Chapter 5 #2
“It’s my fault.” Her admission slipped through the cracks, flowing almost too freely for her comfort, and yet, she felt compelled to share more.
“My failure to apprehend the hacker resulted in the deaths of those men. If I’d caught him, he never could have sold that intel, and those men would still be alive.
” She faced the rocky cliffs. The estate was off in the distance in a strategically remote location.
It was more like a rich man’s compound with concrete walls and gate cameras.
“You can’t blame yourself.”
“Tell me . . . if you hadn’t rescued me in time, and I had died, would you have felt guilty?
” She stole a look at him, and his mouth became a tight line.
She didn’t need or want pity or forgiveness, she was fine with understanding, and she had a feeling if anyone got her, it’d be him.
“Why was your team sent for us?” She fully faced him, and the hard line of his bearded jaw tightened.
“We were local.”
She drew in a breath when his gaze lifted to find hers. A shadow of grief darkened his eyes and washed over his features before he looked away. “What is it?”
His hand went back to his beard as if he were buying himself time to get the words out, or to try and keep his thoughts locked away. “I lost someone on my team not too long ago. Pretty sure intel was leaked because of a hacker. How long have you been tracking this guy?”
Ohh . . . “Six months. He’d been on the FBI’s radar first, but when he started selling intelligence to terrorists, his case landed in my lap.
” She was quiet before asking, “Was Marcus Vasquez who you lost? Was he on your team?” She couldn’t imagine what it’d be like to lose someone like that.
She’d never lost a teammate, and she hoped she never would.
His eyes locked on hers at the mention of Marcus’s name, and he slowly nodded.
“I don’t think the hacker I’m chasing was responsible, but I heard about what happened to him.” She crossed the short space between them. “I’m so sorry.”
He was quiet for a solid minute, taking the time to tuck away his emotions where most Teamguys she knew usually kept them—behind fortified walls guarded by fire-breathing dragons.
When Wyatt spoke again, his voice was clear and steady.
“I’m sure you’ll get your man. From what I’ve seen, you’re not one to give up, and I respect that.
But do everyone a favor, don’t get killed in the process of going after him.
” He was quiet before adding, “We wouldn’t want your father going all scorched-earth-policy on the world, burning everything down in the name of revenge, right? ”
“He wouldn’t go to that extreme.” Well, hopefully not.
“He’s a dad. If someone hurt my daughter there wouldn’t be a hole or a hell he could hide in.”
“You have a daughter?” That hadn’t turned up in her research.
“Not that I know of,” he said with a smirk before it quickly faded. “I don’t plan on having kids because I don’t think I could handle bringing them up in this nightmare of a world we live in.”
“How can we ever fix the world if we don’t have kids, ones we can raise to hopefully make things better?” And most days, well, she actually believed her own words.
He briefly dropped his eyes to the sand. “Does that mean you’re looking to have a bunch of little ones running around in the future? I thought you were going to be forever single?”
“I can still have kids on my own.” She released a shaky breath, her lungs refusing to work properly as emotion weighed heavy. “But first, I need to find this asshole before he hurts anyone else.”
“And you will. But if you head back to Algeria, I’ll have to go in and save you, and what if I take a bullet in the process?
” There was a sparkle in his eyes, a touch of humor in his tone despite the grave words he’d spoken.
A request to get her to back down by trying to find some sort of Achilles heel to use against her.
“We wouldn’t want that,” she whispered as he brought his face closer to hers like he might dare kiss her.
He cocked his head, and his lips parted.
No words.
No kiss, either.
Silence stretched the length of the sandy white beach until he suggested, “Why don’t you get some rest?”
“Sure,” she murmured, partially wishing this moment had gone a different direction.
She put her socks and shoes back on without saying more, and they kept the quiet going as they made the journey back to the estate.
Her one-bedroom villa was surrounded by palm trees, colorful hibiscus, and fragrant orange trees. She breathed in the citrusy aroma as she took in the view and wondered what it would be like to take a vacation someday.
Once inside her temporary quarters, she moved along the terracotta-tiled floor to get to the four-poster bed, which was draped in sheer linens. The bed, the luxurious satin comforter, it all fed into her ridiculously romantic fantasies.
Overhead were olive wood ceilings, and two thick wooden beams served as the sole divide between the bedroom and living room.
The setting could’ve been from the show The Bachelor, which she’d never admit she watched, but it was her guilty pleasure, a way to forget the evil of the world for an hour or two.
“Meet your standards?” He leaned against one of the beams and crossed his ankle over his foot.
She sat down on the bed and smiled. “Are you going to be keeping post outside to make sure I sleep and don’t make a run for it?”
“Another run for it, you mean?” He smirked, flashing his straight white teeth.
Fair. “I won’t.” Although she wasn’t eager to face her father, either. He was going to try and get her sent back to Headquarters.
“Full disclosure, there are cameras outside this villa. If you do try and jet off, we’ll know about it.”
She held a palm in the air. “I’m solid. I promise.”
“Good.”
He turned and started for the door, but she couldn’t stop herself from asking, “Do you have to go?” She wasn’t ready to be alone yet. Last night was still an echo in her ears, in her mind, too.
He stilled, and the fabric of his tee cinched tight down the middle of his back as the muscles drew together. “Not yet.”
She stood. “So don’t.”
Natasha wasn’t sure what in the world she was doing, but there was some primordial stuff swirling around inside of her.
See hot guy.
Do hot guy.
A sudden spike in her hormones had her wishing he’d pull her into his arms and make her his in every way.
It’d be nice to swap her memories of last night for new ones.
As Wyatt slowly pivoted to face her, her lip went between her teeth as she observed the indecision on his face.
The tiredness in his eyes was slowly lifting like a curtain to expose his desire.
“If you leave me alone, I might break my promise. I don’t always think clearly when I’m hell-bent on getting what I want.” Honesty and truth imbued her words, but her stomach clenched tight at the risky use of such bold speech.
“And why else do you want me to stay?” He traversed the room as if it were littered with landmines. Cautious steps. A careful assessment of her. “I thought you were mad I was keeping you a so-called prisoner.”
“There’s nothing ‘so-called’ about what you’re doing,” she quipped.
He planted his hands into his pockets and remained a good two feet away. “So, why should I stay? Tell me.” His words rang with command. With a gentle ease of authority it was clear he still had in his line of work, even in private security.
Her heart palpitated, but she did it. She closed the space between them. “You know what I’m thinking.”
“Maybe I need to hear it? Maybe I need to know you’re as crazy as me for wanting to have sex . . .” He sucked in a sharp breath when her fingers slid up the center of his chest. “. . . after what happened in Algeria.”
“I think we’re in the same boat of crazy, don’t you?” She angled her head, and he brought his palm to her cheek. “I could’ve died last night, and I wish I could say that’s not the norm for me, but I have a tendency to get myself into shit situations, but I also think that—”
His mouth captured hers, and she relaxed into his arms.
He groaned before deepening the kiss, before slipping his magnificently skilled tongue into her mouth.
“Damn, Natasha,” he murmured a few heartbeats later.
He knocked his hat loose as he reached behind him, peeled his shirt over his head, and tossed it.
Muscles. More ink. A work of art, and she ran her greedy hands all over his body before he pulled her closer.
She surrendered to his next kiss. A harder one. More intense. The perfect amount of pressure and sweeping of tongue.
His beard scratched her face a little, but she didn’t care.
She was too caught up by lust, by her need to be his after years of wondering what had happened to him.
She’d almost begun to think that night on the beach in San Diego had been a figment of her imagination.
But he was indeed real. He was there and holding her. Kissing her.
The same electric energy from the night of the wedding still raged between them hotter than ever.
Leaning back, he guided her top over her head, his fingertips dragging along her heated skin.
She fell onto the bed, and he climbed on top of her without missing a beat.
Her black bra wasn’t lacy or sexy. It was standard.
Boring. Plain Jane in the CIA. But the way he held himself over her, his eyes devouring her, it was as if he were standing at the end of a Victoria’s Secret runway, and she was striding toward him with a confident strut and bright red angel wings attached.
Not a lick of makeup. She’d had her wrists zip-tied last night, and a bandana wrapped around her mouth.
And here she was now in a romantic setting while Jack was back in Algiers, where she should’ve been and . . . damn it.
“You want me to stop?” He’d read her thoughts, her sudden nerves. Somehow he’d known the creep of doubt trying to break in.
“I should’ve been on the plane with Jack,” she admitted as her palm raced across his pec.