Aegis Security 03 - Extreme Measures (16 page)

Bag of food in hand, he climbed out of the car, slid the key into the door, and turned the lock of their room. The building was an L-shaped structure, with the office on the small arm of the building and no more than sixteen rooms side by side on the longer arm. As he stepped into the room, the sound of water running met his ears, and steam poured from a gap in the open bathroom door.

Relief trickled through him when he heard the water shut off. He’d known it wasn’t in Eve’s best interest to run, but part of him hadn’t totally believed she’d still be here when he got back. Especially not after what had happened between them this morning.

He closed the motel room door at his back, his mind zeroing in on the image of her naked in the bathroom, right this very moment. Blood rushed to his groin, making him hard in an instant.

Not smart. He rubbed a hand over his suddenly sweaty forehead and set the bag of food on the small round table flanked by two cracked plastic chairs. Probably shouldn’t have challenged her this morning. Definitely shouldn’t have kissed her. And he absolutely should have put a stop to things when she’d taken that challenge and torn off his clothes. But he’d been weak. And emotionally strung out. And it was Eve . . .

His entire body tightened and warmed as memories of her riding him filled his mind. Of the way she’d felt against his overheated skin. Of how tight she’d been around him.

“Holy hell, you’re such a fucking loser,” he muttered. “Get a grip.”

He opened one of the bottles of water he’d bought and downed the contents. The last thing he needed was to get wrapped up in Evelyn Wolfe again. Yeah, they had a history, but she wasn’t interested anymore. He’d gotten that sign loud and clear after the fact. And though he’d played along at the mall—even drawn things out just to get under her skin—he hadn’t kissed her because he felt anything for her. Not really. He was too smart to get sucked back in by her again. He’d kissed her purely as cover.

That’s right, pussy. Keep telling yourself that one.

The bathroom door pulled open, and a wave of steam spilled into the room. Eve followed, damp from the shower, wearing nothing but a thin, white cotton towel wrapped around her curvy body from breasts to midthigh.

Shit.

Zane’s blood stirred as he watched her tip her head to the side and use a hand towel to wring the wetness from her newly dark hair. She’d cut and colored it when he’d been gone. Instead of shoulder length, curly blonde locks, it was now closer to chin length, straight, and a deep, rich brown that made her eyes look bigger and more golden, made her chin look sharper. Made her look more like the woman he hadn’t been able to stop fantasizing about for the last eighteen months.

“Food.” Eve’s gaze locked on the white paper bag on the table. “Thank God. I’m starving.”

She tossed the hand towel on the table, eased into the closest chair, and dug into the bag. Water droplets glistened on her shoulders and arms as she unwrapped her burger. And the slit in her towel inched up dangerously high to reveal her toned, wet thigh. Watching her lift the burger to her lips, Zane remembered those long fingers of hers sliding up and down his cock only hours ago, teasing him to within an inch of his life.

“Aren’t you eating?” she asked around a mouthful.

Zane moved toward the queen-sized bed closest to the door and sat, careful to pull a pillow over his lap to keep his hard-on from being freakin’ obvious. “I’m not hungry at the moment.”

Not hungry for food at least. Hungry for her? Yeah. Which he shouldn’t be. He wasn’t going there. Never again.

He leaned back against the headboard while she ate. Crossed his feet at the ankles and his arms over his chest as he stared up at the water-stained ceiling.
Think about what you need to do next. Think about who’s setting you up and why. Think about anything except Eve sitting across the room all but naked like an offering.

“Did you get a hold of your contact at CSIS?”

Eve swallowed and reached for the second bottle of water. “Yeah. Tomorrow, oh nine hundred. We’re meeting her in Bellingham. She was in Vancouver, so it’s not that far for her.”

Zane nodded and zeroed in on one rather large ring on the ceiling so he wouldn’t be tempted to look Eve’s way. “Why did she give you Smith? How did that come about?”

Paper crinkled as Eve moved food around on the table. “Um.” She swallowed her bite. “We pass information back and forth when it suits us. One of the officers I’ve been investigating over the last year—Connor Perkins—had worked with a few of her CSIS agents overseas. The last time I talked to her, she told me one of her agents had gotten word that this list had been created by MI6, and that Perkins’s name was supposedly on it. We weren’t sure who Tyrone Smith—the guy I met in Seattle—worked for, but his organization supposedly lifted the list from a dead MI6 agent in London a few months back and was trying to sell it on the black market.”

“Why didn’t CSIS make the deal? Why did she bring you in?”

“Because her agents weren’t on the list.”

That seemed fishy to Zane. “What about this Smith? You’re sure you never saw him before?”

Eve was quiet for a moment and then said, “No. I mean, he was vaguely familiar, but I can’t remember where I’ve seen him. He had one of those faces, you know?”

“And he didn’t give you the drive or indicate he wanted anything from you besides the money you’d agreed to pay for the list.”

“No. He took the money and left.”

Zane frowned as his eyes moved to a different stained, yellow circle. “I don’t get why they took your sister then.”

“If I knew that, we wouldn’t be sitting here, now would we?”

Ignoring the sarcasm in her voice, Zane pushed to his feet and began pacing. “A hostage means they want something. But they haven’t made contact with you. They haven’t made any demands.”

“It’s not like they can, though. I’ve been with you since the bombing. If they wanted to contact me, they can’t because they never planned on you stepping in and taking me out of the picture.”

Zane stopped near the window, pulled the curtains back a touch, and peered out. Dusk was just moving over the small town, and the first twinkle of streetlights glowed across the parking lot and against the steadily darkening sky. “True, but they sent their thugs after you when we were at the warehouse, not in any way to negotiate or make demands. Which makes me think”—he turned to face her—“they wanted you dead in that bombing. You were the target, not your sister, and not innocent people like the news is making it sound. This wasn’t a typical terrorist bombing. This was a direct hit.”

Eve looked down at the empty wrapper on the table in front of her. “Which means my sister is—”

“Alive.” Her gaze shot his way, and his heart pinched at the fear he saw lurking in her eyes. A fear she kept closely guarded. A fear he’d seen this morning, which had bubbled over into the most incredible sex he could remember. A fear that told him the tough girl she wanted everyone to see wasn’t the real her.

His heart pounded hard. Because he felt like he was getting his first glimpse of the real her. Not the one he’d fallen for in Beirut, but the one who’d run from him the night he thought he’d caught her betraying their country. The one who’d been afraid for him to get too close. The one who’d admitted in that warehouse that she’d been in love with him.

And holy hell—that Eve was more dangerous to his psyche than the slick, wet, nearly naked one sitting in front of him.

“She’s alive,” he said, throat thick. “If they want you, they’ll keep her alive to get to you. As insurance. Which means this isn’t just about a list. It’s something more. Something you know too much about.”

Eve’s gaze slid back to her food, and a dazed look passed over her eyes. “I think I’ve lost my appetite.” She rested her elbows on the table and rubbed her forehead. “Any word from Miller about my sister?”

“No. None.” Zane watched her shoulders drop, and he knew by the way she sagged against the table that she had to be exhausted. Then his gaze strayed to her foot and the toilet paper wrapped around it like an ACE bandage.

“What’s wrong with your foot?”

Eve cringed and looked down. “I cut it on some broken glass this morning. It’s fine.”

He moved before he thought better of it, sweeping her out of the chair and into his arms. The scent of soap assailed his nostrils, and her heat immediately seeped into his skin, telling him this might be a bad idea, but . . . screw it. She’d be no help to him injured.

Yep, that’s why you’re doing it. Keep lying to yourself, pussy.

She pressed a warm hand against his chest. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Helping you. God, you’re a stubborn-ass woman. Why the hell didn’t you tell me you were cut?”

He set her on the bed, and she scooted back against the headboard, tugging the towel down as far as she could. Her long, shapely legs filled his line of sight, but the red-tinged makeshift bandage was all he could focus on. “Because it’s no big deal. I’m fine. I was going to put a bandage on it after I got out of the shower, but I got distracted by the food. Really, just leave it alone.”

He pulled a pocketknife from his front pocket—the same one she’d used to cut those zip ties early this morning and which he’d found before they’d left that house—and knelt on the floor near the edge of the bed. One flick and he opened a pair of tweezers from the gizmo. Gently, he tugged the toilet paper from around her foot. “Hold still.”

“Archer. Really? I’m fine.”

Three angry red cuts formed swollen bumps against the bottom of her foot. The biggest one clearly had something left inside. He ran the pad of his index finger over the largest. She tensed.

“This might hurt. Try not to move.”

Her fingers curled into the comforter as he scraped the tweezers over the wound, looking for the glass. Finding it, he pressed the tweezers against the shard and tried to get a grip on it. Her lips compressed, and she sucked in a breath, then let out a small shriek.

Frowning, he pulled the bloody shard from her foot and held it up for her to see. “This doesn’t look like nothing.”

He dropped the two-centimeter-long piece of glass on the nightstand, then went back to her foot. Eve tensed again and gripped the comforter more tightly. When she jerked her foot away, Zane clamped a hand on her shin and pulled it right back. “Hold still, I said.”

Eve’s lips turned white as she pressed them together, and her shoulders lifted, her entire body taut and ready to escape. “Oh my God,” she gasped as he searched for more glass, “are you trying to fucking kill me?”

Zane pulled out another piece of glass, this one smaller, and held it up for her. “Not kill. Not yet anyway. How on earth did you walk around all day with this in your foot?”

He tossed the second shard on the nightstand with the other piece and moved for the bag of first aid supplies they’d picked up. Eve dropped back into the pillows with heavy, deep breaths. “I had other things on my mind.”

He picked up the bag and glanced her way. She lay diagonally across the mattress, her chest rising and falling with her labored breaths, one hand over her eyes, and the towel so damn high, it just barely covered her sex.

Heat rushed right back into his groin, making his cock throb.

Clearing his throat, he focused on her bloody foot and knelt near the end of the bed again. “This part might sting.”

He poured alcohol on a sterile pad and pressed it against the wound. Eve sucked in a breath, and then every muscle in her body went rigid. Her hands gripped the comforter once more. Her head lifted an inch off the pillow as she grunted through the pain, and her legs spread, just a fraction of an inch, tugging the towel aside, just enough so he could see the pink lips of her sex.

Holy
hell
. She was bare. Everywhere. His erection pushed against his fly until pain shot through his lower body. She must have been bare this morning, only he’d been so overwhelmed by the feeling of her closing around him, dragging him in, he hadn’t noticed.

His skin broke out in a fine sweat, and his balls tightened, making him even harder. Clearing his throat, he looked quickly away from her pretty pink center and told himself to think of anything besides touching her there—tasting her there. He wasn’t still with her for sex.
No sex
. They’d gotten that out of their systems. They were here to find answers. Nothing more.

Refocusing on her foot, he swiped the alcohol swab over her wounds again. Eve tensed, moaned, and tightened her muscles once more, forcing her legs open another fraction of an inch.

And holy shit—his blood turned to a roar in his ears, and sweat slid down his spine. She was there—right there—opening for him like a flower. All he had to do was lean forward a few inches, part her with his fingers, slide his tongue down her slick, swollen slit, and feast.

“Archer?”

Her voice shook him out of his sex-induced trance, and he blinked, then realized she’d closed her legs and pulled the towel down until it covered her mound.

Heat erupted in his stomach and shot straight to his face. His gaze jerked to her foot, and he slapped on a bandage and then quickly pushed to his feet. “You’re done. I need a shower.”

A cold shower. Ice-cold shower. Maybe ten, so he could cool the fuck off.

“Zane?” she called when he reached the bathroom door. “What about your shoulder?”

His shoulder? His shoulder was the last thing on his mind. Every cell in his body was currently condensed behind his fly. “It’s fine.”

He closed the bathroom door quickly at his back, then braced his hands on the sink and dropped his head while he breathed deep and tried to settle his raging hormones.

Zane
. . . Why the hell did it sound so fucking good when she called him by his first name?

Because you’re a moron. Because you’re still whipped. Because you like getting your teeth kicked in by the viper in the other room.

He looked up at his reflection, blurry from the still-damp mirror, thanks to Eve’s shower. A few bruises had formed around his temple where he’d gotten hit—he couldn’t remember which time—but it was his eyes he focused on. Dilated pupils, dark gaze, skin flushed and hot from his arousal. His flesh felt tight, like it wasn’t his own, and the raging hard-on in his pants screamed,
Get the hell back out there!
but he refused to listen.