Virtues (Base Branch Series Book 8) (9 page)

With her fierce blue gaze on him, Tyler kissed Cara’s core. Using his lips and tongue, he delved through her sleek, rich textures. His hands skated up her hips, finding those tiny nubs. A swift pinch and tug curved her spine, thrusting her clit across his taste buds. His hips rocked without permission, desperate to have her again. But not yet. Back and forth, her pebbles brushed across his calloused palms. He molded her small breasts in his grip and continued to torment her reddened beads, while laving her clit.

Her head shook slowly and then more forcefully. Tears pooled at the edges of her eyes. Every breath strained through a moan.

Tyler retracted one hand from her breasts; scraping it over her chest, down her abdomen, and across her mons, he shoved three fingers into her slick channel to the last knuckle. He hooked them inside and called her to him with quick, repeated retractions.

Cara’s hips rocked. Her breaths shallowed. The skin across her chest flushed to an exquisite hue of pink. Her lips parted around a cry that shook something loose inside him.

He crawled up her body, thrust himself deep, and surrendered. They fucked with an abandon that scared the hell out of him. His arms wrapped around her waist. His mouth fixed to hers. They rode each other to the brink. Sweat slicked. Saliva pooled. And together, they crashed headlong.

She pulsed around him. Her fingernails dug into his shoulders. Her heels ground against his tailbone. For the second time, Tyler lost himself inside her. He shot off the cliff and leaped into the freefall.

Pulses of cum were still shooting inside Cara when she grabbed his head between her hands and demanded, “What’s going on? Where have you been?”

“Jesus.” Tyler’s forehead collapsed onto her breast. Thank goodness, she didn’t fight him on it. One hand released his face while the other cupped his cheek and held him to her bosom. His arm tightened around her until they shook—not from exertion, but from the terrifying realization that he was exactly where he needed to be.

“Well?” Cara had given him half of a minute and probably thought herself quite charitable.

“You’re killing me, woman.” He brushed a kiss over the soft mound of her breast and shifted his gaze to hers. “Chasing down chatter.”

“About?”

Tyler pulled out, retrieved his shirt from the edge of the bed, and cleaned them up as best he could. He’d like to take her to the shower, get her all clean, and then… Cara grabbed his wrist, pulled him back to her chest, and stared him down with a sharply hiked brow. He pressed a kiss to his thumb and rubbed it over her lips.

“You.”

Her heart kicked against her chest, reverberating loudly inside his eardrum. “Who was it?” The steel in her voice had returned, but her heart couldn’t lie. She was scared, and he hated it.

“North Korea,” he said in answer.

“You didn’t go inside, did you?” A trill of fear escaped.

“Mmmhmm.” He prodded her entrance with the head of his cock and winked.

“Be serious.”

“Sorry. Kind of.” He nuzzled the valley between her breasts. “I’m crazy, not suicidal. And I’m here, aren’t I?” Again, he prodded her.

She purred, momentarily sidetracked. His lips trailed kisses over her neck and up to her mouth.

“I chased it around the border. Spent some time in Paju.”

“Ugh.”

The way she gagged told him she’d been there on business, not pleasure.

“Popov’s captors from back in the day had heard she’d been reported missing and started asking questions.”

“So you make sure the answers didn’t involve my name.”

“No one in the CIA knew she was after you except Nate.”

Cara pushed up onto her elbows. He relented and sat, letting her up. Her tongue sucked over her top teeth. “I should have killed him when I had the chance.”

“I don't think we needed to. According to the CIA, her target was a Russian defector who was seeking asylum in the States. Consequently, the woman doesn’t exist.”

“How do you know?”

“I have a friend in London with friends in Moscow. We took a vacation and got some answers.”

“I see you did.” Her finger tickled his ribs, circling a smattering of bruises. When Cara withdrew her hand, she scooted to the headboard. The longer she looked away, the more she withdrew.

“Hey.” Tyler kicked off his boots and pants, crawled to the headboard, and reached for her hand. “I ride bulls. It’ll take a hell of a lot more than a handful of thugs to end me.”

Cara’s pulled her knees to her chest but let him grab her hand. He intertwined their fingers, turning them every which way. They had strong hands. Quick hands. The hands of killers.

“Did you kill Popov?” He didn’t really know why he asked since he already knew the answer.

“Yes.” She looked down at their joined hands and said no more.

“Just yes?”

“Not just yes.” Her pointy gaze sliced him open. “I sleep better knowing that crazy bitch isn’t looking for my daughter or me every minute of every day. I tried diplomacy, but it didn’t work.”

“A North Korean torture camp isn’t diplomatic.”

Cara retrieved her hand and straightened.

“Popov didn’t think so either. And as much as I’d love to take credit for putting her there, her own stubborn vendetta against me led her there. I was in New Guinea.” She shrugged and pursed her lips. No sweat off her back.

“Did you leave any trace in North Korea?” He was pushing, but he needed to understand her.

Cara tossed her legs over the edge of the bed and stood. “I didn’t make her follow them.” She folded her arms over her pretty breasts. “If you have a problem with it—”

“I’m just trying to understand—”

“What?” she shrieked.

Damn. This was exactly how he didn’t want this to go. She stood there, indignant and waiting.

“How you, how people can kill without remorse.”

“I knew this was a mistake. You need to go.”

Tyler opened his mouth to speak, but she stalked into the bathroom and closed the door behind her. A moment later, the shower roared to life.

“Way to go, jackass.” He jerked the boxers and pants from the floor and stuffed his legs into them. Next, he stomped into his boots and eyed his shirt. Shirtless Friday, it was.

He fastened his belt, stuffed his gun into his waistband, and headed for the bathroom. She hadn’t bothered to lock it. When he yanked back the curtain, the piles of suds on her head, squinted eyes, and wide mouth said she hadn’t expected him to hang around.

Cara ducked her head into the spray. Bubbles cascaded down her blond hair and smooth skin. Tyler paid close attention to the sweet dimples above her butt and then the hard swell of her cheeks. His palms itched to get them in his grasp again. Too soon she turned, all trace of surprise gone.

“Luck and Rin are signing on a house this morning. They’ll be here in less than an hour.”

“I’ll drop you off.”

“No, you won’t.”

He canted his head, studied her for a minute, and then nodded.

“What does that…look mean?” She rubbed a hint of soap from her lips.

“I’ll give you space. I’d leave you alone if you really wanted me to.”

“I want you to leave me alone.”

A fat smile stretched his sore mouth.

“What now?”

“At least, your kiss doesn’t lie.” He blew her one, closed the curtain, and left her to her own devices. For now.

W
hy did
he have to be right, damnit?

Cara banded her hair into a high ponytail and tried her best to ignore her reflection. The stray wisps she smoothed back didn’t count. Her knowing gaze did, though. So did the luggage bags hitching a ride under her eyes. Sleep hadn’t come easily for the last two weeks. Last night, it hadn’t come at all. Her gaze caught on the freshly made bed. Instead of wasting a night wallowing in their combined scents on the sheets, she should’ve retrieved the linens after returning from the day spent in a real estate lawyer’s office and then cleaning their new house.

His scent was gone, but the feel of his hand on her skin, of him filling her, would haunt her for the rest of the day. Along with the question—how could he lose himself with her while thinking her heartless?

The hairbrush landed with a clatter on the vanity counter. She wanted nothing more than to pick it up again and slam it onto the counter repeatedly. Once upon a time, she’d orchestrated the fall of a government. These days, she couldn’t govern her own emotions.

My, how the mighty had fallen.

Her phone beeped, alerting her to another text message. The knot of nerves behind Cara’s eye sockets loosened. Rin had been texting for the last hour, asking her opinion on everything from paint colors to mothballs. Eight out of ten questions, Cara googled before responding. No way was she a Holly-Homemaker expert, but to be included, needed… It was everything. She didn’t need anything more than her children.

Cara abandoned the frazzled woman in the mirror, collected her pouch purse, and slung it across her chest. Worn khaki shorts, an equally threadbare T-shirt, and sneakers didn’t allow much room for a concealed weapon. She refused to ruin another outfit that concealed while helping her kids move into their new house.

Head down, she read Rin’s message while she headed for the door. ‘Luck says pile it all into the food truck and make one trip. It still smells like bleach. I say we pack each of our cars and make several trips. You’re the deciding vote.’

She opened the door and chuckled. “Way to shove me in the middle.”

“Well, darlin’, if you sit in the middle, that’ll give us more room for their stuff. It’ll also give me a chance to cop a feel.”

A wave of gooseflesh coursed over her skin, and her head snapped up. Tyler Grace screamed moonshine and line dancing as he leaned against the passenger side of his truck, a gooseneck horse trailer jointed into its bed. One booted heel propped on the back tire, he had the tip of his opposite thumb hooked into the loop nearest his massive belt buckle, and his other arm draped over the edge of the truck bed.

Saliva and irritation pooled in Cara’s mouth.

“But we’ll start with a shotgun. Let you warm up to the idea.” His brows waggled as he shoved off the truck, sauntered to the passenger door, and opened it.

“I told you I wanted you to stay away.”

“Yeah.” He nodded. “I heard the lie.”

“Why are you here, Tyler?”

“Because I like the feeling I get when I’m near you.”

“A hard-on? Hold that thought.” She unzipped her purse and shoved her hand inside. “I’ll give you a few hundreds. You can take them to the titty bar and get the same feeling.”

“Cara.” A warning current pulled on her name. When she looked up, the hood of his brow had darkened his sweet green eyes, and a muscle ticked in his jaw. “It’s more than that, and you know it.”

Her stupid heart bumped.

She stepped back and stumbled over the sidewalk.

“You’re not a coward, and you no longer have valid reasons to vanish. Don’t run.” A hint of desperation peppered his timbre, and it sparked her rage. Her spine stiffened.

“Why not? Why are you being nice to me, giving me gifts, and doing things for me?” She pointed at the trailer he intended to use to move her daughter’s things. “Why are you fucking with my head?” Cara’s hand should have landed on her forehead, but damn it all, it flew to her heart. “Why bother when I’m a heartless killer?”

He stepped forward and grabbed her hand before she could gather herself enough to retreat. His fingers interlaced hers, while his other hand grabbed the back of her neck and held tight. That green gaze lowered to hers.

“I don't think you are heartless, Cara. I wanted to know how you separate the two parts of yourself.” His lids lowered and squeezed for a long second before opening. “I can't separate it, and it's killing me.”

Her heart picked that moment to plop into a sopping heap onto the ground. She could blame it on the lack of sleep and pheromones, but the bone-deep ache in her chest told her it was so much more. This courageous man revealed his innermost demons, and she’d give up her life to slay them.

Fuck.

“Tyler, this work isn’t for everyone.”

“I know.” The square of his jaw waggled. “I’m good at it, and I do good things too.”

“It’s the only thing that’s kept you above water this long.”

His grip on her neck slipped into her hair. He nodded and pulled her closer.

Cara let herself go. She removed the hand from her heart and placed it over his. “You know, this smartass asked me once, what if those same decisions hurt you? Same goes. What if the good you do hurts you?”

“I don’t know.”

Tyler tipped up her jaw with his thumb and drew her near.

The phone sandwiched between her other hand and his belly beeped. She jumped, pulled her hand back, and glanced at the screen. Another message from Rin. ‘What’s your vote?’ It beeped again. ‘We have fruit, eggs, biscuits, and coffee.’ And again. ‘Where are you?’

He grazed a kiss over her brow. “Someone’s impatient. Let’s go.” His hand slipped from her hair to the small of her back and ushered her toward the open door. “I wasn’t kidding about the middle seat.”

“Or copping a feel?” she asked.

“I never kid about that.” Tyler hoisted her into the seat and handed her the belt. “Safety first.” The words practically lodged in his throat before they’d fully exited. “Well, usually.” He closed the door, rounded the truck, and climbed in on his side, guilt shortening his movements.

Safety. Sex. He thought he could have gotten her pregnant. Understanding hit her like a five-ton truck with a fully loaded trailer at its back. It wedged her heart in her airway suffocating her of oxygen and the love she’d dared to entertain for this man. For this young man with his entire life ahead of him. With a wife. With children. His own flesh and blood. And most definitely without her.

Saved from speaking while he maneuvered the rig through the parking lot and crowded streets, Cara focused on regulating her heart rate, nausea, and breathing. After he had eased onto the interstate, he turned toward her. The edge of his big bottom lip clamped between his teeth as he was about to delve into a topic she couldn’t bear to discuss. She let him have it.

“Why aren't you a cattle rancher in Kalamazoo?”

His lips mashed together for several seconds before relaxing. “My analytical skills were off the charts in high school. I was recruited off the stage, and here we are.”

That explained why he’d gotten the jump on her in the warehouse the first time they’d met. It also probably meant he knew she was stalling from the serious conversation, but it didn't stop her from asking him a hundred different questions by the time they reached the place it had all started—the warehouse.

Cara kept her distance the rest of the day by putting the men in charge of moving the furniture and big boxes, while the girls focused on unpacking boxes and item placement. By the time it was all said and done, the sun had slipped toward the other half of the world. They all looked bedraggled and felt it too.

For a moment, Cara thought about bidding Tyler good night and staying behind. At least until he’d left and she could catch a cab or get one of the others to take her home. But who the hell was she kidding? She didn’t have a home. She had a shabby room in a shoddy motel, a bag of clothes, and not much more to her name. Besides, she needed to get rid of him once and for all. No more leading him or herself on.

She tried to do it on the interstate and then again at a streetlight while he was in the middle of a story about his, Oliver, and Hunter’s first mission. Every time, a thick lump formed in her throat.

The truck rumbled into the motel parking lot.

Cara’s heart pulsed in her belly.

“Isn’t it about time you found your own place,” he said.

Simultaneously, she cursed and thanked God. Cara narrowed her gaze and cut him with it. “One roll in the sack and you think you can—”

“Whoa.” His hands came up and settled her as if she was a skittish horse. “All I think is you’re racking up one hell of a hotel bill that you could use for a down payment or to put away to pay for a wedding venue.”

Why did he have to be so sensible and make this so hard? Why couldn’t he get pissed at her getting pissed and leave? Because he was analytical and not a hothead.

“If you’re not going to take the Bureau’s offer, I know people outside the industry. We could find you a job in a minute if money’s a problem.”

Money and the Bureau hit on sore subjects. She used the angst from them and the pain of knowing she couldn’t have what she wanted so desperately.

Cara iced out every emotion but anger.

“Look, Tyler. You’re a good lay. You’re even easy to talk to, but if you’re not man enough to blow a madman to bits and sleep better knowing you’ve done your part for your country, then you won’t be able to handle me. I kill first. And usually don't ask many questions. But thanks for everything and good luck.”

She wound the long, thin strap of her purse around her hand, squeezed as hard as she could to keep the tears at bay, and opened the passenger door. Before he could say a word, she’d slipped her thighs off the leather. Her heart bore the brunt of the impact with the asphalt. Cara slammed the door and bolted to her room without looking back.

After fumbling with the key, she let herself in, closed the door, and double locked it. Her breaths caught in her windpipe. The short, hiccupping pants stung almost as much as the tears that streamed over her cheeks, blurring the dim room. She slid down the door, covered her face, and cried.