Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
For someone who’d spent the past five years avoiding any kind of relationship in order to limit emotional pain, Colt found it poetic to discover he was a masochist—not something he’d understood about himself until this exact moment.
Until he’d spent two hours doing reconnaissance on the warehouse.
All of it sitting one foot away from Ellis.
Close enough he could smell the clean scent of soap on her skin.
The citrus undertones from the shampoo. Feel the heat from her body—the sexy, desirable one he’d spent all night holding.
Touching and tasting. Rediscovering every dip and curve, every spot that made her skin bead in anticipation or her eyes roll slightly.
Sitting there, trapped in sensory overload and not being able to act on it.
To lift her onto his lap. Spear his fingers into her hair—take down the pony tail and see all that rich brown mass spill around her shoulders and across his hands—taste her mouth. How her body molded to his…
It hurt. More than he’d imagined. And yet, he knew he’d sit there for a thousand more hours, his damn dick painfully swollen against his jeans, his heart ready to pound through his chest, if it meant more time with her.
Yeah, he obviously really loved suffering.
Wallowing in it because she didn’t seem to be suffering, at all.
Her breathing was steady. Even. Her muscles primed but not strained.
Ready to react if necessary, but not stressed from sitting in the Jeep with him.
Even her face looked relaxed. No tightness around her eyes or mouth.
No sudden blushing that suggested she was reliving their night together.
He was. How soft her skin had been. How she’d looked up at him, lip snagged between her teeth, skin flushed pink as she’d inhaled, then crested, crying out his name—her head pushed back into the pillow. The way she’d wanted him to hold her. Keep her safe.
Every second he’d spent touching her, loving her, over and over until it was all he could do not to scream.
To not put that Wrangler in drive and leave—nonstop until he’d reached the tip of South America.
Somewhere so remote, so lost to the rest of the world, even Roger McCormick wouldn’t find them.
Then, Colt would lose himself in her. Just dive in and never resurface.
None of which was possible. Nowhere was safe as long as her asshole boss was alive.
Colt knew Cannon wanted to take the guy into custody.
Let the Marshal Service or the FBI or even the CIA handle the bastard.
Lock him up. But alive meant McCormick was still a threat, and Colt didn’t want Ellis spending the rest of her life always looking over her shoulder.
Wondering if McCormick would send someone to stick a knife in her back—or put a fifty-cal round between her pretty eyes.
Not happening. One way or another, Colt would find a way to ensure her safety.
Of course, having her never leave his side was a good start.
A plan he could really get behind—more proof that he enjoyed pain because based on how indifferent she seemed sitting next to him, her thoughts weren’t close to his.
That any remaining time they spent together wouldn’t be a repeat of last night.
Damn. Just thinking the words, last night, had his dick jumping against the tight confines of the denim, again, making him inhale sharply against the stab of pain.
Great. Another boner. He’d gotten more unwanted wood since Ellis had fallen into his arms than he had in the five years she’d been gone.
And it didn’t look as if that was going to change anytime soon.
Her fingers landed on his forearm, making his damn dick throb. She was going to kill him.
Colt pushed out a rough breath then focused on her.
Eyes wide, the color of azurite. He’d never seen that exact color before.
So pure it looked electrified. Glowing against the creamy white of her skin.
No makeup, just a healthy hint of pink in her cheeks.
A splash by the vee in her shirt. With her hair pulled back, her cheekbones stood out in soft contrast. High.
That pink hue darkening slightly. She never ceased to take his breath away.
Ellis arched one eyebrow, tilting her head to the side. “You okay?”
If having a freaking hard-on from hell that won’t go down because I’m insanely in love with you is fine…
He forced a tight smile. “Fine. Something on your mind?”
Are you thinking about how my mouth felt against your cleft? How you flooded my tongue? Because I am.
Those brows furrowed, this time, as if she’d heard his inner ramblings.
“The majority of the workers left twenty minutes, ago. And the sun will be setting soon. It’d be best if we could scout around before we lose all the light.
Seeing a beam bouncing inside a deserted warehouse will be a dead giveaway.
” She paused. “Addison did say it was vacant, right?”
Colt smiled. “And here I’d thought you were sleeping with your eyes open.” He grunted when she swatted him in the chest. “Temper, sweetheart.”
“So, we shouldn’t meet with much resistance.”
“That’s what I’m hoping. I guess this means you’re done watching?”
“Can’t look for clues if we don’t go inside.”
He nodded. He felt restless, too. Hated waiting.
Watching. Biding his time when they could be actively making forward progress.
But, a part of him wanted to drag this out.
Not just to spend more time with her—alone—but because he wasn’t sure how she’d feel once they got inside.
Traced her steps back to where she’d been held.
How he’d feel. If her blood was on the floor…
“You’re stalling.” Ellis squeezed his thigh. “I’m a big girl, Brett. I’ll be okay.”
“Who says I’m stalling because of you?” He’d intended it to be flippant. Thought maybe a bit of easy banter and sarcasm would reduce the obvious tension, but, damn…
The look she gave him. All big blue eyes, and pink pursed lips.
Completely at odds with how she’d been sitting there all this time.
It was compassion and simmering heat. But there was something else.
Something deep. Pure. The same way she’d looked at him when he’d come back from the field when an op had gone sideways.
His brothers injured. Intel and targets lost. He’d be feeling perched on the razor’s edge.
No way to get off without shredding part of his soul.
Then, she’d look at him—exactly like this.
Touch him softly, like she was, now, and everything would quiet.
Just slide into place, as if she’d shut out the world just for him.
He swallowed, but it didn’t help dislodge the ball of emotion in his throat. The one tightening his chest. Christ, he was in way over his head.
She reached over, brushed her thumb along his jaw. “I got out. And you saved my ass. Nothing else matters.”
He placed his hand over hers. Kept it pressed against him. “They hurt you. That’s not something I’ll ever forget.” That ball thickened. Welled higher. “Or forgive.”
Her eyes widened, and he knew she’d understood the deeper meaning. That he’d never forgive himself for letting her go—not hunting her down. Saving her before this whole ugly mess began. “Shall we?”
The door chimed as she opened it, patting down her vest once she was standing outside.
It still amazed him how cool she was. Detached.
This definitely wasn’t the MI soldier he’d fallen in love with.
But there was an unmistakable allure to watching the new Ellis move.
Honed grace with a lethal undertone woven through.
Not powerful like him. Like his brothers.
Often relying on brute strength and sheer willpower to get them through.
Ellis glided over the ground. Almost like a dancer, but one with deadly intent.
She rounded the Jeep, nodding toward the bridge. “You got the camera pattern down?”
“Twenty seconds to get across and over to the post below the camera. Wait fifteen then bolt for that first warehouse. We’ll need to pause for five then hoof it along the front to keep from getting caught on that far one panning the entire front area.”
She smiled. “Should have a few seconds to spare.” She took a step forward, then stopped, sliding her gaze his way. “And just so you know, it wasn’t your fault. What happened to me with McCormick. I made my choices. So, you might want to cut yourself some slack.”
“Ellis—”
She was gone. Striding toward the bridge.
Practically bouncing along on the balls of her feet.
Floating. He grunted then darted after her, catching up with her as she paused on this side of the bridge, looking both ways—clearing the streets as far as they could see—as she waited for the camera to pan the other way.
Ten seconds and they were off, quick-stepping along the pavement. Keeping time with the sweeping motion far off to their left. Ellis detoured toward the post, positioning herself below it as it stilled for a second then started moving, again.
She counted to fifteen, then headed for the large, metal structure forty-five degrees off to their right.
The hum of an engine sounded along the road, and Ellis changed her direction mid-stride, darting behind a large tractor-trailer parked at the edge of the buildings—feet behind one of the sets of tires.
An old white panel van turned onto the road, slowly crossing in front of them then continuing toward the warehouses closer to the water.
Colt tapped her shoulder—circled his finger. She moved to the other end, showing the countdown on her hand. He smiled. He knew she’d still be keeping track in her head. Would already have her exit timed.