Agent N6: Dylan (9 page)

“Well?” He sat back in his chair and steepled his hands in front of him.

“Well, what?” Dylan said, feigning ignorance.

“Teague Hamilton. Are you involved with her?”

Jaydan and Saint smirked at him. Bastards. Where was that damned duct tape?

“No, sir.”

Cocking a brow, Mitchell said, “Good. Then, I don’t have to remind you that we brought her on under questionable circumstances. You had your doubts about her, yourself.”

He knew, in his gut, that Teague could be trusted. However, it didn’t change the fact that they weren’t involved. “I remember. That doesn’t change my response.”

Nodding, he said, “Then you won’t be concerned with Cyrus’s threat to her safety.” He turned to the other agents.

Dylan sat up in the chair. “Wait. What threat? What are you talking about?”

Turning back to Dylan, he said, “Van told her she’s necessary to Cyrus’s plans. He’ll come for her.”

Anger and some other vicious, knee-clipping ache chomped at his gut like too many cheap beers. “When the hell did she talk to him? How could you allow her to talk to him? Why haven’t I heard about this until now?”

Mitchell’s brows rose high on his forehead. “I wasn’t aware I had to clear my decisions through you, McCall.”

Hell. The former SEAL Team commander could reduce him to pig slop with little effort.

He said, “She talked to him while you were in recovery. Tristan went in cloaked so she wouldn’t be alone. According to Van, Matheson is looking for her and Keegan Meeks.”

“I thought Matheson was in jail?” Saint said, as he crossed an ankle over his knee.

Mitchell’s solemn gaze went around the room. “He’s been replaced by a clone.”

Disbelief spurred Dylan from his chair. “What the hell? I thought he was in solitary?”

“He was. We don’t know how long he’s been out, but the clone was discovered earlier today. One of the guards went missing, too. We assume he was also a clone and helped Cyrus escape.”

Dylan paced the room. Cyrus escaped a maximum-security prison
with ease
. How in the hell did they stop him?

“Have you checked the DNA tracker?” he said.

Mitchell said, “Cyrus isn’t in the DNA tracker.”

Shit. It seemed they could never get a leg up on him.

“Convenient, isn’t it?” Saint’s tone held a sarcastic edge.

“Has Keegan arrived yet?” Jaydan said, leaning his forearms on his knees.

“Yes,” Mitchell said with a nod. “She arrived here a half hour ago.”

Saint blew out a breath. “Damn, things are heating up faster than an active volcano in Hades.”

“Speaking of…” Mitchell said as his eyes zeroed in on Riordan. “Your father called me the other day, Saint.”

He pulled back his head. “And?”

Mitchell’s voice held a pragmatic tone. “He wanted to use the time machine. I turned him down.”

What the hell? Halting in his tracks, Dylan whipped around. Saint sat with his mouth open, Jaydan still in his chair.

Luke Powers wanted to use the time machine? Dylan knew about the information Cyrus had given Hope about her mother and grandfather. Matheson just couldn’t spread enough good cheer.

Dylan had witnessed Luke’s reaction to the news at Riordan and Natalie’s engagement party. The man had gotten justifiably upset, and three sheets to the wind. Hope still worried about him.

Anger and disbelief laced Saint’s words. “So, he probably turned to Cyrus, assuming Matheson has the technology.”

“I don’t know,” Mitchell said, with a shake of his head, “but, it would make sense.”

Jaydan turned around to look at him. “Dylan, do you remember seeing anything like the time machine in Mongolia?”

Shaking his head, he said, “No, but I didn’t have access to the entire compound. Ask Saint. We were out in the middle of nowhere. You could’ve hidden a hundred of those damned things out there and no one would’ve known it.”

Nodding, Mitchell said, “We’ve got a heavy-artillery team on the island, and I’ve sent a recon team to Mongolia. At this point, Cyrus and a machine could be anywhere.”

Dylan said, “Are we sure of everyone here at the compound?”

To think they might be working with one of Cyrus’s people made him crazy. At this point, was any place safe? Short of moving Teague into isolation, how could he guarantee her safety?

Narrowing his eyes, Mitchell spoke in a low voice. “I run a tight crew, McCall. The compound is the safest place for Teague and Keegan.”

Blowing out a breath, Dylan shook his head. “Hell, I mean no disrespect, Mitchell. It’s just…”

“It’s Teague,” Jaydan said, a note of understanding in his voice.

“Your woman.” Saint gave a brief nod. “I’m with you.”

Teague wouldn’t have him, yet these men called her his woman. The truth was, he felt that way. He felt a responsibility toward her, a bone-deep
panic
of losing her. How freaking
out there
was that?

“Go find Teague, Dylan, and keep her close.” Mitchell nodded toward his office door. “Tomorrow, I’ll get with you on our plans.”

How the hell did he do that, when she wanted nothing to do with him?

Teague woke to near darkness, slow Eric Church playing low in the background. Artificial candlelight flickered on the nightstand beside her head, Dylan’s warm, musky scent washing over her shoulder.

She looked at the clock. Two thirty.

Sitting bolt upright in bed, she picked up the candle and held it toward the opposite side of the bed. Dylan slept on his back, his ripped, corded torso bare to the cool, conditioned air. His long, red hair tangled on the pillow, his arms above his head.

No, no, no, no, no…

Slumping her shoulders, Teague squeezed her eyes shut. She’d planned this grand, elaborate seduction. Clint had let her into Dylan’s apartment without asking why, though she felt certain he knew the true reason. She’d waited for him in bed, wearing the sexiest undergarments she’d brought with her.

She’d duplicated her makeup in the calendar photo and used hot rollers on her thick hair. The chilled wine on his nightstand had to be warm by now, the roses wilted and dropping petals.

Glancing down at her red lace bra and panties, she hung her head.

Really, Teague? You couldn’t stay awake long enough to seduce the sexiest man on the planet?

Maybe if she snuck out now, she could claim sleepwalking.

Setting the candle on the nightstand, she peeled away the covers. She slipped her feet from under the blankets and sat up on the side of the bed.

Dylan’s sleepy voice broke the dark silence. “What are you doing here, Teague?”

Dropping back her head against her shoulders, she said, “Making a fool of myself.”

“How?” His succinct question proved how awkward the entire situation had become. Dylan never proved short on words.

“Isn’t it obvious?” She made a self-deprecating laugh. “God… I’m such a-“

“Gorgeous, sexy, intelligent woman?”

She glanced over her shoulder. His heavy-lidded, blue-green eyes glowed with doubt, the candlelight flickering over his armbands. His thin beard smoldered like burnished copper.

“Finding you asleep in my bed turned me on a helluva lot more than any of this ever would.” He held out his arm to encompass the mood she’d tried to set.

Her heart pounded wildly, drawing her attention. It struck against her ribs with persistent command, his words bringing a life to it she’d never felt before. His vitality called to it, energizing it…

Filling it.

She couldn’t keep the smile from her face. “If you like where that came from, I have a snore that will really give you a hard on.”

Her joke didn’t garner the smile she’d hoped to gain. He acted so out of character, his expression serious, his brows drawn as he stared at her in the wavering darkness.

Sitting up, he reached for her, his large, warm hand resting against the cool flesh of her bare back. A shiver raced up her spine and shimmied into her shoulders, his fingers trailing back and forth beneath her bra strap.

The simple touch mesmerized, her entire being focused on the gentle strength of his feather-light caress. Leaning forward, he lowered his mouth to hers. He kissed her with brief brushes of his lips, each one more intense, lingering longer, drawing her under his spell.

His hand stilled on her back, the other holding her jaw in a light grasp, his mouth opening over hers. No sense of urgency filled her, no rush, just a building anticipation and a gradual, concentrated awakening that built inside her very soul. His lips, his lazy, open-mouthed kisses drew it to the surface like a spring in the green grass, nourishing the need he created with adept care.

He edged closer and flicked open her bra. His palm smoothed over her back in light, soothing strokes, his fingers feathering through her long hair before finding their way back to her flesh. Slanting his mouth over hers, he dipped inside, drawing her gasp. He tasted of cinnamon toothpaste and Dylan, his breaths carrying over the low music.

God, he’d reduced her to a mindless, raging mess of desire, his slow hand snaking its way around her waist, driving her mad.

His fingers toyed with the underside of her breast, teasing, massaging with mind-numbing tenderness. She pulled away to catch her breath, her lungs struggling to-

He clamped his palm over her breast and crushed his mouth against hers. Her nerve endings, her very being shook with blazing need, a wince escaping her throat. For an intelligent woman, she couldn’t form a coherent thought, her body a slave to his every caress.

Peeling away her bra, he tossed it on the floor and lowered her back on the bed. Lying beside her, he fed her languid, meticulous kisses, leaving her hungrier with each brush of his lips. His warmth along her side made her shiver, his feather-light teasing between her breasts stirring her need to maddening heights.

Lowering her panties down her hips, he waited for her to lift her rear before tugging them off. He skimmed his hand up her inner thigh with sluggish, hypnotizing strokes, his fingers stopping just shy of her core, teasing her with merciless tenacity.

He pulled away, surprising her. His whisper brushed across her lips. “Can I touch you, Teague?”

Swallowing hard, she could do nothing but nod, knowing she would do him serious bodily harm if he didn’t do
something
.

“I feel like I’m on fire, Dylan.”

He gave her one of his arrogant, half grins before he lowered his mouth to hers again, his fingers playing in her wet, swollen folds. His torturous pleasure confused her, excited her...

He dipped into her moist center. She bucked her hips, a groan escaping her throat.

Breaking the kiss, he leaned his forehead against hers, his breathing difficult. “Damn… Teague…”

Clutching the back of his head, she pulled his mouth back to hers and delved deep, her kiss more urgent, more demanding. His finger teased her and tortured her at the same time, weaving a thrall of such all-consuming, uncontrollable desire it frightened her.

Pulling away, she arched her back, the blood rushing through her ears. “Dylan…”

“What baby?” he said, his ministrations now determined and focused.

Coherent thought vanished. All worry about the future and her health vaporized under the onslaught of his assault. Gripping the blankets in tight fists, she cried out, his manhood like hard, hot steel against her hip. The wave formed like thunderclouds in an approaching storm, powerful in its tantalizing wonder. It built, climbing higher and higher, Dylan’s encouraging words constructing it like an artist with his clay. Her nerve-endings stretched to their limits, drawing her very spirit to the surface.

“
Dylan
,” she cried on a breathless gasp, as staggering pleasure rushed through her, taking her to a sanctuary of desire she’d never seen or felt before.

Basking in his kisses on her forehead, her cheeks, her throat, she smiled as he moved down her body, never slowing, his intent clear.

One orgasm wasn’t enough.

Gone was the sweet, slow foreplay, the patient withdrawal of her inner need. Dylan was on a mission, and he’d jumped into the foray with his usual energy and enthusiasm.

His mouth clamped over her breast, hot, wet against her flesh, his tongue eliciting a raw cry of renewed yearning. Moving on top of her, he showered the other breast with the same mind-numbing attention, suckling her with base hunger, his touch ardent, almost frenzied.

Fever consumed her again, different from before, an inferno of impatience. He trailed moist, open-mouthed kisses down her body, his destination obvious.

While her mind whirled, wondering how she could find release as intense as the first time, his mouth covered her, his tongue lapping, daring her to deny its authority. Opening her legs wider, she moaned aloud, holding him there, basking in his skilled attention. Lifting her hips in both hands, he feasted on her, hungry, moaning against her, his armbands cool against her hot thighs.

Release came swift and strong, pushing through her with the intensity of an firestorm, flaming and powerful. Arching her back, she cried out with abandon, pleasure sizzling through her like a fuse to an explosion.

The flames ebbed to soft embers. She smiled as ecstasy settled into her limp bones. “Dylan…”

Climbing over her, his beautiful, glowing eyes swirled with restrained passion, his arms braced on the bed. His muscles strained against his flesh, corded and chiseled, the bold armbands lending to the sheer masculinity of his very being. Long, red hair fell over his flush cheeks, perspiration dotting his ripped torso.

More beautiful than any Greek sculpture, he was undeniably the most magnificent man she’d ever seen. Not only had God perfected the genetic code with him, He’d been showing off.

Dylan pushed against her entrance, his soft words laced with restraint. “I need you, Teague.”

His humble words sobered her. He’d spent every minute pleasing
her
, distracting her with sweet, fiery pleasure and mind-blowing elation. All at his own expense.

Her two orgasms didn’t satisfy the need to have him inside her, to feel that exposed oneness with him.

“Yes…”

He thrust inside her with impatience, as if he’d pushed his need to the very limits. Stilling, his breathing turned harsh, his thickness expanding, filling her with such joy it stunned her. She’d never felt this connection with another person, this closeness. She felt like she was drowning, in over her head with this foreign tie she felt with him.

Shutting his eyes, he swallowed hard and made an uncomfortable laugh. “Damn, Teague. This is intense.”

Wrapping an arm around his neck, she gave him a blatant, open-mouthed kiss that relayed the hunger that still remained, the absolute force of her sudden fear. Breaking away, he thrust into her over and over, like he ran from something – or toward it – the pleasure escalating, deepening. She met him with each thrust, their breaths heavy and loud in the dark room, a sheen of sweat on her skin. She never knew such pleasure could be had, that such bliss was out there for the taking.

Her name tore from his mouth, surprising her, knowing he focused on her as he found release. When her own climax came seconds later, she held him tight, wondering how she would ever leave him now.

***

“I can’t believe you brought all of this and didn’t at least throw in a bologna sandwich or something.”

Laughing, Teague fed Dylan frosted corn flakes as she lay stretched out on top of him in bed. She wore one of his sleeveless t-shirts, his hands cupping her bare rear as he reclined against the pillows.

The woman had rocked his world last night. After he made love to her, they slept a couple of hours before she woke him with her mouth, making him come with an intensity that shocked him. Falling asleep again, they woke hours later to experiment with positions even he hadn’t tried. The conservative, strait-laced doctor had a passionate nature, a sexual hunger that thrilled the hell out of him. He’d sensed it in her, felt it in her kisses, suspected it that day in the exam room.

Relaxed like this morning, the woman was absolutely exquisite, her silver eyes shining, her dark hair like silk where it lay on his chest. She looked like a college girl, young and carefree. Yet, he knew the intimidating intelligence behind that beauty, knew the danger she attracted by just being her.

“Considering this was my first attempt at seduction,” she said, “I deserve a learning curve. Note to self: ensure victim is a chef, or bring food.”

His nostrils flared as his jaw clenched tight. There was no way in hell he’d let her do this with anyone else. She belonged to him now.

“I’m no chef, Teague.”

A frown flickered across her face before she gave him a sarcastic grin. “Okay, then I’ll make sure all of my victims have a spoon for their cereal.”

He flipped her onto her back and grinned down at her. “You think you’re so smart…” Kissing her behind the ear, he inhaled the lilac scent of her hair. “Oh, wait. You are...”

Her voice held a note of humor. “I got
you
in bed, didn’t I?”

Pulling away, he stared down at her, surprised at her question. “I found you in
my
bed.”

“Darn, another flaw in my method.” She pulled in her lips over her teeth.

“Your method is spot on, baby.” Brushing back the hair from her face, he gave her a light kiss on the lips. “Why didn’t you tell me you talked to the clone?”

Her smile vanished, a corn flake stopping midway to his mouth.

“I haven’t talked to you.” She stared at his throat.

With a hand under her chin, he lifted her face to his. “That’s a conversation starter, if I’ve ever heard one.”

Rolling out from under him, she sat up on the bed. “I didn’t want to fight with you.”

“Fight?” He frowned at her. “We fight?”

She tilted her head and hiked up an eyebrow. “Dylan, you’ve distrusted me from the beginning. I didn’t want to argue about my conversation with him.”

Taking her hand in his, he rubbed a thumb over the vein on her left hand. “I know Mitchell sent you to see him.” Lowering his voice, he added, “And, I trust you.”

Glancing away, she rose from the bed and picked up her bra and panties from the floor.