Targeted (Hostage Rescue Team Series Book 2) (7 page)

Tuck made a negative sound and raised his head to look at her, face taut with desire, eyes burning. “No sex tonight.”

Blinking up at him, she wasn’t sure she’d heard him right. Her body was on fire, pulsing with an arousal so strong she was literally trembling, and he wasn’t going to put out the flames?

“What?” She couldn’t keep the disappointment out of her voice.

A smile tugged at his full mouth, his expression softening. “No. I’m not stupid. I’m not gonna make it easy for you to make this all about sex, and I’m sure as hell not gonna give you what you want right now just so you can walk away after.”

That sobered her. “Who said I—”

His lips stroked over the corner of her mouth. “I want you to wait for it, fantasize about it tonight after I’m gone. I’ll make it worth the wait.”

Something flipped low in her belly at the promise in that low, sexy drawl. But she already had years of fantasies stored up about the man. “Tomorrow then?”

He chuckled at the hopeful note in her question but didn’t answer as he leaned in to kiss her again. A ringtone went off.

Tuck growled in protest and made no move to answer it, his tongue sliding wickedly across a sensitive spot on her neck. Her eyes fluttered shut, her body craving an end to this incredible torment, when something buzzed against her inner thigh at the same time that ringtone sounded again.

His phone. They might be calling him in. Maybe something to do with the bombing.

The thought was like a bucket of ice water dumped over her head.

He must have felt how stiff she’d become because he raised his head and looked down at her. His nostrils flared with each unsteady breath, his eyes burning with unfulfilled need. The ringtone seemed overly loud in the sudden silence.

“Go ahead,” she whispered, easing her hands from his hair and lowering her leg from where she’d wound it around his.

With a hard sigh Tuck stepped back and dug his phone out. She caught his frown as he checked the call display. He hit dial and put the phone to his ear, his gaze finding hers. God he was sexy like that, his hair mussed from where she’d been gripping it, big body tense with sexual frustration and his eyes ablaze. “What’s up?” he said into the phone.

Whatever the answer was, it wasn’t good. His face turned blank for an instant, then a hard expression took over. “Okay. I’ll be there within the hour.” He lowered the phone. “They’re calling everybody in,” he said to her as he tucked it back into his pocket. “No new threats or anything, just some possible warrants and arrests. Not sure if it has anything to do with this morning.”

She nodded, wrapped her arms around herself because she suddenly felt cold and vulnerable without his heat to warm her. “Okay. I’ve got some work to do and then Zoe—” Shit, she didn’t have a vehicle anymore, did she? “Zoe’ll have to take a cab over.” While she called the insurance company and dealt with that headache.

“What time’s she in?”

“Five.”

He checked his watch, frowned. “I’ll pick her up if I get off in time, or maybe Bauer can swing by to get her if he’s off before me. I’ll let you know once I get down to base and find out what the story is.”

“Thanks.” She didn’t know what the hell else to say to him. She’d mistakenly thought this lingering awkwardness would vanish once they cleared the hurdle about their relationship. Despite that knee-weakening make-out session, she was still uncertain about where they stood. “Be safe.”

“I will.” He gave her a lopsided smile, an amused glint in his eyes that told her he’d picked up on her nervousness. Setting his hands on her waist, he tugged her close. “I was going to try to see my dad tonight, but—”

“No, you still should. Like you said, you don’t want to regret anything later on. And besides, Zoe will be here, so it’s not like we could just pick up where we left off.” Even though she desperately wanted to.

He grinned, showing off even white teeth. “I’d kinda love to see her expression if I walked in and started making out with you in front of her.”

She huffed out a laugh and slid her arms around his waist, feeling more at ease again. “How about you let me ease her into that idea first?”

“She’ll be thrilled.”

“I think so too.” Lifting a hand, she brushed back a wave of hair that had fallen over his forehead. “So. See you later?”

“Hopefully sooner than later, sunshine. Think about me tonight,” he added in a husky murmur that made her toes curl, made her think of him whispering hot, filthy things in her ear as he plunged in and out of her willing body.

“I will.” Not thinking about him, about how it would feel when they finally got naked together, wasn’t even an option at this point.

He gave her a slow, lingering kiss before leaving. When he was gone she stood in the middle of her empty living room, simultaneously filled with excitement and dread as his words played in her head.

All or nothing, Celida.

The prospect was terrifying. She’d never given herself like that to any man. And yet she’d dived in headfirst with Tuck anyway. Probably because at the deepest level she knew he was worth the risk. But hell, was she ready for this?

For better or worse, things had just changed between them forever. Only time would tell what the consequences would be.

Man, Tuck
so
owed him for this.

Special Agent Clay Bauer chose a spot against the wall near where everyone else on the flight from New Orleans was gathering around the luggage carousel and waited there with his arms folded across his chest. Crowds drove him batshit crazy but at least here he had clear lines of vision and with his back to the wall he didn’t have to worry about watching his six. His spatial and situational awareness was so deeply ingrained into his psyche that he positioned himself automatically, the product of years spent in the SEAL Teams before he’d joined the FBI and made the HRT.

He scanned the crowd as more and more people came off the bottom of the escalator. His height gave him the advantage of being able to see over most people and the moment he spotted the garish red and black pigtails moving toward the baggage claim, he knew he had his answer to the question he’d asked Tuck earlier, when his buddy had asked him to pick Zoe up.

What color’s her hair this time?

She was tall for a woman, around five-ten or so but even without knowing that she would’ve stood out in any crowd because of her neon-red streaked hair, the black gothic-style skirt and snug black T-shirt that read Keep Calm and Save Bats. The dark clothing and harsh hair color made her fair skin look even paler, and the heavy eye makeup and glossy red mouth were way over the top.

People stared at her as she sauntered across the floor but she didn’t seem to care—probably because she was so used to it by now, and because she was confident enough about herself to not give a shit what others thought about her. And Clay realized he was staring too. At the way her shirt pulled taut over her small but firm breasts, and the snug skirt hugging her full, rounded hips.

She looked around and when she caught sight of him her face broke into a great big smile that suggested she was excited to see him. Why the hell that would be, he didn’t know.

She lifted an arm over her head to wave, totally uncaring of the stares she was getting, then rushed over to him. He’d just uncrossed his arms and stepped away from the wall when she reached him and threw her arms around his neck, engulfing him in a floral and musk-scented hug. The perfume was a bit much, but he couldn’t complain about the way she felt against him, tall and firm with just the right amount of softness.

“Hey,” she squealed, squeezing him tight for a second before easing away to beam up at him, her golden eyes seeming even brighter with all the garish black makeup she’d surrounded them with. The little diamond stud at the side of her nose winked in the light. “Thanks so much for picking me up—it’s great to see you.” Her south Louisiana drawl was slightly husky, as sultry as the city she lived in.

“You too,” he answered automatically, edging back a step to put some distance between them. Zoe was a hugger. Didn’t matter if she’d just met you, she’d still hug you, and hug you hard, like she meant it. Something else he found weird about her. He tried to think of something polite to say. “Your flight good?”

“Yeah, it was great. I sat next to this really interesting guy and we talked nineteenth century romantic poetry the whole time.”

God, he’d rather take a turn in the gas chamber without a mask than be subjected to that. “Good. Got any luggage?”

“Just one checked bag,” she answered, shifting her carryon bag and drawing his attention to her black-painted fingernails and the black leather satchel covered in white and silver skulls. The skulls weren’t so bad. He far preferred those to the weird-ass bat on her shirt. Though its silver wings stretched quite nicely over the center of her chest, emphasizing the curves of her breasts. Breasts he should
not
be noticing, let alone staring at.

“I’ll grab it,” he said gruffly after tearing his gaze away from those tempting curves. “What’s it look like?”

“Smallish black, hard-sided case with a picture of Dracula on it.”

Of course it was
.

He strode to the carousel, saw her bag as it came around the curve of the conveyor at the far end. He grabbed it and turned to put it on the ground, aware that she was right beside him, still smiling up at him. “I’m parked in the lot across the street,” he said, because he didn’t know what else to say and didn’t want to invite more conversation than necessary. Zoe was a hugger
and
a talker.

Either oblivious to or ignoring his brusqueness, Zoe slipped her arm through his and walked beside him toward the exit. “God I love that y’all have no humidity up here at this time of year,” she said as they stepped out into the night air. “I’ve already got the A/C running full time at home, and by the time noon hits I always need another shower. Not that I mind because I love my showers, especially since I re-did mine. Blood red tiles with a few black roses on them for accents. It looks awesome.”

He grunted to show he was listening, but wondered why she was telling him all this, and walked faster. As they crossed the street he could see the back end of his silver truck parked near the elevator. Rush hour was in full swing, so that would add another twenty to thirty minutes to their trip, but he should still be able to get her to Celida’s within the hour. His social skills were rusty, be he could be civil that long.

“So,” she asked when he stopped to load her bag into the bed of the truck, “how are things with you?”

“Good.” He slammed the tailgate shut and went around to open her door for her.

She beamed up at him again. “Who says only southern men have nice manners anymore?”

As a Yankee from Pennsylvania, he didn’t know.

She slid into the front seat and her skirt rode up her legs a bit, revealing the black spike heels he’d never noticed before. Those were actually pretty hot, and showed off the muscle definition in her sleek calves. He couldn’t see them being very comfortable to travel in, but what did he know?

Behind the wheel he started the truck and pulled out into the flow of traffic, glancing at the clock on the dashboard to start his mental countdown.
T minus sixty minutes, give or take.

“Is Celida really okay? She and Tuck didn’t say what was going on but I heard about the bombing on the news.”

“She’s fine.”

He could feel Zoe staring at him and for some reason it made him want to fidget, which annoyed him. He
never
fidgeted. “I bet she’s not fine,” Zoe said evenly. “How could she be? This was her first day back and she’s still not totally recovered from the concussion.”

Clay resisted the urge to rub a hand over the back of his neck. He didn’t feel comfortable talking about this, and he didn’t consider it any of his business. “She’s tough. She’ll be all right.” She was a former Marine and an FBI agent, so that said plenty, at least in his book.

“And what about Tuck?”

He frowned, never taking his eyes off the road. “What about him?”

She made an exasperated sound. “Hello, you’re his roommate, aren’t you? How’s he doing, really? Is he sleeping?”

“”Course he sleeps.” Everyone did.

She rolled her eyes. “I mean, is he doing okay with everything that’s going on with his dad? And Celida?”

Clay suppressed a grunt of irritation. How the hell was he supposed to know any of that? Guys didn’t talk about that kind of shit. “He seems fine.”

Zoe snorted. “God, you guys are brutal. Do you ever talk? I mean about anything besides work?”

He frowned harder. “Yeah, but not about that kind of stuff.”

“Of course not.” She sighed, shook her head and turned her head to stare out the windshield. “He’s got a lot on his shoulders. I wish I could get here more often to help out.”

“I help out,” he couldn’t help saying, unable to hide the defensive note in his voice. He’d picked her up at the airport just now after working all day on his day off, hadn’t he? Both he and Evers had asked multiple times if there was anything they could do to help with Al’s situation, and every time Tuck had said thanks but no thanks. And Clay did lots of stuff around the house so Tuck wouldn’t have to worry about things like the lawn or the gutters or grocery shopping when he wanted to go see his dad.

Jesus, he was the guy’s roommate, not his mother.

“I bet he still doesn’t take any time for himself,” Zoe said.

“We went out dirt biking a few weeks ago.” Sure the day had been cut short when farmboy had called them back to the house because of what had happened with his girl Rachel, but whatever, at least they’d still gone.

When Zoe didn’t answer he glanced over to find her watching him with an almost pitying expression. He shot her a scowl. Obviously she didn’t realize that SEALs didn’t deal well with pity.

Gripping the wheel tighter as he merged onto the highway, he forced back his annoyance and reminded himself that this would be over soon. He didn’t know why she seemed to irritate him so easily.