Disgusted with himself, he flipped on the shower, then tugged off his clothes. And as the hot water cascaded over his sore muscles, he ignored the burn in his shoulder and the ache in his leg and especially the throb in his cock. Instead, he reminded himself of all the shit he’d been through because of her. Nothing—not even the hottest sex of his life—was worth living through that kind of pain again.
And he sure as shit wasn’t listening to that little voice whispering that he might already be halfway there.
Eve hobbled to the sack of clothing they’d picked up and tugged on the long T-shirt she’d grabbed to sleep in. She debated putting on a bra and then figured she was only going to bed, so why bother?
She glanced toward the closed bathroom door and listened to the sound of the shower, still running. Zane had been in there for at least fifteen minutes. Her mind flashed to the heated look in his eyes when she’d realized he’d been staring at her bared sex, then to the way he’d bolted out of the room when she’d caught him. Her skin grew warm and tingly when she remembered the arousal flushing his cheeks, and a heavy weight settled right between her thighs. Then an image filled her mind, this one of him standing naked beneath the spray, the water sliding over his chiseled muscles, his hand closed around his cock, stroking the length of his erection, up, down, again and again while he thought of her . . .
Heat exploded in her hips and shot fingers of arousal straight to her breasts. Her nipples pebbled against the thin cotton of her T-shirt, and she sank to the end of the bed, swiped at the perspiration on her forehead, and pressed her thighs together.
It was official. She was an idiot. Her sister was missing, the government thought she’d turned traitor and was right now looking for her, and all she could think about was mind-numbing sex with the man on the other side of the door who still didn’t completely trust her. And what was worse—what was really knocking her off her feet—was the knowledge that if Zane had reached for her a moment ago, she wouldn’t have been able to say no.
She pressed shaking fingers against her closed eyes and breathed deep. Keep it together, Eve.
Okay, so, the reality was, if he’d wanted her, he’d have taken her. Yeah, he’d been turned on—she’d seen his erection when he’d pushed to his feet—but he’d walked out because even he knew a repeat of this morning was a bad fucking idea. Sex—now—would just be a major mistake. It wouldn’t help her find her sister, and it wouldn’t clear their names. But oh God, it would feel good . . .
Her traitorous mind skipped back to this morning. To the feel of his cock pressing inside her, stretching her, drawing a groan from her lips. To the tight slide and retreat, to the electrical current that had shot through her entire body and the exquisite feeling of coming apart around him.
She braced her hands on her knees, squeezed until pain shot through her legs, and breathed deeply. Think about Olivia. Think about Roberts. Think about anything besides going into that bathroom, stripping out of your clothes, and joining Zane in that hot, wet shower.
She needed perspective. She needed someone to slap some common sense into her. Because she’d distanced herself from her family, she’d never confided anything to Olivia, and thanks to her job, she didn’t have any close girlfriends to turn to. There was only one person who knew both her and Archer and who’d been a rock for her to lean on when she’d broken things off with Archer the first time. Only one person who could possibly save her from doing something stupid right this very minute.
Her eyes popped open, and before she could stop herself, she reached for the unregistered cell phone Zane had given her and dialed the private number.
“Dietrick.”
“Carter? It’s Juliet.”
James Dietrick sighed. “Eve, where the hell are you? I tried to call Archer earlier, but he didn’t answer.”
The sexy image of Zane pleasuring himself threatened once more, but Eve forced it back. “Is this line secure?”
“Yes.”
“You’re sure?”
“I know how to cover my ass, Juliet. Where’s Sawyer?”
“He’s in the shower. They sent a wet team after us before, when he called you from Bainbridge.”
“I know. But it wasn’t us. Feds already found the house. Nice work there, by the way.”
“Who were they?” she asked.
“I don’t know. We’re running things now. Think they might have been part of a Chechen militia with ties to the terrorists who set off that bomb.”
Eve sighed. “Great. How the hell would they have found us?”
“I don’t know.” He hesitated. “Hey, you don’t sound so hot. Is everything okay?”
No, everything was most definitely not okay. She was dangerously close to jumping Zane’s bones, and she needed Carter to talk some sense into her before she took the situation from bad to worse. Thankfully, Carter had always been the conscience she seemed to lack. He’d been the one to warn her that things with Zane were heating up too fast back in Beirut. And he’d cautioned her to the consequences of getting involved with a fellow officer. Too bad she hadn’t listened to him sooner. Then maybe she never would have fallen in love with Archer in the first place.
“I’m fine. Everything’s fine. I’m just . . .” She closed her eyes and drew a deep breath. “Remind me again why he’s not like us.”
Carter chuckled. “You want the condensed or unabridged version?”
Eve’s blood hummed, and she hobbled to the window, hoping some of the damp Pacific Northwest air radiating from the glass would cool her down. “I want the sane version.”
Carter sighed. “Your soft spot’s showing, Juliet.”
“I don’t have a soft spot, dammit. I’m just . . . tired and stressed and . . . not thinking clearly.”
“Does the dumbass know how you feel?”
How could he? Eve barely understood how she felt herself. And she didn’t want to feel anything for him, but she knew now that was a pipe dream. The truth was, she hadn’t been able to leave him last night like she should have because she still cared about him. And she wasn’t walking out now—like a sane person would—because somewhere, deep inside, she was still halfway in love with the guy.
Her heart thumped hard at that realization. “I’m scared,” she whispered. “I haven’t been scared in a long time, but I’m scared now.”
“We’ll figure all of this out. Don’t worry. You’ve got Archer there, and I’m here to help, however I can. Did you set up the meeting with your CSIS agent?”
“Yeah. Tomorrow. Oh nine hundred, in Bellingham.”
“Good. By tomorrow night this could all be over.”
Over . . .
The word hung in Eve’s mind, and she chanced a look back toward the closed bathroom door. Yeah, she wanted this nightmare over, but as soon as that happened, Zane would be gone. And then she’d be alone, like she’d been before. Except this time she’d have the fresh memory of what it felt like to have his arms close around her, to have his lips on hers, to remember the exquisite pleasure only he’d ever been able to wring out of her.
“It’s gonna be okay,” Carter said softly. “You’re gonna be fine.”
She huffed out a half laugh and looked back out the window. “See, that’s the thing. I don’t care about me. I just don’t want anything to happen to my sister or Archer because of me.”
“We’ll find your sister. It’s what we do. I’ve got people looking into her disappearance now. As for Archer . . . he’s a big boy. He knows the consequences.”
“Yeah, but he doesn’t see things the way we do. He sees them in black-and-white, not shades of gray.”
“Which is what makes him different from us. Look, Eve, I can’t tell you what to do about the guy. You walked away from him once before, and what good did that do you? You’re right back with him again. Whether that’s fate or destiny or just bad luck, I don’t know. But I do know, if you still want him, you should go for it. I mean, it could work. You two could, like, buy a house togethe
r or something. When you run off to play 007, he could . . . I don’t know . . . What the fuck does he do these days?”
The absurdity of his words made Eve scoff. “Right. Most case officers get married three to four times, and the majority end up divorced and alone regardless of the number of times they say ‘I do.’ And that’s with someone who doesn’t know all the bad shit you’ve done. I’m not stupid enough to think there’s any kind of valentine at the end of my rainbow, especially not where Zane Archer is concerned.”
“I think you’re getting your holidays mixed up, honey.”
“See? Another reason it would never work out. Then there’s the very real fact he still hates my guts.”
Carter chuckled again. “You really are in a mood, aren’t you?”
Eve leaned a shoulder against the wall and pressed still-shaking fingers against her throbbing eyes. “I’m just . . . overwhelmed.”
“I know you are, honey, but this is all gonna work out. Trust me. If you’re conflicted, keep your distance from Archer and don’t do anything stupid. Meet with your contact in the morning, get that damn data drive, find out what’s on it, then call me. I’m not gonna let you go down for this, Eve. You’re not alone. You’ve got friends. Remember that.”
Friends. Eve wasn’t sure what that word meant anymore. She’d spent so many years lying and faking relationships for her job, she didn’t think she could recognize a friend even if they hit her over the head with a two-by-four.
“You’re not alone, and you don’t have to do everything on your own. I’m here with you in this.”
Zane’s words from the kitchen of that house on Bainbridge Island rushed through her mind. The words he’d spoken just before they’d left. Just after he’d kissed her crazy.
Her pulse ticked up again. And when the water finally shut off in the bathroom, she pictured him wet and dripping, his skin warm and glossy as he rubbed a fresh towel all over his muscular body. The blood beat hard and hot in her veins all over again, heading straight for her belly.
“Eve?”
Carter’s voice dragged her attention back to the phone. “What?”
“Everything okay? Think I lost you there for a minute.”
He had. Eve swallowed hard and closed her eyes. Oh God, she was losing it. And she had a sinking suspicion there was no way she’d be able to keep her distance from Archer tonight. Not the way she was suddenly feeling. “I’m . . . here.”
“Good. Get some rest and call me tomorrow.”
“I will. And Carter, please let me know if you hear anything about Olivia. Anything at all.”
“Done. Sleep well, Juliet.”
The line clicked in her ear, and Eve’s hand dropped to her side.
Stupid . . .
She rested her head against the wall and scrunched her eyes. She should leave right now before Archer came out of that bathroom. Before it was too late. But she wasn’t going to. No, like the idiot she’d been in Beirut, she was going to sit here and want and suffer. And if he even made one tiny move toward her, she’d probably rock his world, and hers, and fuck everything up for good.
Then hate herself even more in the morning.
Olivia’s throat was bone-dry.
She pushed her aching upper body off the frayed mattress she’d been lying on and looked toward the door. The room they’d moved her to felt like the Ritz compared to the box she’d been in before. She was in some kind of house. A high window on the wall let in moonlight, which illuminated the cracked plaster walls and the dirty wood floor, but she had no idea what it looked out at. Aside from the rusted iron bed—bolted to the wall—and the mattress stained with sweat and blood, there was no other furniture to move around so she could climb up to see. And the bars over the windows prevented her from getting out, even if she had the energy to try.
It felt like cotton coated her mouth, and she licked her lips for the hundredth time. She needed water but was too afraid to bang on the door and ask. A shudder ran through her when her mind flashed to the image of that man climbing into the back of the van with her after she’d tried to run. As if he’d hit her all over again, pain ricocheted through her entire body.
Her head throbbed. She was filthy and covered in her own blood, and part of her didn’t even want to know where the blood had come from. She’d blacked out in that van—the only plus to the entire ordeal—and she didn’t want to think about or do anything to trigger her memories.
Tears welled in her eyes, and she closed them quickly, willing back the self-defeating thoughts. Someone would find her. People had to know she was missing by now. Her principal. The secretary at school. Her mind spun with possibilities, and then she remembered the guy in the van mentioning Eve.
Eve worked as an assistant to some politician in Washington, DC. Surely once she realized Olivia was missing, with her contacts, she’d send someone to come after Olivia.
But even as she tried to convince herself all wasn’t lost, a tiny voice in the back of Olivia’s head whispered, No one’s coming after you. You’re not important. What have you ever done that makes your life worth saving? And then there was the very real fact she and Eve hadn’t spoken in over a year.
Regret welled in Olivia’s chest. The last time she’d seen her sister was at their father’s funeral, when Eve had breezed in for the service and then breezed right back out again, as she always did. But this time, before she’d left, Olivia had been pissed enough to let Eve have it. She’d been the one to visit Daddy every day in the hospital after the cancer had spread. She’d been the one to take care of the preparations for the funeral and to oversee liquidating what was left of their parents’ estate. She’d been the only Wolfe child her parents could depend on in their last years because she hadn’t disappeared as soon as life got tough.
Unlike Eve. Who’d shed a few tears at the funeral, accepted the condolences from friends and family as if she’d carried some huge burden, and then had taken off again like she always did. And the saddest part was, their father wouldn’t have cared. Because—according to him—Eve was doing something important with her life, unlike Olivia, who was simply teaching.
Those who can, do. Those who can’t, teach.
He’d never said those words aloud, but she knew he’d believed them. Because she believed them too.
She swiped at the stupid tear falling from the corner of her eye and felt like giving in to a long crying jag. But a groan echoed through the wall, drawing her up short.
Her breath caught, and she listened, afraid her captors were coming for her again. She wouldn’t survive another beating. Her body began to shake. She wouldn’t make it if—
“Who’s there?”
Olivia stilled. The voice hadn’t come from the hallway beyond her door but from . . . the wall.
She looked to her right, to the wall opposite the window, and held her breath.
“I can hear you,” the voice said. A male voice. A weak male voice, which was . . . oddly familiar. “Don’t pretend like you don’t know I’m here.”
Her gaze locked on a heating vent at the bottom of the wall, near the corner of the room. Slowly, she slid off the bed and crawled toward it, gritting her teeth at the pain in her muscles as she moved. When she was seated on the floor near the vent, her back against the adjacent wall and her knees pulled up to her chest, she finally worked up the courage to say, “Wh-who are you?”
“No one you know.”
But she did. Olivia’s brow dropped. His voice was very familiar, she just didn’t know from where.
“Any idea what time it is?”
“No.” She focused on the cadence of his words to see if anything triggered her memory but came up empty. The only thing she knew for sure was that his voice was frail, like hers, indicating he’d taken a beating or two himself. “It’s late, though.”
He sighed. “I’m sorry I got you involved in this.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t hurt you. This won’t take long, I promise.”
Words??
?words he had spoken to her the night Karl had dropped her off at her house after that awful date and he’d come out of the shadows to grab her—echoed through Olivia’s mind. She gripped her knees and sat straight up. “You—”
“I didn’t plan this,” he said quickly. “They made me. They told me nothing would happen to you. I believed them. I’m sorry.”
Olivia’s gaze darted around the barren floor, but she couldn’t seem to focus on any one thing. “Who’s they?”
Silence.
“Who’s they?” she said again. “I have a right to know who’s doing this to me.”
“Shh, relax. You don’t want them to hear us, do you?”
Olivia stared at the grate between the walls, barely able to think, let alone feel. The man who’d kidnapped her was in the next room. The one who’d started all of this.
“And you don’t have any rights,” he mumbled. “Not where they’re concerned. It’s written on the fucking Constitution. You lose all rights as soon as they turn your way.”
Olivia didn’t know what he was getting at, but she didn’t care. All that mattered was finding out what was really going on, so that maybe—somehow—she could figure a way out of this nightmare. Because she wasn’t so sure help was coming after her anymore.
“What do they want? Why me?”
“Does it even matter? We’re gonna die in this hellhole.”
Panic pushed its way up Olivia’s throat, but she forced it back. “Yes, it matters. I need to know. Why did they—whoever they are—tell you to come after me? What do they want with me?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?” That couldn’t be right. “If I was nothing, they would have killed me already.” She knew from the beating she’d taken that they were capable of it. There was a reason they were keeping her alive. When they’d moved her from that container she’d been locked in, the big guy from the van had told her she was now “useful.” “What do I know—?”