Emotionally Compromised (Emotionally Compromised Series) (37 page)

Epilogue

ALEX TURNER

"Jeremy, why is it you're allowed to take phone calls, and I'm not even allowed near an electronic device?" I adjust my sun hat, pulling the floppy brim over my eyes in a way to block the delectable view of Jeremy as he sets his cell phone down on his vacant lounger.
I know better.

He is looming over me. His swimsuit-clad body is blocking the blazing Bora-Bora sunshine. I huff, exaggerating my
annoyance, as I continue, "Not to mention, why you made sure we're on the other side of the planet." His throaty laugh catches my attention. I make contact with his calm eyes, and know that I won't win this argument. The more and more I fall for Jeremy, the more I can't resist him.
Oh, dear.
"Are you laughing at me, Mr. Hunt?" I quip, trying to be mad
and failing miserably.

He pouts and shakes his head in a patronizing manner. "Wouldn't dream of it, Miss Turner." He reveals his pantie-dropping grin, leans over the
lounger, and climbs over my body.
No shame.

While he crawls up my body
, I am caught in his predatory trance, and my annoyance is forgotten. "Jeremy, we're in public."

He laughs again, continuing his mission toward my lips. "Because there are
so
many other people on the beach."

I sigh, looking around. The bastard is right. We are the only ones on this private, white sand beach, facing the crystal blue waters, basking in the midday sunshine in paradise.
Talk about secluded.
Before I can respond, he has already reached my lips as he lets his mouth crash into mine, halting any words.

He has
finally grasped the fact that he owns me body and soul, and he enjoys taking full advantage of it daily. So, with his lips on mine, my arms wrap around his naked, broad shoulders. He's sticky from the heat of the beating sun.

Humming his
approval, he pulls away to say, "How else am I truly going to get you to myself if I don't take you far, far away?" His tone is whimsically seductive.

Before I can respond, he takes my bottom lip between his teeth, tugging as he makes himself comfortable against my body.
An unavoidable moan escapes my lips, but he pulls away to continue, "And don't think I don't know that your boss would do anything possible to get a hold of you. He promised you time off, and I am going to try my damnedest to make sure we aren't bothered."

"You mean, to make sure you aren't bothered."

He grins wolfishly. "You act like being on an island with me is the worst thing in the world. Maybe you're a workaholic."

I drag my fingers through his sideburns, basking in his closeness. "Says the person who has been taking calls the entire time we've been here."

His eyes heat, but he smirks. "I've taken four calls, and we've been here nearly two weeks. Plus, someone has to run the company." I wrinkle my nose, knowing he is right. He is quick to place a kiss on the tip of my nose. "I love you."

I roll my eyes, but grin too. "I love you too."

As if on cue, his phone rings for the second time today, interrupting us. The frequency sounds odd, but I decide it does nothing but annoy me. "Make that five times," I retort.

He grins, kissing me quickly but with purpose as he drags his lips over mine, down the nape of my neck, and over my breasts. Before getting up, he tugs on the strings of my black, overpriced bikini with his teeth, and his eyes glimmer. "We will finish this conversation."

I smile, knowing that he is the only person I'd accept a demand like that from willingly. I am as much a handful as he is.

He gets up, reaching for his phone. "Hunt speaking. This better be good."
He's brusque, and it's obvious he has little to no patience.

I watch him walk away. He takes a moment to turn and flash me a smile before continuing his walk to the lapping waves, making sure he is out of earshot.
Hmm.

I'm sick of this annoying floppy hat. I yank it off like an impatient child, throwing it to my left. No one's around, I can do whatever.
Stop being so juvenile.

Letting out a sigh, I
look around, but the only thing worth looking at is the sun-kissed form of my boyfriend kicking around in the ankle-deep waves. His blond hair, floppy and unkempt from our vacation, makes him look young and carefree. It's the most at ease I have ever seen him. Maybe after everything, escaping to the other side of the world was actually something he needed rather than wanted.

I drag my eyes in appreciation over his sculpted shoulders, watching his muscles shift with every movement. I find myself letting out yet another sigh as I look around the beautifully desolate surroundings. We are at a resort, be it a small one, but where are all the people? I wonder if Jeremy would go to the extreme of buying out the whole property for our entire vacation. I roll my eyes
, but can't hide my smile.
He's crazy.

Crazy about you,
my subconscious quips. I grin lazily to myself, thankful that my spiteful subconscious has come out of her bitter hiding once I confessed my love to Jeremy. She's been a happy camper ever since.
Figures.

Jeremy is still on the phone, and I think about what I should do with myself. One can only tan for so long. I am not Federal Agent Barbie.

Am I bored? The question is a little baffling. Do I not even know how to take a damn vacation?

I fidget in my seat. I've spent every day basking in the sun, drinking mojitos on
the beach and having Jeremy within reach at all times. What more could I want?

Having a gun at my disposal would be nice
.

I shake my head at my wayward thoughts, and my subconscious, who is obviously more of a romantic
than I am, shouts,
Please spare me your badass bullshit, and focus on why you are here. Jeremy. Duh.

Did my subconscious just say duh? I don't need valley-girl-diva being my Dr. Jekyll to my Mr. Hyde.

"Ma'am, here is your drink."

I realize I am going crazy struggling with my inner voice. I try not to look like a loon and sit up straight, locking eyes with a beautiful, dark-skinned woman. Her bikini is as teal as the ocean
, and it contrasts perfectly with her dark skin. Her groomed features spread into a knowing smile for me as she repeats, "Ma'am, your drink?"

"I'm sorry. I didn't order a drink," I apologize, confused.

She grins this time, and it's obvious she has a secret. "No matter. This is for you."

She sets down the tray on a small table to my right, and there's more than a drink.
My head perks up like a dog getting a treat. The drink is accompanied by a small, iPod-looking device with headphones, along with a piece of paper.
Hmm.

I smile back this time, understanding what might be happening. I lean toward her to whisper, as if Jeremy fifty feet away could hear me. "Are you from the agency?"

Her smile is silky smooth, and she winks before walking away.
These bitches and their secrecy.

I take a moment to make sure Jeremy is busy. He is farther down the beach this time, engrossed in the call.
Good
. For once, I want him to stay there a moment.

I grab my floppy hat and place it back onto my head less gracefully th
an I would have liked. I am going for nonchalance, but let's be honest, it has never been my forte. I sip the replacement mojito while using my other hand to grab the paper.

The note
is nearly the size of my palm , and I smile the moment I unfold it:

Turner,

I will always find you.

—Derek

I want to laugh, but instead make it a point to tuck the note under the cushion of the lounger. I grab the iPod and wonder how I am supposed to approach this. I put both earbuds in my ears and simply press play. Derek's familiar voice greets me.

"Turner, did Hunt really think he could take you to a place where we couldn't find you? Well, I know you know why I am
contacting you. We have another assignment for you. There is an arms dealer in Brazil falsifying government contracts and selling illegal weapons to Russia, North Korea, and China. You know the drill. You'll find out more when you get back. You have seventy-two hours to accept, but I know you will. Oh, and congratulations on scoring higher than I scored on the LLAT. You earned it. Over."

I swear he can never help his smug tone.
Typical.

"Where did you get that iPod?"

I whip my head up, realizing that Jeremy is standing over me, staring at me. His jaw is clenched. Even angry, his Viking features are still distractingly beautiful.

I smile guiltily and shrug. "Remember how you love me? Well, I have something to tell you."

He does not look pleased. "You have got to be kidding me."

THE END

JEREMY HUNT

“I don’t understa
nd why we have to do this?” I let out a long drawn out sigh as I watch Alex meticulously laying out a few guns on the table.
Really?

Noticing that she is not choosing to
acknowledge me I peer up toward the beating down Arizona sunshine, noting even though it is the beginning of October it has got to be hitting the high nineties as far as temperature.

As
I let my eyes fall back toward Alex, taking a moment to take her in, wearing her tight maroon tank top with short jean shorts, showing off her long slender legs.

Back in Boston she never has an excuse to wear such things.
It makes me miss the far off island of Bora-Bora, and her string bikinis.

There are so many thing
s I’d rather be doing than participating in a gun lesson.

Catching me staring, she turns around holding a
handgun, grinning devilishly. 

“Are you ever going to tire of just staring at me?”
she asks.

I nod my head no.
What a silly question
. 

I meander over to her, and place my hand on her shoulder, brushing her hair off her neck
, and place a kiss under her ear, thinking even her sweat smells sweet.

“Can’t we just go back inside?” I whine.

She snorts, and stifles a giggle. “You promised.” Her tone is stern, but she pouts as she looks up at me like a young girl who was promised a new doll, or a trip to the fair.
It’s adorable, really.

I can’t help but laugh and kiss her again, “Ya know, you are the only person I would let get away with such demands.”

“I’m aware. Now come here.”

I roll my eyes and take a stand next to her.

She continues to grin and I can tell she is already enjoying this. I decide to let her have her fun.

She turns to face me, letting her eyes meet mine, and holds the
handgun up for me to see.

“
Are you ready? —Scratch that.” She squints her eyes, assuming I would most likely fight the question if given the opportunity. “Let’s just begin. First things first, you always treat any firearm as if it were loaded, even if you think it isn’t. It’s the most important safety precaution, and I can tell you right now that this gun is very much loaded, OK?” She wiggles the deadly object for emphasis.

I’d trust her with my life, but can I let a girl teach me how to shoot?

Don’t be so sexist
.

Her tone get’s me to pay close attention
, and I nod my understanding, knowing that she knows a lot more than I give her credit for.

She continues, “Also, you, of course, want the gun pointed in the safest direction. Meaning, away from harms way.
Before I hand this off to you the next most important tip is: Always keep your trigger finger off the trigger, and outside of the trigger guard until you have made a conscious decision to shoot. OK, did you get all that? Recap the safety rules for me.”

She bobs on her heels as if excited for the next step in the lesson, but has a stern look to her.

I raise a brow at her disciplinary tone but know it is for my own good, due to my lack of experience and distaste for the damn thing. I am bound to make a mistake.
An Unfortunate truth that I will not admit aloud.

Taking a deep breath and nodding my way through it I respond, “Always treat the gun like it
’s loaded, point it in a safe direction, and don’t put my finger on the trigger until I am sure of the shot.”

She smirks at my words,
possibly proud.
“Good. Okay, next. I want you to use two hands to hold the gun. First, grip the hand of the gun with your dominant hand on the back strap. The back strap is the back of the grip on the gun. This gives you more leverage against the weapon, which will help you control the recoil when you fire the gun. It’s gonna give you quite a jolt.”

I can’t help but gulp down at the sound of her words. When I really think abo
ut it there must be a big
bang
to shooting a gun.
I am so clueless about things like this, and it annoys me that I’m so ignorant about the topic even though I have no interest in the thing.

“
Gimme your hands.”

Without question I watch her seriously as I raise my hands for her. Knowing I am right handed she grabs for it
, and wraps it around the handle.

Th
e metal of the gun gives me the chills at its hardy, heavy feeling.

“Now
, we are going to place what we call your support hand, which is your non-dominant hand, so that it is pressed firmly against the exposed portion of the grip not covered by the gun hand. See here?” She grabs for my left hand and wraps around where it should be. “All four fingers of your support hand should be under the trigger guard with the index finger pressed hard underneath it. You see what I mean?”

Catching me off guard, she raises my hands bracing the gun, and extends my arms out straight, as if preparing me for a shot. Her hands are soft and meticulous as she makes a few adjustments on my grip, but then she let’s go. Now it is just me holding this weapon
, looking like I know what I am doing.
Yeah right.

I can’t help my
wide-eyed, stark look as she takes a deliberate step off to the side, smiling wryly at me as she examines me freely.

“Glad you find me amusing, M
iss Turner.”

She grins this time.
“Always, Mr. Hunt.” She steps forward to place a chaste kiss on my cheek.

Leaning into her kiss she laughs as she see
s my outstretched arms falling.

“Jeremy, pay attention!” She manually raises my arms for me.

Apparently this lesson is no laughing matter.

“I’m sorry. You are just a very delectable distraction.”

She rolls her eyes and shakes off the comment, deciding to side step it entirely. “Now, I want you to take a stand with your feet and hips shoulder width apart, and bend your knees slightly.”

I do as I am told but can’t help my wolfish grin as she walks be
hind me to my other side, swiping her hand across the waistband of my jeans.
Cheeky much?

“Ten-four, Agent Turner
,” I quip.

“You’re mocking me. I’d be careful if I were you, and I’d remember that I am doing this because I want you to be safe.”

Keeping my arms raised I turn to her, “Want me to be safe? I’ll never even own a gun.”

“What are you talking about Mr. Hunt? The gun in your hands is now your own personal one.”

I want so badly to throw a fit, but she stops me, knowing me far too well. “Arms up! No more talk. Legs shoulder length apart, and bend those knees!”

I let out a huff feeling my brimming anger at the fact that I am holding my own gun that I want to have nothing to do with.

“Alex, you really like to put me on the brink, huh?” I make it a point to keep my eyes straight ahead, knowing she is probably smiling at me.

I sense her taking a step closer. “Hmm, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Now focus. Pick a target in the distance.”

Her tone is luke warm, and it takes every fiber in my body not to drop this stupid thing, throw her over my shoulder, and head back to the house to teach
her
a lesson.

She puts her hands on my shoulders, pushing them down from their current tense position, and I am trying my damn
edest to focus as she continues. “You want to aim with your naturally dominant eye. Then align your sights. Your handgun has a front sight and a rear sight notch. Aim at your target and align the top of the front sight so that it lines up with the top of the rear sight. There should also be equal amounts of empty space on both sides of the front sight.”

Feeling the rising technicality to her words I try my best to aim on one of the cans she has put out in the distance.

O
K, I think I have it, though I have no idea what she is talking about.

“Now on the
count of three I want you to pull the trigger of the gun three consecutive times on what you have your sights on, OK? You got this babe.”

Her endearing comment of support has me taking in a deep breath. I find that in that moment I fear what the gun will feel like when I do as I am told.

“One ...”

I clench my jaw, noting in my head everything she has said so far.

“Two …”

I bend my knees, bracing myself, taking aim on the distant can.

“Three!”

BANG.
BANG. BANG.

My whole body jolts at each sounding round. The first two miss
, but the third skims the can with a ringing sound of
ping,
and the can wobbles but doesn’t fall down. Regardless, I feel like a champ.

I turn to Alex and grin wider then I realized I would.

“You did it Jeremy!” She is all grins too, obviously incredibly proud. “You’re a natural” She winks.

Not so fast.

I laugh a solid laugh, shake my head dumbfounded by this mild success, and the odd sense of exhilaration I didn’t expect.

I quickly turn to lay the gun carefully on the table next to me
, and then whip around to face a girly-grinning Alex.

I love her.

I don’t hesitate to wrap my arms around her, lifting her off the ground, and twirling her around dramatically.

“See? I can shoot a gun,
” I retort, not wanting to let go, and officially deciding that this lesson is over.

She laughs trying t
o escape my onslaught of kisses. “Jeremy, I never said you couldn’t. I always knew you were capable.”

“I’ll show you what I am capable of.”

She let’s out a series of giggles, and as if satisfied with the gun lesson as well, she crashes her lips to mine possessively. 

I would do anything for this girl.

I command her lips to open for me so I can tangle my tongue with hers, tasting her, and owning her. A satisfying moan escapes her lips as I drag my hands down her body, over her waist, and then take a firm grip of her behind, pulling her flush against me.

Willingly she arches her back, pressing her hips against mine as she tugs roughly at the back of my hair.

“Sorry to interrupt.”

Abruptly we leap out of each
other’s grasp, and turn around at the sound of my father’s voice. I feel like a teenage boy caught making out with his girlfriend on the couch.
How ridiculous.

Alex, embarrassed too, wipes at the corners of her mouth, and is the first to speak, seeing as my father seems to favor her more than me on more than one occasion. “Hello, Sir.”

My father shakes his head, blushing red at his interruption. “How many times do I have to tell you, please, call me William.”

Well,
Dad, right now might not be the best time to ask her to be informal with you.

She purses her lips into a smile,
not sure how to move forward. I decide to help her out, trying not to make it obvious I am adjusting my pants. “What is it Dad?” I cannot help my harsh tone.

My dad knows this is awkward.
“Sorry kids, how’s the gun lesson going? I think I heard a few rounds?”

Dad, this is not the time for chit-chat.

“Yeah, it was me. I managed to nip a can. Shooting wasn’t half bad.” 
I try to make my answer short, and sweet.

“Glad t
o hear it.” He rubs at the back of his head, “Well, I came out here for a reason.”

Not realizing there is a cellphone in his hand, it begins to ring loudly.

He laughs and shakes the mobile device for us to see. “This phone has been ringing off the hook for the past hour. I figured I should bring it out here.”

Kn
owing immediately it isn’t mine, my grimace is quick to appear as I turn to Alex who is already cowering in mock guilt.

Alex skips over to my father, smiling meekly, still recovering from her embarrassment, “Thank you sir—William—“
 

She grabs for the phone an
d answers. “Go for Turner …” as she meanders away to take the call.

I cannot help my audible sigh
and shoulder slump, feeling on the brink of another tantrum as I watch her stroll out of earshot.

My d
ad laughs at my reaction as he says, “The girls got a serious job, ey?” He jabs me in the shoulder playfully.

I raise an un
-amused brow. For once I am in no mood to humor anyone when it comes to the topic of Alex’s work ‘demands’.

G
etting off the phone quicker than anticipated she comes back into view, no longer all smiles.