Wait for Morning (Sniper 1 Security #1) (5 page)

“Isn’t this thing armored?” she asked
seriously.

“Of course,” he answered sharply. “Doesn’t
mean I’m takin’ any chances.”

Marissa peered over the dashboard, looking
for Z. She found him just as the matching Escalade pulled forward on the
shoulder, letting their vehicle pass before joining them on the highway. Not
with a second to spare, either.

Ignoring Trace’s command for her to stay
down, Marissa turned her attention out the back window in time to see the two
SUVs trade gunfire.

This wasn’t going to be good. They
might’ve been out in the middle of nowhere, but
gunfire
on a major highway would definitely draw law enforcement. Considering they were
supposed to be en route to Texas, Marissa figured they were going to need a
little extra time.

“Quit worryin’,” Trace told her.

“I wasn’t looking forward to
a chat
with the local police,” she told him with
a sneer.

“That’s good, ’cause there won’t be any
chats
.”

“No? You think they’re good
with
a couple of good ol’ boys
shootin’
shit up?”

“That’s why your brothers are here,” Trace
told her. “And I’m sure your daddy’s already talkin’ to the locals.”

Marissa breathed a sigh of relief. If her
father was involved, she knew there really wasn’t anything to worry about. She
wasn’t sure how he did it, but Bryce, as well as Trace’s father, Casper, always
managed to get their children out of the hot seat whenever necessary. They’d
made a lot of enemies over the years, sure, but more importantly, they’d made a
lot of friends.

Trace’s cell phone rang again, and he hit
the button on the steering wheel. Marissa sat up straight in her seat, waiting
not so patiently for someone to tell them what was going on.

“All clear,” Ryan stated, sounding out of
breath.

“Is anyone injured?” Marissa inquired,
praying the answer was no.

“Not any of the good guys,” Ryan
confirmed. “We’ll hang back and clear the shit up with the state police. Y’all keep
headin’ toward Texas. We’ll meet up with you in a few hours.”

“Will do,” Trace said, sounding relieved.

“And Marissa?”

“Yeah?” she replied to her brother.

“Be nice to him, would ya?”

Marissa cut her eyes to Trace. “I don’t
know what you’re talkin’ about. I’m always nice.”

The call ended with Ryan chuckling and
Trace smiling.

And strange that. The instant Trace
smiled, everything seemed to be right in her world. Even
though
she’d narrowly escaped death. Again.

Too bad she didn’t think the euphoric
feeling was going to last long.

“Tell me what you know,” Casper demanded,
his gritty voice rumbling in Trace’s ear, effectively dragging his attention
from the half-eaten, overcooked burger and greasy fries sitting in front of
him.

With Marissa sleeping most of the time, they’d
managed to drive a solid seven hours before Trace had known he wasn’t going to
get much farther without a few hours of sleep. It hadn’t been difficult to
convince Marissa that they needed to stop, hence the reason they were sitting
at a wobbly table in another cheap motel room eating. He wasn’t sure whether
this was lunch or dinner—hell, it could’ve been considered breakfast, since
he’d been awake for nearly thirty-six hours straight.

“Nothing more than what I told you,” Trace
informed his father, realizing he was being evasive.

“Damn it, Trace. That shit ain’t gonna fly
and you know it.”

Sighing, Trace shifted forward in his
chair and rested his elbows on the table. Marissa was trailing a French fry
through ketchup, something she’d been doing for a good ten minutes, but not
bothering to put the damn thing in her mouth. She needed to eat, or she’d be…

“I’ve got another call,” Casper stated
sharply, interrupting Trace’s train of thought. “I’ll call you back.”

Without saying good-bye, Trace hit the end
button on the phone and set it on the table. Swiping his hands over his hair,
he realized he needed a shower. Telling Marissa as much, he grabbed the extra
set of clothes he’d brought with them and disappeared into the bathroom.

Taking a deep breath, he leaned against
the door. Damn, he was tired. Every muscle in his body ached. Every brain cell
seemed to be misfiring. These last few days had been endless, the nights even
more so. The only thing he wanted was a hot shower and a few hours of shut-eye.
Then maybe he’d be lucky and they’d have a plan. Something more than another
car chase on the long journey back to Texas.

Twisting the knob on the shower, Trace put
to use the additional travel-sized items Marissa had picked up at the
convenience store down the road. It didn’t take long for him to clean up, but
he was hard-pressed to return to the single room where Marissa was sitting, so
he opted to stand beneath the lukewarm water, his eyes closed.

Being close to Marissa—alone—was
significantly more difficult than he’d anticipated, and he damn sure had known
it wouldn’t be easy. She was too much temptation for him. Always had been.

Not that he’d have done anything
different. Coming to get her had been his only option, and seeing her in one
piece only solidified for him that he’d made the right choice. Having to endure
her nearness was a hell of his own making, one he likely deserved.

A gentle knock on the door had Trace
shutting off the water. “Yeah?”

“My brother’s on the phone. He said he
needs to talk to you.”

Not bothering to dry off, Trace wrapped
one of the stiff white towels around his waist and opened the door. Marissa was
less than a foot away, her eyes widening when she saw him. He fought the urge
to smile, enjoying the way her interested gaze traveled from his neck downward.
Slowly.

Yep, she felt it, too.

Reaching for the phone, Trace then brought
it to his ear, slid his hand over his short hair, and turned away from Marissa,
pacing to the opposite side of the room.

“’S up?” he asked.

“We’ve got another problem.”

Those four words captured Trace’s
attention instantly.

“Go on.”

“I don’t want to have this conversation
over the phone. Clay and I are roughly four hours behind you. I want to meet up
when we get there.”

Trace glanced at the clock. It was closing
in on two o’clock in the afternoon. That’d put RT there around dinnertime,
which gave Trace ample time to sleep.

“I’m gonna catch a nap. Call us when you
get here,” Trace told RT.

“Will do. She stayin’ with you?”

Trace sighed, his gaze sliding over to
Marissa. He knew RT wasn’t just asking because he wanted to ensure his sister
was safe. No, Ryan Trexler was questioning his sister’s whereabouts because he
likely worried about her being left alone with him. Not that Trace blamed the
guy. Hell, he worried about being alone with Marissa. A man could only be
pushed so far, and at that moment, seeing her staring at him from across the
room, Trace was hanging by a very thin thread.

“She’s with me,” Trace confirmed.

“Good.”

Trace’s brow raised skeptically. Taking
the word at face value wasn’t a good idea. There was no way Ryan, better known
as RT, trusted him alone with his sister. Didn’t matter that Trace had grown up
with the Trexlers, been practically a part of their family since the day he was
born.

If he had to guess, RT was worried that
Trace would act on the lust he’d harbored for Marissa for far too long.

“I’ll talk to you when you get here,”
Trace said, not wanting to get into it with RT. After all, the guy wasn’t just
Marissa’s brother. He was also the next in line to take over Sniper 1 Security.
Right alongside Trace’s older brother Hunter, who was stepping up since Trace’s
oldest brother Conner had no intention of taking over.

Trace hit the end button, disconnecting
the call, and then set his phone on the nightstand. Turning to face Marissa
once again, he relayed the message, informing her that RT and Clay would be
meeting with them in a few hours.

“I’m gonna sleep,” he said. “You should do
the same.”

As though she were reading his mind, Marissa’s
eyes went to the bed. This motel was equipped with rooms with double beds, or
so he’d been told by the young kid manning the desk. However, they didn’t have
any available. That was the moment Trace had figured there was a higher power
trying to pull one over on him. Instead of arguing with the guy, he’d accepted
his fate. And now, despite wanting to do the right thing—he was just too damn
tired—Trace lowered himself to the bed.

Oh, yes.

Just a few hours horizontal was all he
needed.

□«»□«»□«»□

Marissa watched as Trace lowered himself
to the king-sized bed after pulling back the comforter. This place wasn’t much
better than the last, but the décor was significantly nicer. It was still
cheap, still smelled like dust and mildew, but it was clean and warm. She
couldn’t ask for much more than that.

Did he not realize he was wearing only a
towel?

Uh…

Oh, shit.

Scratch that. Clearly he realized, but
that was no longer her issue. Trace Kogan was now … very, very naked, his
discarded towel in a heap at the end of the mattress.

Her gaze traveled over Trace’s bare back
as he got comfortable on his side. He grabbed one of the pillows, roughly
stabbing it before settling down onto it. She watched, her mouth agape as he
got situated beneath the comforter, leaving Marissa staring at him with her jaw
scraping the thin, worn beige carpet.

Lord have mercy.

Thanks to having dozed on and off for
close to seven hours, Marissa wasn’t tired. And that meant she was going to
have to sit there, watching Trace sleep, all the while knowing he was naked
underneath that blanket.

God, it’d been tough enough watching him
move across the room wearing just that white towel. His golden skin had glowed
against the stark white, his ropey muscles bunching and flexing as he moved. In
a word, Trace Kogan was … sexy.

“You should get some sleep, too.” Trace’s
deep baritone echoed in the small space, interrupting her wayward thoughts. He
was still facing the door, his gun on the nightstand alongside his phone, his
back to her, the comforter at his waist.

“I’m good,” she told him. She really
wasn’t tired. Not to mention, there wasn’t a chance in hell that she’d be able
to sleep with him naked.

Freaking
naked.

Holy crap. How long had she fantasized
about Trace? Ten years? Twelve?

Marissa was a healthy twenty-six-year-old
woman. One who’d had her fair share of erotic thoughts involving Trace Kogan
over the years. Her sex life was nonexistent thanks to the months she’d spent
in isolation. It wasn’t that she missed sex… Okay, she definitely missed sex,
but this … this was just a cruel joke.

Trace Kogan. Naked.

Sighing, Marissa quietly cleaned up their
food, depositing the empty bag and half-eaten burgers into the plastic trash
bin in the bathroom.

“Marissa. Seriously.”

“Sorry.” She wasn’t really sorry that she
was making too much noise, because Trace was freaking naked beneath that
comforter, and if she didn’t keep herself busy, she feared she would find
herself daydreaming about lifting that comforter, crawling beneath it, and
cuddling up to the warm, sexy man who was supposed to be sleeping.

“Get in this bed,” Trace commanded, making
Marissa jump, a frisson of heat searing her insides.

“What? Why?”

“Because I said so.”

“But you’re…”

“Naked?” he asked. “So what? It’s a big
bed.”

Not big enough.

“Would it make you feel better if I got
dressed?”

“No,” she said, far too quickly.

Trace’s chuckle told her that he’d caught
on to her blunder.

“Good. Now get in this bed with me and get
some sleep.”

Trace was nothing if not demanding. Still,
Marissa had no idea why that turned her on. Especially now.

Figuring an argument wasn’t going to
change anything, Marissa eased closer to the bed. Instead of climbing beneath
the blankets, she grabbed her coat from the chair she’d been sitting in and
used it as a blanket. It was her only option.

That or she feared she was going to take
advantage of this man.

And on top of everything else that was
going on, Marissa knew that wasn’t a good idea.

While she stared at the popcorn ceiling,
attempting to ignore the big, warm lump of man lying a few feet away, Marissa
thought back to years ago, back when she’d been bold enough to flirt with Trace
in an attempt to get him to notice her. Not that it had ever worked, but she’d
been proud of her teenage self even then.

Marissa
practically skipped out of her bedroom, grabbing her beach towel on her way out
the door and swinging it over her shoulder.

“Where’re
you goin’?” her mother asked as they passed one another in the hall.

“To
the pool,” she said sweetly.

“Marissa.”
The fact that her mother dragged her name out into significantly more syllables
than there were only made her smile.

“I’ll
be good, I promise!” Marissa called back as she traipsed down the stairs.

As
she approached the back of the house, she noticed that Clay and Trace were
still outside in the pool, exactly as she’d hoped they would be. Well, Trace
anyway. If her brother wanted to go in, then more power to him.

Opening
the back door silently, Marissa crept outside, hoping to catch them off guard.
The last thing she wanted was for Clay to give her a lecture about staying away
from Trace. She’d heard it time and time again for the last few years—not only
from Clay, either—ever since she’d developed a crush on the guy.

But
she was seventeen now. She was almost a woman, and if Trace didn’t notice her
now … well, then she was pretty sure he was just blind.

“Damn
it, Marissa!” Clay exclaimed as she reached the steps leading down into the cool,
blue water. She ignored her brother, purposely watching Trace, who, yes, was
watching her as she dipped her toes into the water.

Thank
you, God!

“Go
back inside!” Clay bellowed. “We’ll be done in a little while. Then you can
have it all to yourself.”

“I
don’t want it all to myself,” Marissa said sweetly, still not looking at Clay.
“I wanted to join y’all. What’s the harm anyway?”

In
that moment, Trace tore his eyes away from her, turning in the opposite
direction and diving under the water. Marissa wished she could see more of him,
the way his ripped body moved. She’d been watching him from afar for so long
she could practically predict the way his muscles would shift.

But
the water hindered her ability to admire him, which was the only reason she
noticed Clay glaring at her.

“Marissa,
he’s too old for you.”

“Not
really,” she murmured to herself as she stepped into the water, her gaze
swaying back in Trace’s direction. He emerged at the opposite end of the pool,
shaking the water from his dark hair. He was doing his best not to look at her;
that was obvious. But she wanted him to look at her. She wanted him to want her
as much as she wanted him.

Unfortunately,
today wasn’t going to be any different than yesterday or the day before. Trace
Kogan was being a butt.