a dark cloud over the place. She needed a distraction. “Is this what your grandparents’ place looked like in England?”