Chapter 4
Dallas’s smile slid from his face, taking with it a little piece of Gemma’s hope. She’d been beyond careless, sharing that with him. She knotted her hand in her hair and climbed off his lap. The movement made her robe part. Not that it mattered. The man had been on or in every inch of her body.
Except she’d just changed things on a massive scale. Taken their light, lust-filled relationship—or whatever it might be called—and stripped back the protective layer that kept him from knowing who she really was. What she really did for a living. There was no backing out of this. The magnitude of what she’d just done came crashing down.
People didn’t just violate the CIA’s nondisclosure agreement and walk away. If they knew he was someone important to her, they could hurt him. Panic bubbled inside her. They could do whatever they wanted. If there was any part of the government that was untouchable, she was tangled right in it.
Dallas scrubbed both of his hands over his face. He dropped his elbows to his knees, and a rumbling laugh erupted from his throat.
Gemma swung her gaze around the room in confusion then back to his shaking shoulders.
“Ah, Christ.” He let out another whoop and dropped his arms, staring up at her. “You’ve gotta be shitting me.”
“Uh. No.”
“I don’t know what’s fucking with my head more—that you’re a CIA agent or that your target was my contact.”
Bile climbed up her esophagus, which still burned from when she’d spilled her cookies hours before. “Your... your contact?”
He surged to his feet. “I can’t fucking believe this. How’d I miss that you’re a damn agent?”
She swallowed. “I’m not an agent. I’m an informant—well, kind of.”
“My brothers are going to crucify me.”
She quirked her mouth to the side. “I’m confused. What do your brothers have to do with anything?”
A sardonic smirk flashed on his lips. “Sorry, babe. I gotta be really careful what I say around you. Are you working with the FBI, too? Did you just use me to get close to my family all these years? Cole, I bet. Well, you can’t have them, and I’ll be no part of this shit.”
She held up her hands. “Hold on a freaking minute. A, I’m not working with the FBI, nor have I ever. B, all I know about your brothers is that you have a lot of them. And C...” Her dang lip trembled again. “C, you made me think I could trust you and here you are lashing out.”
“Apparently I don’t know who the hell you are.” His dark expression matched the stubble on his jaw, but it was anything but sexy.
Her heart beat in triple time. Dallas wouldn’t hurt her, but the pulsing vein at his throat told her he was reaching max capacity for holding his temper in check.
He turned away and marched toward the door.
Urgency pressed against her chest, prompting her to explain.
“Don’t you think if I wanted information about your family I would have come around more than once a year? Don’t you think I would have pried or asked questions?”
He stopped in his tracks. His broad back blocked her view of the door. His arms hung at his sides, his hands clenched into fists.
She wouldn’t try to stop him from leaving, but having him believe everything between them had been a lie was a pill she couldn’t swallow.
Slowly, he faced her. Something she’d said had made him pause. His jaw worked back and forth, as if it were taking him great effort not to punch a wall.
She rocked onto the sides of her feet. “To be fair, I don’t know anything about what you do either. You haven’t exactly been up-front and honest.”
Something flashed in his eyes, but she couldn’t put her finger on what it was. He took two paces toward her. Five feet still separated them.
Goodness, he was tall. She was five foot four and he stood darn near a foot taller. The proximity of his body made her loins tingle. Memories of his touch and kiss swarmed her from the belly up.
Usually when he stood this close, it wasn’t because of an altercation—it was because he was going to get down and dirty. The contrast made her brain hurt.
“I’ve told you enough,” he said.
Cooling the unreciprocated fire that burned inside her, she jutted her chin forward. “You’ve mentioned your work is dangerous. You said you travel.” She ticked off the statements on her fingers. “You couldn’t tell me anything else. I’m going to bet what you do is illegal.”
She gave herself a mental round of applause for not just parting her robe and dropping it at her feet. Maybe she should. That’d sure end this exchange.
He lifted a shoulder, his mouth tight. “I never pretended to be a saint.” His words came out as though on a cracking whip. “The fact is, Gemma, you’ve run off every time we’ve been together, and had I not had my brother track you down, today wouldn’t have been any different.”
She folded her arms in front of her, tucking them under her breasts. He wasn’t wrong. She’d wanted—no, needed—confirmation that he’d survived, though. She would’ve found a way to see if he’d lived. Of course, it would have taken days, or weeks.
“When I woke up, all I could think about was that you’d died in the explosion.” He thumped his fist against his chest, making her wince. “That fucking killed me,” he spat. “A little heads-up would’ve been nice.”
His words chewed through the wall of armor she clung to. Guilt swarmed her. “It’s not like I had a whole lot of time to plan out what to say. Never in my wildest dreams did I expect to see you at the hotel.” Her breath slowed as realization dawned. “Oh, my god.”
He jerked his chin, questions written on his face.
She tunneled her hands into the hair at her scalp. No, no, no.
“What?” he asked.
She pressed her knuckles to her teeth. “If you were meeting Silas, then the CIA knows about you.”
***
Dallas opened andclosed his fists at his sides.
He needed a walk. To wrap his head around the breakneck pace he was heading to hell at. A war had been waged inside him. Part of him wanted to walk out of Gemma’s hotel room and never look back, but another, hornier, part wanted to fuck her against the wall.
There were a million little piles of shit between Gemma and him that he needed to tiptoe around—or deal with—but not now. One catastrophe at a time.
First things first. He had to get out of Colombia. She had hit the nail on the head. If he hadn’t already been a person of interest, he sure as hell was now.
Pulling his phone from his pocket, he brought the screen to life then froze. He lifted his gaze to Gemma. She had the knuckle of her index finger pressed to the corner of her lip, her teeth nibbling at the flesh.
“If I can get us out of here tonight, will you come?”
Her eyes widened to saucers. “I—no. I mean. I don’t know.”
He made a sound of impatience. “We don’t have a lot of time.”
She lowered her arm to her midsection and paced the short distance from the bed to the window and turned back to face him. “Charlene told me to wait for my flight confirmation, but...”
“But what?”
She wore a familiar reticent look. The one she always wore whenever the topic of her work came up.
She closed her eyes and opened them slowly on a breath. “I don’t know if I can trust her. She lied to me about the mission... oh god. She set me up in this hotel.” She pushed her fingertips against her temple. “I’m so screwed.” Her voice rose an octave. “They’re going to know you came here. Surely they already know about your connection to Silas. They’ll think—”
He strode forward and caught her elbow, stopping her from spinning in a wild circle. “Hold on a minute.” Her eyes were glazed over with fear. “The CIA has no reason to follow you. Not yet anyway.”
She nodded, and her shoulders dropped an inch. “You’re right. But they’re always one step ahead.”
“I need to know, Gemma. Are you done working for them?”
She stuck out her bottom lip a little. Enough that he wanted to lean down and pull the delicious skin into his mouth. He might be pissed at how royally she’d fucked up his job, but his dick sure as hell was slow on the uptake.
“Yes. I can’t do this anymore. For years I was too scared to leave. Now I’m scared to stay.”
He nodded. “Good. Then you’ll come with me?”
She scrunched up her face. “I appreciate the offer. I do. But I think it’s best I go my own way. They won’t be happy when they figure out I’m done. Enough people have been hurt because of me.”
He dug his fingers into her skin. He could stand being mad at her. Hell, he could even stand the chaos she’d swept into his world. He couldn’t stand her blaming herself for the bombs. “You know that wasn’t your fault.”
He had a messed up way of trying to comfort her, but until he could unbox what was going on in his head, it was the best he could do.
“Please.” She rolled her eyes and tugged her arm from his hold. “I saw the look on your face when you got here... the look you still have.”
He sent his gaze skyward. Breathe, Dallas. Breathe.
He shifted his attention back to her face. One expertly shaped eyebrow cocked, and her expression suggested she’d never seen a man on the cusp of a breakdown.
“Blame yourself if you want. I don’t care. But right now, I’m making plans to get out of this country and this is your last chance to come with me.”
Her expression changed. The reserved, slightly haughty Gemma fell into place. “Thanks, but no.”
He shrugged. You could lead a horse to water and all that. Besides, he was stupid to think she’d trust him now when she hadn’t throughout the years he’d gotten into her panties.
He could have helped her get away from the CIA ages ago. Not that she would’ve known that, because, as she’d said, he’d been just as tight-lipped as she had.
“All right.” He walked to the desk and picked up a pencil. Sliding the pad of hotel paper forward, he jotted down his phone number. “Not that I think you’ll call me, but you can’t say I didn’t try.”
She drummed her fingers against her elbow, which was tucked into her side. “Thanks.”
He tipped his head and turned to the door. He reached for the handle, but his hand resisted. Leaving her was wrong on so many levels. But it was time he stopped hanging on Gemma’s every move.
She was dangerous. Maybe more dangerous than he was. Maybe even more dangerous than his family.
Not walking away could be the nail in his coffin.
He yanked open the door and entered the fluorescent light of the hall.
Good luck, Gemma.
***
Stupid.
Why was she so stupid?
Oh, yeah. Because if she stayed with Dallas, the CIA would catch him. Charlene hadn’t divulged the kind of work Silas was into. Just that he was uberbad.
She strode barefoot around the room like a puppy waiting impatiently for its owner to return. Only Dallas wasn’t coming back.
He’d never want to see her again. Who would? After he realized she was as much to blame for the bombs as the CIA, he’d certainly find another woman to keep him busy the one night a year she visited. Sure, she hadn’t known about the bombs, but she’d done work for the agency before that was most definitely in a gray area when it came to the law.
She wasn’t naive.
She also wasn’t a newbie. There were questions she could have asked. Signs she could have looked for. Instead, she’d turned a blind eye. Bending over for Dallas in a closet at the first sight of him had surely numbed some of her senses.
Sighing, she dropped onto the bed. Her gaze drifted to the pad of paper and, like a toddler drawn to a cookie jar, she reached for it.
Ten digits were scrawled in lead. He hadn’t written his name. Just the numbers. She picked up the paper and studied the sequence.
She was so not committing it to memory.
Yet her blasted brain refused to stop staring at his writing.
Dropping the pad to the nightstand, she clicked off the light and then went back to bed and pulled the covers to her chin.
She was too stubborn. Maybe even self-destructive. She’d been scared to go with Dallas for more than the reasons she’d outlined. When he’d offered to take her with him, her heart had soared. Allowing herself to fall for Dallas more than she already had would be reckless.
Besides. If she was anywhere near him, there was a greater chance of the CIA catching him. No. It was best this way.
She rolled onto her side and brought the memory of Dallas’s scent to the forefront of her mind—woodsy cedar, and the faint hint of cigars on his breath, which should have grossed her out but on him tasted sweet. She envisioned his rock-hard abdomen pressed to her back, his arm loose around her waist, cuddling her in a way no one ever had.
The image had allowed her to fall asleep for the last five years.
And she’d just let him walk out the door.
***
“All right,” Dallassaid into the phone as he sat in his rental car outside Gemma’s hotel. Occasionally, headlights whizzed by, but other than that, the street was quiet. “Text me the coordinates and I’ll be there at 9:00a.m.”
“You sure you don’t want to come here for the night? The airstrip is about a two-and-a-half-hour drive from Cali.” Lorenzo’s offer was filled with hesitancy. A baby cried in the background, and a ripple of revulsion hit Dallas.
Kids were great. At a distance. Not when he needed a good night’s rest. He didn’t have the capacity to deal with that tonight.
“I appreciate the offer. Sounds like you’ve got your hands full.” He said goodbye and hung up, dropping his head back to the seat and closing his eyes.
He should go back to his motel room. Forget about Gemma and stop hoping she’d change her mind. He needed sleep, but part of him didn’t want to shut his eyes. He had his passport and wallet on him, and once he’d gathered his wits after the explosion, he’d gone to the nearest drugstore and bought the necessities.
He swung his gaze to the soaring hotel across the street. He needed to leave already. To forget Gemma like she’d already forgotten him.
But nearly an hour later, he couldn’t bring himself to pull away from the curb. He still had six hours to go before his flight.
He reread the text messages he’d received earlier that day but hadn’t replied to. One was from Nash, the youngest of his three brothers. He rarely called any of them when he was on a job, but since he’d already told Dare what had happened, it’d be just a matter of time before all the boys called him.
Well, maybe not Cole. But Dallas’s twin rarely worried about anyone but himself.
He tapped Nash’s contact icon and the line rang over the speaker.
“Hey.” His brother’s groggy voice filled his ears.
As the baby of the family, Nash had been lucky enough to have a less-brutal childhood than Dallas, Dare, and Cole. After their parents dumped all of them at a group home when Dallas was ten, it didn’t take long for them to run. They’d spent years in and out of foster care, bolting from the system each fucking time they got caught.
But it got harder and harder to stay together.
A few years later, Nash was adopted by Conrad Hornick, a mentor with Lionsgate Group Home. Dallas was grateful at least one of them wouldn’t have to worry about school, clothes, or food. But Conrad’s influence ensured that Nash was operating as an enforcer with Lionsgate Kinship by the time he was a teenager, the brotherhood society that, as Nash discovered, trafficked children.
If it weren’t for Lexi Ivanov, the woman who’d stolen Nash’s ledger after drugging him, Nash never would have discovered what Lionsgate was up to. Lexi was tough as nails and had an ax to grind with Conrad after Lionsgate murdered her family and sold her brother to be a living science experiment.
Now, almost a year later, the brotherhood was being investigated by the FBI and many of the head honchos were facing prison.
But they were still just beginning to grasp how deep Lionsgate’s roots ran.
“You sleeping?” Dallas asked.
“Most adults are at this time.” Nash’s whisper was followed by the sound of a door closing. “Sorry, didn’t want to wake Lex.” A beat passed. “Dare said you were in an explosion.”
As expected, word had traveled quickly. “Yeah. I’m fine. Lost my hearing for a bit, but it came back.”
“You know you don’t have to do this.” Tension laced his brother’s voice.
Dallas cleared his throat. “There’s some things you’ll never understand, little brother.”
Nash snorted. “I almost understand why you choose to spend your life on the road. But c’mon, man. You’re pushing forty—”
“Holy fuck, dude.” Dallas’s temper racked up a notch. “Do you want to spit Chiclets when I get home?”
Nash snickered. “My bad. Late thirties.”
“You know I’m the same age as Cole, right? He’ll fuck you up if you come at him with that forty bullshit.”
“Yeah, yeah. All I mean is maybe you should settle down. Start a family.”
God, this conversation was going to give him hives. “I’ve got family.”
“Hardly. You haven’t been around for Thanksgiving or Christmas in three years.”
Impatience rattled his core. He was still reeling from his confrontation with Gemma, not to mention the aftereffects of the bomb that’d blended his brain into a milkshake. The Holmes boys weren’t the sentimental type. Sure, he loved his brothers, but Nash had been softened. “Domestication has made you flaccid. Holidays are the same as any other fucking day, and the sooner you realize it—”
“Lexi’s pregnant.”
“Wh—What?”
“Figured you should know since you almost died today. It’s still early, but yeah. You’re gonna be an uncle.”
An uncomfortable itch covered his throat. He scratched his neck, but the damn irritation was on the inside. “Uh. Congrats. I—I’m shocked.”
“You and me both. Look, I haven’t told the others yet. Just wanted to tell you since you’re on another thrill ride.”
“It’s not—”
“Yeah, it is,” Nash said, his tone hot and angry.
Dallas cleared his throat. “Man, I gotta go. Give Lexi a hug for me and I hope to see you guys in a few weeks.” He clicked off and opened and closed his fists.
Who was Nash to tell him what to do? Shit. As if his brother hadn’t been one of the most dangerous men in Washington doing whatever was necessary to rule Lionsgate with an iron fist before he’d known what they were into.
And Dare was a black-market dealer. Well, he’d been one, before meeting Tessa George. He’d helped her sell some assets that nearly got them killed after Tess had been waterboarded. But that was beside the point. He wasn’t Dare. He didn’t own a nightclub and have the security of an honest business to go back to.
Nope. Leaving his line of work wasn’t an option.
It was all he knew.
And now, with Silas dead, he was going to be out two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. He also had a pissed-off client who’d hired him through Lorenzo. He’d find a way to sell the guns Pete had waiting for Silas. But for now, he needed to get to Ecuador. He wouldn’t solve shit if he were in jail.
Damn, Gemma.
He jammed the keys into the ignition. “Fuck this,” he spat. He’d go back to the shithole motel room he’d rented a few blocks away.
He shifted into drive then pulled onto the road. At the same time, a large SUV slowed in front of the hotel. He watched as a man got out and tucked a gun with a silencer under his shirt at the small of his back.
Sweat coated Dallas’s palms. He swallowed and pressed his foot to the gas. Keeping his gaze on the rearview mirror, he watched the man enter the hotel. The SUV idled out front.
Motherfucker.