Chapter 27
Heathen
Last night, lying in bed and talking to her for hours, feels like a dream, and it feels even more unreal when I wake up in bed alone.
I grumble my annoyance, gripping my erection with a rough hand. As nice as the conversation we shared was, my dreams weren't as innocent, and it has left me wishing she was still beside me.
She may have taken full-on sex out of the equation, but there are so many other things we can do while still avoiding a P-in-the-V situation.
As a grown man who has always prided himself in being able to control his hormones, I find it difficult to get my head in the right place and off of the way her body glistens under the showerhead.
I make quick work of heading to the bathroom, taking a piss, and brushing my teeth, before getting dressed and heading downstairs.
I tell myself with every step down the stairs that I'm going for coffee, not seeking her out, but that doesn't stop my eyes from darting all over the place, looking in every nook and cranny to try and find her.
I'm not at all surprised to find her sitting at the breakfast bar with a steaming cup of coffee in front of her.
Just the way she has both hands wrapped around the damn thing as she speaks to Rooster makes memories of the way she held my cock in her slippery hand the exact same way come rushing back.
I groan with need, drawing the attention of my teammate. The wicked look in his eyes makes me wonder if the fucker has hidden cameras in my en suite.
"Mornin'," I say to him as I make a beeline to her because pretending she isn't the only person taking up every inch of space in my head is impossible.
"Hey," she says as we lock eyes. "Good morning."
Her smile is easy, and if I stood here long enough, I could probably convince myself that she doesn't regret all the confessions she made last night.
Instead of dwelling on anything negative, including wanting to ask Rooster to track that fucker Troy down so I can teach him a lesson on how to treat women, I step in closer to her until I fill her vision completely.
"Mornin'," I repeat.
"Yeah, you already said that," she teases, and I sort of love that she doesn't give me a pass.
I lean down, with every intention of brushing a kiss on her cheek, but the way she licks her lips in preparation has me diverting to the left a few inches.
I press my lips to hers, planning on a brief kiss, but the sharp intake of her breath when we touch makes me throw those plans out the window.
I swipe my tongue across her lips until she opens for me, and I end up breathless as she slides her tongue against mine. I hold on to her, stepping in close and positioning myself between her legs.
By the time a throat clears at my back, I have my arms all the way around her, and she's bent backward, her hands clinging to my shirt.
She chews her lower lip when I lift her back up and take a step away.
"Good morning," she says.
"Yeah," I tell her with a wink. "You already said that."
I have no doubt that her chuckle could end sickness all over the world, but I'm just too fucking selfish to urge her to share it with anyone else.
"Breakfast?" I ask as I make my way to the coffee pot.
"You're trying to spoil me," she says. I hate that Rooster is still in the kitchen, standing to the side and staring at us like we're some sort of museum display he just can't quite figure out.
His presence deters me from being open and honest, and there may come a time, later in life, when I'm mature enough to question why that might be. I'm in no position to worry about it right now.
"I'm making myself something," I say with a shrug, my back still to her so I don't have to bear witness to the disappointment on her face with my reasoning. "Figured I can as easily make enough for two."
"Sounds good," she whispers, leaving no doubt in my mind that she's a little disheartened by my words.
"On second thought," she says a few seconds later as I'm pulling things from the fridge. "I'm going to swim laps in the pool."
The scrape of her stool echoes around the room, but her footsteps are too light for me to hear them as she makes a hasty escape.
"You're a fucking idiot," Rooster mutters. "That was not the way to handle that."
"What?" I ask, still working on making breakfast.
"You know what, unless you don't. Then I'm just really sad for you."
I don't bother feeding into whatever conversation it is he wants to have, but, of course, that doesn't stop him from continuing.
"Are you really that stupid when it comes to women?"
I turn to face him, anger making my left eye twitch uncontrollably.
"What could you possibly know about women? The only interaction you get is what you pay for online."
His lips form a flat line. "There's nothing wrong with online dating, but we're not talking about me."
"We're not talking about me either," I mutter and turn my attention back to the carton of eggs.
"How hard would it have been to tell her that you just want to make sure she's fed? Or that you like feeding her? Hell, you could've said something about wanting to watch her stick things in her mouth."
"Watch it," I growl as I spin back around to face him, seconds away from knocking his head off.
"That," he says, pointing to me as if I just proved his point. "You care for her."
"She's my wife," I say through clenched teeth.
"You married her to save her from trouble," he reminds. "At least that's what your story is."
"That's what happened."
"Yet," he says, pointing back to the now empty stool. "You walked in here and claimed that woman like a caveman. I had to clear my throat because you were getting dangerously close to pulling her fucking clothes off."
"I wouldn't do that," I argue.
"Not knowing how close you were proves my point. You're insane about that woman, and anyone within a mile of you two knows it. Why act like a dick five seconds after kissing her silly?"
I grind my teeth together, hating to be so transparent to anyone when I'm supposed to be keeping my cool with this entire situation.
"She's not up for discussion," I mutter, once again turning back to the carton of eggs I no longer feel like cooking. "The sooner we can take down Dima and his crew of merry criminals, the sooner I can get back to my life."
It feels wrong to say the words, but I know they have to be said. A couple of erotic interactions and a long conversation don't create a situation where we make plans to spend the rest of our lives together. The sooner I realize that the better it will be for all of us.
"We should just go to the warehouse and shut them down," I say as I place the eggs back into the fridge, my stomach now in knots so tight I'd never be able to eat.
"You know we can't do that," he says, as if he's always been the voice of reason. "The fact that he's helping women find love is a gray area. Without proof that they're being coerced or threatened to be there, it's not a case that will hold up in court."
"Kaylee is proof that they're being threatened," I argue.
Rooster holds up both of his hands, making me realize that what he's going to say next will do nothing but piss me off.
"You're a reasonable man," he begins. "So don't take this the wrong way."
"There isn't a single conversation in the world that begins like that which doesn't anger someone," I say, warning in my tone.
"Yet, some things have to be said. So just listen." His throat works on a swallow before he trudges forward. "Kaylee Rhodes seems like—"
"Burke," I growl. "Her last name is Burke."
"Kaylee Burke ," he says after a long exhale. "She seems like a really nice person, but you have to consider how she appears on paper because that's what the jury is going to see when Dima's attorneys get a hold of her. The organization is set up as a sort of dating service which isn't illegal in Nevada. They don't even have to register as a brothel because we have no proof they're selling sex, which, even if they were, they'd probably meet all the requirements."
"Except for the fact the women have to be working there free of coercion," I argue. "They threatened Kaylee's friend if she didn't comply."
"According to a woman who is always late on her rent, doesn't have any money in savings, and went there and signed the paperwork of her own free will."
"That's not—"
"That's what the jury will see," he argues.
My jaw aches from how hard I'm clenching the muscles there. He has a point.
"So we can't just go in and shut them down with her as the only witness," he says as his phone chimes in his pocket.
"We have to find more evidence," I say, knowing he's right.
He shakes his head, turning his phone around to me so I can read the screen.
Kincaid: Get with Casper in Tennessee. He found the loophole we needed to raid the Vegas warehouse.
"Seems our wait is over," Rooster says as he walks out of the room.
Unease begins to settle inside of me. Only minutes ago, I was arguing that this is exactly what needed to happen. I needed this so I could put distance between Kaylee and myself.
Now that we have the all-clear to take those pieces of shit down, I'm left wishing I had more time to get to know her better before she's safe enough to return to her normal life, one that doesn't include me.
My reluctance won't stop this from happening, so I rush up the stairs and grab the gear I'll need from my bedroom closet.
Kaylee isn't in the room, and I don't know how to feel about it. Not that I have much time to worry in the first place.
The next several hours are a blur. I really thought that it would take more than improper disposal of chemicals to take down DimaTkachenko, but that's what Casper found that allowed us to do the raid on the warehouse.
I wore a mask, as did all the other guys from the Vegas team, along with many others from several different agencies local to the area.
As much as we considered ourselves helping the women at the warehouse, none of them seemed to be happy we were there. They aren't the first group of women I've encountered in my work with Cerberus who have been conditioned to see anyone in a policing type of position as the enemy. They don't want our help because they think we're just there to hurt them more than the men holding them hostage.
Of course, Dima is too smart to keep all of his paperwork at the warehouse, and there's nothing there that would give us a legal position to raid his home or the home where the women have been living. He claims a fire destroyed all of his company paperwork, and although he was able to prove a small fire at a local storage facility, we fucking know better.
The women at the warehouse had to be moved to a holding facility until lCE could figure out who they were and if they were legally in the United States. They wouldn't be getting much help from the women. Each one remained silent when questioned in both English and Russian.
When I leave the warehouse and get back to the villa, I feel like I've done more harm than good today.
Despite the fact that Dima is being held in jail currently, I have no doubt that he'll see the sun rise from his own front porch tomorrow.