“No repeat performance.”
She missed a dance step and her foot pressed down on his.
“I get the rules,” Cash said, “but if you want to change those rules at any point, I’m here.”
Tomorrow, I won’t be here. I’ll be back in Atlanta. Cash will be hunting for Tate’s killer. Different paths, different lives.
“I’m not in this bar tonight because I’m looking for sex,” Ana told him. Maybe they should be clear about that. “I don’t run out and hook up with strangers.” She kept dancing as she stared up at him, her eyes narrowed, her heart racing. “Is that really what you think I do?”
“Ana, no, I—”
“Dancing, Cash, not fucking. Because, you want to hear a funny story?” She laughed and the sound was bitter to her own ears. “Once upon a time, I knew this girl . . . she spent every single waking minute dancing. She started ballet when she was three. She danced and she danced and she had this amazing future waiting for her.” Her voice was low, grim. “She was already being recruited by scouts. She was supposed to go to New York when she finished high school. She was going to be a prima ballerina. She was going to spend her life on a stage, spinning around and around.” Ana stopped dancing, going still on the small, wooden floor. Just as that dream stopped. “But then bad men came into her life. They killed her mother. They killed a part of her. She couldn’t dance the same way, not anymore. She started shaking any time she went on a stage because people would whisper about her, they’d talk about what happened to her. She wasn’t the same.”
“Ana . . .” His voice was so rough.
“One thing stayed the same, though. That girl always loved to dance. Dancing made her feel free. It made her forget everything else, if only for a little while.” She brushed past him, her shoulder hitting his arm.
“Ana, stop.” He grabbed her and spun her back to face him. “I am an asshole, and I’m sorry.”
She considered that. “I’m very sorry that you’re an asshole, too.” Her gaze held his. “Now let go of me.”
She thought he was going to argue. She could see the frustration in his eyes, but he let her go. Smart move, Agent Knox. But she didn’t storm away, not yet. Because there was still one more thing to say. “If you thought . . . all this time . . . that you were just another random guy for me . . .” That hurt. “Then I’m so incredibly glad I left you that morning.” Just as she was leaving him then.
Ana kept her head up as she left the bar.
And Cash didn’t follow her. A good thing because she didn’t want him to realize there were tears in her eyes.
He was staring at the motel wall again.
Cash knew he should get in bed. He should sleep. He should move the hell on but . . .
I hurt Ana. That was the last thing he’d ever meant to do. She would leave come morning. He wouldn’t see her again. He . . . he didn’t want her to remember him this way.
But staring at the wall wasn’t going to change anything.
Cash yanked a hand through his hair and he marched for the door. When he opened it, he saw sheets of rain falling in the motel parking lot. He hadn’t even realized it was raining, he’d been too focused on Ana.
On how he just kept screwing up with her.
Determined now, he walked toward her door. Cash lifted his hand and knocked lightly.
Maybe she was asleep. Maybe he was being an even bigger ass. Maybe—
Ana opened the door. Her dark hair was tousled. Her eyes so big and deep and dark. He stared at her, and there were so many things that Cash wanted.
But the one thing he wanted most? To take her pain away. “I’m sorry.”
Ana stared at him.
“I was jealous and I was a dick and if I could take back the things I said, believe me, I would.”
The rain kept falling.
“I think about you,” Cash confessed. “Too fucking much. You slip into my dreams. You creep into my thoughts during the day. I know I should move the hell on, but there is something about you . . . you got beneath my skin.” So deep. Deeper than she knew.
And the need he felt for her had started long before he was lucky enough to have Ana Young in his bed.
Another secret. For another time.
Or maybe, maybe it would be best if she never knew that secret.
“You’re getting wet,” Ana murmured.
He was. The rain was slanting down, hitting him beneath the small overhang of the motel roof.
“Come inside.” She stepped back.
He headed in, aware that water was dripping down his back.
She closed the door behind him.
And Cash tried to figure out what he was supposed to say next.
But Ana was the one to do the talking. “You want to know why I slept with you two years ago.”
Uh, yeah, he did.
Ana walked past him and sat on the edge of her bed. She wore a pair of jogging shorts and a loose NAVY sweatshirt. He wondered who’d given her the sweatshirt—and why she’d kept it.
“I was riding a high after bringing in Tate. He was my first big capture, and I felt incredible after I dropped him off to the FBI agents.” Her hands pressed into the bedding. “And I’d met you. You were different from the guys I generally encountered in my work. Not constantly trying to prove you were a badass. You were quiet. Deep. Still waters and all that.”
He stalked closer to her.
Ana lifted her hand and stared down at her fingers. “Do you feel it, when we touch?”
His hands had fisted.
“A little spark. A charge that flares between us.” Her lips curved in a slow smile. Ana had the sexiest smile. “I liked that charge. I liked the attraction. It was easy. Uncomplicated. And . . . not dark.”
Not dark?
“Not twisted. Not scary. You see, I do have a type, Cash.” Her voice softened when she said his name. “My type isn’t by-the-book agents. It’s not men who always follow the rules. I tend to gravitate toward danger. Toward men who understand—too well—about the darkness in life.” Her head tilted back as she stared up at him. “Not strangers that I pick up in bars. Just so we’re real clear on that.”
“Ana . . .”
“You were the only one-night stand I’ve ever had. And you were totally the wrong kind of guy for me to be with. You just . . . you don’t get me, Cash.”
Yes, he did.
“I think I broke my last rule,” she murmured. “I told you we wouldn’t talk about the past.”
“Why did you leave? Without a word?”
She sighed. “Because you were a mistake I didn’t want to repeat.”
That was pretty damn brutal. It was—
Her eyes searched his. “Why didn’t you try to find me?” Ana asked.
He hadn’t gone after Ana because . . .
The secrets I carry will hurt her too much.
“You aren’t the only one who has made mistakes,” Cash said quietly. “There are plenty of things about my past that I wish I could take back. Things I wish I could change.”
“Oh, really?” She tilted her head back and studied him. “Tell me.”
She’d bared her soul to him. Only fair that he do the same to her. “When I was growing up, I had this older half-brother . . . a real fucking asshole.”
Her brows climbed.
“He was on drugs. I knew it. My mom knew it. She just couldn’t stop him. His father had been out of the picture for years and my old man . . . well, I guess he was loser number two for my mom. Talk about another worthless bastard.” His laughter was bitter, as bitter as the memories that plagued him. “My name? It was a joke to my father. Said he hadn’t wanted a son, that he’d just wanted cash. He barely hung around after I was born. He left us all.”
She stiffened.
“My mom tried to take care of us, but my older brother made it clear he never liked me. I was a pain in his ass. The guy was always out for himself. Never caring who else he hurt. And he hurt my mom—every time she refused
to give him money. Every time she told him that he’d have to get clean, he’d hit her.” Cash could still remember that horror. His mother’s cries. The thud of fists.
“A real fucking asshole,” Cash said again. “But I was just a little kid. Didn’t think I could do jack shit. I had to watch him. Just watch . . . until one day, one day, I got tired of watching.”
He’d been thirteen. Scrawny but finally taller. Muscles just starting to come in. “There was no money in the house. He had already hit Mom once, and he was going in to hit her again. I grabbed his fist. He was so surprised. He whirled around, laughing and I just . . . I lost it.”
She pushed off the bed, rising to her feet.
“I hit him. Again and again and again. I hit him until my knuckles were bleeding and raw. I hit him until he was just lying on the ground, limp. I hit him until I realized my mom had her arms around me. She was crying and begging me to stop. Telling me that I was about to kill him.”
Ana reached out to him. “Cash, I—I didn’t . . .”
She was staring at him with compassion. With sympathy. His stomach knotted. Ana just didn’t get it. “I wanted to kill him.”
Her lips parted.
“To this day, I wish . . .” His hand rose and he touched her lips. Those beautiful, perfect lips, with the faint scar. “To this day, I wish that I had killed him.”
“Your own brother?” There was shock there. Right. Because Ana was close to her twin. The twin who’d saved her life.
Yes, he knew Ana’s story well. Too well.
“I told him to get out. To never come near me or my mom again. Told him if he did, he was a dead man.” His own lips twisted as his hand slid away from her silken lips. “Years passed, and I didn’t hear anything else from him. I never gave a damn thought to where he was or what he was doing. I was just glad the bastard wasn’t near me. My life got better. My life. My mom’s life. Everything was better.” For me.
Her lashes flickered. “What happened to him? Where is your brother now?”
“Dead.” In hell.
“I’m sorry.”
That was it—too much. She shouldn’t be sorry. She shouldn’t stare at him with compassion. She shouldn’t call him the good guy.
White knight—what a sick joke.
His hands closed around her shoulders. “I’m not sorry. I just wish I’d been the one to kill him, back when I was a thirteen-year-old kid. I wish I hadn’t stopped.”
“Cash?”
“You think I joined the FBI because I’ve got some hero complex, don’t you? You think you have me figured out.”
Ana swallowed. “Why did you join?”
“I joined because I know what kind of darkness people really hide inside themselves. I’ve been hiding my own darkness for most of my life.” Hiding it. Fighting it. Vowing to never, fucking never be like his brother.
“You think you’re one of the monsters?” Ana asked, shaking her head.
Yeah, baby, I do. And if you knew all my secrets, you would, too.
“You’re wrong.” Ana seemed so certain.
He bent his head. His mouth brushed across hers. He felt her sudden start of surprise. She jerked back.
“No, Ana,” Cash told her simply. “This time, you are. You’re wrong.”
And he knew he would be leaving her. Just like this. Half of his past exposed. Half still hidden because he didn’t want to destroy the light in Ana’s eyes. Because he didn’t want to ever hurt her.
Ana had been hurt enough.
He turned away. Headed for the door. Then he stopped. “I’m sorry you didn’t get to dance longer tonight. I didn’t know that part about you.” He looked back at her. “It fits, though. You kind of even look like a dancer.”
Sadness flashed on her beautiful face.
“Maybe we’ll dance together again one day.” He gave her a little salute. “You’re a good partner, Ana Young.” And he meant that, in so many ways.
He looked away from her. Keep moving, Knox. Keep moving. He was at the door now. His hand reached out and curled around the knob. Ana was silent behind him.
This time, he’d be the one to walk away.
He opened the door.
And Ana’s hand slammed down on the wood. She’d moved so silently. Surprised, he turned his head, looking at her. She stared up at him, her gaze sharp, searching. As if she didn’t know him.
You don’t, Ana. Not really.
“That wasn’t a very good kiss, Cash.”
He blinked.
“I know you can do better.”
He turned to fully face her.
“I’ve seen you do better,” Ana whispered. She rose onto her tiptoes in front of him. “I’ve felt you do better.” Her hands pressed to his chest.
He lowered his head and his mouth touched hers. He was careful at first because this was Ana, and she mattered—more than any other woman ever had. He stroked her lips. But—
“I want everything,” Ana whispered.
So did he.
The kiss became rougher. He pulled her closer. Her lips parted and his tongue thrust inside. She tasted just like he remembered. Sweet candy. Rich wine. Every dream he’d ever had.
She gave a little moan. He loved that sound. Loved the feel of her lips and her tongue and her body. Her breasts were pressed to his chest. She was kissing him back with a wild passion—the same passion he remembered feeling with her before.
She’d talk about a spark between them. A flare.
But the truth was that when Cash touched Ana, it felt as if he ignited.
“That is so much better,” she said.
His hands were on her waist. And Cash knew he was holding Ana too tightly. He should let her go.
But that’s the problem. I never want to let Ana go.
He lifted her up, holding her easily, and he caged her between his body and the motel room door. Ana’s legs wrapped around his hips. He pressed to her, his cock heavy and swollen with arousal. To be inside Ana . . .
Hell the fuck yes.
But . . .
He caught her lower lip between his teeth. Sucked. Licked. Then his tongue slid into her mouth once more. The kiss was hot and wet. Open. Deep.
It shook him to his core.
A kiss.
Just a kiss.
His head lifted. He stared into Ana’s eyes. It is so easy to get lost in her gaze.
Her legs slowly slid away from his hips. He lowered her down until her feet touched the floor. Ana’s breath whispered out as she stared up at him. “Now that,” Ana said, her voice husky, “is the kind of kiss that a woman won’t forget.”
Cash swallowed. “Glad you’ll remember me.”
“Oh, Cash, trust me, you aren’t an easy man to forget.”
His fingers brushed over her cheek. “Good night, Ana Young.”
She smiled at him. “Good night, Cash Knox.” Then Ana slipped away from the door. He opened it, saw the hail of rain falling outside, and he walked away.
Just . . . walked.
Because he wasn’t going to make any other mistakes with Ana.
No mistakes . . .
Ana shut the door behind Cash. Her hand lifted to her lips, but she wasn’t touching her scar. Not this time.
She was remembering the feel of his mouth against hers. She could still taste him.
She liked Cash’s taste.
But she wasn’t going to make another mistake with him. Not tonight. Walking away from him two years ago had been hard enough. She’d wanted to stay in his bed. Wanted to stay with him.
If she gave in to their attraction again . . .
What would happen? Would I be able to walk away?
She wasn’t sure.
And the fact that the guy had layers she hadn’t fully expected . . .
“Take a cold shower, Ana,” she whispered to herself. “Very, very cold.”
She’d take her shower, she’d go to bed, and then, when morning came, she’d fly away from Cash.
End of story.
The end.
The phone rang in the middle of the night. It was a jarring cry, and it pulled Ana from her sleep. Her hand flew out, fumbling, and she hit the nightstand. It took her two swipes to grab her phone and yank it toward her ear.
Middle of the night. Is it Asher? Is everything okay?
Because her twin was the only one who normally called her in the middle of the night. The last time he’d done that, Asher’s world had been imploding. And—
“Asher?” His name was the first word she spoke as she put the phone to her ear, but then Ana realized . . . no, it can’t be Asher. The ringtone was wrong.
She heard the harsh sound of a sharply indrawn breath.
Ana sat up in bed, wakefulness coming in a rush. “Who is this?” The clock on the nightstand said it was nearing three a.m.
“Wasn’t it beautiful?” The voice was distorted. Robotic?
“What?” Ana snapped. “Who is this?” she demanded again.
“All of his blood . . . wasn’t it beautiful?”
Chill bumps rose on Ana’s arms.
“He got what he deserved.” The voice was just wrong—high, definitely robotic sounding. Too sharp in her ears.
“Are you talking about Bernie Tate?” Ana demanded. She jumped from the bed and slammed her hand onto the wall between her and Cash. She needed his attention. She needed him. Wake the hell up, Cash. “Did you kill him?”
Again, that robotic voice filled the line. “Punishment.”
Her hand flattened on the wall. “How did you get my number?”
She could hear Cash scrambling around in the other room, the heavy thread of his footsteps, the squeak of his door—
“You understand me, Ana.”
She whirled away from the wall and hurried toward her motel room door. “I don’t.” Her eye pressed to the small peep hole. A moment later, Cash was there, the fluorescent light shining too brightly on him.
The robotic voice told her, “I’ll make them all pay.”
“What?” Her fingers fumbled with the lock. She turned it, grabbed the knob, and yanked the door open.
“They will all pay, I promise.”
And the call ended.
Cash rushed into her room. He grabbed her arms. “Ana? What’s happening? What’s wrong?” His gaze swept around the small motel room, as if he were looking for a threat.