Agent U7: Keegan (The D.I.R.E. Agency Series Book 7) (3 page)

If only he knew how desperate she was to forget. To wipe her mind clean of Cyrus and his sadistic abuse. To erase the days of endless loneliness that’d seemed to plod along in mocking, infinite cruelty.

When she kept busy, the past fell back into its coffin, silent…but not dead. As soon as she slowed down or laid her head on the pillow, it sprang from its ominous bed to taunt her.

“I told you why, Clint.”

Frowning, he shook his head as if he just didn’t understand. “Keegan, you could have any man you want.”

Even you?

“You’re talking about love,” she said on a sigh. “Like Natalie and Riordan.” Turning onto her side to face him dead on, she added, “It’s not for me.”

Cyrus had always said he loved her. If that was the definition of love, she wanted no part of it.

Sitting up straight, Clint’s voice took on an educational tone. Only he would turn scientist on her in bed.

“Back in college, I did a study on the concept of love. The scientist in me just didn’t buy that it truly existed.”

Sometimes, she’d wondered the same thing but, when she thought about Natalie and her father, all doubt fled her mind.

“Really…?” She propped a pillow against the headboard and patted it in invitation. He sat beside her, his legs outstretched, blocking the lamp light.

“I wanted to figure out the true definition of love, and whether it really existed. If it did, I wanted to discover why some people found it so easily, while others struggled.”

Rising up, she propped her head in her hand. “And?”

The words seemed to rush from his mouth, as though they were right on the tip of his tongue, as though he’d done the study yesterday and not over a decade ago.

“In my opinion, what Western culture calls love in songs, movies and books really isn’t love at all. It’s the opposite. It’s lust, control and possessiveness.”

That was exactly how Cyrus had treated her. He’d lusted after her in ways that still made her stomach roil, and struggled to keep her under his complete control. It had taken every ounce of strength she’d possessed to fight him, day in and day out. Yet, they both knew he always had the upper hand.

“Today,” Clint said, “we have a much better understanding of the intricacy of human nature and the diverse motives behind everything we do. Many times people make great sacrifices in the name of love, but usually they’re meaningless because they’re done out of some form of self-interest.”

She sat up on the bed to face him. With Cyrus, it has always been one-sided. Her needs were never considered, until he’d created Eve to slake his thirst.

Clint’s eyes held an earnest glint, a honest belief in what he’d discovered. “I believe that love,
real
love,
does
exist. It’s the greatest power in the universe. Love is a power that can do anything, defy anything, bear anything for the sake of who or what is loved.” His energized gaze bored into hers. “I also believe that as teens and beyond, we have an innate need to seek it, strive for it, but none of us are capable of handling that much power because of our own flaws.”

Frowning, she tried to make sense of his words. “You believe none of us can ever attain true love because love is selfless and we’re all…selfish?”

Nodding, he said, “Even from birth, babies have a selfish need to be fed, clothed and sheltered.”

Tilting her head, she gave him a skeptical look. “So, you don’t believe a mother’s love is sincere?”

His gaze bored into hers. “I know my mother’s love wasn’t sincere so, I have to believe most feel the same way. They have children for selfish motives.”

How sad. Keegan’s memories of her mother were all fond. She’d spoiled her and Natalie, and had stayed involved in their lives. Karen Meeks was a good mother.

Keegan laid her arms on her bent knees. “That’s hogwash, Clint. If parents didn’t have love they wanted to share, why have children at all?”

“Children fill a need in their lives.” He gave a nonchalant shrug. “Then again, many couples don’t have children anymore. It’s a fading tradition.” He turned to her. “As a matter of fact, did you know they took baby rooms out of model homes? People would rather plan for a home office or game room, than a nursery.” He shook his head. “Sounds to me like love is going out of style.”

Over her dead body. She did not find her freedom only to live in a loveless world. Peace went hand-in-hand with love. If she wanted peace, she needed love around her.

All the more reason to defeat Cyrus and this Madam once and for all.

Lifting her chin, she said, “If Cyrus and the Madam can strive for their own idea of the perfect world, maybe I’ll just do the same thing and fill it with love.”

He gave her a lopsided grin. “Oh, yeah? How would you do that?”

She gave him a heavy-lidded stare before leaning forward to pucker her lips. “Well, we could start with sex and see where that takes us.”

Eyes wide, he jumped up from the bed as if he’d been burned. “You don’t want me, remember?”

Rising to her knees, she walked over to him on the mattress. He stiffened and held his ground.

“Are you scared of me, Clint?” She held her hands behind her back.

“No.” He glared at her. “I’m just not interested in a one-night stand.”

Pulling in her lips over her teeth, she tried to hide her smile before she spoke. “You’re trying to stay loyal to a woman you haven’t met yet?”

Nostrils flared, he spoke with defiance. “No, I’m just not interested.”

Her gaze went to the prominent length behind his fly. If that wasn’t interested, she
really
wanted to see what his version of interested was… ”Are you sure?”

He crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m sure.”

With a skeptical look, she sat back on her haunches. “So, you’re going to spend the rest of your life working for D.I.R.E. without trying to find true love?”

He gave his head an adamant shake. “On the contrary, I want a family one day—soon.” He lowered his voice. “I want to see if my ideas for a perfect family really work. My parents’ ideas sure as hell didn’t.”

Clint carried a burden. Resentment resonated in his words, along with an underlying guilt. Climbing off the bed, she went to the mini fridge and pulled out two small bottles of wine.

She handed one to him. “So, you didn’t have a happy childhood?”

Unscrewing the top, he set it on the nightstand before he sat on the edge of the bed. “No. When I was a kid, my parents traveled often. My mom worked for the government and was gone a lot. My father was gone not so much from his scientific work, as cheating on my mother. Pretty soon, they were both cheating and ignoring my brother and I completely.”

She sat facing him, her back against the bedpost. “Do you still see them?”

“My father died of a heart attack when I was in college. They divorced when I was a kid. My mom left and I stayed with my dad.” He took a long swallow of wine, his Adam’s apple bobbing with each gulp. “The last time I saw my mom was a few years ago. She was seeing someone and seemed happy.”

Pain, clear and profound, left deep grooves around his mouth and in his forehead, his eyes small and filled with remorse. His parents may have found their own happiness, but they’d left Clint alone and bereft. The poor man didn’t have any examples of true love to consider, no umbrella of affection to find refuge.

During her years with Cyrus, she could always count on him to keep her safe. According to Clint’s assessment, he’d done so in
his
best interest.

Whereas, she believed her family had truly loved her, despite Clint’s findings. It had been that knowledge, knowing they were out there and loved her that had kept her going.

Although Cyrus had blocked most of her access to the internet, he would allow her to watch television. Through the years, she’d seen her father on air a handful of times and ridiculously tried to contact him through mental telepathy, hoping, somehow, he would hear her prayers.

Clint’s parents had him right in front of their eyes and hadn’t heard his pleas.

“I’m sorry,” she said, in a low voice.

A bitter laugh escaped his wet lips. “You’re sorry? The woman that lived in captivity for over twenty years? I don’t deserve your sympathy.”

Resting her palm on his arm, she felt him shiver. “Just because I was a victim, doesn’t belittle your situation.”

Pulling away, he stood and walked to the desk chair. “Go to sleep, Keegan.”

Staring at his muscular back, she held her arms wide. “I thought we were having a deep conversation here.”

“It’s over.” He plopped down in the seat and chugged the rest of his wine.

“Why?”

Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he said, “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

He
was through talking so the conversation was over? “Why? Because you’re uncomfortable?”

He slammed down the empty bottle on the desk. The bottle fell over on its side and rolled onto the carpet. “No, dammit, because I’m the reason she left.”

Chapter 3

Keegan stared at Clint across the aisle of the outdoor wedding venue in Seagrove Park. Anything not to stare at the Pacific Ocean behind her. While many found it beautiful, she’d stared at it nearly every day of her life and had no desire to look at it again.

After passing so many years in a dark cave, Riordan spent every possible moment outside and had requested the ocean side wedding. She couldn’t blame him. She’d probably do the same thing. However, that ocean had been her own kind of prison and despite her absolute hatred of the view, she’d endure it—for him.

So, she stared at the mildly sexy scientist across the aisle, the late afternoon sky behind him a medley of muted oranges, a gentle breeze ruffling his blond hair. He listened to the minister, along with the other super agents, as the man explained their duties as Riordan’s groomsmen. Natalie and the super S.O.s, as she’d come to call the agent’s significant others, chatted in front of a large group of white folding chairs tied with bows of burgundy tulle and ribbon. Setup for the ceremony and reception had stopped an hour before they’d arrived to give agents time to scour the area and ensure it was clear. The only non-D.I.R.E. personnel on the grounds were the minister, her father and Luke and Annie, Riordan’s parents.

“You’ll meet your assigned escort halfway down the aisle.” The minister pointed at the divide between the rows of white chairs.

“What do you consider halfway down the aisle?” Clint stood at ease, one hand folded on top of the other. “Can you point out a particular row, or do we base it on timing?”

Keegan couldn’t help but laugh. “Really, Robinson? This isn’t rocket science.” The others joined in as she held his amused gaze.

His mouth twisted before he spoke. “If it were, I wouldn’t have a question. As it is, this is my first wedding.”

“Mine, too,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. “But, you don’t see me asking ridiculous questions.”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Then perhaps, you’re smarter than I am. I’ll give you a call next time I install an enhancement.”

She mimicked his eyebrow. “And, I’ll call you when I think I’ve fallen in love.”

His face folded into a scowl as the others fell silent. They had to be wondering what she meant, why she would say such a thing.

The more she thought about it, the more his offended look puzzled her. What other man would take on the scientific aspect of love? Would dare, or care, to research its true existence?

“Sounds like we may all be back here very soon.” The minister smiled.

She and Clint shook their heads in unison. He considered her the opposite of everything he wanted in a woman, just as she wanted nothing to do with another blond scientist.

“Don’t hold your breath, Pastor Williams,” she said. “I just found my freedom.”

Clint’s voice held a sarcastic tinge. “Yes, she’s busy discovering…the wonders of life.”

Lifting her chin, she gave him a hard stare. “Yes, I am. You should try it sometime.”

The caw of a seagull punctuated the deafening silence, as Clint dismissed her with a turn of his head. Clearing his throat, the minister continued with the rehearsal.

Keegan would not apologize for her actions, would not look away in shame. Clint had no idea what it felt like to watch the world from the other side of the glass, to be isolated from everyone.

Over the years, visitors came and went to the island. None of them were allowed to spend time alone with her. Spending her life under Cyrus’s conditions had affected her in ways she hated to admit. She spent a lot of time talking with Natalie, the psychologist, while Natalie, the sister, refused to let her give in to the effects of Cyrus’s maltreatment.

An hour later, they sat down for the rehearsal dinner in
Truluck
’s restaurant on University Center Lane. The dark, luxurious establishment screamed of high-end dining, its ambiance quiet and romantic, despite the large Marlin on the wall. Luke had rented the entire place for the night to ensure their safety and privacy. She’d like to return one day, when an entertainer played at the piano, and the weather was nice enough to sit around the fire pit on the patio. Her to-do list continued to grow.

Natalie had placed her at the table between Clint and Jaydan, with Aidan and Cassandra Naylor across from them. Staff came and went with appetizers and entrees, along with free-flowing champagne. Her father and Luke sat on opposite ends of the table, trying to make the best of their strained relationship. She figured it was time, considering they’d be related in less than twenty-four hours.

Cutting into her roasted chicken, she dipped it in her gravy as Clint stopped a waiter. “Can you bring some catsup?”

Keegan tensed before Aidan spoke up. “And, a glass of water.”

With a brief nod, the server walked away.

“Catsup with prime ribeye, Clint?” Cassandra said, smiling at him.

Clint chuckled as he forked some parmesan mashed potatoes. “It’s the only way to go, Cass.”

“Do you want my water?” Keegan said, holding it up for Aidan. “I won’t drink it.”

With a smile that could make a girl babble incoherently, Aidan shook his head. “I can wait. I won’t need it until I drink the champagne.”

Cass said, “My fiancé has a weak stomach.”

Leaning over, he kissed her cheek. “And weak knees, when it comes to you.”

Clint swallowed down a bite of food. “I’m the same way with champagne, Cass. I have to follow with water or I’ll be tossing my cookies within the hour.”

Keegan frowned at her plate. Cyrus ate his steak with catsup. One more similarity between he and Cyrus. How could she find him attractive when he was so much like the man she hated most in the world? Did that confirm her emotional confusion?

Then again, he and Aidan shared the same aversion to champagne. She was just making more out of this than was realistic. Clint did similar things, but he was nothing like Cyrus. Clint was a man that would care for a bird in the wild, while Cyrus would keep it caged and feed it when necessary. They really weren’t similar at all, other than their occupations.

Clint’s strong hands caught her eye. They were large enough to nearly span her waist. She’d love to find out if they actually could. In all truth, she’d love to find out what they felt like on her skin, in her hair, holding her hand.

No, Keegan. You’re moving forward and leaving behind everything that reminds you of the past
.

She continued to watch him. He ate with such elegance—despite the catsup. With smooth, fluent movements, he chewed with little motion, those appealing hands slow and methodical as he cut into his steak and placed a bite in his mouth. Clint Robinson didn’t seem to hurry with anything. He carried a serene aura, a quiet, stoic character. He didn’t seem prone to outbursts or raising his voice, like Cyrus.

Yet, she knew his mind never stopped.

“It goes a lot faster if you pick up the food, rather than waiting for it to jump into your mouth.” Clint leaned over and spoke out of the side of his mouth.

She turned to look at him. His mouth sat just inches from hers, his springy bar soap permeating her nose. His pale eyes swirled in amusement before rounding in awareness.

Now that she studied him, he really was a beautiful man, with a strong jaw and brows a shade darker than his honey blond hair. When he looked into her eyes, as if there were no one else in the room, she felt like she’d stepped into a bed of soft clouds. Warmth spread throughout her body to flood her face, her lungs filling with gasps of fresh air.

She spoke in a low voice. “I’m really not hungry—for food, anyway.”

His gaze searched hers before dropping to her mouth. “You need to feed that insatiable appetite.”

“Are you volunteering?” Her hand found his thigh under the table. His muscles tensed beneath her palm.

Leaning away, he went back to his food without a response. Why did she feel this driving need to have him?

When she woke that morning, she’d felt refreshed for the first time in…forever. Clint slept beside her, sitting up, his hand on her back. He’d said she would stir and mumble in her sleep, unless he touched her. How odd.

Her sleep had always been fitful at best, due to her fear of Cyrus sneaking into the room and slipping into bed. It seemed strange that she didn’t mind Clint there at all.

Things had gotten better after Cyrus created Eve and used her for his sexual outlet. However, it didn’t erase the years of abuse and humiliation. He just wouldn’t go away until his desire was slaked, whether by his own hand or her need for him to disappear. Either way, she was forced to participate.

Clint didn’t know that. As far as D.I.R.E. was concerned, Cyrus had only touched her a few times when they were young.

Tears built behind her eyes.
No
. She wouldn’t allow them to rise to the surface, to ruin this special occasion for Natalie. Jumping up from her chair, she walked away.

Natalie spoke above the buzz of conversation. “Keegan, are you all right?”

Turning back, she pasted on her best smile. “Yes. I’m just going to the ladies’ room.”

Her sister’s astute gaze studied her before she nodded. A gust of breath escaped Keegan’s lungs as she rushed to the restroom.

Walking inside, she stopped in front of the mirror and studied her reflection. She hadn’t fooled her sister for a minute. With puffy eyes and blotchy cheeks, she looked like she’d been holding her breath for too long. Maybe that was due to Clint’s presence. For some reason, it seemed hard to breathe when he was around.

“You’re stronger than this,” she told her reflection. “Don’t let him win.”

She just had to get through tomorrow. Once Natalie and Riordan were married, the agency’s number one priority would be to bring down Cyrus and this Madam person. He would never touch her again.

Taking a deep breath, she tugged up the low neckline of her blush pink cocktail dress and gave herself a final inspection. All she had to do was stay away from Clint. He seemed to be the component that prompted her bad memories. With the evening on the downhill stretch, she could manage that without causing Natalie to worry.

Pulling open the door, she stepped into the hallway. Clint shoved away from the wall, his smoldering eyes full of concern and something more. “Everything okay?”

No. Please go away.
“What are you doing here?”

He offered his elbow. “I’m your babysitter, remember?”

She stared at his extended arm. She couldn’t do it. Not now. Not when he made her think of things she’d worked so hard to forget. When she sat on the verge of tears that demanded their day.

Not when his deep voice wrapped her in peace, warmth and honesty.

She turned around. He grabbed her wrist. Her pulse rocketed at the heat of his touch, the strength in his firm grip.

Whipping her back around, he pulled her close and tightened his hold. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

His quiet voice, so filled with worry, made her want to run. She wasn’t ready to face the weakness. Somehow, she had to gain more strength before she took on the beast of her past. Right now, it would win.

His gaze studied her face with a scientist’s patient thoroughness, before landing on her mouth. “You’re breathing heavy.”

Stilling, she stared into his pale eyes. God, she
was
breathing hard. He held her a foot away, his clean soap scent washing over her face, his wide shoulders blocking out anything beyond him. His jaw held a faint, honeyed stubble, his voice a soft note of logic.

“I am not.”

Bending her arm at the elbow, he held it against his chest and placed two fingers at her wrist. “Your pulse is racing.” He searched her gaze. “You
are
ill, aren’t you?”

What girl’s heart wouldn’t race when Clint Robinson held her hand against his hard chest?

“I’m not ill,” she said, trying to yank her arm from his grasp.

He backed her against the wall. “You’re lying.” His fingers smoothed a strand of hair behind her ear.

Her pulse kicked in wild abandon. A frown appeared between his brows before a dawning half grin appeared on his face. His hand wrapped around her wrist as he pressed against her. Her breath came through her nose in loud wisps as her palm rested against his chest to keep some distance between them.

“What are you doing?” she said.

“An experiment.” Closing in, he nuzzled the area behind her ear. “You’re breathing harder.”

She swallowed as he inhaled deep, his breath hissing along her jaw, feather-light and sluggish, before his mouth hovered over hers with blatant intent. Her lips parted, the sudden thirst for his taste irritating and arousing her.

He whispered against her mouth, his breath mingling with hers. “Your pulse is out of control.”

With minute, patient movements, he moved in, his thigh resting between hers with disturbing subtly. Her skin sprouted with stinging gooseflesh, as moisture gathered at her core.

That’s how it’s done. Building the anticipation, heightening the senses until orgasm was inevitable. He hadn’t even kissed her and she already buzzed with more excitement than she’d ever felt in any sexual encounter. What would it feel like with his hands on her skin, his lips on her mouth?