Seek and Destroy (37 page)

    Cream-colored leather sofa with fuzzy peach pillows-check. Two IKEA looking chairs with the same color motif against the wall housing the Miles Anthony photos-check. A single low light pine table in the center of the room with three fashion magazines, the newest one at least a two months old-check. In her otherwise perfect world, the outdated magazines were the only things out of place.

    But so Charis. She didn't give a rip about fashion. Magazines on the latest techno-gadget were more her style. Or one of her beloved romance novels. No, she had the magazines on her table for display purposes only.

    He wondered what else she kept for display purposes only. The way she'd cooled to him this morning, that definitely fit the bill. He knew why she'd done it and therefore didn't fight it. If she wanted to put a stop to their
whatever
they had going on, that was her choice.

    He'd put a hell of a lot of effort into not thinking about her and how she'd react if they were too late. When his fears came true, he couldn't focus on anything but her. He forgot his role. As SAC on the mission, let alone a NASSD field agent, his focus should be on said mission and said mission alone.

    Easier said than done.

    The way her eyes sparkled with fresh tears had pulled at his heartstrings. Ah, hell. It did more than that, he just didn't want to admit it. They had something between them, more than physical. Even with Brenda he never felt the deep connection he did with Charis.

    He thought about going back into the room, pulling her into his arms and kissing away all of this shit. They'd go back to bed and stay there until this nightmare ended.

    Granted, he would have loved to sheath himself in her warmth. Truth be told he was just too goddamn tired. If he came within ten feet of that bed, he'd collapse and not wake up for days. And yet just the thought of lying horizontal with her made his groin contract, his dick twitch.

    Ah hell. He couldn't be in the same room with her, not for a while. They needed to take some time to cool down. Together, they charged the air with molten heat. And when they had sex, they ignited into an inferno of unrestrained passion. He couldn't get enough of her.

    The fates sure knew how to play a cruel joke. Why would they tease him with the thoughts of falling in love with Charis, only to rip his world out from under him like this? He couldn't have her, not the way he wanted to. He wanted to protect her. Wanted her as far from this op as possible.

    Surreal was a damn psychopath, and had his sights set on her. If something happened, David would make sure the son-of-a-bitch responsible for her pain died slowly, excruciatingly. He wouldn't stop until he delivered the pain personally, killed him with his bare hands.

    Shit. As SAC, he needed to base his decisions on fact, not emotion. And the fact was, they needed her. Needed her on this op. No one had the power to do what she did at a keyboard.

    Except Surreal.

    It was cyber-titan versus cyber-titan. And the only thing he could do was sit back and watch. Great. He was nothing more than a goddamn bodyguard.

    Literally.

    The awareness of his feelings for her didn't surprise him. He knew the exact minute he'd fallen in love with her. No way could anyone else wear that God-awful shirt/swimsuit combo she sported at the pool in Hawaii and get away with it. Only Charis.

    Only Charis.

    His lip twitched at the irony. If he had just taken the job with ICE a year ago, he would have been able to work with her. They would have gotten this hormone-driven, blinding lust for each other out of the way by fucking night and day until they got it out of their collective system.

    A chuckle rumbled in his chest. Yeah, right. He knew better than that. He'd never be able to get her out of his system. Her essence pulsed through his veins. The taste of her lingered on his palate even though he hadn't so much as kissed her in-he glanced at his watch-seventeen hours, twenty-minutes and one...two...three seconds.

    Ah, Christ. He pulled another drink off his beer. It tasted warm, flat, and bitter. Curling his lip, he pushed it aside and stood up from the counter. Maybe she wanted something to eat. Needed something to drink. A massage.

    Anything to give him an excuse to see her again.

    He started down the short hall and almost collided with her as she stepped out of the doorway. His heart slammed to a stop. It was the first time they'd been this close since Chris barged in on them. Bringing his hands up the same time as her, and at the same height, they touched. He didn't pull away. Neither did she.

    His eyes searched hers. He ached to take her in his arms, to pull her to him and kiss her. His mouth watered in anticipation of tasting her.

    She lifted her chin and made that noise in the back of her throat. He sucked in a breath and entwined his fingers with hers. Stepping closer, he drew in a breath.

    God, just the smell of her made his body instantly respond, his cock growing impatiently, and painfully hard. The way the blue of her eyes darkened as she peered up at him through her glasses made him want to take her back into her bedroom. Screw that. He wanted to take her right here, right now.

    Her eyes seemed to cloud. She visibly swallowed, drawing his attention to her neck. The erratic pulse at the base of her throat caused his to fall in sync.

    Their gaze locked again. Her lips parted and he couldn't resist.

    Leaning into her, he brushed his lips against hers. Softly, knowing it shouldn't go any farther than this, he took his time tracing his tongue along her lower lip. She tasted amazing.

    He sensed the same restrain in her response. They both knew this kiss would be their last. It felt bittersweet and made his chest pinch, robbing him of air. A rawness closed on his throat some would mistake to be emotion. He, however, knew better. He hadn't so much as shed an emotional tear since the day he realized his marriage had been a sham.

    The rawness increased, arguing with him. Hell of a time to have a relapse and allow emotion back into his life. Pushing it down deep into the black pit of his soul where it belonged, he refocused on Charis and their amazing connection.

    Gently he nipped at her lower lip where his tongue had traced her. She flicked her tongue against the inside of his upper lip. His steely hard-on strained against his pants, aching to be released.

    Their lips barely brushed together. The heat and moisture from their breath mixed and ignited, sending a charge out into the air. The skin on his neck prickled against the heat.

    They broke the kiss and stood back from each other, stunned. That had to be the most erotic kiss he'd ever had the pleasure to participate in. From the baffled look on her face, she had the same mixture of emotions coursing through her.

    She shook her finger at him, a spark of a smile curling her sensual lips. "We need to behave. No more kissing. We talked about this."

    "Yes, ma'am." He saluted her. But damn how he loved to kiss her. Yes, they'd talked about it and both agreed they had to stay away from each other for the sake of the mission.

    But seeing her now made that promise seem impossible to keep. It was like putting a starving man in a room full of food and then telling him to look but not touch. Yeah, right. The man would not only have his fill, he'd never want to leave.

    He didn't want to leave. Not her. Not this moment. Not ever.

    

    

    "I'm hungry," Charis stated. "Have you eaten?"

    Oh, he was hungry. The only thing he needed stood directly in front of him, staring up at him with incredibly blue eyes. And he couldn't have her. They'd agreed this was the best, the
only
option. He stepped back to let her pass. "Chris should be here any minute with pizza."

    "You called Chris back? Why not go out and get it yourself?"

    "Besides the fact I have no idea where anything is, I didn't want to leave you alone." With the threat of Surreal tapping into anything with a computer chip, he'd be damned if he left her side for a minute. No, not until this nightmare ended. And then? Hell, he didn't know.

    Would he leave her?
Could
he leave her?

    Ah Christ. It was a question he knew he'd have to answer when the time came. He didn't know the answer. He'd lived just fine without the comforts of a woman. Well, of a permanent woman. He'd been perfectly content with the not-so-permanent ones.

    Until he'd met Charis McKoy. Tasted her. Loved her.

    She walked around her kitchen looking for something to eat. She opened, searched, and then closed the fridge before moving to the cupboards. He loved her heart-shaped ass, loved how she didn't have a clue what a sweet body she had. Even after he'd told her time and again,
showed
her time and again, how much he loved her body, he knew she still felt uncomfortable when her scars were exposed.

    He'd just have to change that. After time, she'd love her scars as much as he did. As with his own scar, he treasured it, used it as a constant reminder of how lucky he'd been to survive that gunshot. She should feel the same about her scars. They were her reminder of how close she'd come to death and beat it back with her will to live.

    He eyed her right leg. Even though he couldn't see it through her sweats, he'd already memorized every inch of her. They'd done a hell of a job covering up her injuries. The lines barely puckered, were hardly noticeable. She didn't even walk with a limp. He should know, having watched her every move since Hawaii. "Hey, how's everything going back there? Any hits?"

    She shook her head. "Unfortunately, no. But, on the positive side, we aren't getting any false positives from my new algorithm. I've got the volume up on the alarms. If he hits, I'll hear it out here. But, I don't think he'll move, not for another day."

    "But we still have a week."

    "
If
he sticks to his MO. At this point I'm not putting too much faith in that."

    He agreed with a nod. "So you think he'll strike early again?"

    She stopped her search for food and stood straight, her eyes fixated on the wall, her back to him. She seemed lost in thought. After several seconds, she shook her head and went back to her search for something to eat. "I do. I think he knew we tipped them off at Riverside."

    It made sense. Surreal had already tapped into all the feeds. That they knew for sure. And David already knew the fucker detonated the device after the fire alarm. The guilt of his decision still made it hard to breathe. If he had just let them run full evac, maybe Surreal wouldn't have known.

    "I went back and pulled the tap on the alarm before the explosion," she went on, still wandering her small kitchen, careful to not look at him. He found the avoidance alarmingly cute, and took a hell of a lot of restraint. He couldn't pull his eyes off her. "I noted a new set of IP addresses tapped into the feed, so I traced them."

    His blood raced. "And?"

    She glanced his way and then quickly looked away. "There were two cameras in the server room we didn't know about. I don't think Riverside knew about them, either."

    He felt his jaw clench. "You mean to tell me Surreal planted cameras in the server room? Why?"

    "To watch," she answered, her tone sad and still.

    What a sick, sorry bastard. "Why didn't you tell me this sooner?"

    Her shoulders rose and lowered with her breathing as she finally turned and looked at him. "That's why I'm out here."

    He nodded. "Thanks."

    Nodding once in response, she turned back around and spent another several minutes attempting to find something to tempt her palate, ending up back to the fridge. "Where's all my food?"

    "You have a healthy man in the house. We like to eat."

    That little look she gave him made him want to forget his promise. Out of the corner of her eye, a teasing come-and-get-me grin meant to bring him to his knees. And it almost did. "You're lucky I'm too hungry to get mad. I wish you would have at least left me some soup."

    "You have soup?"

    Another grin pulled at his heart. She really had a gorgeous smile.

    "At least I have my olives," she teased and opened the only thing left in the fridge-a jar of green olives. After popping one in her mouth, she offered the jar to him. He curled his lips and shook his head.

    She laughed and the sound shot straight to his engorged cock. Oh dear God, he hated this new rule.

    They were on a mission.
MissionMissionMission
.

    Shrugging, she popped another in her mouth and replaced the jar back in the fridge. "Not a big olive fan, huh?"

    "Not so much. After dishing them out for so many years tending bar, I can't really bring myself to eat them. Just the smell of them turns my insides."

    Grabbing the teapot off the stove, she weighed it in her hand. It still had water in it so she set it back and flipped the switch to ignite the burner. He took a step closer, his protective instincts kicking in. The last time she attempted anything in the kitchen resulted in her getting hurt. Well, that and them spending the rest of the night wrapped in each others arms.

    They'd learned so much about each other that night. How the other liked to be touched, the ways to pull reactions out of each other that made them blind with passion, and then weak with gratification.

    He'd told her the truth about Brenda. He'd never uttered a word about it to another soul until that night. When she'd told him about the other men in her life, he knew she'd been holding back. She didn't have to tell him, he already knew.

    Her other lovers were selfish asses.