Make Me Sweat (8 page)

“So fucking pretty.” Dakota climbed off her and spread out on the
mattress. Leaning over, he swiped his tongue through the thick fluid and
groaned.

Jeezus, will this guy ever stop making her hot? Ever grabbed his
hair and he turned to her. “Fucking do that again,” she commanded. He did and
she yanked him up, mashing their lips together. He thrust his tongue into her
mouth, transferring his cum to her. “Umm.” She flicked her tongue over his,
dancing around him.

His fingers sank into her hair holding her still as he turned the
kiss from soft, to hard and desperate. He devoured her mouth, biting and
sucking her tongue. Ever clutched his shoulders, fighting to remember her
plans. As it was, she danced perilously close to losing herself in Simon Dakin,
succumbing to his campaign to own her, body and soul.

She broke the kiss finally. “Umm, we need a shower.”

“Damn.” He stared at her, lips swollen and wet, eyes at
half-mast. She winked and swirled a finger in the cum cooling on her chest then
presented it to him. He sucked the finger into his warm mouth, hungry gaze on
her. Those eyes, like the man himself, could destroy her. She couldn’t let it
happen. Bigger things were at stake than just her broken heart.

She’d had one of those before and lived to tell the tale.

This one was different. The pain would be different. A million
times more than what Angus could ever dream of dishing out.

“Hey.” He bumped her nose with his. “Where’d you go?” His gaze
searched hers.

She smiled and rose on her elbows. “Just dreaming of a hot
shower.”

“Go on then.” He pointed to the bathroom. “I have some calls to
make, so I’ll shower after you.” He dropped a kiss on her lips then walked into
an adjacent room. Ever hurried to the bathroom, showering in record time. When
she came back out, he was still in the other room, so she hurriedly opened the
bottle of
Moscato
and retrieved the tiny zip locked package she’d gotten
from an ex of Wes’s.

She poured herself a drink and sat at the edge of the bed,
waiting for him to return. Sipping her drink, she did her best to convince
herself there was no other way around what she was about to do. If this were only
about her, she’d confess and let the chips fall where they may. Especially if
Angus got his in the bargain. But Wes’s freedom was also in the mix, and hell
if she’d allow him to get locked up for her cowardice and lousy choice in men.

He’d killed for her. The least she could do was drug a fucking
undercover Fed. Didn’t matter that she loved said Fed. Love didn’t count, not
in this instance.

“Are you okay?’ Dakin walked into the room. Naked as a freaking jaybird,
heavy cock swinging this way and that. She forced her gaze away and met his
eyes.

“Yeah, I’m good.” She picked up his drink, handed it to him. “I
poured you a drink.”

Those sinful eyes smiled at her as he brought the glass to his
lips. “Thanks.” He drank about half then paused. “Hmm, good shit.”

She giggled, on the verge of hysteria.

“Hey, stay the night with me.” He cupped her chin. “I want you in
my arms when I wake up.”

“Drink your good shit.” She sipped hers, entire body trembling.

He blinked slowly. “Stay with me, Ever.”

“I will if you drink up.” She attempted a grin. “In case you
missed it, I’m trying to get you drunk here.” He had to drink the entire thing.

“Hm.” He downed the last of the liquor. “You want to have your
wicked way with me?”

“I do.” She grabbed his hand, pulling him to sit beside her on
the bed. He sat heavily, a frown playing on his brow. The glass slipped from
his fingers to the floor, the sound muffled by the thick carpet. He tipped
forward and would’ve fallen on his face if she hadn’t grabbed his shoulder.

“Wha-wha’s happ’n?” He turned glazed and confused eyes to her.

Tears pooled in her eyes. “Lie down.” She pushed on his shoulders
until he fell back on the bed.

“Ev-Ever, wha’s...” He lifted a hand to grab her, maybe, but it
fell weakly back to his side. “Ever.”

“Simon.” She spoke his real name for the first time. “Simon, look
at me.”

He did, hurt now clearly outlined in his eyes along with anger
and pain. “You-you know.” He fought her hold, struggling instead to rise on his
elbow. “Drug. You drug—why?” His lashes dropped, mercifully hiding his eyes
from her.

She leaned over him and whispered in his ear. “Yes, Simon, I know
who you are. But you don’t know me, not yet anyway.” That could change once he
got back on his feet. “I have to choose between the two men I love, and you—”
She swiped at the tears crawling down her face. “And you, Simon, I’m not sure
of. I can’t chance Wes’s freedom on your feelings for me.”

“Love.” His lashes fluttered. “I love—love…” He passed out.

Sobbing, she took his limp hand and pressed it to her cheek. “And
I love you, Simon Dakin, or Ian Dakota. Whatever you call yourself, I love you,
too. But it’s not enough.” Ever pressed a kiss to his lips and hopped off the
bed.

Time to search. Find whatever he had on the Ghost so far and
destroy it. Maybe whatever he’d found hadn’t been presented to his superiors
yet, maybe he was waiting until he had everything he needed to bring to them.
It was a big leap but a chance she had to take. Yes, she’d be protecting Angus’s
ass again, but she chose to focus on Wes. He wouldn’t go to jail.

Slipping on her clothes and shoes, she began her search, going
through drawers, cupboards, and cabinets. She even flipped up the ends of the
mattress before heading downstairs to search the lower half of his house. It
was a long shot he’d even have evidence here, but Simon Dakin had hunted Ghost
for too long. Surely he’d have some reading material on the case around here
somewhere.

All she had to do was find the damn thing. She went around
knocking walls, listening for a telltale hollow sound, but none came. Ever
wandered around the huge-ass house until she came to the playroom—pool tables,
arcade games, even a theater section.

Hmm, show off much?

Perched on the edge of the pool table, Ever surveyed the room.
Nothing stood out or was out of place.
Fuck, I’m screwed.
She hopped off
the table and stood in the middle of the room, hands on her hips. She had to
leave quickly before someone came knocking, someone like that nosy, gorgeous
piece of man flesh, Jayce.

She dropped to her hands and knees, dragging her palms over the
tiled floor. Gross, but she had to do what she had to. Her mind kept replaying the
damn scene upstairs, the hurt in Simon’s eyes.

God, she’d put it there. After all he’d done to make her see how
much he cared. He’d hate her after this, and she didn’t blame him. In fact, she
wished he’d hate her. Make losing him hurt less. Maybe, not so much.

Her forehead banged on the side of the pool table. “Ouch.” She
rubbed the spot and shifted away, but her hair caught on a latch and pulled.
“Ow! Shit.” She ran her fingers over the latch, looking for a way to unhook her
hair. A depression in the smooth surface caught her eye and she pressed down on
it. The pool table siding slid away, freeing her hair, and revealing a nice
hidey hole complete with about half a dozen folders marked ‘Official’.

“Jack-fucking-pot.” She scooped up everything, and after rolling
them up, stuck them inside her thigh-high boots. Damn boots had to serve some
kind of purpose besides killing her feet. Satisfied her stash was safely
hidden, she cast one last, mournful look toward the stairs and Simon Dakin then
rushed out the door.

Seated behind the wheel of her car, she heaved a sigh when the
guard waved her through the huge security gate surrounding the estate. She
drove out and away from the man she loved, tears streaming down her face.

Five minutes of crying later, she straightened her spine and
wiped her tears.
What’s done is done.
Resigned to her fate, her fingers
tightened on the steering wheel. Simon Dakin was in her past, now to focus on
the future.
A future without him.
She sniffed and shook her head.
No
more tears.

A force slammed into her car from behind, jerking the steering
wheel away from her control. Her head snapped back, everything spun. Belatedly,
she realized the car was the one spinning. Shattered glass rained like sharp
confetti on her skin, though she barely felt anything.

The car kept spinning. Staring out into nothingness, Ever had to
smile at the irony. She’d die here, minutes after betraying the love of her
life. She welcomed it. Life without her love couldn’t really be worth living.
But Wes—

“I’ve got her, boss.”

She opened her eyes. A pair of huge, black boots was planted inches
from her face where she lay on the ground. She’d been thrown from the car then.
She sighed mentally while attempting to move her feet. Well, her limbs worked
despite the fucking pain in her face and chest.

Make that her entire body. “Umm.”

“She’s awake.”

And who in the hell was—

A pair of mocking eyes bore into hers. Bright lights nearby
illuminated the pale, gorgeous face framed by wavy, red hair. “Hello, wife.”

Chapter
Ten

Dak sat at his desk in his office at the club and stared unseeing
at the papers in front of him. His body still felt the effects of the drug in
his system. The doctor wanted him to stay in bed and rest. How the fuck could
he? The woman he’d trusted, given his heart to, had betrayed him.

Betrayed him after he told her how he felt. Jeezus. He pushed
back his chair and paced. He loved her, and she’d fucked him, drugged him, and
robbed him. Ever Marcille, wife of Angus Brennan.

He’d messed up royally, and he had to fix it before the higher
ups got wind of it. At the moment, only he and Jayce knew. Only they knew how
he’d been led by his cock and his heart, allowing himself to be distracted by a
pretty face and tight pussy.

“She played me, Jayce.” He shoved his fingers through his hair
and met Jayce’s gaze. His friend stood by the windows, arms folded, watching
him lose it. “She played me like a fucking board game, and I let her,” he spoke
through clenched teeth. “Am I really losing my touch that I couldn’t see I was
being played for a fool? Am I that jaded?” His chest hurt, the pain weakening
his knees. He grasped the edge of his desk for support. He couldn’t blame the
drugs she’d given him for this pain, it was his heart. He’d given her his heart,
and she’d stomped all over it.

“You gotta stop beating yourself up.” Jayce shifted, his voice
calm and composed. Always the voice of reason. “We need to find her. She took
copies of the files, but we still have to find out what she knows.” He met
Dak’s gaze. “You realize she might be involved in this Ghost business, right?’

“I know.” And he couldn’t reconcile it with the woman he’d held
in his arms, the woman he’d made love to last night. But then again, he didn’t
know her at all. He rubbed his chest.

“You love her.”

He shook his head. “I love someone who doesn’t exist. And
besides, it doesn’t matter what I feel. When I catch her, she’s going to jail.”
He couldn’t suppress the regret and feeling of profound loss the statement
brought. He retook his seat and picked up the information faxed over that morning.
Ever Marcille was born here in Chicago and went to school here, until college
when she travelled a bit. Europe, Australia, and Ireland. She spent months in
the first two places then settled in Ireland, married to Angus Brennan.

The same Brennan he’d arrested five years ago and questioned
about the Ghost. Having nothing concrete to hold the man on, he’d had to
release him after forty-eight hours, and Brennan promptly left the country.
Never to be seen or heard from again. Dak hadn’t given the man another thought,
until this morning.

“Did she know I was Simon Dakin from the get-go?” He leafed
through the papers, musing out loud. “I’ve been after the Ghost for five years.
This says Brennan hasn’t travelled back into the country, but his wife returned
six months before I went under. It’s been almost two years since. Why act now?”

“Because we bugged you.”

Dak jumped to his feet, he and Jayce aiming their guns at the
stranger in the open doorway. The blond man held up his hands, powder-blue gaze
clear but watchful. He looked from Dak to Jayce and back, lips curved.

“I’m unarmed.”

Dak didn’t relax his hold on his weapon.

“Who the fuck are you?” Jayce growled, taking a step forward.

“My name’s Westin Dumont,” he spoke directly to Dak. “We have a
woman in common.”

“What woman would that be?” Dak eyed the man up and down. Dressed
in a tight, white shirt with rolled up sleeves and gray jeans with matching
high-tops, he looked like a college kid. His eyes gave him away. They were
older, jaded. He held a brown binder.

“The woman you love.”

Jayce growled and moved closer to Westin. Dak aimed his gun at
the man’s forehead. “Are you two working together? What do you know about
this?”

“I love her.” Hands in front of him, Westin walked toward them
slowly, his eyes on Dak. “I know she bugged you, because I gave her the bug to
plant.” His lips twitched. “I know she drugged you, because she got the drugs
from me. I also know she stole from you.”

Jayce lunged , grabbing Westin by the throat and yanking him
forward.

Westin didn’t struggle. In fact, he didn’t do anything except
close his eyes and take deep breaths.

“Do you have a death wish?” Jayce pressed his gun to the man’s
head. “Is that why you came here? She sent you to finish her dirty work?”

Westin lifted his over-long lashes slowly, focusing his gaze on
Jayce’s face. Dak watched his friend’s jaw clench, sweat glistening on his
brow.

“Jayce Santana,” Westin murmured.