Hidden Agendas (26 page)

He had to force himself to draw back from her, to leave the bed before pulling his dress slacks back on, gathering the rest of his clothes, and slipping back into his own room for a shower.

He needed to talk to Reno and the team before morning. Returning to Georgia wasn't something he wanted Emily to do. She was too vulnerable there. Her assassins too certain where to find her. As he had been shown earlier in the night, bullets could get past him.

The thought had his guts tightening in rage. God help the Fuentes assassin if Kell managed to get his hands on him.

Getting out of the shower, he dressed quickly, pulled on his lace-up steel-toe boots and secured them, then clipped his holstered weapon to his side and went into his bedroom to meet with his visitor.

He'd heard Ian come in minutes before, alone. The other man was slouched in the easy chair that sat in a corner by a reading lamp and small table. His long legs were stretched out in front of him and his dark blond brows were lowered heavily as he watched Kell come in from the bathroom.

"I could have been someone else." Ian's voice was low and brooding, almost angry, as Kell took a seat on the side of the bed, watching him curiously.

"Then you would have been dead." Kell shrugged.

Ian didn't snicker at that as he usually did. Instead, his expression seemed to grow darker.

"What's doin'?" The Creole flavor of his accent was getting harder to disguise, harder to hold back.

Ian's lips quirked at the sound.

"She relaxes you," Ian remarked. "That's a good thing, bro." He sighed heavily then leaned forward in his chair. "Reno and the team just left with the senator. He has an early meeting in the morning to clear the way for that bill that the Fuentes spy so obviously doesn't want to pass. With the new information Macey received while we were at the party, I thought I'd update you before we head to bed."

"He received something else from Judas? That boy sure is taking an interest in this." Kell snorted.

Ian's gaze flashed dangerously. "Macey managed to trace the transmission from inside the mansion.

Whoever Judas is, he was there."

An image flashed in Kell's mind. Kira Porter. There had been something he had seen in her face, her eyes, for a second across the dance floor, that had reminded him of someone.

"Porter?" he asked.

Ian shook his head, a smile tipping his lips as humor lit his odd hazel-blue eyes.

"Our delectable Miss Porter is Homeland Security," he drawled. "She's also the daughter of one of the senator's best friends from his SEAL days."

It clicked into place then. He had seen her twice, once in Russia where she had been a blond sex kitten working a cocktail party for the American ambassador, and then a few years later in South America where she had carried a lethal automatic rifle as easily as other women carried a purse. Her hair had been nut brown then, her eyes a matching color and a razor-thin scar had marred her downy cheek.

"They call her the Chameleon," Ian mused. "She has a different look for every job. The scar in Bolivia was real, by the way. Homeland Security paid to have it put in place and they paid to have it repaired after the mission. She's low-key, normally in watch position only, but the file the senator showed us on her is scary, dude. Real scary."

Ian's tone wasn't in the least intimidated. It was— anticipatory.

"Any suspicions which guest at the party was Judas?"

Ian stared at the wall across the room, his gaze thoughtful. "The message he sent says the spy was there.

Macey is working through the guest list looking for our friendly mole. He'll tackle Judas later, I suspect."

Ian crossed his feet slowly. "We head back to Atlanta in the morning, as per the senator's orders. With the Porter girl in place, me on the other side, and you in the condo with Emily, he believes she'll be safe enough at home. I think he's a fool, but that's just between the two of us."

"The only way to eliminate the threat is to run with her," Kell said thoughtfully.

"Reno pointed that out." Ian nodded. "But, as Macey said, that will alert the Fuentes mole that we're closing in on him. And Macey is closing in. That boy is a whiz on the computer."

Ian's ruined voice, dark, serrated, was filled with mockery.

Rage beat at Kell's head before he forced it back. He forced himself to think logically. If he ran with her, they would always be running. Fuentes saw it as a sign of weakness, as cutting out of the game, and it would be sure to enrage him. At this point, they had no choice but to use the hand dealt to them and make certain he didn't win.

"If we catch his spy, then the threat against your woman is gone." Ian shrugged. "That's all that matters."

"I want things in place so I can run if I have to," Kell gritted out. "Fuentes isn't touching Emily, Ian. I won't let this happen."

Ian nodded slowly as he rose to his feet. "Get some sleep, dude. We're taking a Navy flight back to Georgia and a secured SUV back to the condo. Her last party is in three days' time and Judas's message reported that all players will be in place there as well. If we find him, we save your woman, and we find Nathan."

God, Nathan. He hadn't thought about that. The information none of them could believe, but it had come with a picture, with proof. Nathan Malone, the SEAL believed killed during Emily's rescue, was alive.

Alive but near death and under the control of the spy known as Mr. White.

"Arrange a meeting with Kira when we get back to Atlanta," Kell ordered. "I want her information and I want to know her backup plans."

Ian nodded before pausing. "I saw you talking to your grandparents," he said then.

Kell froze. "I have no grandparents."

"Whispers were sweeping around the party. Interesting little rumors about the New Orleans Beaulaines and their missing grandson. An heir to two of the largest fortunes in the nation. That would be a hell of a position for a SEAL to be in. We live a dangerous life."

"Drop it."

"Blood is thicker than water, my friend," Ian murmured. "Sometimes, a man has to own up to the past and everyone's mistakes within it. Some things, you don't just throw away."

Kell stared back at him silently, coldly.

Ian lifted his shoulder dismissively. "Just thought I'd mention it. Catch you at daylight, bro."

Kell rose from his seat on the mattress and headed for the closet as Ian left the bedroom. He finished hanging his dress uniform neatly in its protective covering, leaving it for now. From the floor he pulled free the duffel bag he had carried to Atlanta with him and checked it quickly.

Everything he needed was there. Cash, alternate identifications, a change of clothes, weapons, and ammo. Always prepared. He was always prepared. Until he met Emily.

He hadn't been prepared for what she would do to him. How she would make him feel.

She made him feel things he had never believed he could feel, even after Tansy. The love he felt for Emily went so deep, was tangled so tight around his heart and soul that he wondered if he would survive if anything happened to her.

It was damned scary. The time spent with her had been so short. And yet she had a hold on him that he couldn't have expected.

His Papère Beaulaine had warned him once that Beaulaine men, they loved fast, loved hard, and they loved forever. That when a Beaulaine male found his woman, he knew instantly she would change his life forever.

And Kell had scoffed. He had been young. He had been too arrogant. Too certain that no woman would ever fill that much of a man. And his grand-père had smiled. That quiet, knowing smile of his that Kell saw as an elder's acknowledgment that young men will be young men. That they'd always scoff at the wisdom of their elders.

God, he had missed that old bastard. As hard as the betrayal of his parents' disowning him had been, his grandparents' refusal to take his side, to help him, had hurt even more. His Papère had been his hero. His grand-mère an angel.

The Kreigers had always been more distant, so their defection hadn't been a surprise. But the Beaulaines, they always stuck together, the old man had once told him, because blood was thicker than water. And blood mattered.

As he sighed, a light knock sounded at the door, soft, hesitant. Emily.

He tossed the duffel bag back into the closet as the door opened and she stepped inside, clad in nothing but a silken robe that couldn't compete with the feel of her skin.

She tucked a strand of dark auburn hair behind her ear as she stood in the doorway, her expression pensive when she saw he was dressed.

He held back his smile. He could see the emotions riding inside her gaze. Hesitancy, arousal, the need to feel him wrapped around her.

She was still new to this intimacy, to having a man capable of controlling her sensuality, and yet allowing it freedom.

"I was going to catch Reno for an update," he said softly as he sat on the bed and removed his boots once again. "It seems he's already left though."

"I saw Ian going downstairs." She played with the belt of her robe, her slender fingers tense.

"He was giving me an update." He set the boots and socks aside. "I would have been back to bed in a few minutes."

She nodded jerkily. "Is everything okay? With the mission, I mean?"

"Everything's fine."

She licked her lips nervously as he rose to his feet and padded toward her.

"It should be over soon?" she asked.

"Soon," he promised, then ignoring her gasp, he lifted her into his arms, watching as the robe parted over her legs and fell to the side. "Let's go back to bed. You need your rest."

Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, though her blue eyes darkened in worry as she stared back at him.

"We need to talk," she reminded him.

'There's going to be plenty of time to talk later, chère." He didn't bother to try to tame his accent now. He was too busy trying to tame the lust rising inside him. "For now, I need to touch you again. To feel you against me."

He entered her bedroom, kicking the door closed behind him before locking it. A second later he was laying her back on her bed, staring down at the white robe as her hard little nipples pressed against it, the shadow of the dusky pink color surrounding them barely discernible beneath the material.

He jerked his shirt over his head before his hands went to his jeans, and he discarded those just as quickly.

He was so hard he was hurting. So filled with hunger he felt as though he had never come in his life. His cock was straining out from his body, furious with Kell's delay in taking her.

A wicked smile curled Emily's lips as her slender fingers pulled at the belt of her robe, releasing the tie and allowing the panels to fall apart as she rolled to her knees and shed the garment.

Kell felt the breath jerk from his body. Blood pooled hot and thick in his cock and drew his balls tight.

She was like Venus rising. Like every sexual dream any man had ever conjured up in the dark lonely hours of the night.

And she belonged to him.

"Come here, chère." His hands framed her face as she knelt on the bed before they slid into the rich, silken depths of her fiery hair.

Emily stared up at him, drowning in the emerald depths of his gaze, feeling the air thicken with sensuality, with the hunger that rose between them.

She hadn't expected this. She had never had trouble pushing away her previous bodyguards. They were her father's goons. She had enough trouble with her protective father; she hadn't been in a hurry to create more by accepting one of his handpicked son-in-law candidates.

But Kell was different.

For one thing, he was harder. Her hands pressed against his chest, smoothed over the flexing muscles as his lips covered hers. He was stronger, more forceful; the very aura of confidence and competence that surrounded him drew her. His air of dominance and sexuality was in harmony with her own sensual desires, which threatened to burn her each time he touched her.

As he was doing now. His lips moving over hers, parting them to dip his tongue in playfully before pulling back and drawing her lower lip between his and sucking lightly, sexually.

His hands moved up her back, then down. Gripped her hips and pulled her closer, cushioning his erection against her belly.

"Are you sore?" he whispered as he pulled back, one hand sliding from her hip and moving confidently between her thighs. She gasped at the feel of his palm cupping her, his fingers sliding over the damp flesh of her pussy.

His fingers rubbed against the folds, shifting between them to circle the sensitive opening.

Emily felt her head fall back on her shoulders. And Kell was there to take advantage. His lips moved along her jaw, down her neck.

"Never too sore," she whimpered. "That feels too good, Kell."

"Never too good, sweetheart." His voice deepened, becoming a sexy murmur along her collarbone as his finger slipped inside the snug entrance.

"Oh. Yes. Too good." Spreading her thighs wider she fought for a deeper penetration, opening herself for him, desperate to experience more of the incredible pleasure his touch brought her.

"You're soft as silk. As hot as fire," he whispered against the curve of her breast before giving her a gentle, erotic bite with strong teeth.

Emily shuddered at the caress. The combination of primal hunger in the bite, the wicked titillation of his finger stroking inside her, teasing her.

"And you're hard," she moaned, her head lifting, her lips finding the hard column of his neck.

Kell let her have her way as he felt her teeth at his neck. Sharp little sensations moved along his flesh before tightening his cock and balls from the feel of her teeth.

Her hands were like satin gliding over his flesh and the gentle cushion of her tummy rubbed against his cock, causing his teeth to grit at the primal arousal growing inside him.

He wanted to throw her to the bed and ride her to ecstasy.

Instead, he held himself before her and let her explore. Like the vixen he had dreamed of catching as a boy, she was curious, inquisitive. Her nails scraped along his chest to his abdomen, making his teeth grind as he fought for patience.