Midnight Action (8 page)

Wrapping his fingers around his stiff shaft felt like an even bigger betrayal, but he couldn’t stop himself. Couldn’t stop the dirty images that swarmed his brain, all of which featured Noelle. Her naked golden skin, her red fingernails scraping his bare back, her pussy clutching his cock in a tight vise.

He’d never jerked off in a rage before, and yet here he was, pumping his cock as lust and anger warred inside him.

It took no time at all before he was coming all over his hand. The orgasm was quick, unsatisfying, and only made him angrier, and after he’d rinsed off the evidence and stepped out of the shower, he felt utterly exhausted.

Christ, he was so tired of keeping his guard up all the time, fighting the carnal need that hit him whenever he saw Noelle. He harbored so much hatred but, at the same time, held on to memories of a woman who no longer existed.

He toweled off wearily, wishing like hell that he could just hop on a plane and get far, far away from here. From
her
.

But until he figured out who wanted him dead, he wasn’t going anywhere.

When he entered the lavish guest bedroom he was currently calling home, he found Noelle sitting on the king-size bed. She wore black leggings and a tight red tank, and her blond hair was arranged in one long braid that hung over her shoulder.

The hairstyle threw him for a loop. It made her look younger and more approachable, reminding him of the girl he’d known almost twenty years ago.

But then her cold blue eyes locked with his, and the girl of yesterday vanished, replaced by the detached woman she’d become.

“Paige got her hands on Girard’s client list,” Noelle told him, holding up a paper-thin Apple tablet as if to prove her claim. “I figured we could go through it and see if any of these names ring a bell for you.”

He nodded. “Sounds good. Let me just get dressed.”

Rather than give him some privacy, she set the tablet beside her, leaned back on her elbows, and smirked. “Nobody’s stopping you.”

Morgan battled another rush of fatigue. Fuck, he was so sick of these games.

With a sigh, he dropped his towel and strode naked toward his duffel. “I have a proposition for you,” he said as he grabbed some clothes.

Noelle’s intrigued voice wafted from the bed. “Yeah?”

He yanked on a pair of boxer-briefs and cargo pants, then turned to look at her as he zipped up. “I propose a cease-fire.”

“A cease-fire.”

“If we’re going to be working together to find out who hired Girard, we can’t afford to be distracted by all the baggage between us. The games. The constant battles.” He let out a breath. “Let’s just do this job without letting all our old crap get in the way.”

“You think that’s possible?” She sounded both curious and unconvinced.

“We can make it possible.” He put on a clean white T-shirt and met her eyes again. “And not just a temporary cease-fire. I’m talking permanent here. After we find Girard’s client and take care of him, we’ll go our separate ways. For good, this time. No more professional team-ups, no more death threats. We just...walk away.”

Noelle sat up, placing both hands on her thighs as she bit her bottom lip. “We walk away,” she echoed.

He nodded.

“Can we really do that?”

“I can, if you can.”

It took a lot out of him to say that. He’d spent years hating her, keeping tabs on her, dreaming of ways to inflict pain. Walking away now was...unimaginable.

But it was also cathartic in a way. Ending this war between them and finally being free of the destructive emotions she summoned from him? Sounded like music to his ears.

“Well...all right, then,” she said, her voice thoughtful.

His eyes narrowed. “Just like that?”

She looked like she was fighting a laugh. “Yes, just like that. What’s the problem?”

He honestly didn’t know. There shouldn’t be a problem. There
wasn’t
a problem.

Except...Shit, what was that strange pang tugging at his gut?

Was it
disappointment
?

Which was fuckin’ nuts, considering that severing their sick bond had been
his
idea. He should be thrilled that she’d acquiesced so easily.

“So are we going over this list or what?” Noelle asked impatiently.

Morgan snapped out of his messed-up thoughts and went to get his laptop. “Sure. Let’s do it.”

Her sweet, feminine scent ensnared his senses the second he joined her on the bed. It was as intoxicating as it’d always been, and just as difficult to label. She smelled like the ocean, vanilla, a garden in full bloom. Such a peculiar combination of fragrances, as complicated as the woman herself.

He forced himself not to breathe her in, instead focusing on the tablet she handed him.

“Recognize any of them?” she said briskly.

Morgan scrolled through the list of sixty or so names. “I recognize a lot of them,” he admitted, “but not through any personal connections. Girard represents some serious bigwigs.”

Media moguls, high-powered executives, descendants of long-ago French royalty. The list went on and on, and the sole element that tied most of the names together was that Morgan had never crossed paths with any of them. Nor could he think of a single reason why they’d want him dead.

“Oh shit, look. He represents Jacques Moreau,” Noelle spoke up, her blue eyes dancing with amusement. “That’s the cabinet member who was outed last year for using government funds to pay for his butt implants.”

Grinning, she swiped Morgan’s computer from his lap and quickly typed Moreau’s name into the search engine. A second later, she leaned closer to show him the image on the screen.

“Check out that ass. Can you imagine the pancake butt he must have had before? I mean, to resort to
implants
?”

A laugh flew out of Morgan’s mouth, startling him into abrupt silence.

Shit. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d genuinely laughed in this woman’s company.

Noelle looked as surprised as he felt, but she didn’t comment on the aberration. She simply shot him a puzzled look before clearing her throat and refocusing her attention on the screen.

Shifting awkwardly, Morgan reached for the tablet and spoke in a gruff voice. “Let’s go through these names again and see if anything jumps out.”

Nineteen years ago

“How come you never talk about your parents?”

Morgan shifted on the wrought-iron park bench so he could see Noelle better. She looked genuinely curious as she sat there tracing the rim of her foam coffee cup with the tip of her finger.

“How come you never talk about yours?” he countered.

“I do it all the time,” she protested. “You know everything about my mom.” Her expression darkened. “And about René.”

“Yeah, but you never mention your father...”

He let the remark hang, then held his breath as he awaited her reply. Although they’d been seeing each other for more than a month, she still hadn’t opened up about her father, and Morgan’s supervisors were growing impatient. When he’d checked in earlier, Commander Jeremy Thomas had even hinted that they were considering pulling him out if he didn’t produce some information soon.

He refused to let that happen, and not just because he’d never failed to meet an objective before. If they called him in, his CO would send another intelligence officer to take his place, and then Morgan wouldn’t be there to protect Noelle from getting caught in the cross fire.

Just thinking about her being hurt unleashed a flurry of panic, causing his fingers to tighten around his coffee cup.

“You’re right. I don’t,” she said. “But that’s because it hurts to talk about him. God, I miss him so much. I try not to think about him when he’s gone. Otherwise I miss him even more.”

He spoke in a careful tone. “Does he ever come to visit you?”

“Usually a few times a year, but I haven’t seen him in a while. He’s been away on business.”

Morgan’s body tensed. “What does he do?”

Noelle wagged a finger at him. “Nope, you’re not getting any more details from me. Not until you answer
my
questions. Tell me about your parents.”

A thread of discomfort wrapped around him. “There’s not much to tell. My folks weren’t around much.”

“Why not?”

“My father was busy running his business, and my mother was busy running their charity foundation. Which means I saw them every morning for about five minutes, and then again at dinner, if I was lucky. Usually they didn’t leave their respective offices before nine or ten at night.”

“What about the weekends?”

“I spent those with my nanny. And when I got older, I hung out with friends.”

“Weren’t you upset that your parents didn’t have time for you?”

He shrugged. “I had a lot of freedom growing up. Can’t complain about that.”

“You don’t have to do that with me.”

“Do what?”

Noelle’s voice softened. “Pretend that nothing hurts you.”

She reached out and took his hand, lightly stroking his knuckles.

Morgan stared at her fingers, his gaze zeroing in on the two she’d broken the day they’d met. They were no longer splinted, but still looked stiff, with a hint of bruising on her creamy skin. He knew they bothered her—he saw her wince whenever she moved them—but she never commented on the lingering pain. She continued to floor him with her strength.

“It’s okay to admit that your parents not being there was hard on you,” she said quietly.

He wanted to dismiss the claim, but as usual, Noelle summoned an emotional response from him.

“I guess it was,” he said hoarsely. “Just a little bit.”

Still gripping his hand, she leaned close and brushed her lips over his. The addictive scent of her filled his nostrils, made it difficult to think clearly.

Her lips left his far too soon, and he was tempted to yank her back for another kiss. Not a peck this time, but a deep, passionate one. They’d been sharing a lot of those since that first explosive kiss at the hotel. He couldn’t help himself, couldn’t seem to break the spell he’d fallen under.

His CO had accused him of dragging his feet and losing focus on the objective, but even though Morgan had denied the accusation, he was beginning to suspect his commander might be right. Every second he spent with Noelle was...God, he couldn’t even describe it. All he knew was that the girl had gotten under his skin. Big-time.

“What about you?” he asked her. “How do you feel about your father not being there for you?”

“He
is
there for me.”

Her reply was so swift and so ferocious that it caught him off guard.

“My father loves me.” Her expression grew even more determined, almost like she was trying to convince herself. “I know he feels bad about not being here, but it was my mother’s decision to move back to Paris. He didn’t have a say in the matter. She got custody in the divorce.”

Morgan quickly jotted down a mental note—
never
say a negative word about Douglas Phillips to his daughter. Clearly she was protective of the man, if even the slightest indictment against him could set her off.

He decided to change course. “So your dad stayed in the States after you and your mother came to Paris?”

Noelle’s expression lost some of its ferocity. “Yeah, but he travels a lot, so he’s not home very often.”

“What does he do?”

“He works for the government.”

“That’s vague.”

She bit her bottom lip, looking uncertain. “Well, if I’m being honest, I’m not a hundred percent clear on what he actually does. He’s a consultant. I know that much. He works with the CIA and NSA and some other defense agencies, but I’m not really sure what he does for them. I think it has something to do with defense strategies. My dad was in the military, and he’s a genius, so of course all those agencies would want his help.”

Her naïveté made him stifle a sigh, but at the same time, he wasn’t surprised that Douglas Phillips hadn’t told his daughter what he actually did for a living. Phillips was a CIA spy. Legendary in the espionage community, possessing one of the highest levels of security clearance an agent could reach. With all the secrets he knew, he could destroy every politician and intelligence agent in the country, topple foreign governments, blow apart a hundred conspiracies, and start World War Three if he chose to.

And that made him a threat. A very dangerous threat, and one that Morgan needed to neutralize.

“When was the last time you saw him?” he said lightly.

Noelle had to think about it. “About six months ago. He came to Paris to visit me.”

Six months...Phillips had still been a patriotic member of the intelligence community back then; he hadn’t gone AWOL until three months ago.

The powers that be had been certain the man would want to see his daughter before he permanently went off the grid. Maybe they were wrong, though. He’d had three months to contact Noelle, yet he hadn’t tried to arrange a single meeting, so chances were he’d already skipped town and—

“But he called me last month.” Noelle’s admission interrupted his thoughts.

Morgan instantly masked his eagerness. “What did he say?”

“Not much. He told me he’s finishing up a job and that he’s going to try and visit before he starts his next assignment.”

Jackpot
.

So Morgan’s superiors were right, after all. Douglas Phillips
would
attempt to say good-bye to his kid before he disappeared.

“Well, that tells me he misses you as much as you miss him,” Morgan said, forcing a smile.

“I guess.” Noelle put down her coffee cup and glanced around the deserted park. “I like this place. It’s so pretty.”

Her blue eyes had focused on the huge circular fountain, which remained illuminated even though it was nearly midnight. Morgan knew the fountain would be drained for winter soon, but at the moment, the two feet of water in its base bubbled away, and the graceful arches shooting from all around the circle shimmered in the darkness.

He was startled to realize how late it was—time flew by when he was with Noelle. They’d already spent the whole day strolling along the Champs-Élysées, and the evening having dinner in Montmartre. Afterward, he hadn’t been ready to say good-bye to her, and somehow they’d wound up in this beautiful park two blocks from his hotel.

He liked this place too. It was quiet. Peaceful. And the air was surprisingly warm for autumn. Neither one of them was even wearing a coat tonight.

“What do you want to do after you leave the army?” Noelle’s gaze left the fountain and focused on his face.

“I haven’t given it much thought,” he admitted.

“Okay. Well, what do you like to do in your spare time?”

“I don’t know.”

She laughed. “You don’t know what you like to do?” Now she rolled her eyes. “What are you good at?”

“Following orders. Shooting things. Saving lives. Protecting my country.” He paused. “I’ll probably just end up being career army.”

“And if that wasn’t an option?”

“I don’t know. Maybe start a security company?”

Noelle heaved out an exaggerated sigh. “How boring. You lack vision.”

“What would
you
have me do?” He arched a brow in challenge.

“Anything. Everything.” She shrugged. “You inherited a fortune from your parents. That opens up a world of possibilities.”

He flashed her a crooked grin. “I’m a simple man, baby. I don’t need a world of possibilities. I’d be perfectly happy living in a cabin in the middle of the woods. Hunting, fishing, living off the land. Sitting on the porch and smoking cigarettes and listening to the blues.”

“Where’s your sense of adventure?” Her tone was playful. “Don’t you ever do anything crazy? Step out of your comfort zone?”

“In my line of work, crazy gets you killed,” he said ruefully.

“Fine. I’ll give you that. But you’re not in the army right this second, are you? Nope, you’re on leave. Which means you’re allowed to have fun and be crazy.” Her blue eyes shone in the yellow glow of the lamppost next to their bench. “So do something crazy already.”

“Like what?”

Her expression grew even more impish. “I don’t know...Hmmm...All right, I’ve got it.” As a mischievous smile tugged on her lips, she pointed to the fountain. “Take off your clothes and run around in the fountain.”

He snorted. “Sorry, babe. I’m not much of an exhibitionist.”

That got him a haughty look. “See? You’re no fun.”

“I’m cool with that. You can be the fun one in the relationship.”

Relationship?

Jesus Christ, what was he saying?

He quickly tried to backpedal, but Noelle spoke before he could.

“You know what, Jim? I think it’s time you stopped being such a control freak. I
dare
you to strip to your underwear and run in the fountain.”

“You dare me? What is this, middle school?”

“It’s an exercise in letting go.” She hopped to her feet with the agility of a gymnast. “Come on,
babe
, I dare you to let go.”

He stayed seated.

“I’ll tell you what—if you do it, so will I.”

The smile she shot him was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Brighter than the lights sparkling in the water, more luminous than the full moon shining above them.

“Come on, it’ll be great,” she coaxed. “Unless...You’re not scared, are you, Jim?”

She blinked innocently, triggering that macho-man switch inside him that made it impossible to ever back down from a challenge.

He promptly stood up. “Oh, trust me, I’m not too scared to do it. I just don’t think
you
will.”

A delighted laugh flew out of her mouth. “Oh, Jim. Clearly you don’t know me
at all
.”

The next thing he knew, she was unbuttoning her cardigan sweater.

Morgan’s breath jammed in his throat as she began removing items of clothing. Sweet Jesus. Why had he opened this can of worms? Why had he—oh fuck. She’d stripped down to her bra. A pink, lacy bra that was so thin he couldn’t
not
notice the puckered nipples beneath the dainty cups.

His mouth went bone dry, all common sense and propriety draining away as his cock hardened beneath his pants. His gaze was only capable of registering the endless expanse of creamy skin. The way her long blond hair gleamed in the moonlight. The full breasts practically pouring out of that skimpy bra.

He was on sensory overload. Frozen in place as Noelle unzipped her dark blue jeans and wiggled out of them, leaving her in a pair of panties that matched her bra.

She was incredible. Smooth skin and supple curves, a golden goddess standing before him.

“And look who’s still dressed. Wimp.”

Her teasing snapped him out of his lust-filled stupor.

“Who you calling a wimp?” He whipped his shirt over his head, then shot her a cocky look.

He didn’t miss the way her eyes widened at the sight of his bare chest, or the rosy flush that bloomed in her cheeks. His erection throbbed painfully, and it dawned on him that there was no way of hiding his arousal once he took off his pants.

He tried to come up with an excuse to leave the pants on, but Noelle squashed the notion by pointing to his lower body.

“Down to your underwear,” she ordered.

Shit. This woman was going to be the death of him.

Reluctantly, he kicked off his combat boots and peeled off his socks, trying to prolong the inevitable.

The second his cargo pants hit the ground, Noelle’s breath hitched, but she didn’t comment on the erection trying to tunnel its way out of his boxers.

Instead, she gave him a wide smile, then darted off in a mad sprint toward the fountain.

Laughing despite himself, Morgan chased after her. He caught up just in time to hear her high-pitched shriek as the cold water doused her bare flesh.

Definitely wasn’t swimming weather—that was for sure. Goose bumps popped out on his skin when he got in the path of one of the spouting arches. Water dripped down his chest and soaked his boxers, which only made him curse, because damn it, now there was the distinct outline of his cock in the wet cotton.

He couldn’t believe he was actually doing this. Noelle’s observation hadn’t been too far off the mark—he
was
always in control. Fun didn’t play much of a role in his life.

And yet Noelle managed to bring out a side in him that he hadn’t known existed. A side that was light and tender and...
insane
.