Hold on Tight (14 page)

The small triangle between her legs beckoned—he dragged a kiss down her belly, until a sharp yank at his hair made him stop. He looked up at her as she held his head tightly—she was shaking her head, and God, all he wanted to do was bury his face in her pussy and make her feel, wanted to taste and tease and fuck her with his tongue, but something in her eyes stopped him from pushing the issue.

Whatever the reason, he’d get to the bottom of it eventually.

For now, his dick was begging him to move the hell on and he rose from his knees and stood in front of her.

She tugged at his already undone pants, her hands digging into his ass before he could kick them off his ankles, her legs spread for him.

With his hands cradling her ass, she rotated her hips against his sex, hands in his hair. The moans that drummed up from the back of her throat drove him wild, filled him with the uncontrollable urge to play king of the castle and make her his queen.

She was nearly beyond control herself. “Don’t make me wait. I want to … need to … have to …”

“I don’t have anything.”

“I don’t care … please. I’m on the pill. Hurry.”

There was no arguing—her body took him in after an initial resistance, and she wasn’t letting go until she’d taken her fill. Her ankles held him so hard he knew he’d see bruises by morning—and he so didn’t give a shit. He went faster, deeper, as she yelled his name into the wind.

Rain whipped their bodies. They were both slippery and slick and it took a hell of a lot of balance for them to hang on to the chair as their pace grew more frenzied. And she took him as much as he took her, in full view of anyone crazy enough to be out on that darkened afternoon in the middle of a thunderstorm.

Jake, who lived for this shit, was next to him, whistling as he flashed the penlight along the undercarriage.

Dumb-ass
. “You’re supposed to be checking the interior.”

“I already did. It’s clean.”

“So is this.” Nick sighed as the relief coursed through him, the way it always did at the end of a job like this.

“What the fuck is going on here, Nick? I mean, I’d rather be the one to do this so Chris doesn’t get blown to shit, but what the fuck? He’s not talking to us—he’s really inside his own head.”

Nick shrugged, the gravel digging into his skull as he did so. “He’s always there.”

“This is different. Much different. It was the way he was after Mom died.” Jake frowned as he mentioned Maggie, almost as if he’d borne too much grief already and wasn’t ready to add more. Mentioning her name could, more often than not, bring a smile to the brothers’ faces. But sometimes it hit like a sucker punch and left them momentarily reeling.

“Maggie would’ve known what to do for him.”

“We do too,” Jake said firmly.

Nick wanted to grin at the bravado in his brother’s voice—it had been there since the men were boys and met when they were eight years old. And really, Jake had no idea what to do for Chris right now. “Jamie … she’s good for him.”

Jake snorted. “Jamie’s trying to put him in fucking jail for doing his job. How the hell is that good?”

“I asked him if he was with her last night, if she was taking herself off the investigation,” Nick told him.

“What did he say?”

“That he didn’t realize he had to check in every five minutes. And then he told me—and you—to keep the fuck out of his bedroom.”

It was Jake’s turn to sigh—his typical wounded sigh—and Nick knew if given the opportunity, his brother would do no such thing. Which was why Chris put the call in to Nick and not Jake.

“I’ll call him, tell him it’s clear,” Nick said, but Jake had already flipped his phone open and was dialing. “Stay off his six, Jake.”

“I’m not an idiot, Nick. I can handle things with tact, you know,” Jake told him and then started speaking into the phone. “Oh, yeah, hey, Chris—car’s clean.” Jake was quiet as he listened. “Yeah, I’m sure.” He paused. “So what, you’re going to make sure Jamie’s safe and she’s going to keep investigating you and possibly destroy your career and send you to jail?”

Way to stay off his six, Jake
.

“He fucking hung up on me.”

“Big surprise there.” Nick slid out from under the car and Jake followed. They’d wait here until the FBI came to make sure no one could tamper with the car, and then they’d figure out how to help their brother, who didn’t seem to want their help at all.

Think of it like a case—distance yourself. Profile Handler. Figure out what the hell he wants from you
.

If Gary Handler had wanted her dead, he no doubt had been close enough to take a shot when he’d taken that picture outside the FBI offices. Could’ve waited inside her house and surprised her then, when she was completely off guard. So this was about torturing her, making her pay for ruining his gravy train. The drug lord he ran for in Mexico had a hit out on him, thanks to the FBI floating a rumor that Handler had turned evidence.

“Car’s clear,” Chris said, breaking her reverie. “And your backup’s arrived.”

He didn’t mention his conversation with his brother, but she noted the tension around his eyes. She was sure hers looked similar. Even though it had only been an hour since she’d gotten the call, it felt like time had moved in slow motion.

There was only one thing she was sure of—she didn’t want Chris to leave her side. And as she stood to greet her fellow agents, she put a hand on Chris’s arm.

“Don’t worry, I wasn’t planning on going anywhere,” he told her with just a hint of a smile.

“Let’s get you out of here, Jamie,” Lyle was saying, forgoing the usual pleasantries. It was all business, and Paul was right behind Lyle, nodding in agreement and asking Chris who the hell he was.

“He’s a friend. He’s Navy, a SEAL,” she heard herself say. “He’ll take me home. You guys can follow.” Whether or not the fact that she was taking the man she was supposed to be investigating with her on a personal matter was something the agents would tell Lou, she couldn’t be sure. She only knew that she needed Chris with her now.

Lyle’s next words proved her instincts correct.

“Jamie, there’s something at your house we need you to see, something the agents found when they swept it,” Lyle said quietly, his eyes flicking to Chris’s briefly.

Still, she stood firm. “I’ll drive with Chris back to my house. He’s aware of the situation.”

Lyle looked at her like he didn’t want to say yes, but Chris was already pushing her past them. Together, the four of them walked quickly to the two cars, parked right next to each other.

Just as Nick and Jake had seemed to materialize out of nowhere, they’d also disappeared before she and Chris approached the car. And still, she had no doubt that they were watching until the second she got in.

Within moments, both cars were on the road. She took a deep breath, kept her gun drawn, eyes darting to her side-view mirror.

“Do you want me to call your sister?” Chris asked.

“No.” She paused. “PJ is staying with Saint.”

He didn’t say anything, simply raised his eyebrows as he threw her a quick glance. Obviously, Saint hadn’t mentioned that development to him.

“I told her that I didn’t want her with me. That she was too volatile. That she was dangerous to me,” she continued. “It was a horrible thing to say. I went all that way to bring her back, and then when she finally does show up, when she wants to help me, I tell her to leave.”

“If she’s unstable, she doesn’t belong near you.”

“She’s not. I mean, she’s a little overzealous when it comes to protecting me, but I overreacted.”

“Maybe a little space between sisters isn’t a bad thing—she can have her space, you have yours, right?”

“Says the man who lives with his brothers.”

“Yeah, well, that’s different. Mainly because we’re all loose cannons, but typically not at the same time. Not anymore.”

She glanced over at him. “Jake seemed pretty protective of you.”

He snorted. “Jake’s always protective. And you need to be more protective of yourself.”

“In case you’ve forgotten, I am an FBI agent.”

“Yeah, I know that, but under these circumstances—”

“Don’t you get it? I refuse to be helpless. I’m not giving in to this asshole. I’m not giving in to anyone.”

Chris’s jaw tightened. He didn’t say anything for the rest of the ride, not until they pulled into her driveway. Only then did he turn to her, his voice low and fierce. “I want to tell you that you shouldn’t be walking around by yourself, out in the open. I want to lock you in a room and guard the damned door so nothing and no one can ever hurt you. But hell, I know I can’t do that, I know you can’t lock yourself away because you’ve been threatened. And I’m proud of you for not backing down.”

She didn’t know what to say, so she simply took his hand in hers for a long moment. Squeezed it.

He squeezed back. Then, “Anything look out of place to you?”

She’d automatically checked as they’d pulled up; there were no signs of change on her front porch or the yard.

There was another car already in her driveway—the agents who’d been through her house, the ones who’d found something.

“Are you ready?” Chris asked her as Lyle and Paul approached her car.

“Yes. Let’s get this over with.” She got out of the car and the four of them walked through the front door together, and were promptly greeted by a female agent Jamie didn’t recognize.

“Agent Michaels?” she asked, and Jamie nodded. “We didn’t find anyone inside your house, but there’s something on the screened-in porch you should see.”

“Show me.”

The agent hesitated for a brief second, enough for Jamie to know she needed to steel herself for this one.

She never locked the small screen door, figuring anyone who wanted in could easily tear the screen, and she’d rather that didn’t happen. The door beyond it, leading to the kitchen, was steel reinforced and that was what mattered.

But today, right now, she wished she’d locked it. Not that it would’ve stopped Handler—he would’ve left his present for her on her doorstep then.

Chris put a hand on her back as she stopped and stared at the glass-topped table.

The pregnancy test, the one she’d thrown into the garbage can, was laid out carefully, next to the box it came in, the two pink lines still stark in the small white square.

Handler had gone through her garbage—knew she was pregnant.

She could feel all the agents’ eyes on her, waiting for her to confirm that she recognized the evidence.

Breathe. Just breathe, Jamie
, she commanded herself so she wouldn’t freeze up.

She forced herself not to touch anything, not to grab the personal items and bring them back inside and lock them up.

“Why is he doing this? It doesn’t make any sense. I mean, if Handler’s free, he should be escaping to Central or South America, not hunting me down. It’s just not his style.”

Chris didn’t answer that, telling her instead, “I don’t want you standing out here.” And yes, he was right. Handler could still be close, could’ve been here setting this up when he called her.

Chris was angry—she could see the fierce look in his eyes as he stared between her and the test. She stiffened her spine and held it together, for both of their sakes.

I’m not giving in to anyone
.

She moved away from the table and went back into the house, the evidence of her most recent past—and her future—etched finely into her memory, prompting a determination she hadn’t felt in a long time.

And then, when his grip loosened slightly, she’d pulled him back down onto her, liking the weight of his body on hers. Liking the way he made her feel.

Now, hours later, they remained inside the tent in the rain-darkened late afternoon. The rain had long subsided and they remained pressed together. Resting. Breathing.

“Are you going to stay with Jamie from now on?” he asked. “She wanted to come and pick you up, but I wouldn’t give her my address.”

She swelled with pride at his protectiveness, but that quickly gave way to the feeling of sadness when she thought about Jamie, about the way she’d completely and utterly flipped out that morning in front of her and Kevin. “My sister doesn’t want to see me right now.”

She turned away from Saint, not bothering to get dressed. He’d opened the flaps of the tent so they could get the cool night’s breeze and look at the ocean without fear of being seen. Not that he’d been worried about that at all before—thankfully, the beach had been deserted and his deck was high enough that someone would need binoculars to see what they’d been doing.

She ached between her legs, a soreness borne from pure pleasure—she’d forgotten the sensation completely and now her body reveled in it.

“She seemed worried about you, not angry.”

“No, she can never stay angry at me for very long. It might be better for her if she could.”

“I like that you’re staying here,” he said finally. “I’d like it better if you came inside, though.”

“I’ve come in as far as I can for right now. Can you understand that?”

“I can.” He paused. “Do you want to be alone or can I stay out here with you and try to catch some shut-eye? Otherwise, you’re just going to climb up to the top deck and watch me sleep.”

She smiled. “You can stay, Saint.”

He ran a hand over her bare hip. “Thanks.” He paused. “I’m going to see Mark later.”

The plane carrying Mark’s body would land in Virginia sometime this evening, according to Dave’s calculations. From what he’d mentioned, Mark’s body was in bad shape. “Maybe you’re better off with your memories,” PJ said.

“No. I have to see him, or else I’ll never believe he’s gone,” Saint responded firmly. “I mean, this morning … I called him. I called Mark.”

His voice sounded dark, far away, as he stared up at the nylon blue ceiling of the tent.

Her heart clenched for him, because she knew what that felt like. After her parents were killed, she’d found herself calling out
Mom
or
Dad
several times before remembering that there was no mom or dad around her any longer. “It takes time.”

“The phone rang and I thought,
Mark always picks up on the first ring
. But then I remembered, and I hung up. My hands were shaking. I had a meeting with the admiral, and I kept thinking,
I’m not going to make it through this day
. If I’d waited to hear his voice mail message, I wouldn’t have.”

Normally she would remind him that he did make it through the day—but he hadn’t, not really. Today had been too much of a pileup, culminating in Mark’s body being found. It crushed any lingering hope Saint and his men might’ve had, and maybe that was even harder than knowing immediately that their friend had been killed. Instead of saying anything, she turned in to him again, and then there didn’t have to be any words.