Elude (8 page)

She was too…

Everything.

The decision was made when she made a little moan, not one out of pleasure, but something that sounded fearful, like she was afraid of the dark and needed a teddy bear.

Shit, had I really just thought
teddy bear?

And unfortunately my body reacted — responded, one foot after another — and suddenly I was pulling my shirt off and lying down on the soft mattress.

Like a pubescent high-schooler, I stayed on my side of the bed, careful not to touch any area she'd been on.

It worked for about ten minutes.

And then an arm plopped onto my chest, followed by a leg covering my leg, and then, I was getting used as a giant ass pillow.

My teeth clenched. My body tightened with awareness, and just when I was getting ready to get the hell out of there, she whispered.

"Safe."

I was anything but safe. But, in that moment, I vowed never to let her feel fear again, even if it meant I had to kill every son of a bitch in my way.

Safe I could do.

Safe I could promise.

Andi

I KNEW BEFORE I EVEN OPENED
my eyes that I had molested poor Sergio in his sleep.

I only felt sorry for him because I knew my sleeping habits. I wasn't one of those girls who slept quietly with their arms folded across their chests, their hair softly lying across the pillow, lips glossy, makeup still on.

Um, no. Sleep for me was a full contact sport — one I embarked on with my mattress nightly.

It wasn't rare to find me on my ass on the floor, because somehow during the night I'd decided that my sheets were trying to strangle me alive, and in order to protect myself, I'd had to pull them from my bed and create a makeshift fort on the floor.

My favorite position usually consisted of my feet being where my head should be and my head nearly teetering off the bed, hands hanging in front of me, just ready for someone to pull me the rest of the way off and onto the floor.

Needless to say, I was a bit cautious when I opened my eyes.

First off, I'd feel horrible if I'd accidentally punched him in the eye or something. Heck, I wouldn't put it past me to knee him in the balls a few times just because I wasn't used to men sleeping with me.

They were never welcome.

The few times I'd had one-night stands, it had been to gain intel for dear old Dad. Love had had nothing to do with it.

Survival — did.

Sergio's chest rose and fell with a slow rhythm. He was still sleeping, or I assumed as much, so I stared like a raging lunatic.

I took inventory of his abs, noting that they were, in fact, as cut as I suspected; my fingers itched to trace the hard edges, and when my eyes drifted lower, I fought this insane temptation to see if the rest of him was that impressive.

Unfortunately, he'd kept his pants on from the night before; meaning, if I wanted to explore, I'd need to actually unbutton said pants, and that set me up for risk of exposure.

Ha! Exposure.

I held in a giggle at my own joke.

He let out a little moan and shifted closer to me.

And like a complete idiot — I let him. Because he was warm, and sexy, and had I mentioned sexy?

At least with his mouth closed, I could finally see what all the fuss was about. It was hard to look past his cruel nature when he was constantly speaking or, you know, breathing.

His chiseled jaw was clenched tight. His eyebrows furrowed a bit as if he was concentrating extremely hard on whatever type of dreams invaded that head of his. I imagined he probably dreamt of death.

Lots and lots of death.

I reached out and briefly touched his silky dark hair. It should be a sin to have such soft hair and be a man.

He already had long enough eyelashes to make me green with envy.

I sighed and tucked a strand behind his hear. My hand hovered near his temple.

Holy crap.

He had a scar.

I kind of wanted to throw a party. The man wasn't perfect. Thank God. I needed to see a flaw because things were looking pretty uneven at that point. He didn't snore, he smelt like heaven, and even his eyebrows had a perfect arch.

But that scar? Yeah, I could work with that.

It was small, barely noticeable. A pinkish white line trailed from his right ear down the back of his neck, his hair covering it perfectly. Hmm, I fought the urge to trace it with my finger.

Or my tongue.

But that was inappropriate, almost as inappropriate as raping him with my eyes, but hey, I at least deserved some eye candy after the way he'd treated me in the field.

It was a sort of payback.

My eyes receive a treat after my ears receive a scolding. Plus, he really wasn't in any position to get mad at me.

He let out another moan then turned toward me. Uh-oh. I tried to slide away, but his left arm snaked out and pulled me close while his right hand found.

My breast.

I ignored my hormones, or at least tried to, and shifted away. Then the man squeezed.

I closed my eyes and muttered a curse.

He started massaging.

Okay, so maybe he wasn't dreaming about death.

I knew the minute he woke up…

Because his hand froze.

I wasn't sure if I should pretend to be sleeping, yell at him, or simply stare.

I chose the latter.

Hoping my expression wasn't one of lust but of mild curiosity, as in
why the heck did you grab my boob?
and not
will you please touch the other one too?

"Shhi-i-it." He drew out the word, his eyes focusing on the hand currently holding my boob captive. "I umm…"

"Why don't you have morning breath?" I asked, truly curious as to why he didn't smell. It would have been a mercy had he been remotely human. But no, apparently he was some sort of Sicilian god.

"Huh?" He shook his head, his long eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks. "How am I even supposed to answer that?"

"Well…" I licked my lips. "…you could start by taking your hand off my boob."

He looked down again.

"Or you could keep it there if that's how you start all your mornings, but then it begs the question… do you grab your own, or do you simply imagine someone else's?"

He jerked his hand away. "Sorry. I didn't mean to…" He sighed. "Just, sorry."

"It's okay. I liked it." I winked.

Did he just growl?

"So, morning breath…" I pushed up onto my elbows. "…not something you're plagued with, huh?"

"Too early," he grumbled, reaching for his cell.

"Warts?"

"What?" He dropped the phone and turned his hazy gaze to me. "You have warts?"

"No." I made a face. "Do you?"

"No." Again with his slow one word answers.

"Zits? Tell me you had zits when you were a teen, and your parents tried everything, and nobody would be your friend, so you made up an invisible friend and named him, then had to see a shrink for three years because you were thought to be mentally unstable."

Sergio stared at me for a few minutes then asked. "Are you always this weird in the mornings?"

I threw my hands into the air. "Flaws, Sergio, I'm trying to find flaws." I shrugged. "You know, other than the fact that you tend to be a giant ass-hat most the time."

"That's a flaw."

"An epic flaw. Poor me." I smiled. "I'm stuck with your ass-iness."

"Not a word."

"Is now."

"Can we at least have coffee before you continue assaulting my ears with your voice?"

I rose from the bed. "Fine, fine. You win."

Sergio's mouth dropped open, his eyes flashing with something I couldn't really decipher.

"What?" I put my hands on my hips — and panicked. I was in my wedding lingerie. A cute white corset that had gone perfect with my wedding dress and white lacy boy shorts.

He opened his mouth then closed it. But didn't look away. No, that wasn't Sergio's style; he didn't do embarrassed or guilty. He wasn't that guy, the good guy that even turned around when you dressed.

He stared.

And I liked it.

Because it made me feel wanted — desirable, so I did what any sane woman would do when she had a hot man who just so happened to be her husband in her bed.

I took off my bra. "You said my words assaulted you. I figured I'd attack your eyes too."

He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing slowly down before he spoke. "You should probably put clothes on."

"Nah, I think I'll go naked all day. Never done that before, and you only live once." I winked.

"Clothes," he croaked.

"Naked."

"Andi—"His voice held a warning tone. "—put some damn clothes on before I do it for you."

"Now that I'd like to see… you'd really dress me? Kind of reminds me of the song "Barbie Girl." Have you heard it?"

"If you start singing it, I'm going to spank you, and it's not going to be the type of sexy spank you're expecting."

"Try it," I smirked. "I'll just kick your ass again."

"Shit, you're annoying."

"'I'm a Barbie Girl…'" I started, "'in a Barbie world…'"

Sergio launched himself from the bed and pulled me over his shoulder, then very angrily stomped out of the room and into mine, which was farther down the hall. He set me on my feet then started rummaging through my drawers. A T-shirt flew by my face and then a pair of skinny jeans.

I ducked when my favorite pair of riding boots nearly collided with my nose.

The socks I actually caught one-handed.

When he was done, he didn't turn around, didn't say one word to me, just slammed the door behind him. I continue singing the Barbie song, while echoes of his curses joined my voice in harmony.

All in all? Not a bad start to my first day of marriage.

Because for the first time in a while — I felt really alive. And it was all because he was an ass. Who knew?

Sergio

I DIDN'T FEEL GUILTY. NOT WHEN
it was her own damn fault that I'd even seen her topless. I wasn't one of those guys, the kind that looked away.

I think she knew that too.

Which is why I felt like I was in some sort of warped version of chicken. She wanted me to look, but she also wanted me to get embarrassed.

I didn't do embarrassed.

So she was going to have to do a hell of a lot better than trying to flash me in nothing but a smile.

Hands shaking, I braced myself against the dresser and tried to wipe my memory of her naked body.

And when that didn't work…

I focused in on every delicious curve that had teased and taunted me. She was gorgeous. A petite little thing with curves in all the right places.

I white-knuckled the dresser a bit longer than necessary, nearly breaking the damn thing in half, then pulled out clothes and shakily put them on.

It was going to be a long day — and something told me it was going to get worse if she was in one of her taunting little moods.

With a sigh, I took one last look in the mirror then reached for the door. My cell phone went off.

Not my usual cell — the one the guys used — but the one given to me by the agency.

Cursing, I went over to my nightstand and slid my finger across the screen. "Yes?"

"Agent..." The voice was low, mechanical. "…we've come to a decision."

"Fine."

"The report states you had no direct involvement in Director Smith's death."

"No shit." I rolled my eyes and stared at the ceiling. "What? Did you guys think I was a double agent? Working for the mafia while still working for you?" I added in a laugh because, hell, that's exactly what I'd been doing, but I'd learned the hard way. Always beat them to the punch. Say the truth to their face, and they would take it as truth; they had no choice. Guilty people tended to cover up with a lie. Instead, I stated exactly what they were thinking and made them feel stupid for even coming up with the thought in the first place.

"No. Of course not." He cleared his throat. "But it doesn't change our decision."

I'd known it before he'd even said the words. Bracing myself for impact, I simply waited while the line cracked.

"Your services are no longer needed, Agent."

"My services are no longer needed," I repeated. "Should I expect a visit from another agent, or are you guys simply cutting me off without trying to kill me this time?"

No response.

I sighed. "Fine. I understand."

"No need to clean out your desk. It's been done for you. Someone will be by to collect your badge and security clearance."

"And by someone, do you mean someone with a gun?"

"Goodbye, Agent."

The line went dead.

What else had I expected? I ran my hands through my hair and quickly reached for my badge, gun, and clearance. I didn't want to take any chances that they were going to send someone to eliminate me.

So I called the only person that I figured wouldn't want me dead — at least not yet.

"Nixon?" I hissed into the phone.

"What?" he barked back, sounding less than pleased that I was calling him at seven in the morning.

"The agency's sending a guy over to collect my things."

"Ha." Nixon let out a snort. "So they're going to try to kill you?"

"It's the FBI not the CIA." I sighed. "But I don't want to take any chances, not with Andi here."

He was silent and then, "Are you asking for a favor?"

"Damn straight, I'm asking for a favor. I need men. ASAP."

"Fine." He sighed heavily into the phone. "I'll be over in a few minutes."

"Wait…" I held up my hand even though he couldn't see me. "…I need men. You don't have to make it personal."

"You made it freaking personal the minute you signed on with a government agency, cousin. Therefore, as your boss, I'm going to drive my ass over to your house with enough men to cover, and I'll wait until we see the taillights from the bastard's car. Got it?"

"Yeah." I wanted to add in a thank you but figured it would only get me cussed out, and, considering I was already at my limit for emotional stress for the day, I kept my mouth shut.