Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The kiss had nearly erased the mission from Wyatt’s mind. Her lips had torched his focus. Her mouth on his had almost obliterated every possible danger that surrounded them.
It wasn’t until he and Natasha were upstairs, tucked away in a kitchen area of the old firehouse, that he was able to get his shit together. This woman had a tendency to give him tunnel vision, and all he could see and want was her.
But Gwen . . . where was she?
He had checked the party the moment he arrived for both Natasha and Gwen, but there’d been no sign of either of them. When he’d rounded a corner and spotted Natasha striding down the spiral stairs in her get-up, he’d frozen in place and waited for her to notice him.
But still no sign of Gwen.
Almost every hacker worth his or her salt on the list for the competition was present. He’d learned to sharpen his memory at sniper school in his younger years, and it came in handy during operations like this when he had faces and names to remember.
Gwen’s face was one he’d never forget. And how could he?
He’d been stone-cold silent on the flight to Montreal while studying the other names on the competition list. He’d gone through a gamut of emotions, including pissed at his mum for most likely suspecting Gwen was his daughter and keeping the truth hidden from him.
A.J. had tried to get him to talk on the flight but failed.
Chris and his wise-ass comments had been a bust.
Roman had just let him be because Roman was Roman.
And Finn had hopped on the same train as A.J. and Chris, which was typical, trying to get him to explain the sudden mood swing.
He’d just waved his buddies off.
His mind had been churning, same as his stomach, thinking about Gwen.
A daughter.
It was still too hard to wrap his head around.
With Harper and the rest of Echo along on the op, they’d need to know the truth, but he wasn’t ready to say the words out loud, I’m a dad.
Natasha stood in front of him, hands on her hips after having cleared the room of listening devices. “You promise you’re not here to make me leave? My dad’s not having you hold me hostage again?”
He wouldn’t mind holding this woman hostage.
Lock her away somewhere to keep her safe, as well as Gwen.
Have them tucked away and protected while he hunted down the bastard.
But Natasha was a strong and independent woman, a CIA operations officer.
She wasn’t an untrained civilian unaware of the true underbelly of darkness in the world.
No, she lived and breathed it. She could handle herself. But could Gwen?
“No, I’m here to help,” he said, his gaze sweeping over her, taking in her current look.
A goth-slash-hacker chick who loved black and pink. Even her hair had pink highlights. She’d look hot no matter what she wore, but the short skirt paired with boots had him itching to bring his hands back to her legs and feel beneath that material again.
And shit. He was gonna get dizzy if he kept flipping back and forth between the two women he needed to protect.
Two women? He brought his palm down his face, trying to regroup. “Good call on checking for bugs.” What’d he expect, though? This wasn’t amateur hour. She was a professional. More equipped at espionage and cover stories than him.
“I was here earlier, but I’d rather be cautious. We’re good, though. We can talk.”
He folded his arms across his chest and watched as her gaze lingered on his new ink. He’d gotten the tattoos a few weeks ago when he’d been bored out of his mind waiting to operate.
“Sorry about the kissing, I don’t know who might be watching us, and I just kind of went with it.” She matched his position but kept her back to the kitchen counter as if attempting to maintain a safe distance between them, from the possibility of him pulling her back into his arms to kiss her.
But hell, part of him wanted to hoist her up onto that counter, wrap those long legs tight around his waist, and take her right there. Not even the DJ’s music would muffle the cries of her orgasms.
The other part of him wanted him to get his shit together and remember why he was at this hacker party in Canada—to help and protect Natasha, as well as find his daughter and look out for her.
He wasn’t sure which part of him would win, especially with Natasha standing there in a plaid skirt and neon pink tank beneath her hoodie, which was now open, offering him a view of the tight fit of the top, showcasing her curves.
In Ibiza, he’d had her top off, but he’d never made it far enough to unsnap her bra.
“The Knight,” she said softly, and her words were a slap in the face, one he clearly needed.
Thank God his buddies weren’t on comms, or capable of getting inside his head right now. The shit he’d get for his sudden lapse in coherent thoughts . . . they’d have comedic material to use for days.
“You’re here because of him, or because of me?” she asked. “I’m confused.”
“Both, but I’d prefer not to get into that here.”
“How’d you even find this party?”
“A co-worker of mine just registered to compete in that hacker competition, and she was given some cryptic message to decipher in order to reveal the location. I persuaded her to let me come instead so we could talk.”
Her mouth rounded for a brief moment as she came to terms with his words. “It sounds like we have a lot to discuss.”
“But not here,” he repeated.
“We should get going, then.” She snatched her bag in a hurry and brushed past him, but he reached for her arm.
“I can’t leave quite yet. I just need . . .” He swallowed. “Need to stay a bit longer.”
Because he wanted to see if Gwen made an appearance. Put eyes on her, get a good look to see the truth up close for himself. The truth he had already accepted.
Natasha pivoted back to face him, her lips drawn in a tight line. Worry etched between her brows. “What is it you aren’t telling me?”
She was CIA, of course, she’d see through him, just as his brothers had on the plane. He shoved his hands into his pockets and tipped his head to the side. “There’s someone on the competition list I sort of know, and I want to make sure she’s okay.”
“Who?”
“Gwen Montgomery.” He tensed as he thought back to his conversation with Natasha in Colorado when he’d dumped part of his life story on her—a fact that still surprised the hell out of him. “My friend who died, well, it’s his daughter.”
She lifted her eyes to the exposed air ducts above them for a brief moment. “I remember you mentioning him. She’s really here?”
“At Arthur’s wake, Charlotte told me Gwen attends school in Canada. I saw her name on the list of competitors for the event, and I want to make sure she doesn’t get caught up in whatever The Knight is doing here.”
Natasha dropped her bag to the ground by her boots and found his eyes. “You’re here. I’m here.” She gave him a contemplative look. “And a young woman related to your past is here. Why are we all here? Why does he want us all here?”
“No.” She was trying to connect dots that just weren’t there. “No one knows that she’s . . . that she’s my friend’s daughter. Not even my teammates. And Gwen’s never even met me. She probably has no idea who I am.”
“So, Gwen being here is a coincidence?” she asked, disbelief pushing through her tone.
“I think so.” I bloody hope so.
“Okay.” She forced a smile. “Still, I’m not sure if it’s a good idea for anyone to see you with her. Not without an alias formed beforehand.”
“Right.” Wyatt obviously hadn’t thought this through. He hadn’t told anyone on his team he’d planned to seek out and talk to one of the competitors on the list. A competitor who just happened to be his daughter.
“I’m sure there will be another one of these events since the competition doesn’t start until Friday. We can figure out a plan, one that enables you to keep an eye out for her.” Natasha reached for his arm and squeezed.
She didn’t protest, didn’t question him. She just accepted what he needed to do and was on board with helping. “You’re incredible,” he said before dipping in to kiss her. To hell with reason and consequences, he needed that kiss.
She slowly pulled away after a moment, eyes still shut when she whispered, “Was someone coming?”
“No,” he admitted, his throat tightening as emotion gathered like a storm in his chest. “That was for me.”
They’d kept up the act as former lovers, leaving the party with Natasha’s arm looped with his, leaning into each other as if they couldn’t bear to be apart.
A minute later, they were sitting in the back of a cab, Wyatt’s focus on the passing scenery, his thoughts drifting to Gwen, who was somewhere in the city, and hopefully, nowhere near the danger.
When the cabbie hit a bump in the road, jolting Wyatt’s current train of thought, he moved his gaze to Natasha.
Natasha’s arm was pressed tight to his left side, and even the thickness of a winter coat couldn’t dampen the rush of electricity coursing through his body from that mere touch.
Her bare thigh (and those legs had to be damn cold) connecting with his jeaned leg was causing all kinds of havoc on his senses, too.
And, as if that wasn’t distracting enough, her plaid skirt had shifted up to an almost indecent level.
Wyatt caught sight of the driver peering back in his rearview mirror, no doubt trying to get a glimpse between her legs, even though she’d pinned her thighs closed to prevent such gawking.
Wyatt’s mind was about on point with the cabbie, though, because he wanted to steal a look, too. Honestly, he wanted to do more than look. He wanted to bow before her, spread open her knees, and worship at the altar of her body. Take a taste from her other lips.
He squeezed the bridge of his nose for a second. “Fucking whiplash.”
“What?”