Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
He didn’t kiss with restraint. With gentleness. Didn’t kiss with seduction and careful skill. Ryan was way past the point of all that. Instead, he kissed Simone with near desperation. With a desire and dark lust that made his entire body ache. With complete intent and consuming focus.
With possession.
You’re mine.
He felt that way about her, even though it was not rational. Maybe it was due to the adrenaline or the fact that he’d killed a man in order to protect her. Not his first kill. In his line of work, he’d had to face evil and fight to survive too many times before.
But this time, it had been different.
This time, he’d been fighting for her. Because if he had not stopped Alexei, Ryan knew what the bastard would have done to Simone.
He was going to take her fingers. Going to make her beg and plead. Going to slit her throat and the blood would have poured down her neck and blended with the red of her dress.
His Simone. Dead?
No fucking way.
His hands tightened around her wrists. Her mouth opened wider for him, and she met him eagerly. Her kiss was as frantic and wild as his. As hungry. As filled with lust and a desire that would not be denied.
A moan built in her throat. He loved that little moan.
A growl broke from him.
Her taste enflamed him. Made him want to take and take and take.
He’d come too close to losing her. In one night, she could have been stolen from him. If he hadn’t gone down the stairs at that country estate, if he hadn’t been driven to walk out into the storm, she could have vanished.
No fucking way would she get away from him again.
The rumble of an approaching engine had his body stiffening. Then his head lifting. Reluctantly.
Her lips were red from his mouth. So very tempting.
She pressed her lips together, then Simone said, “You kissed me like you meant it.”
“I did mean it.”
“So it was just pretend before? You were using me all along? I was just the cover for some secret spy work so that you could get close to your target?”
The rumble of the approaching engine was getting louder. “It started with me using you.” A painful truth.
“Asshole.”
“Yeah, I am.” A nod. “I’m a brutal and controlling bastard. Probably something important for you to know about me.”
“What other important things should I know?”
“I killed to keep you safe once, and I would do it again with no hesitation.”
Simone sucked in a sharp breath.
“I also think that you were using me, weren’t you, sweetheart?”
She didn’t respond.
The rumble of the engine was practically on top of them. Time to move. “I want you to hide while I check to see who is approaching.” He let go of her wrists.
Simone’s stare was very watchful. And wary. “You were using me so that you could get your all-access pass into Frederick’s life.”
“And you were using me so that you could steal from him.”
“Please. I could do that on my own.”
“Then why go out with me three times?” Why was he asking? Why did he want to know so badly? “Why did you go out with me if you weren’t using me?”
“Is it so crazy to think I might have liked you?”
Liked the billionaire he pretended to be, check. She did not know the real him. At all. Ryan put more distance between them. “I need you to stay out of sight.”
“I’m sure I can somehow manage that feat.” She made a show of straightening the long, loose, and muddy folds of her dress. “So much for taking this back without anyone noticing it was gone.”
Wait…had she stolen the dress, too?
“This is going to cost me a fortune.”
So now she was going to pay for her stolen dress? “You confuse me.”
“I get that a lot.” She plucked at the dress. “It was such a pretty gown. And it had pockets. Do you know how amazing it is when a gown like this has pockets?” Her shoulders slumped. “I freaking love pockets.”
“I’ll make a mental note of that.” Then, gruff, “I’ll get the damn dress professionally cleaned for you. It will be fine.” Time was up. He’d spotted a door to the right. He yanked it open and found a cobweb-filled closet space. “Get in here.”
She crept closer and poked her head into the dark space. Then her head swung back toward him. “You are not serious.”
Sadly, he was. His hands wrapped around her waist. He lifted her up and put her inside.
But her hands flew out to curve around the doorframe. “No! Dammit, it’s dark in there!”
“Light will spill in under the bottom of the door.” Maybe. The only light in the cottage had come from the sunlight that trickled in through the boarded-up windows. There were very high odds that she’d be in total darkness inside the closet. “It will only be for a few moments.”
“There are spiders and creepers and who knows what else in there!” She kept clinging to the doorframe.
What in the hell was a creeper? Never mind. He shook off the question. “You weren’t afraid of a Russian mercenary who wanted to slice off your fingers, but you’re afraid of spiders?”
Her chin notched up. “I was terrified of Alexei. I just don’t typically like to let people see my fear.”
“Seems like I’m seeing it right now.”
Instantly, she released the doorframe. She sniffed even as her chin notched up. With a glare, Simone snapped, “Fine. Lock me in the dark closet.”
Now he felt like an extra bastard, but that rumbling engine was right outside of the cottage. “I’m not locking you in,” he rasped. “I’m protecting you.”
“You’re kissing me, then shoving me in a spider-filled closet. Doesn’t feel like protecting me.” She crept back a bit. “Shut the door. Do it. Go ahead.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck. Guilt ate at him. “I will be right here. Guarding you.”
“With what?”
He blinked.
“Do you happen to have a weapon hidden on you? Because I’m pretty sure you left the knife in Alexei.”
He had.
Her arms crossed over her chest. “Try not to die while I’m hiding in the closet, will you? Because if I get stuck in here, I will be pissed.”
“I’m not going to die.” A disgruntled mutter. “And you are not going to get stuck.” He shut the door. Slowly.
It clicked.
He was not going to die. He could handle the enemy even without a weapon.
Had she meant to insult him? He had just pushed her into a cobweb-filled closet right after they’d made out.
And, yes, he should have probably not kissed her.
Not then. But he had. There was no going back from that particular choice.
He slipped toward one of the boarded-up windows near the front of the cottage.
He peeked through the slat of boards and saw the black Range Rover slide to a fast stop.
The driver’s side door swung open, and relief filled Ryan as he saw the blond hair of his MI6 counterpart, Harry Wilson.
Harry wore a pair of sunglasses to shield his gaze, and as the MI6 agent bounded forward, his dark coat flapped open a bit. No noticeable weapon on him.
Ryan opened the front door before Harry could reach it.
“We’ve got a five-minute lead on them,” Harry snapped out.
Ryan did not question how Harry knew this fact.
“Let’s go,” Harry urged.
Right, so…Ryan hadn’t exactly had time to explain in his text that he had a companion with him. Companion, witness, criminal—all of the above in one tempting package. “I’m not alone.”
“What?” Harry’s brows shot up over his sunglasses.
“She’s coming, too. Hold on.” Ryan spun and bounded back to the closet.
“Mate, we have got to go!”
“Understood.” He yanked open the closet door.
Harry’s steps rushed behind him.
Only, the closet was empty. There was no gorgeous woman in a soggy and damaged red gown waiting inside.
“What is happening here?” Harry demanded. “Are you, uh, having some sort of episode?”
Ryan whirled back toward him. “I barely left her for a minute!”
“Left who?” Harry yanked off his glasses. His golden stare raked Ryan. “Did you hit your head? Your eye looks like hell, by the way. That’s a serious shiner.”
He shoved Harry out of his way. Ryan had just caught sight of the small, muddy footprints on the floor. They snaked to the left, around a crumbling wall that had half of a fireplace still clinging to it.
“Time to leave! We’ve got to go!” Harry’s voice cracked around the edges.
“Not without her!” Ryan kept following those muddy prints and realized he was in the remains of a kitchen. His head whipped up as he found his target. Simone. A Simone frantically struggling to open what appeared to be the cottage’s back door. “Sweetheart.”
She paused mid-struggle. “Was it the good guys outside?” A peek over her shoulder. “Or the bad?”
He closed in.
She let go of the doorknob and turned to face him. “I didn’t like the closet, so I thought I’d hide in here.”
Cute. “You were running away from me.”
“More like…I was running away from MI6 and the CIA.”
Harry rushed into the old kitchen. “Who are you talking—wow. Who is she?”
Simone flashed him a bright, sunny smile. “Hi.”
Not happening. She was not going to charm the MI6 agent. Sighing, Ryan leaned forward and tossed Simone over his shoulder. Immediately, a ton of muddy skirt ruffles hit him in the face. He shoved them out of the way, but as he shoved them, Ryan felt a distinct…clink.
Simone had been struggling in his arms, but at that clink—a sound they both had to hear—she stilled. Momentarily. Only to rally instantly and renew her struggles with even more force.
He tightened his grip on her. “Don’t test me right now.”
“Why not?” Her perky retort. “Will there be a better time for me to test you later?”
Harry cleared his throat. Loudly. “In case you missed it before…”
Ryan strode toward the agent, with Simone over his left shoulder.
“I had a five-minute lead on our enemy. That lead is down to like, three minutes now. Either we get the hell out or we will probably all die.”
“Does it look like I’m dying?” Ryan snapped back.
Harry pursed his lips. “It looks like you’re kidnapping that woman. I…don’t think that’s approved CIA behavior.”
His jaw locked harder. Ryan gritted, “Get the fucking ride moving.”