Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
She slept beside him like some kind of an angel. Soft and sweet and innocent. Innocent, after he’d fucked her three times, and she’d screamed for him and came for him and still asked for more.
She’d been like wildfire beneath his hands and mouth. He’d touched and tasted and licked and savored and feasted on her.
And I want to do it again.
After the third time he’d pumped himself into her, she’d fallen asleep. In his arms. The first time he could remember anyone just trusting him enough to curl up and go to sleep with him after sex.
Who slept that peacefully with a killer?
And I am a killer. I’ve killed more than she’ll ever know. Sometimes, he’d killed as a Marine. In battle. And other times…
I worked for the government. Special Ops. Took out high-profile targets that no one else could reach. And then…then the government had found a new way to use him. To get him to live a different life. To become Ronan Walker. The man with the striking snake on his wrist. The hired killer who always got the job done.
What if I’m sick of the job?
His arm had curled around her stomach. Would she sprawl on him soon? If she did, it would just make him want to fuck her again.
Who was he kidding? Just the sound of her soft breathing made him want to fuck her.
My reaction to her is unreal. I need to calm down. Get my control back.
Though, actually, he had been in control. Every moment that he’d fucked her, he’d held onto his control. He’d been far too conscious of his size with her. Hurting Luna wasn’t in the cards for him. It was easy to hurt others, especially those who deserved pain.
Not Luna.
He’d held back, even though every part of him had wanted to let his control shred. He’d wanted to just take and take and take.
He hadn’t.
You fucked her three times. If that’s you having control, what would you do to her if your control broke?
Swallowing, he eased from the bed. She was naked, and one tempting breast peeked out at him. With his jaw locked, he pulled the cover up over her. Trying to hide that temptation. Then he headed for the door.
He meant to head for the door.
For some odd reason, he just kept staring down at Luna. He had a flash of her the first night, running in New Orleans. Kissing him. And then him lowering her into the trunk of his car. She’d been so still. So pale.
He’d slammed the trunk closed on her supposedly dead body. He’d left her in the dark.
His hand reached out. The back of his knuckles skimmed over her cheek. Her warm, silken cheek. In her sleep, her head turned. Her lips brushed against him.
Probably reflex. The action didn’t mean anything. She liked to sprawl, and she did stuff in her sleep and she?—
“Ronan.” A soft whisper. Her lips curled into a smile as she slumbered.
A smile for him. His body tensed.
Then her smile slid away as she drifted into a deeper sleep.
He pulled his hand back, but Ronan swore he could still feel her. With more effort than it should have taken, he turned away. He hauled on sweats that he’d unpacked earlier and crept from the room. His steps were soundless as he made his way down the stairs. On the first floor, he turned toward the small desk that was nestled under the staircase.
He’d put the laptop on that desk after their arrival. Kane had packed the laptop in the bag he’d had ready for Ronan. After sitting down, it only took a few moments to get the laptop online and then he was accessing the secure email address that he only used when he was communicating with Gray.
No big surprise, Gray had already sent him intel.
On Luna.
He’d read brief background info on her before. Back when Gray had contacted him and demanded that he move fast in New Orleans. But brief had been the keyword. Basic physical description. Her age. Height. Weight. Her job. The interesting fact that somehow an unassuming drama teacher had managed to avoid death for weeks while being on the run and keeping out of sight…
He still needed to ask Luna just how she’d accomplished that vital task.
But this file, hell, this file was like an everything-you-ever-wanted-to-know book about Luna. Including the fact that her father had cut out on her when she was eight years old. At the same time she’d been diagnosed with cancer.
When he read that bit of intel, every muscle in his body locked down. For a moment, he couldn’t seem to breathe. His lungs felt frozen. So did his heart.
Cancer. Luna.
Then he was clicking through the files as fast as he could. Reading old medical reports. Feeling his guts twist and his heart now race too fast as he saw all that young Luna had endured. The tests. The treatments. The pain. Over and over.
Her father had left her when she needed him the most.
Ronan’s teeth ground together. You sonofafucker.
His breath sawed in and out. In and out. Not frozen. Too hard and heavy.
Remission.
His breath exploded. He read through more of the files. Sweet Luna got better. Stronger. There were clippings about her as she grew up. Awards. She’d been some kind of star at her high school. Performing in all the plays. Winning local talent shows for her vocal performances. She’d gotten a scholarship to attend college in New York. Luna had been Broadway bound.
A college yearbook quote—because, sure, why wouldn’t Gray have been thorough enough to include that? “ I get to be someone else on stage. And I want to be someone else on Broadway. I want to live the biggest life I can.”
But Luna hadn’t gone to Broadway.
Why?
The answer was right there. Thanks to organized Gray.
Her mother had a stroke one month before Luna’s high school graduation. Luna had become her mother’s caregiver. Two years later, her mother passed away.
Luna had been left alone.
She’d earned her degree at a local college. Begun teaching. Barely dated. Recently, she’d opened her new business. A kind of singing telegram side hustle. The side hustle hadn’t lasted long before she’d been put on a kill list.
Pictures were included. Young Luna. Fragile. Small. Dark circles under her eyes. Too pale skin. Thin hair.
Teenage Luna. Still fragile, but with pink cheeks. Thick hair. Wide eyes. On a stage, with lights behind her, and tears on her cheeks.
Luna…
In New Orleans.
At Café du Monde. A picture that Ronan had snapped to confirm her ID before he’d approached her. He’d sent the image to Gray. Her dark hair slid against her cheek. Her eyes were down, staring at the beignets before her. He’d watched her the entire time she’d been at Café du Monde. Seen her quick smiles to the staff. Enjoyed the way she seemed to savor the powdered sugar on her beignets.
She’d hummed along to the jazz music that played on the speakers. But her nervous gaze had kept darting around, as if she feared that someone was waiting. Watching.
I was.
He tapped on the mouse and closed the files.
Even as the screen went dark, Ronan realized that his gut was still knotted. His heart still pounded too fast. And…
Luna nearly died when she was eight years old. She’s known death longer than most and better than many, and yet she seems to be the most alive person that I’ve ever met.
He shut down the computer. Stared in silence at the closed laptop.
She’d been so damn brave. Getting away from me at the cabin. Running into the night.
And she’d told him that she wanted to live.
Because she hasn’t gotten to live the life she wanted yet.
With heavy steps, he climbed the stairs and went back to Luna. She still slept in the bed, her chest rising and falling softly. He eased in beside her. Stared up at the ceiling.
And then she snuggled against him.
The twist in his gut seemed to ease.
“Ronan.” A whisper of his name.
His breath came a little deeper.
She began to inch on top of him, and Ronan could feel a faint smile tugging at his lips. It didn’t take long before Luna was completely on top of him.
Sprawled.
Not hell this time. Heaven. Exactly where he wanted her to be.
Luna was gone.
Ronan jerked up in bed. He’d been reaching for her, only she wasn’t there. Wasn’t sprawled on top of him like she damn well should have been. Wasn’t beside him. Wasn’t in the room. “Luna!” He bolted from the bed and hurried for the bathroom door. He flung it open.
Not there.
Adrenaline and fear poured through his veins. A half-forgotten nightmare tugged at him. Luna had been missing. She should have been with him, but he’d been running in the dark, and he hadn’t been able to find her. He’d woken, reached out—and she’d been gone. Just like the dream?
He grabbed his gun—he’d tucked it into the nightstand drawer before bed—and hurried out of the room. “Luna!” Ronan raced down the stairs, and his pounding steps seemed to echo all around him.
There’s no way someone snuck in and took her while I slept. No way.
There should also have been no way for Luna to have gotten out of the bed without waking him. He was the lightest sleeper in the world.
She hasn’t left you. She hasn’t run away. Luna wouldn’t have sex with you and then run. It’s not some plan to catch you off guard so that she could give you the slip.
It wasn’t, right?
“Luna!” Not in the den. Or the narrow kitchen. A sliding door led from the den to a small deck attached to the back of the house. He bounded toward the sliding door. Unlocked. He yanked it open. Rushed outside. “Luna!”
And there she was. Lying face down on the edge of the dock.
Face down.
He could feel all of the blood pouring from his head. His body actually swayed for a moment.
Then she yanked her hands out of the water.
What in the hell?
She shoved up onto the dock. Onto her knees. Then to her feet and even as he raced toward her, Luna spun around with a bright, sunny smile on her face. “Ronan! Ronan, you won’t believe them—they are beautiful!”
He grabbed her arm with his left hand. Hauled her close. Had to be absolutely sure she was alive.
Sprawled face down on the dock. Thought she was dead. Thought I’d lost Luna.
“Ronan?” Her bright smile faltered. Her gaze had whipped to the gun he held. “What’s wrong?” She sucked in a breath. “Is there trouble? Did someone find us?”
“You’re alive.” Gritted.
A blink of her long lashes. “Well, I think I’m supposed to be dead, but yes, thanks to you, I am still very much alive.”
“ You’re alive.” Why was he repeating those words?
Oh, right. Because he’d just been scared as hell.
“I’m alive,” she said softly. “And you have a gun really close to me.”
He shoved the gun into the back waistband of his sweats. “You left the bed.”
“I didn’t want to wake you. You looked so cute.”
What? No, he’d never looked cute.
“And I was on top of you again, which, you know, awkward. So I tried to slip out without disturbing you. Then I came outside and saw them. I just had to get closer.”
“First, it’s not awkward for you to be on top of me.” It was awesome. “Climb that sexy ass on me any day. Night. Whatever. And second— who are you talking about? Who did you see?”
Her gaze darted to the left.
His followed hers.
The water was incredibly clear. Almost like something out of a dream. Wooden steps from the side of the dock actually led into the water, but she hadn’t been near the steps. Instead, she’d been reaching out and touching…
“Manatees,” she sighed. “Aren’t they beautiful?”
Was that the right word for them? Beautiful? He was pretty sure they were known as sea cows. And there were about three of them bobbing nearby.
“They are so gentle and just gorgeous.” Excitement hummed in her voice. “They just swam right up. This place is incredible.” She scampered away from him. Only this time, she did go for the stairs. She didn’t sprawl on the edge of the dock in that terrifying dead-body style that had stolen several years of his life away. “It’s magical,” she told him as she kicked off her tennis shoes and crept down the steps toward the water.
It took a moment too long for the truth to dawn on him. “You’re going into the water?”
What was it? Seven a.m.? And she was wearing shorts and a t-shirt.
“I always wanted to visit the springs in Florida. I read that in this area, they’re supposed to stay around seventy-two degrees.” A delighted laugh escaped her. “This is the clearest water I’ve ever seen!”
The three manatees had drifted away.
He removed his gun and put it down on the dock. No sense in it getting wet. If Luna was going in the water, so was he. But… “We’re supposed to head out this morning. This place was just a stop for the night.”
She was already in water up to her thighs. A little shiver skated over her. Because seventy-two degrees really wasn’t that warm.
His arms crossed over his chest.
“I just want to swim, really fast.” She turned toward him. “It’s so beautiful. They are beautiful. The water is beautiful. And I’m here, and you’re here and it’s just— why not? ” With those words, she sank beneath the surface of the water.
You’re the beautiful thing I see.
Had he seriously been dumb enough not to think she was beautiful the first time he’d spoken with her?
And just how long was she staying under the water?
He edged toward the steps.
She broke through the surface of the water, about five feet from where she’d gone under. “Amazing!” A shiver racked her whole body. “Colder than expected, but amazing. You can see forever beneath the water.” A grin covered her face. “Come in with me!”
Into the cold water that was making her shiver.
The water that was making her smile.
Ronan hadn’t bothered with shoes before he began searching for her, and he just wore his sweats. So…he went in with no hesitation. He didn’t sink gently into the water. He cut through it and came up right next to her. Ronan didn’t care about the slight cold. When he caught her in his arms, he cared about how she felt against him. How her nipples were hard and pebbled against his chest. How her dark hair framed her face. How her whole expression was lit up. And when he kissed her, her lips were wet and ready, and she kissed him back with passionate abandon.
“Swim with me?” Luna murmured against his mouth.
He shouldn’t. They had to get moving. He needed to shave and try to get ready for his new identity. Her husband. He already felt plenty possessive of her, so it should be an easy enough role to assume. As for Luna, he’d finally get to see her use her acting talent. He was curious about how she would play the role of his wife.
Wife.
Stopping to swim in the spring wasn’t on the agenda, but he couldn’t refuse her. What would it hurt? Just a few moments, and it made her happy. So he swam.
When she splashed him, he didn’t splash back. He just caught her. Kissed her. Let her go. And did the same routine again. Her laughter rang out, and a heaviness around his shoulders seemed to ease.
Sometimes, you didn’t notice a burden you were carrying until it started to lighten.
Her arms curled around his neck. Her legs wrapped around his waist. He did not feel any cold. He just felt her. Her mouth was on his again. Her tongue dipping into his mouth. Her breasts pressed to his chest, and he thought about how easy it would be to slip inside of her.
Because he hadn’t gotten enough of her the previous night.
Wasn’t sure that he could get enough.
Her mouth pulled from his. “Thank you,” she told him.
“For what?”
“You didn’t want to come into the water.” A shiver skated over her. “But you did it for me.” Her mouth skimmed his again. “Now guess what I’m going to do for you?”
“You don’t have to do anything. We need to get going, though.” The new roles they had to play. Hiding in plain sight.
Her mouth moved toward his ear. She murmured just what she was going to do to him.
Ronan immediately rescheduled their morning. “Okay, absolutely, one hundred percent, you can do that.” He wasn’t an idiot. If the woman wanted to put her tongue and mouth on him, she could have at it.
Then he would have her.
She pulled away. Laughed. Looked so incredibly happy. “Race you back to the house?”
Oh. Adorable.
She was swimming pretty well, but clearly, she did not understand who she faced. He’d grown up on the sugar sand beaches of Gulf Shores, Alabama. He’d been swimming before he walked. He had even—once upon a time—thought about becoming a SEAL.
Instead, he’d wound up as a Marine.
Semper Fi.
But he could still cut through the water just like a fish, and he was waiting on the wooden stairs to watch her as she walked from the water. What a sight to see. The white shirt she’d worn stuck to her like a second skin. No bra. No. Bra. The cold had turned her nipples into tight, hard peaks. The shorts clung just as tightly to her. As she exited the spring, water poured down her body.
Nothing had ever been sexier.
He grabbed the handrail. Held it so tightly he was surprised the thing didn’t break apart beneath his grip. “I am going to fuck you so hard.”
She stopped in front of him. Ran her hand down his bare chest. “Promises, promises.”
Yes, it was a promise.
“But you have to catch me, first.” Then she took off. She darted around him, snatched up her discarded shoes, and ran up the stairs. In a flash, Luna flew across the dock.
Oh, he had every intention of catching her. Fucking her.
Owning her.
The last thought drew him up short as he watched her scamper toward the house. She’d left a trail of wet footprints for him to follow.
This isn’t permanent. It’s just pretend. She’s not really mine.
He reached for the gun. She wasn’t really his.
So why did it feel as if she was? Why did part of him wish that the roles were real? He’d never wanted someone of his own before. Not for keeps.
This was not for keeps. Just a temporary assignment. Another undercover mission. Nothing was real. Nothing.
He headed for the house. Entered and pulled the sliding door back into place behind him. He’d expected Luna to flee through the house.
Instead, Luna stood right in front of him. About a foot away from the door. The shoes she’d been carrying were now on the floor beside her. “I didn’t want to drip everywhere.” She bit her lower lip. “Thought I’d just wait here for you.”
“You didn’t want to drip.”
“Didn’t want to make a mess. It’s someone else’s home.”
He sucked on the inside of his cheek. “I don’t think anyone is gonna care.”
“I’ll care. So I figured we could strip here.” Then she reached down and hauled off her wet shirt. And her shorts. And panties. And was completely naked. As his jaw dropped, she carried the items into the nearby kitchen and put them in the sink. “Less mess.”
Fuck the mess.
“Mind putting down the gun?”
He put down the gun. Ripped off his wet sweats. Let them hit the floor. He’d clean the place later. Right then, he had other plans.
His other plans turned and hurried toward the stairs.
He caught her before she could climb the first step. He spun her in his arms. Took her mouth. Not one of the teasing kisses she’d given him in the spring. Harder. Deeper. A kiss that told her—in no uncertain terms—that he would be having her.
Now.
He scooped her into his arms. Didn’t waste time with words. There was nothing to say. He had her, and he wasn’t letting go.