ANOMALY.MIL (The Conspiracy Series Book One): A Romantic Suspence Novel (14 page)

They stared at each other until she relented, sure he was exaggerating. "Okay. I'll come with you."

His shoulders relaxed, and Ansel bent down to grab his T-shirt. She stared at his perfect ass and felt…
What?
Giddy, because she couldn't believe she was grabbing that ass while they had sex.
Hell, she couldn't believe they had sex. She wanted to do it again, but she knew he would say no. He wanted to get her to the safe house with Cat, Dave, and Gwen.

'You're a screamer.'
Her heart sank. She wouldn't be able to have sex with him for a while. Not with all those people listening.

What if he was just curious? What if she was just a notch on his belt?

She watched his big hand grab a fistful of panties and shove them in her suitcase.
No.
Ansel was not the kind of guy who needed a conquest. Women came to him. With that face and body, he could crook his finger at the woman he wanted and she would come running.

Is that what he just did?
Seduced her into coming with him to the safe house?
Maybe
. He might do that, but he genuinely seemed to want her. Seemed to enjoy making her come, and he definitely enjoyed his own orgasm.

'I need sex to relieve the stress of people trying to kill me.'
Damn. Was she just a stress reliever? A pressure release?

Her heart sank.
Yes.
She was sure of it, but she totally understood. Since this whole thing started, her emotions felt as though they were hiding just below her skin, ready to bubble to the surface at the smallest provocation.

So the only question was, could she handle being with Ansel until this was over? Until the stress of the situation was gone, and he realized the truth? That she was just a plain, boring woman who worked then went out with her friends on the weekend. And occasionally, very occasionally, had sex with a guy when she got drunk and stupid.

Seneca thought about it, deciding. Yes, she could be with Ansel as long as she kept her distance. Didn't get attached emotionally. Because as soon as this was all over, he would be gone.  

Ansel glanced at her, his brows furrowed. "You okay?"

"Uh-huh," she smiled, and then walked into the bathroom.

Alone.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Ansel drove back to the house, able to breathe again. Seneca was safe, with him.

He glanced over at the passenger seat and could not keep himself from smiling. She was wearing jeans and a dark yellow t-shirt, with what could only be described as a prim blue cardigan.

She wasn't wearing any makeup. She didn't need to. Her flawless skin would have suffocated under all that stuff. Her long hair was pulled back in a damp ponytail, the result of a quick shower.

A shower Seneca took after he made her scream, until he came so hard he thought he was having a heart attack. Ansel didn't know why he wanted her so much. But he did know, as he stared at that pretty little nose, those luscious lips, he wanted her again.

"We'll be there in about thirty minutes," Ansel announced. He wanted to hold her hand, but she had them firmly planted in her lap.

"Okay."

He glanced at her. She was quiet. In his experience when a woman was quiet, she was upset about something
. But what?
She was mad when he got to her apartment, but as soon as they were in bed together…

He thought back.
'Fuck me.'
  Her words had sent him over the edge, and just thinking about them now sent a deep heat spreading across his chest. No, Seneca had wanted him just as much as he had wanted her.

Was she embarrassed?
She hadn’t seemed embarrassed when he was tasting her. Even spread her legs wider, and the way she had grabbed his ass to pull him deeper…No, Seneca Reed was a woman who knew what she liked, and she liked what he did to her. His breath was getting shallow, because he knew he would do it again. And soon.

Then what was she pissed about?
If she wasn't angry or embarrassed, then why was she so quiet? And then he realized, and he felt horrible.

Fear.
Seneca was afraid.

"You know I'll protect you until this is all over." Ansel looked at her so she would know that he meant every word.

"I know you'll protect me." She smiled a polite smile. "Until this is all over."

Was she making fun of him?

"I can protect you, Seneca," he snapped, his ego bruised.

"I know you can."

Good!
Because he could. That's what he had been trained for.

He glanced at her again, and realized she hadn't looked at him since they got in the car.
What was her problem?
Jesus, he would never understand women. He pressed his lips together, refusing to ask her what was wrong.

Fuck, why did he always have to ask women why they were upset? Why couldn't they just tell him? It was infuriating, and he was not going to do—

"What's the matter with you?" Ansel sounded angry, which made him angrier.

"Nothing." She shook her head.
Godamn it
. When they said that there was always something. She looked at him for the first time. "How many bedrooms are there at the house?"

"In the safe house?" Why was she asking? "Three. Cat and Dave have one. Gwen has another, and we—"

"I'll stay with Gwen."

The hell she would.

"Seneca?" Ansel laughed, but he wasn't amused.

"I want to." She looked at him, her eyes cold. Distant.

Well, fuck her then!

"Fine," he shrugged, then stared out the windshield.

But it wasn't
fine
, it wasn't fine at all. He wanted her with him, in his room, and in his bed. Every night. Until this was all over.

He sped the rest of the way to safe house. And the moment he stopped the Range Rover, Ansel was yanking her luggage out of the backseat, then slamming the car door shut and walking inside.

His irritation must have shown, because as he was throwing Seneca's clothes on Gwen's bed. Cat walked up to him looking worried.

"Did something happen?"

Pushing past his sister, Ansel looked directly at Seneca. "Nothing at all," he said, before walking to his bedroom and slamming the door.

***

Seneca lifted her chin to keep from crying.

"No," she lied to her best friend. "Everything's fine. Ansel's just mad that he had to go get me in the first place."

"Oh." Cat rolled her eyes. "He gets irritated so easily. He's been like that since we were kids, so don't worry about it. Anyway." She perked up. "Come talk to Gwen and Dave, so we can tell you our plan."

"Okay," she said, not wanting to. She wanted to go into her room and sob into a pillow, but instead Cat led her down the hall of the luxurious house. Rich red woods and soft brown leather dominated, prompting Seneca to ask, "Who owns this house?"

Joe said he had contacts, but she had no idea they would be this wealthy.

"A Mormon gentleman from Joe's church," Cat answered just as they walked into a back living room and Seneca's jaw dropped. "It's his summer house."

She stared out the high pitched windows of the 1970 home and saw a stunning, and very private, view of the Pacific Ocean.

"Oh my God, I had no idea we were this close to the water." The trees of the Pacific Northwest often obscured your view of the ocean and even the surrounding mountains.

"Isn't it beautiful?" Cat looked out the windows. "It's waterfront property too. There's a trail to the beach just to the right of the house." She pointed and Seneca squinted, barely able to make out the trail hiding beneath a canopy of ferns.

"Wow." She couldn't believe it. "And this man is just letting us stay here? For free?"

“‘For as long as Joe needs’," Cat grinned. "Can you believe it?"

"No." Seneca walked toward the huge stone fireplace. "Hi," she said, hugging Dave and then Gwen, before standing in front of the fire to warm herself. "I hear we have a plan of some sort?"

"Well," Dave chuckled, raising both brows. "The beginning of one anyway."

"A friend of Gwen's at the University of Washington has agreed to let her use one of their labs for testing our DNA," Cat explained. "Ansel and I are going with her tomorrow, so she can take blood and tissue samples."

Good.
Then he wouldn't be at the house…with her. "That's great news."

"Only if I can figure out why the military wants these two so much." Gwen shook her head, staring at the beige wool rug. "None of this makes any sense to me."

"Maybe it will tomorrow." Seneca sighed, suddenly exhausted. "In the meantime, is there anything I can do to help?"

"Do you have a computer with you?" Dave asked. "I’m still tracking Gunner's phone, and I was hoping we might put our heads together to figure out how we can use the trace to help us."

"Yeah, I brought it,” she nodded. “Where do you want me to set up?"

"My stuff’s in the formal dining room, down the hall and to the right. You can set up tonight, but let’s not start working until tomorrow morning." He snorted. "I think we've all earned the night off."

"Amen to that," Cat said, snuggling up to her husband on the couch.

"How are you feeling?" Gwen asked Cat. "I know the first trimester can be rough. Have you had any morning sickness?"

Gwen's voice faded as Seneca walked out of the room to go get her computer bag, praying that she had packed all of her chargers. She wandered around the house in the fading light, looking for the formal dining room. It was next to the den where Ansel sat watching college basketball.

His dark hair was wet. He had taken a shower. He held the remote in his left hand with his right arm stretched down along the armrest. The width of his shoulders, the size of his hands, even his big feet resting on the ottoman drew her attention. He screamed power, masculinity, and Seneca was startled by how much she wanted him.

Confused, she took a step toward the formal dining room, but the plug from her charger cable slipped out of her hand, clattering to the wooden floor.

Damn it.

Embarrassed, she bent down to pick it up. But when she rose, Ansel was standing on the other side of the couch with a gun in his right hand. His face was unreadable, so she didn't even try.

"Sorry, I didn’t mean to…" Seneca mumbled, and he lowered his weapon. She looked at the offending charger and slunk away.

The formal dining room was dark, and it took a few moments to find an outlet. Seneca plugged in her computer and sat down, opening up her email.

She was reading the second of many when Ansel asked from no more than three feet behind her, "Do you need some help?"

Seneca jumped, because she had not heard him come in the room. Not the tiniest indication that he was there.

"No, thank you. I'm fine," she said, even though she wasn't. 

The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end and she could feel his heat, his presence hovering just above her. Ansel leaned down, peering over her shoulder.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"Checking my email." She clicked the mouse again, trying to sound casual. But when his hand covered hers, she pulled away.

"I'm sorry, Seneca, but you can't do that." Ansel closed her email with one click and reminded her, "You can't have contact with anyone."

Except you
. She swallowed, closing her eyes and praying that he would go away. Because she did want contact. A lot of contact with his body, with him.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking." She couldn't think with him around.

His arm was reaching around her, and she felt the warmth as his other hand slid over her left shoulder.

"Seneca," he whispered, kissing her neck. "What's wrong?" He kissed her again, higher, and she couldn't breathe. "Talk to me."

"I don't know." She was shaking, so she said, "I'm scared."
Of you
. Of wanting you. Of losing you when you go back to your real life.

"I'll protect you." The back of his hand caressed her cheek. "I swear it."

"How?"
How was Ansel going to protect her from him?
But instead she scoffed, "How can you swear to protect me from a group of men equally as well trained as you? You can't." She stood up. "So don't promise me that you can."

And then, she walked away.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Ansel had not slept well the night before, so he was in a foul mood when they arrived at the University of Washington. It was dark, overcast, with a light sprinkling of rain. Just like every other goddamn day for the last three months.

He looked down and lifted up his hood to protect himself from the light drizzle, having learned a long time ago that in Seattle, umbrellas weren't worth the trouble.

"Here we are," Gwen said.

Ansel pulled on the heavy wooden door to the gothic building and then stepped back, holding the door open for both women.

The older woman turned her head when they were safely inside. "My friend gave us a private lab in the basement."

They walked down the long hall of the old building, and Ansel made sure to note all entry and exit points.

"Who is this friend?" he asked as they waited for the elevator.

"Professor John Park," Gwen said, and Ansel had to look closely, but he could have sworn that she blushed. "John was one of my most promising graduate students, a long time ago."

"Was he?" Cat asked, astute as ever. "Promising?"

"Absolutely," Gwen answered, either missing, or choosing to ignore, Cat's salacious overtones. "John's done groundbreaking research in the field of gene therapy."

The elevator descended down to the basement level where it was even gloomier than it was outside. Matte green tiles curved up the walls to shoulder height, and Ansel was struck by how quiet it was as they walked down the empty hall.

"We’re in room 103," Gwen said, and they looked above the doors to the antique plaques that had been there for well over fifty years.

They found the lab on the left at the very end of the hall. It was probably built somewhere around the 1940's, with black counters, and slivers of windows lining the very tops of the outside wall. Ansel looked through them, but could only see the brightly colored feet of students scurrying by as they made their way to class.

"Cozy," he mumbled.

"I know it's gloomy.” Gwen glared at him. “But it's not easy to find a lab willing to allow you to work on an electron microscope in secrecy. Now, help me unpack these boxes."

The white cardboard boxes were small and light, but there were a lot of them. Ansel bent down, grabbing the knife strapped to his ankle. He began to cut the tape on the boxes, while Cat arranged the supplies where Gwen wanted them.

The heater came on and dank air poured out of the ancient ducts, smelling of mildew.

"How long do you think this is going to take?" he wondered, knowing that Gunner could only stall General Hawkins for so long. Eventually, another team would be sent after Cat, and he didn’t know if he would be able to stop them.

"Getting the samples will only take a few minutes, but the analysis…" Gwen shrugged, holding up her hands. "No idea."

Once the equipment was set up, Gwen sat Ansel down and took God knows how many vials of blood. Next, she was swabbing the inside of his cheek with a dozen or so scratchy plastic sticks.

"Are you going to take that much blood from me?" Cat looked worried.

"No, not with you being pregnant." Gwen looked at Ansel and smiled. "But I figured this big ox could spare a little bit of blood. Just remember you might feel lightheaded. So, wait here a few minutes before you get a little something to eat. Food will make you feel better."

Ansel waited fifteen minutes, leaving his sister to assist Gwen while he went to go get three boxed lunches with three cans of soda.

"Did you remember to get a caffeine-free drink for me?" Cat asked, as bossy as ever.

"Yes," he said, rolling his eyes before setting the food on a counter, far away from Gwen's work.

The three of them ate sitting on metal stools, leaning over their food as Gwen announced her first findings. "Well, you're both A positive blood type, which is very common. And all your chemical values fall well within normal range, with the exception of the pregnancy, of course.

“I’m checking the DNA from your blood right now, so I can look at the structure and shape of it in order to compare it to normal DNA but…" She sighed. "To be honest, everything looks pretty typical to me. I'm not exactly hopeful that I will find any abnormalities."

The afternoon was just as boring as the morning had been, and they left the university with no more answers than they’d had before they got there. Their mood was somber when they arrived back at the house.

And soon as Ansel saw Seneca, he felt even more discouraged than ever. She was making dinner in the kitchen and didn't even bother to look up from the cutting board.

He sighed, not sure what he had done to piss her off. If anything.
'You can't protect me'
. She was right. He could not protect her from a team of highly trained operatives, but he sure as hell would die trying.

"How’d it go?" Dave asked, hopeful, until Cat shook her head.

"Nothing yet," his sister said, then glanced at Gwen, feigning certainty. "But we'll figure it out soon enough."

The rest of the evening was spent in idle chit-chat and the longer he sat across from Seneca with her pretending he wasn’t there, the more pissed off he got. So, Ansel said goodnight and went straight to bed after regrouping in the isolation of a hot shower. He laid on his back in the bed he was given, wondering how long it would take for Gwen to identify the anomaly. Days, weeks?
Years?

How could he possibly protect his sister, himself…any of them, for that long?

He couldn't.

Ansel must have fallen asleep, because it was two-thirty in the morning when he heard a faint knocking on his door. He got up, padding across the room in his bare feet, sure that a military breach would not begin with a polite tap.

With a twist of the knob he opened his door, but it was so dark Ansel could only see a small outline. He grinned to himself.
Seneca
.

"Ansel, can I spe—"

There was only one reason a woman came to man's room in the dead of night. He grabbed her arm, pulling her into his bedroom before she had a chance to change her mind.

"I'm," she whispered, and Ansel wished he could see her face. He pictured it in his mind. Those big brown eyes, those lips. He waited, stepping closer and backing her against the wall. "I'm sorry if…"

He stroked her arm.

She shivered and Ansel smiled. He loved the way she responded to him, to his touch. He wanted to touch more of her. Feel more of her. Need grew low in his belly, and the more nervous he made her, the stronger it got.                            

"I'm sorry if I've been…mean to you," she began.

Ansel ran his hand down her throat, her chest. She wasn't wearing a bra. He wanted to throw her on the bed and make love to her, but he waited, because he wanted to know even more what she was going to say.

"I am scared, but not of the men chasing us. Well, a little maybe." Ansel placed his hands on either side of her head, bending down. "But I'm more scared of this…" He was confused. "Of you. I've never…"

His lips hovered over hers. He couldn't see them, but he could feel her breath, her heat. The darkness made her brave.

"I've never wanted a man this much before."

That struck him to the core. Seneca wanted him. Wanted him so much that it terrified her. He liked it—not that she was scared, but that she felt this deep longing. He felt it too.

"Take a risk," he breathed.

Ansel kissed her, gently, and he could feel her thinking by the way she kissed him back. Receiving him turned to participating. And then, in an instant, she made up her mind. Seneca wrapped her arms around his neck as she invaded his mouth, taking what she wanted.

Him.

He grunted in triumph and then she was backing him up across the bedroom, her slight weight pushing him to the edge of the bed. He fell on his back, eagerly pulling her with him. But the moment they were on the bed she pushed away from him, abandoning him to the shadows.

But then he felt her hands on his hips. She tugged his briefs down, and he hurried to help her take them off. Need pounded in his chest and he wanted to throw Seneca on her back, but he had no idea where she was.

“Oh,” he moaned when he felt her small hands running up and down his thighs, and he could tell by the sounds she made low in her throat that she enjoyed feeling him.

Her long hair brushed against his erection and he sucked in a breath, the dark seeming to heighten his senses. All at once, Ansel felt the heat of her breath on him and he couldn't think. Anticipation seared every nerve in his body, and then she took him in her mouth.

He closed his eyes, burying a deep groan in his gut. She was driving him crazy, stroking him with both her mouth and her tongue. Over and over until he was about to explode, and she knew it.

Seneca released him from her snare, pushing him on his back and teasing him with his own words. "When you come, you'll be buried deep inside of me."

"Yes," he breathed, and tried to help her out of her nightgown, but Seneca stopped him.

She grabbed both of his wrists and pinned them on either side of his head while she straddled him, whispering, "Tonight it's my turn."

She ran her hands down his arms and chest. If she were a cat, she would have purred. "Mmm."

The sound of her lust almost made him come, but he was under the strictest of orders not to. Her hands were roaming over his chest, but her mouth was kissing straight down his stomach.

"You're so beautiful."

He had never been described as beautiful before, but Ansel didn't mind. He could hear how turned on she was. Seneca took off her shirt, and then she was grabbing his length.

Ansel fought for control, gritting his teeth. The dark gave him the freedom to lose his mind. He wanted to feel her, so he reached up and caressed her breast. But she let go of him, pinning him down again.

"No," she ordered, searing his flesh with hungry lips as he lay there, helpless, just waiting to be used.

She wrapped her hand around him again, positioning him were she wanted him, where he wanted to be. His first touch of her was hot and wet, and all Ansel wanted to do was bury himself inside of her. But he was not the one in control.

Seneca gasped as she took him, sinking down slowly, until he was lost deep inside of her. She grabbed both his hands and placed them on her breasts.

He groaned, his mind overloaded with carnal sensations.

Seneca began moaning, her excitement dictating the speed that she rode him. She was close to coming and, God, so was he. Ansel reached between her legs, stimulating her even more. He stroked her inside and out, and Seneca liked it both ways. 

She was lost in her own pleasure, and he was forced to cover her mouth as she grew louder with each of his thrusts. And the moment Ansel felt her clutching his cock, so did he.

He grabbed both her hips, pulling her down hard against him as he lifted himself to fill her. Ansel pumped his hips a few more times, giving her everything. She dissolved onto his chest, and Ansel kept her there, until their breathing had slowed and their senses returned.

Seneca felt around the bed for her nightgown and when she found it she tried to get off the bed, but Ansel held her in place. "Stay with me," he whispered.

"I can't. Everyone will know."

He laughed, stroking her back. "I think they already heard."

"Seriously?" Seneca asked, mortified.

"Oh, definitely. And besides," Ansel flipped her on her back, taking her nightgown and throwing it across the room. "I haven't had my turn yet."