Seduced by the Storm (31 page)

But
he had a feeling Faith’s memories of her sister weren’t as clear. "Listen,
Faith, what you said before, about me having built up barriers about things as
a kid, to help me deal…well, I can’t help but think about your sister."

"What
about Liberty?"

"You
haven’t seen her in years. And now she’s been kidnapped, and suddenly the
kidnappers come to you to find the weather machine."

She
stiffened. "What are you saying?"

"You
haven’t been able to track down your sister since your parents were killed."

"There
were rumors that an Irish nurse from the hospital took a special interest in
her. The nurse disappeared from the hospital the same time that Liberty
did."

"And
Liberty had an Irish brogue in that video you showed me. So did the
kidnappers." He kept his tone low, gentle, even though she’d be upset with
his next question no matter what. "How do you know Liberty’s not in on
this whole scheme?"

"How
do you know she is?" she snapped. "Just because I couldn’t follow her
trail doesn’t mean someone else, an enemy of mine, couldn’t have tracked her
down. She could have been living a normal life, maybe didn’t even remember her
past, but was kidnapped and forced to help the people who took her."

"Maybe.
But what if the nurse who took her did so because of her powers? What if the
nurse belonged to a terrorist organization? Liberty could have grown up in the
life of a terrorist, and once you blipped on their radar, she could have found
the perfect use for you."

"She
wouldn’t do that!"

"Why?
Because you’re her sister?"

"Yes!
My sister wouldn’t give out information about me," she insisted.

"How
would she have had information about you to begin with?" he asked quietly.
"If she’s known about you this entire time, if she’s had any information
to give, why wouldn’t she have contacted you sooner? Why wait until now?"

"You
don’t know anything, Wyatt. You have no idea what you’re talking about."

"Faith—"

"Don’t."
She made a beeline for the sliding glass door that opened to the deck.
"It’s my turn to be left alone."

WYATT,
OF COURSE, ignored her. She’d had about thirty seconds of peace when she turned
away from the deck railing to see him looming in the doorway. Behind him, the
bedroom light outlined him in a warm, golden glow, while from the front, the
moonlight bathed him in cool silver.

He
was good and bad, an angel and a demon…and heaven and hell for her.

"I’m
sorry." He gazed out into the dark night. "You helped me more than I
can thank you for, and I turn around and accuse your sister of being a
terrorist."

A
lump of emotion formed in her throat. The same thing had occurred to her, but
for someone who had never met Liberty, who knew nothing about the sweet child
who had used her gift to heal Faith’s scrapes and bruises, for him to make the
accusation…it had lit her like a match. His questions had been barbs, hurting
even more because his concerns were valid. But their time together was limited,
and she didn’t want to spend it fighting. With a sigh, she collapsed into one
of the cushioned deck chairs.

"It’s
okay. You didn’t say anything I haven’t thought of. And if you hadn’t thought
of it, you’d be pretty worthless to ACRO."

"So
who do you think is involved?"

She
closed her eyes and let the salty breeze wash over her face. Too bad it didn’t
take away the sting of Liberty’s possible involvement. God, she couldn’t take
someone else she loved turning bad on her.

"Could
be anyone," she said finally. "Could be an organization such as Hamas
or Al-Qaeda, using an outfit with a smaller profile, like the Irish National
Liberation Army, to acquire the weather machine. Or it could be an Irish-born
group wanting it for themselves. My money is on the Irish Liberation
Force."

He
nodded. "The ILF has had dealings with Itor before. So they could have
caught wind of the machine through their contacts."

"That’s
what I was thinking. They might have tried to legitimately obtain the machine,
and when that failed they decided on more drastic measures."

"I
hope Liberty isn’t involved," he said quietly.

"Me
too." She smiled weakly. "Can we stop talking about this now?"

He
moved to her, bent and locked her in place with his arms on either side of her.
"What do you say we go inside and forget all of this?"

She
tipped her mouth up to his. The kiss was fleeting, barely a brush of her lips
against his firm ones. "Why go inside?"

"Another
game of chicken?" he teased. "You think I won’t take you right here
on the deck?"

The
very thought sent a flare of heat straight to her center. "You think I’d
object?"

A
slow smile lifted his mouth, taking her breath away. He was so damned handsome,
a menace to everything that made her a woman. "You wouldn’t, would
you?" His brows knit together. "But would it be because of the game,
or because you want to?"

"That
would depend on you." She palmed his cheek, used her thumb to stroke his
cheekbone. "I’d have sex with you anywhere. You have to know that by
now." His expression became shuttered, and she felt the loss of his warmth
in her gut. "Wyatt? What’s wrong?"

He
pushed away, stalked to the deck railing and stared out at the ocean. The
breeze ruffled his long hair, brought the scent of him, earthy and male mixed
with ocean, to her. She loved the way he smelled, loved the way he sometimes
stood still like that, unmoving yet alert. The small muscles in his sharply cut
back twitched, the only sign that he wasn’t a statue.

"Are
you going to feel the same way when all of this is over?" he asked after a
long moment.

"Are
you implying that I’m using you? That I’m only fucking you to get a ride to
Ireland and help with my sister?"

"I’m
not implying. I’m asking."

"Does
it really matter?" She stood, moved to the rail beside him.

He
shrugged, like it was no big deal, but he wouldn’t have asked if he didn’t
care.

This
time with Wyatt had been the best of her life. She didn’t want it to end. Ever.
But how could they possibly have a future once he learned that she had no
intention of destroying the weather machine?

The
thought blasted through her like a bullet. Since meeting Wyatt, she’d
intentionally avoided thinking about the second phase of her assignment, which
was to secure the machine for her own agency after Liberty was safely in hand.
Thinking about it meant realizing how badly Wyatt was going to take the truth,
and she couldn’t afford to get hung up on how he’d react—not when, since
learning of its existence, she’d been obsessed with the knowledge that if she
could hand over the machine to TAG scientists, no other child need go through
what she had the night her parents were lost.

He
turned to her, braced one hip on the rail. "Once we get your sister back,
let’s take some time off. Go away. I know this private tropical island where
the sand is white, the water is blue and the nights are made for one
thing."

"Sounds
lovely," she sighed. "But then what? We go back to work, an ocean
apart? See each other on holidays and when we happen to run into each other on
missions, with opposing goals?"

"That
doesn’t have to happen."

"Oh,
really. I’ve come up against ACRO before. If it happens again…what if I kill
one of your operatives? Are you going to stand for that? What if ACRO puts out
an order for my capture or kill? Or what if one of your agents kills me? Will
you shrug it off as part of the job?"

Wyatt
shoved his hand through his hair. "I don’t know, Faith. But it doesn’t
have to be that way. Aren’t you tired of being alone? Of having no backup?
Limited resources? Come to ACRO."

"I
can’t."

"Why
the hell not?"

God,
she wanted to tell him the truth, that she had backup and resources. Before,
the omission had been for the protection of her agency, but now…now it just
seemed like a lie. A lie he’d understand on a professional level, but would
probably see as a betrayal on a personal one.

Then
again, he’d opened himself up to her, had put his trust in her, so maybe it was
time to put a little faith in him. It would be a big step for her, to trust him
with the truth, but the more he knew, the better their chances were of
surviving the meeting with Liberty’s captors.

Captors,
because she refused to believe Liberty was a
terrorist.

"Faith?
Why can’t you come to ACRO?"

"Because
I have my own agency." She took a deep breath. "There. I said
it."

Even
in the pale moonlight she could see the blood drain from his face, and she both
sensed and saw the change in him, the subtle tensing of his muscles, the
shutter that came down over his gaze.

"If
you tell me that you really are Itor," he growled, "that Sean went
rogue and you were getting the machine back or some shit—"

"No.
No.
God, I’m not Itor." She reached for her throat, caught herself
and dropped her hand. "I run my own agency. The Aquarius Group. We’re not
private, like ACRO and Itor. We’re very small, paid by a secret department in
the British government, which hands down most of our orders."

His
curse blistered her ears. "I’d heard rumblings of a mysterious third
agency, but ACRO never uncovered any solid evidence. Why didn’t you tell me
this sooner?"

"Because
I’ve put everything into my agency. It’s all I’ve got, and I won’t risk it. We
don’t have the resources you have. We don’t have the numbers, and we certainly
don’t have the ability to seek out skilled operatives. We’ve got a ragtag
staff, many of whom are severely limited in their powers. We take the people
who aren’t powerful enough for ACRO and Itor. I can’t put them at risk."

"You
should have told me."

"You
know what we are, Wyatt. You know we can’t run around spilling secrets to
everyone we meet."

"I
didn’t know I was ‘everyone.’"

"You’re
not. That’s why I’m telling you now."

"Shit."

She
let him stew in silence for a few minutes before saying, "I guess it’s my
turn to say I’m sorry."

"We
do too much of that." He sighed. "I get why you didn’t tell me."

"So
you also understand why I can’t come to ACRO."

"Yeah.
But maybe you could—"

"Could
what? Give up my life? Come to America and get a nice desk job while you and I
play house? Or do you want more than that? You want to get married and have me
barefoot and fat with your babies?"

His
gaze darkened as he looked her up and down and then focused on her belly, like
he was sizing her up for exactly that.

"I’m
not a brood mare," she snapped.

"That
whole playing house and baby thing wasn’t what I was going to suggest." He
touched her stomach, his fingers splayed wide. "But would it be so
bad?"

His
voice was husky and thick, and she swallowed hard at the sudden sexual
awareness that shivered through her body. Her nipples tightened, her sex
flooded, and bloody hell, she felt a pinch in her abdomen as though she’d
started ovulating from merely talking about this.

His
gaze bored into hers, intense and magnetic, but even as she began to lean
toward him, he swore and jerked away.

"Jesus.
I can’t believe what you do to me."

"
Me?
You’re the one with the crazy aphrodisiac superpower."

"I’m
starting to think you’ve got a touch of that yourself," he muttered.

She
sighed, turned to watch the moonlit ocean waves. Wyatt’s arm came around her
shoulders, a casual, comforting, familiar touch that should have made her feel
weak for wanting it, but only made her stronger.

Which
really scared the piss out of her.

She
had to get away from him before she made a huge mistake. Like telling him she
was falling for him. Bad enough that it was happening, but she needed to keep a
few truths to herself, especially the ones that had the power to cut her deep.

She
started to pull away, but his grip tightened, and he drew her into the shelter
of his big body. "Don’t go," he whispered against the top of her
head.

"Wyatt—"

"Shh."
He maneuvered behind her, skimmed his hands up and down her arms as he nuzzled
her ear. She closed her eyes, let herself absorb his heat, let his strength and
overpowering masculinity consume her.

It
wasn’t enough to feel him on the outside. She wanted him inside her. Buried
balls deep, possessing her, pouring everything he had into her.

Apparently,
he wanted the same thing, because his hands eased to her hips. Gripping them
firmly, he pulled her bottom against his erection.

"Perhaps
we should retire to a bedroom?" she offered, hoping he didn’t notice the
catch in her breath when he began to grind his hips.