Evidence of Passion (4 page)

His hair was black and thick. It was cut short and the cut just accentuated the hard lines of his face. Dylan wasn’t technically handsome. Rachel had to remind herself of that fact every few days. He wasn’t, though. He was more...dangerous. Rough. His jaw was square and firm, his cheeks were sharp angles, and Rachel was pretty sure that he’d broken his nose a time or two in bar fights over the years.

Dylan Foxx was an ex-Navy SEAL. As far as she knew, the guy feared absolutely nothing in the world. He was her team leader at the EOD. He was the man who had her back on every mission. The one man she trusted above all others.

He was also the man who was off-limits to her.

Actually, as far as Rachel was concerned, all men were off-limits. She’d made a near-fatal mistake with the last man she’d let get too close.

She wasn’t planning on getting burned—or
attacked
—again.

Rachel cleared her throat. “How did you know I was here?” Because Rachel knew it wasn’t some coincidence that he was in the pub, too.

He leaned toward her. Whenever he got too close, Rachel had the feeling that Dylan surrounded her. Maybe it was because of his shoulders. His shoulders were so wide. Muscled. Or maybe it was just because of...
Dylan.

The guy seemed to dominate everything and everyone around him.

“I was on my way to your place,” he told her, voice low. “Then I saw you heading in here.”

She took another quick gulp of her drink. Perhaps she should be sipping it, but Rachel was too tense for that. “Why were you coming to my place?” Rachel pushed.

His eyelids flickered. “Because I wanted you.”

No, he had
not
just said that. The pub was too loud. She’d misheard him. “Wh-what?”

A furrow appeared between his dark brows as he leaned even closer to her. His crisp, masculine scent teased her nose. “Because I wanted to talk with you.”

Right. That made more sense. Her too-eager imagination had twisted his words.

“But this isn’t the place to talk.” He tossed some cash onto the bar, and his hand wrapped around hers. “Come on, let’s go.”

She should say that she’d just gotten there. That she wasn’t ready to leave.

But I am.
She didn’t want to dodge pick-up lines and leering guys. Rachel had come to the bar because she couldn’t stand the silence.

There would be no silence with Dylan.

She rose.

His fingers twined with hers.

Rachel glanced down at their hands. That was new. He’d never
held
her hand before. Sure, Dylan seemed to touch her pretty frequently. He’d brush back her hair or he’d squeeze her shoulders, but never something quite so intimate as actually holding her hand.

“Dylan?” Her voice was so soft that she wasn’t even sure he’d heard her.

He didn’t respond, but he did lead her through the crowd, pulling her toward the door. Bodies brushed against her, making Rachel tense, then they were outside. The night air was crisp, and taxis rushed by them on the busy street.

Dylan still held her hand.

He turned and pulled her toward the side of the brick building. Then he caged her with his body. “Want to tell me what you were doing?” An edge of anger had entered his words.

Rachel blinked at him. “Uh, getting a drink?” That part had seemed pretty obvious.

“What you were doing with the blond, Rachel? The blond jerk who was leaning way too close to you in that pub.”

The same way that Dylan had been leaning close?

“Now isn’t the time for you to start looking for a new guy.”
Definite
anger now. “We need to find out if Jack is back here, killing. We don’t need you to hook up with some—”

She shoved against his chest.

The move caught them both off guard.

Beneath the streetlamp, Rachel saw Dylan’s eyes widen.

“You don’t get to control my personal life,” Rachel told him flatly.
What personal life?
The fact that she didn’t have one wasn’t the point. “And neither does Jack. Got it?”

He gazed back at her.

“On missions, I follow your orders. But what I do on my own time...that’s
my
business.” She stalked away from him, heading back toward her apartment building.

Then she heard the distinct thud of his footsteps as Dylan rushed after her.
He’d better be coming to apologize.

Right. She’d never actually heard Dylan apologize for anything.

His fingers curled around her arm. He spun her back to face him. “Your last lover was a killer. I’d think that you’d want to—”

“You’re wrong!” The words erupted from her.

And something strange happened to Dylan’s face. They were right under the streetlight, so it was incredibly easy for her to read his expression. Surprise flashed first, slackening his mouth, but then fury swept over his face. A hard mask of what truly looked like rage.
“You’re involved with someone else? You’re sleeping with someone?”

Since when did she have to check in with Dylan about her love life? “He wasn’t my lover.”

His hold tightened on her. “What?”

“Adam. Jack. Whatever he’s calling himself. He. Wasn’t. My. Lover.” There. She’d said it. It felt good to get that out. “We were going away together that weekend. We hadn’t...” Rachel cleared her throat. “He wasn’t my lover.” She yanked away from him, angry now, too. “Not that it’s any of your business who I’m sleeping with—”

“It is.” He snarled the words and he yanked her up against his chest. “It shouldn’t be...but it is.”

And his mouth took hers.

Chapter Two

He shouldn’t have kissed her. Dylan knew that truth all the way down to his soul. His hands were supposed to stay off her.

But instead, he was pulling her as close as he could get her.

He’d fantasized about her mouth too many times. Red, bow-shaped lips. That plump lower lip. He’d wanted her mouth on his. Wanted her.

Now he had her.

Her taste made him drunk. It gave him a far better rush than the whiskey. Her breasts were pressed against his chest. His hips pushed against her.

And the woman had to be feeling just how turned on he was by her. When Rachel walked into a room, hell, he got turned on instantly. There was no stopping his reaction to her.

She didn’t shove him away again. He expected her to push him back, but she didn’t. Her mouth opened slightly and her tongue slipped out to rub lightly against his own.

Every muscle in his body tensed.

Rachel.

His hold hardened on her. He licked her lips then took the kiss deeper, sampling her, savoring her. His heartbeat thudded in his ears. The thunder of that beat drowned out the sound of traffic on the nearby street.

She was the only thing he felt.

The only thing he wanted.

His fingers slid down her back, curved over her hips and brought her even closer to him. He didn’t want any barriers between them. He wanted her as wild for him as she was in his dreams.

His.

A soft moan slipped from her lips, and he drank it up, greedy for more. He wanted everything she had to give. He’d
take
everything.

But not there. Not on the street. Not with all of the eyes and ears that could be on them.

And with Jack out there, waiting to strike?

His mouth lifted from hers. He stared down at Rachel, watching as her eyes slowly opened. She blinked up at him.

She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

What have I done?

He forced his hands to free her, when he wanted to hold as tightly to her as possible. “I should apologize,” Dylan began.

She pushed back her hair. The dark mane that he wanted to see spread out on his pillow.

“I should,” he continued, voice rough with desire, “but I’m not.”

Her breath seemed to come in fast pants. She wasn’t the only one breathing too hard. Dylan felt as if each breath he took sawed out of his lungs.

“We’re not on duty,” he said. “And I’ve been wanting to taste you for too long.”

Rachel backed away from him. “You can’t do this now. You
can’t.
” She spun on her heel and started marching down the street. Her steps were fast and hard.

Dylan followed right behind her, but his pace was much slower as he tailed Rachel back to her apartment building.

Rachel’s apartment was on the second floor, and she hit the stairs leading up to that level at a near run. Dylan lifted a brow at her haste, and then he headed up after her, taking his time.

At the top of the stairs, he turned to the left. Rachel’s apartment was the one on the end. The one that gave her a perfect view of the rising sun. Not that he’d ever been there to watch the sun rise with Rachel...

Maybe one day.

Rachel unlocked her apartment. The security alarm began to beep. Dylan followed her inside and shut the door as she reset the alarm. He propped his back up against the wooden door frame and waited for her to erupt.

In his experience, Rachel liked to do her eruptions in private. She wasn’t the public drama type.

Only she didn’t erupt. She wrapped her hands around her waist, and she stared up at him.

Rachel appeared...lost. Afraid. Of him?

The look in her eyes actually hurt him. He jerked away from the door. “Rachel—”

“I don’t expect an apology,” she said and the words came out too quickly. “Especially since I was kissing you back.”

Yes, she had been. And she’d just been adding more fuel to his fantasies.

“But...
why?
” Her question was stark. “Why now?”

Because jealousy had clawed into him when he’d thought that Rachel might be involved with someone else. He’d been at her side, working day and night with her for three years. He’d wanted her that whole time.

He’d never thought another man might take her away from him...

Until tonight.

When he’d walked in that pub and seen the blond eyeing Rachel like she was the best candy he’d ever seen, Dylan realized that Rachel could slip right through his fingers. Fear had grown with him. Then, outside, when he’d confronted Rachel on the street—

You’re involved with someone else? You’re sleeping with someone?
His own furious words seemed to blast back at him.

And, deep inside, Dylan wondered just what he would have done if Rachel had been involved with another man.

“Rachel...”

Her rough laughter cut him off. Rachel didn’t laugh often. In fact, he had to fight in order to get her to ever lower her guard enough to laugh just a little with him. When she did laugh, the sound was light. Soft. As beautiful as she was. Not mocking and cold.

“Mercer,” she said, giving a hard nod of her head as if she’d just figured out a challenging puzzle. “You went to see him tonight, didn’t you? Before you came to look for me.”

On full alert now, Dylan nodded.

She spun, giving him her back as she paced toward her couch. “I should have known.”

Now he was lost. “Known what?”

She turned back to glare at him. “I’ve worked enough missions with Mercer to know how his mind works. I know his plays. All of his little mind games.” She waved her hand in the air. A rough gesture as her fingers spun in a little circle. “He thinks he’s going to use me, doesn’t he?”

That was far too close to Mercer’s plan, so Dylan didn’t speak. He did advance toward her, moving cautiously.

“But it’s not just Mercer.” Her head cocked as she studied Dylan. “It’s you, too, isn’t it?”

He froze. “Using you isn’t on my agenda.”

“No?” Again, her laughter seemed to mock him—and herself. “I’m the only person to survive one of Jack’s attacks. If he’s back in D.C., then we all know he’ll be gunning for me.”

Mercer thought there was a whole lot more involved than just the guy’s desire to end some unfinished killing business.

Dylan didn’t know what was happening yet.

“I was the guy’s girlfriend. So you and Mercer got together and you thought—what? That you’d try to stir things up by making it look as if you and I were involved? That way, you’d be able to stay extra close to me so that you could get the drop on Jack.”

He planned to stay extra close to her, no matter what.

“Seduction.”
Her voice became a whisper on that one word, and he had to strain in order to hear her. Then she cleared her throat, and, voice louder, asked, “Mercer’s idea? Or yours? I know he’s gotten his agents to seduce women in the past.” Disgust tightened her features. “He’s used the women as bait in his traps, but for you to use me like this—”

He was across the room in two seconds. He reached for her, but Rachel flinched back from him.

When he couldn’t touch her, his hands fisted. “It’s not like that.”

“Oh?” Doubt was there, plain to see on her face. “Mercer doesn’t think he can use me?”

He wouldn’t lie to her. To Rachel—
not ever.
“He does.”

She took a step back. “And you kissing me tonight—”

“Didn’t have a damn thing to do with Mercer or Jack. I kissed you because
I
wanted to do it. No other reason.” Because in that one instant, the control he usually maintained had cracked. He’d reacted, driven by the primitive impulse to possess her.

Rachel shook her head. Her dark locks slid over her shoulders. “I don’t believe you. Three years pass and you never so much as hint that you’re interested in me, then we figure out that Jack might be back in town, and all of a sudden you’re holding me, kissing me on the street.” Her shoulders straightened. “A femme fatale, I’m not. I get that. I just—I didn’t think you’d do this to me.”

He wasn’t doing anything to her.

“I don’t need a guard tonight,” Rachel continued as her eyes glittered. She had gorgeous eyes. Big, so blue. “I’m in my apartment, safe for the night. So you can leave. Just...
leave
.”

He didn’t want to leave.

She headed toward her bedroom. “Lock the door on your way out. You know how to set the security system.” Her sigh drifted back to him. “At this point, I guess you know everything about me, don’t you?”

No, he didn’t.
I didn’t know you hadn’t slept with Jack.

She opened her bedroom door and didn’t look back. The door closed behind her with a soft squeak.

Dismissed. It didn’t get more obvious than that. He turned, preparing to get out, as ordered. Rachel had it all wrong, though. Kissing her sure hadn’t been Mercer’s plan.

It had been mine.

His hand lifted above the security panel. He would convince Rachel tomorrow. He’d get her to listen to him then and—

“Dylan!”
Rachel’s scream had him whirling around and racing for her bedroom.

She met him in the doorway, her eyes wide and her body trembling.

He grabbed her and pulled her close. Rachel had faced down enemies in every hot spot on earth, but she was shaking in her own apartment. “What is it?” Dylan asked, looking for a threat.

She licked her lips. “He was here.”

He pushed her behind him and rushed into her bedroom. His gaze darted to the left, then to the right.

Then he focused on her bed. The large, four-poster sat in the middle of the room. The bed covers had been turned back. He advanced, eyes narrowing.

On her pillow, someone had carefully positioned a playing card.

The Queen of Hearts.

“This isn’t a copycat,” Rachel said. She stood in the doorway. “A copycat wouldn’t know about me.”

Because the EOD had made sure Rachel’s identity was kept from the press. No reporters even knew about her attack.

“He wants me to know that he’s here.” Her words were husky. “And he’s coming after me.”

* * *

“I
CAN
’
T
JUST
...
stay with you,” Rachel said as she glanced around Dylan’s place. Sure, she’d been in his home plenty of times before.

But he hadn’t just
kissed
her before.

“The techs are going over your apartment. They’re going to scan that place from top to bottom.” He crossed his arms over his chest and leveled a hard stare at her. “You know they’ll be there all night. Do you really just want to stay there and watch them? Or do you want to get some sleep so you’ll be ready for whatever game Jack plans to play tomorrow?”

Technically, it already
was
tomorrow. A quick glance at Dylan’s wall clock showed her it was close to 2:00 a.m., but Rachel didn’t feel tired. Too much adrenaline spiked through her blood.

He was in my home.
Jack had managed to slip inside her home. He’d gotten right past the security system that was supposed to be state-of-the-art.

“What if he’d been there?” Dylan suddenly demanded.

She rubbed her temples. They were throbbing. Just the mention of Jack made them do that.

“He could’ve killed you,” Dylan continued, voice almost snarling.

She wasn’t sure what was happening with Dylan. Normally, the guy was Mr. Controlled. Dylan was the voice of reason on their missions. But he seemed to vibrate with a barely contained intensity, and Rachel had the feeling that he was very close to an explosion.

“We searched the apartment,” Rachel reminded him. “No one was there. His goal tonight wasn’t my death. He just wanted me to know he was here.”

So now she’d be looking over her shoulder. Wondering if he was close by, watching her.

But she wondered that already. When a man promised to kill you, well, that kind of promise left an impression on a woman.

“He got past your security.” Now Dylan was pacing. He did that when he plotted and planned—quick, tight pacing.

“We know he’s good. The guy’s practically a ghost.”

“He’s good.” Dylan’s lips tightened. “I’m better.” And he headed toward her.

Rachel couldn’t help it, she tensed at his approach.

But all Dylan said was, “Take my bed. I’ll bunk down on the couch. In the morning, we’ll get a plan going, and we
will
catch this guy.”

Oh, right. He hadn’t been coming over to kiss her. That had been a one-shot deal. Rachel wet her too-dry lips. For an instant, she could almost taste him.
Stop it. Stay focused.
“I can take the couch.” Dylan was six foot three. His legs would dangle over the end of that thing. He should take the king-size bed. She’d be fine on the couch.

“I want you in my bed.”

Her heart raced even faster.
Still from the adrenaline.

His hand lifted, and he brushed back the hair that had fallen over her brow. “It’s going to get worse, Rachel. You know it is. Jack won’t go down easily. The man’s a vicious killer.”

And I once thought I was falling in love with him.

“You need rest. Good rest. Not the kind you’ll find on my lumpy couch.”

They’d watched TV on that couch plenty of times. Horror movies. Baseball games. They’d shared popcorn.

He never kissed me then.

Even though she’d wanted him to do it. She’d wanted his mouth on hers so many times.

“Rachel?” he prompted.

She realized that she was simply standing there, staring up at him. “Ah...you need rest, too. You won’t be able to sleep on the couch, either.”

His smile came then. She hadn’t expected it, and, as always, the sight of that slow, sexy grin made her stomach twist. “Now, Rachel,” he murmured, “are you inviting me to share my bed with you?”

Her breath caught. She felt fire sting her cheeks. “Take the couch.” Rachel whirled and nearly ran into his bedroom.

His soft laughter followed her.

That laughter...it made her feel safe. But then, Dylan had a way of usually making her feel safe. He had from the very beginning. When she’d looked up in that nightmare, when blood had soaked her, he’d been there.