Heroes In Uniform (34 page)

Cash wrapped his arm her, holding her in place, never letting her go. His chest still heaved, but fuck it, he didn’t care. The roar of her gasps slowed. Nicola caught her breath quietly against his lips.

Seconds. Minutes. Who the hell knew how much time passed? Their bodies needed to be held. Their minds needed rest.

Late afternoon light had shifted deeper though the windows since they’d walked inside. She shifted under his arms. Her finger traced a path on his bicep.

He whispered, “Sweet girl?”

“Hmm?”

“You’re in charge of all normal activities from here on out.” Cash stroked her hair, trailing his hand through it, then caressing her shoulder.

She laughed softly against his chest, and it felt damn good. “No kidding. You were going to make me watch
Pawn Stars
or something. Don’t lie.”

Maybe.
“Stay here tonight.”

“I can’t.”

“Wrong answer.”

“I have to prep before I meet the butler tomorrow afternoon. We fly out to Turkey for a simple drop and dash.”

Cash propped up on an elbow. “What? When’d that come through?”

“Check your messages. I found out on my way out of Sugar’s.”

“You’re not going anywhere with that asshole until Roman and I suit up and—”

“Shut your face, Cash. You’re ruining my post-orgasmic glow.”

Shut my face?
Most women clamored for the right thing to say to make him stick around after a quickie. Not Nic. And this wasn’t a quickie. He tucked her back against him.

He could handle this. He could. And he could do it without killing people for no reason other than to protect her.

Garrison’s Creed
: Chapter Twenty

There were a lot of ways to wake up in the morning. Nicola turned in the rumpled sheets to snuggle against Cash’s naked chest. Her legs entwined with powerful thighs and calves. One of his arms was pinned beneath her. The other arm drew her closer even though he never seemed to wake. A sleepy sigh blew into her hair, stubble brushed her skin, and her lips tugged into a grin. Yeah, lots of ways to wake up, but this was the best ever.

“Going somewhere?” his sleep soaked voice asked as he pulled her tighter then kissed the side of her head.

“Good morning,” she whispered, not wanting to disturb the morning quiet. A warm rush of tingles ran through her.

“Yup, it is, but go back to sleep. You kept me up entirely too late last night.”

She laughed, recalling the night. They’d lain on the couch forever before he’d baked a frozen pizza. Cash really needed something besides frozen food in his kitchen, but those were the breaks of the job: never knowing when he’d be home. Pizza was the most benign problem he could have in the housing department.

Nic shook her head, not wanting to think about the sacrifices and decisions their jobs drove them to. Instead, she remembered Cash rocking her world in bed. And in the whirlpool bath. No wonder he was still out. Blissfully numb, Nicola smiled at the ceiling, ready to sink back to dreamland.

“I don’t want to deal with today yet, Nic. Go back to sleep,” he murmured.

Today, she’d have to deal with David the Butler and milk enough intel to warrant an on-the-books espionage investigation. At least Istanbul was one of her favorite cities, and she had the opportunity to wear another designer dress, paid for with the CIA’s credit card. Beth would pick out another beauty, arrange for all necessary documents and back story, and have it delivered to her apartment by the time she arrived home. Too bad Cash wouldn’t be able to see her dress. Maybe this one would survive the job, and she could wear it out sometime. Or at least try it on so he could take it off.

Nic closed her eyes, drifting to sleep, and hoping to dream of him.

* * *

Cash eased up on the gas. They were closing in on Nic’s apartment, and he wasn’t ready to let her go. Nor was he ready for her to fly halfway around the world with the freakin’ butler.

“This sucks.” Cash blew out another annoyed breath.

“Get over it, Cash. You can’t throw tantrums every time I have to work. You knew partnering with me meant that I had to go on assignment with David first.” Nic pointed to the front of her apartment, a first floor balcony setup.

She really shouldn’t live on the first floor. Too easy for an asshole to slip in, even if the apartment was wired, and she slept with a gun under the pillow.

“Yeah, yeah. I know.” He could bitch all he wanted. Nic heading into the field with that dickhead David wasn’t doing much for his mental state. Anxiety burned off his good mood and made his hands itch to palm a .45 and follow her around. Just in case.

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be back in a couple of days. I’ll send you intel as I can. You’ll hear from me a thousand times before my feet hit U.S. soil again, then we’ll hook up and take the fucker down.”

He grumbled, staring at the too-high bushes near her windows. Those should really be trimmed back. He could do that for her while she was gone, make the place a little more safe.

How had he given in on this partner shit anyway? Oh yeah. She gave him no choice. Plus, she could handle herself. All things he knew well, but they didn’t do shit for his nerves. A man-gene somewhere in his brain lit up like a neon sign, screaming for him to put an end to this operation, or at least put an end to her hopping on a Learjet with a double agent and doing a Farm job.

She didn’t direct him to a parking space, which was just as well. Nic leaned over and gave him a kiss.

“It’s going to be fine, Cash.”

“I’m not worried.”

She laughed. “You look ready to rip the steering wheel off its column.”

Cash shrugged. “Not going to rehash it again. If you change your mind, call me. There’s always a plan B.”

Nicola kissed him again. “The reason you love—like me is I don’t need a plan B.”

“True.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. She was going to say love
.
People say love all the time. He loved pizza. He loved working for Titan. They didn’t cut back and say like. Casually, the words were interchangeable. Unless they weren’t. Holy fuck. Or was he over-thinking this? Cash cleared his throat. “Bye, sweet girl.”

Waving over her shoulder, Nicola bee-lined without looking back and opened a door. One set of keys for one lock. Easy deadbolt action. She needed more security than that. He revved the engine, toying with the idea of telling her that now. It’d only take a second. But, shit. She wouldn’t see it like that, would she? Nope. It’d be all, “I can take care of myself.”

He put the truck in drive. Maybe he’d go track down Sugar and see what she had to say about her one-on-one with Nic. Maybe not. He wasn’t trying to piss Nicola off, just get some details.

Pulling out of the apartment complex, he reached for his phone to call Rocco. Calling Roman would be a mistake. Rocco knew enough about him and about the situation to provide some kind of sounding board, even if he only did it to have a live role in their drama.

Two rings and Rocco was ready for his role as Dr. Drew. Good, because Cash was throwing him a big one.

Cash merged into traffic and let the convo rip. “Roc, man. You think love can be all just add water and resuscitate?”

Rocco choked on something and coughed for the next thirty seconds. Someone in the background asked him if he was dying. After a pop and fizz, Roc gulped into the phone, then hacked out, “Come again?”

Yeah, that was about what he should’ve expected. Cash bobbed and weaved through traffic, wanting like hell to get back home. “Like if you felt all happy ever after about someone once, but it didn’t end up like that. Do you think if the chance came up again, it’d happen fast?”

“Fuck me. Are you serious?”

Maybe calling Rocco was as good an idea as leaving Nic and Sugar alone. “I’m having freakin’ issues, man. I need some kind of advice to move me from the Hugh Hefner side of the game to… like… see, I don’t even know an example. Someone who doesn’t have a cell phone full of names like Blondie-Bartender and Purple-Car-Pink-Thong.”

With a full mouth, Rocco garbled, “There should be more stable men with families on television than Bruce Jenner. He shouldn’t be the poster child. Nothing about that Kardashian clan should be the gold standard.”

“Spare me the social commentary, Roc.”

“So what do you want from me? Could you love her? Well, shit. From what I’ve seen—”

“I didn’t say a thing about being in love.” Cash blew out a breath. “Christ, man.”

“Listen, asshole. You said happy ever after. Like Disney fairy tale bullshit. That means the L-bomb. All those Tinkerbells and mermaids end up in a castle with a prince. It’s the same fucking thing. Right?”

Nic’s still in love with me
. Cash’s stomach was on the spin cycle. He checked his rear view mirror and saw that he was smiling. He didn’t want to, but a huge grin was plastered across his goddamn face.
Oh, hell.
He hit the gas and passed a couple of cars over a double yellow line.

“Roc, if you breathe a word about this to Roman, I’ll—”

A cell phone rang. He checked his. Nope. Rocco was still on the line. Another ring. Cash looked toward the noise. Down on the floorboard, Nicola’s cell lay face down. He tried to grab it and watch the road.

“Gotta go,” Cash said.

“You’re welcome, dick.”

Click. End call. He pulled hard into a parking lot and clipped the corner curb. The cell continued to ring. He grabbed it and looked at the caller ID. Unknown Number. Of course. She needed this before leaving with the butler. She’d probably get a burner phone for the trip, but she probably needed this phone too. And if he brought it back to her, he could mention the whole one deadbolt didn’t do shit thing.

Drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, he decided to return the phone. Cash squealed tires and gunned it back to Nic’s apartment. It wasn’t like he could call her to say, “hey, I found your phone.” He wanted to look into her eyes and try to see into her brain. Check out that whole love-like conundrum.

What would it even mean if she did love him? His stomach flipped into his throat. His mouth felt dry and watery all at the same time, and that fucking smile tugging at his cheeks was enough to give him a headache. His head pounded like a freight train burning coal.

Like. Love. He felt like a lunatic.

What if he went down that road? It was all good and fine to grab her and say mine. And he’d loved her once.

Could he…

Or rather was he…

In a blink, Cash was in front of her apartment and uninterested in finding a parking spot. He parked in the fire lane, holding her phone in his hand like it was the only damn reason he’d flown back to her place. His lungs pumped in his chest, and his blood raced. Such a familiar feeling. Like high school, driving to her place before Homecoming or before their pool party for two.

He rapped on the door, his gut full of butterflies on crack, whirling in a tornado. Why? What was he even going to—?

A man in a towel opened the door. Wet hair. Damp chest. About to die.

“Who the fuck are you?” The bellowed question came from the bottom of his boots and burst from his mouth, as Cash stepped through the door. He heard a shower running.

“Hey! What the hell?”

Cash clearly had the advantage. Dude looked GQ, even in his towel. He’d kill the bastard. “Where’s Nic?”

“The goddamn shower. Who the fuck are—”

Bam. Cash cold-clocked the fucker and sent him flying across the living room and into a side table. It crashed over. A lamp and picture frames shattered on the tile floor.

Nicola rounded the corner in a towel, soap suds dripping from her hair and a gun in her wet hand. He marched toward the .357 pistol, daring her to put that dual action recoil to good use.

“Goddamn it, Cash!”

“Goddamn me? Goddamn me!”

Nicola slid back the cover plate, ejecting the loaded round. “You have to go.” The man was still out, and she stepped to him. “Get out!”

Everywhere he looked, Cash saw red. No. Actually, he saw exactly how he pictured Nic decorating her place. Muted colors. Things all matchy-matchy. It made him sick. The knocked out asswipe on the floor made him sicker. “Explain him. Now.”

“To the raving lunatic knocking out people in their own home?”

It was his home?

But it was her home.

This was
their
home.

The bile in his stomach churned. A spot behind his eye throbbed. Both reactions were much better than grabbing the dude in the towel and draining the life out of his limp-assed body.

“You forgot your phone.” Cash threw it against the wall. It shattered. Stepping over the man, he slammed the door on the way out. Screw her.

Garrison’s Creed
: Chapter Twenty-One

Nicola grabbed a napkin and mopped the soap from her eyes. Garnier Fructis shampoo might actually have a splash of citrus. Her right eye stung like it was drenched in fresh-squeezed lemon, and she blinked rapidly. What the hell just happened? This was a nightmare situation, Jackson wearing a towel, just out of the shower. Her in the same getup. This was beyond bad, in a lose Cash kind of way.

Her roommate was still out cold. Shit. She shook his shoulder. Nothing. Grabbing the throw off the couch, she draped it over his damp, cold skin.

“Wake up!” A trickle of blood ran down his cheek. Nicola shook him again. “Come on, Jackson. Wake up. Now!”

First aid kit.

She ran to the kitchen and trashed the cabinet under the sink. Nothing. Where would it be stashed? It’d help if she was here more often. Nic slammed through all the cabinets. Nothing again, and the whap, whap of the doors opening and closing didn’t cause Jackson to stir.

Linen closet
. Nic ran around the corner and threw the door open. Towels hit the floor. A storm of wash cloths followed.

First aid kit! She found the blue box with the red cross and ripped it open. Band-Aids flew everywhere. The CIA would be very disappointed in her chaotic response right now.

Yes! Smelling salts.

She booked it back to Jackson, grabbed a pillow to stuff under his head, and cracked open the tube under his nose. His nose twitched. Once. Twice. Eyes flew open. His head tossed to the side, and he groaned, repulsed. His eyes were all kinds of confused.