Fatal Pursuit (The Aegis Series) (22 page)

“You’re not falling asleep, are you?” he asked, his voice rumbling in his throat, tickling her lips.

“No.” She blinked back the warm wetness threatening her eyes. Told herself she was being silly and that she needed to get in control of these stupid emotions before he saw them. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

He rolled her to her back, drew away, and gazed down at her. And though she tried not to look, the minute she met his heated, sultry gaze, she knew she wasn’t tired. And neither was he. Not even close. Fire flickered in his dark eyes. A fire she knew just how to stroke to a full-blown flame even if the result might burn her in the end.

The edge of his lips curled. “Then we better do something about that. Don’t you think?”

Her pulse raced. Her stomach tightened in anticipation. She braced her hands on his muscular forearms and then bit her lip. “What do you have in mind?”

“This.” He lowered his mouth to her throat. Kissed her neck. Slid his lips to her collarbone, then lower to the edge of her breast. “And this.” He moved down and laved his tongue across the tip of her nipple, sending shards of arousal straight back to her center. “And a hell of a lot more of this.”

Oh yes . . .

He lifted his head before she got lost in the sensation and captured her gaze. “But mostly, tonight, I just want you to be mine.”

Those were the words she’d been waiting to hear. Warmth bloomed all through her chest, and a hope she’d been afraid to let herself believe in spread through every cell. It was foolish and reckless and made zero sense, but she wanted that too. Wanted everything.

She drew in a breath for courage. Licked her lips. And decided now—right now—she’d finally take the chance. “Then do it, Jake. Make me yours.”

J
ake rolled to his side, spooning in against Marley’s back. His skin tingled everywhere they touched, from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. Draping his arm over her side, he pulled her back into him, loving the soft little moan that drifted from her lips, loving the way every inch of his skin heated, loving mostly the way her hand slid over his against her belly and her fingers closed to hold on tight.

She was asleep. Or maybe she was drifting in that semiconscious state between rest and alertness. He’d been there for a while, enjoying the feel of her against him, not wanting to think too much about how what they’d done in this room was going to change things between them. Savoring the moment for what it was: pure delight.

It was different from what had happened in the jungle. He knew that even without opening his eyes. Then, they’d both been a little high and way tipsy. Adrenaline had been pulsing. Drums had been beating. Neither of them could have stopped that night from happening if they’d tried. But this . . . this was a definite choice. He’d come back to her even though he’d known the smart move was to leave. She’d welcomed him without a single protest.

His eyes slid open. He glanced toward the window beyond her. It was still dark outside, but he knew it was getting close to dawn. In a few hours he’d have to figure out what he was going to say to her about all this. What it all meant. God knew she’d want some kind of answer—this was Marley after all. The woman planned everything.

He glanced down at the soft skin of her neck, her jaw, the edge of her lips. Remembered the things he’d whispered, the things he’d felt. Gently tugging his hand out from under hers, he brushed a lock of hair away from her cheek, awed by the silkiness of her skin and the way her lashes fluttered against her flesh.

What was he going to say? He wasn’t quite sure. But he liked this. Liked the feel of her against him, liked the way she reacted to his touch, liked being with her way more than he ever should.

His chest grew tight. A familiar sense of panic pushed in, one he’d learned long ago meant he was getting too close. One that made him vulnerable. Pushing away from her, he rolled to his back, rested his hand on his bare chest, and stared up at the dark ceiling while he tried to get hold of the crazy emotions pinging around beneath his ribs.

This was why he’d kept his distance. Not because he didn’t care, but because he cared too much. She thought the reason he’d chased her down to Colombia was because he thought she couldn’t handle herself in the field, but that wasn’t the truth. The truth was simply that he couldn’t handle the thought of anything bad happening to her. Not when he knew he could be the one to make sure she stayed safe.

The pressure intensified in his chest. He rubbed his hand over the spot. He needed to tell her about Gabby. Marley knew about his parents, but she didn’t know about Yemen. Maybe if she did she’d understand why he was the controlling ass he’d become. But even as he thought the words, he knew there was no way he could come right out and tell her. It wouldn’t change the past. It wouldn’t make any kind of difference. It wouldn’t change him or this relationship growing between them.

Relationship . . .

He blew out a long breath. Wished like hell that spot against his sternum, the one that seemed to be cinching down tighter with every passing second, would just go away. That was the crux of the issue here, wasn’t it? She wasn’t just his assistant anymore. She wasn’t his friend. She was more. And the hard reality was that he wanted more. Wanted more of this, wanted more of her, wanted more of the lighthearted warmth he felt whenever she was close.

What-if scenarios filled his head. Ones that didn’t scare the shit out of him, surprisingly. He rolled toward her once more, needing to touch her, needing to feel her, needing to pull her close, and draped his arm over her waist again as he pulled her in tight. Something rigid brushed along his foot.

He pushed up on his elbow and glanced down her leg. The sheets were tangled between them, but her bare foot was tucked on top of the white cotton, and even in the darkness he could see the woven leather band tied around her ankle. The one that matched the band still tied around his ankle, which they’d both gotten in that jungle village.

The pressure eased. Warmth filled his chest when he realized she hadn’t taken it off. She’d had multiple opportunities to do just that—in the helicopter when she’d been pissed at him, in the shower on his plane after they’d argued, at her father’s house the last two days—and still hadn’t. Which meant, to her, this was more than just physical too. It meant—

A buzzing sound echoed from the floor. Startled out of his thoughts, Jake glanced over his shoulder toward his jeans lying in a heap. The buzz sounded again. He looked toward the clock on the bedside table, thought about ignoring the call—after all, nothing good happened at 4:47 a.m.—then cursed under his breath and slid out from beneath the sheet.

He had a couple guys stationed overseas. If something had gone wrong on one of their ops, he needed to be available. Plus, if Miller had more info about who was checking into his background and properties, he wanted to know.

He grabbed his pants from the floor, tugged his phone out of the front pocket, and stared down at the screen. The message wasn’t from Miller, though. It was from Dominic Brooks, his contact at the State Department, and it simply said,
Check your e-mail.

Thoughts of McKnight pinged through his head. Marley would be pissed if she knew he’d been digging around in McKnight’s background, so he purposely hadn’t told her. But curiosity got the best of him, and he tugged on his pants. He’d just take a quick peek, then come back. Glancing once more at Marley to make sure she was still asleep, he tiptoed out of the room and closed the door softly at his back.

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he moved down the steps and thought about sliding back into bed with her. About waking her with his hands and lips and tongue. It was crazy—this whole thing was crazy—but for the first time in he didn’t know how long he was starting to think maybe he’d been wrong to keep his distance from people all these years. Maybe what he really needed to break his father’s cycle of neglect was someone who could see through his bullshit, who knew how to deal with it, and who didn’t take no for an answer.

Maybe what he’d needed all this time was Marley.

He moved into his office and sank into the chair behind his desk. After powering on the monitor, he pulled up his e-mail, then opened the message from Dom.

Ryder—

Interesting bit of info I was able to dig up. Omega’s raid on Jose Moreno was indeed a State Department contract. Addison sent four men in on the job—McKnight, Sanders, Jones, and Reynolds. Jones and Reynolds were both killed in action. Sanders and McKnight were officially listed as MIA. McKnight eventually turned up. No clue where Sanders is.

Also found these photos, which I thought you might want to see. Doesn’t look like your assistant has the same worries you do.

—Brooks

Jake sat back and read the first paragraph again. Before looking at the photos, he grabbed his cell and texted Pierce Bentley.

RYDER:
I need you to find Darren Sanders. He worked for Omega until he was listed as MIA on a raid in Colombia five years ago. Find him or find me his death certificate. I need to know if he’s still alive.

He set his phone down, confident Bentley would get right on it in the morning. The man was fresh from a week’s vacation and didn’t have another op scheduled for a while.

Setting his finger back on the touchpad, Jake scrolled down to look at the pictures Brooks had sent, then drew in a breath as if someone had sucker punched him straight in the gut.

The photo was of Marley and McKnight. It was clearly several years old—her hair was shorter and a little darker, and her face appeared younger, not as mature as it was now—but it didn’t change Jake’s gut reaction. They were standing on the patio of what looked to be a golf course. He was dressed in a charcoal suit, and she wore a formfitting red dress that hit just above the knee. Both were holding drinks and smiling. But what caught Jake’s attention was the way she was looking up at McKnight as he stared at the camera. As if he were the center of the world. As if she’d found the key to happiness.

Jake scrolled down to the next picture. In this one, the two of them were seated at a candlelit dinner, neither looking at the camera, both focused only on each other. He paged down again and found one where they were both dressed in camo gear, green paint smudged over her cheek, his arms wrapped around her from behind, both holding paintball guns and laughing toward whoever had snapped the photo.

In every picture she was happy. In every picture she looked relaxed, content, not a thing like the snarky, worry-about-everyone woman he knew so well.

His stomach churned, and he forced his fingers to page down once more.

The last three photos were lined up side by side. As if taken in succession. And they didn’t include Marley. They were only of McKnight. Opening a shop door, about to step inside. Coming outside holding a small, pale-blue box. And the last, standing on the street with that open box, looking down at a ring.

The first photos were clearly taken by friends. These last three—time-stamped after the others—looked to be from security footage from a store. Jake focused on the building and immediately recognized the name. Cartwright’s. One of the most prestigious and well-known jewelers in all of Kentucky.

A hard, cold knot formed in the pit of his belly, chilling all the warmth he’d been feeling before. Sitting back, he scrolled up to the first picture and stared at Marley’s smiling face as she looked up at McKnight.

She rarely smiled like that with Jake. He could only remember one time with him when she’d been that happy, and it was when she’d danced around the fire in that jungle village. The rest of the time she was irritated or frustrated or ready to pull her hair out because of him. Incredible sexual chemistry didn’t equal happiness, and it sure didn’t change any of the other issues still simmering between them or in his past. And holy hell, the guy had bought her a ring.

Out of nowhere, Marley’s words in Colombia echoed in his head.

“Every woman thinks about getting married.”

His hands grew sweaty. That knot tightened in his belly. Is that what she wanted? Marriage? McKnight had obviously been ready for that. It didn’t matter if the guy had given her that ring or not. Just the fact he’d bought it meant he was ten thousand steps ahead of where Jake was now or ever would be in the future.

He pushed to his feet. Covered his mouth with his hands. Tried like hell to settle the sudden pounding in his veins as he paced the length of his home office.

He didn’t want to get married. Knew he’d make a shitty husband. Didn’t even want to think about kids. And holy hell, Marley probably wanted that. Wanted
them
. Probably several. All women did at some point. The last thing he could fathom was screwing up some poor kid’s life the way his had been screwed by his selfish parents. All that panic came raging back, only this time it rushed over him like a tidal wave, filling him like water fills the lungs of a drowning man.

Shit.
Shit!
He hadn’t just messed things up, he’d fucked them royally. He’d let lust get in the way of the only thing that really mattered. And now, thanks to his inability to keep his hands to himself, he might just lose the second-best thing in his life.

She’s the first. Stop fooling yourself.

She was. Which was why he couldn’t let either of them be tricked into thinking this—thing—between them would ever work. Because it wouldn’t. His father was right. He was a major disappointment. He’d fuck up her life sooner or later, whether he wanted to or not. The only way to save her from himself was to let her go. And hope that maybe her loyalty to the guys, to Aegis, would be enough to make her stay.

You are so totally fooling yourself. She’s gonna ditch Aegis so fast your head will spin.

She would. His eyes slid closed. But even as he accepted that, one solution came to mind. One he hoped would get through to her.

It was a long shot. She might balk. Acting like he didn’t care just might kill him, but he had to give it a try.

Decision made, he flipped off the monitor and stared at the dark screen. Thought about her lying naked in his guest bed upstairs, and fought the urge to slide back between the sheets with her one more time.

His chest stretched so tight he thought it might just tear open right down the middle. But it didn’t. It just kept on aching like a motherfucker.

Screw it.
He headed up the stairs for the shower in his master bath. Drew up that wall that had protected him most of his adult life. Bypassed the guest room and didn’t even slow his steps. And told himself that no matter what happened in the morning, he was doing the right thing.

He just hoped someday he believed it.