Chapter 17 #2
With those words from Jezebel, Nash’s shoulders were back to being just as tense. “He needs to understand that Delaney’s safety is priority.” His stare burned into Delaney’s. “Make that clear, Jez. She. Is. Priority.”
“I don’t believe you are supposed to be giving me orders,” Jezebel murmured.
Delaney took a hesitant step toward Nash.
“I can make her vanish,” he said, never taking his eyes off Delaney.
Her heart raced.
“I can take Delaney, and I can make her disappear in less than ten minutes.” His stare pierced straight to Delaney’s soul as he promised Jezebel, “You won’t find her. The CIA won’t find her. You can be left to deal with Wellington on your own.”
“You’re bluffing,” Jezebel charged.
“No. I’ll do it. I will take her far away from here if I think that you are risking her life for this case.” With every word, his penetrating stare didn’t leave Delaney. He didn’t so much as blink.
Delaney believed what he was saying. And she thought that Jezebel did, too.
Jezebel cleared her throat. “Ahem. Fine. Fine. I’ll make sure Grayson understands that, should anything happen to you, Delaney is to be protected.”
“Nothing should happen to Nash,” Delaney blurted. “That’s part of the deal, too.”
“Or what?” Jezebel threw at her. “You’ll make him vanish?” Doubt layered the words.
“I’d vanish with her in a heartbeat if that was what Delaney wanted,” Nash stated, voice flat.
Her own heartbeat sped to a double-time rate. He means it.
“Let’s all take some deep breaths, shall we?” Jezebel’s tone had turned soothing. “You’re both going to be just fine. You’ll survive this mission, and the bad guy will be locked away.”
“Nash needs to be protected, too.” Delaney was adamant.
“That’s why I have Grayson rushing in. To make sure everyone involved will be protected.
” A brief pause. “Don’t worry so much about Nash,” Jezebel assured her.
“I’m starting to think he can survive practically anything.
” A sigh. “Now get your asses out of that honeymoon suite.” No longer soothing.
More like a barked order. “I need evidence. I need Wellington brought into the open, and I need that done now.”
But Nash didn’t move. “Pretty sure honeymooners are supposed to want to stay behind closed doors and fuck like crazy.”
Delaney blushed. An automatic reaction to fuck like crazy. They, um, had been. In the shower. She could feel the heat staining her cheeks.
“This is not a real honeymoon,” Jezebel snapped back. “But her ex is a real killer so…get the hell out there. Get him focused on you.” Jezebel hung up.
Nash tossed the phone onto the bed. “Judging from the gunshots earlier, I thought he was focused on me.”
She rocked onto the balls of her bare feet. “Who is Grayson Stone?”
“Gray.” Nash rolled back his shoulders. He also turned and headed for the bag that waited at the foot of the bed.
His luggage. Delivered while they’d been at the chapel so the suite would be ready and waiting for them.
“Gray Stone is a very powerful figure at the FBI. He was Agnes’s boss, and Gray also is close with Ryan.
They served together in the Marines. Semper Fi. ”
“You trust him?”
He shouldered into a white dress shirt. “I do. Gray has gone to the mat for me and my family before. He’s a good man. And he’s not afraid to get his hands very, very dirty.”
That was reassuring. Mostly. A wee bit scary, too.
If Nash was getting dressed, then she needed to ditch her robe, too. Time to paste on a smile and go catch a killer. That was the goal, after all. Not to fall in love with Nash again. Not to have wild passionate sex with him.
The goal is to catch a sadistic killer.
Her knees almost buckled at the thought.
And at the whispering thought of…
I am falling for Nash, all over again.
Or perhaps she’d just never stopped loving him.
She was sexy as hell in the red dress and the strappy, two-inch sandals. The elevator was too small. She smelled too good. And he wanted to fuck her into oblivion again.
Instead, they were off to catch the attention of a killer. Even though Nash was pretty sure they already had the man’s attention. He sent a shooter to the chapel. If that wasn’t catching his attention, then what the hell is?
Her eyes were on the floor numbers as they appeared on the small screen above the elevator doors. She’d swept her hair back into some sexy twist, painted her lips red, and sprayed on the perfume that held the heady scent of jasmine.
And he was about to take her out and wave her around like a red flag in front of a bull.
You picked the dress deliberately, didn’t you, Jez? Because the CIA had been the ones to prepare their luggage. To have everything delivered. Delaney was literally a walking red flag, and Nash hated this shit.
His hand flew out, and he stopped the elevator.
“Nash!” Horror. Some shock. “What did you just do?”
He took a step toward her. “The CIA is monitoring the elevator. Agents have eyes on us through the security system right now.” Which meant some operative was watching everything that minute.
And as much as Nash might want to grab Delaney, lift her up against the elevator wall, and fuck her in that sexy red dress…
Not gonna happen.
Her gaze cut to the small security camera on the control panel, then her eyes darted to him. “Why did you stop us?”
“Because…I’ve got you.”
A little furrow appeared between her eyebrows. “Excuse me?”
“I know you don’t trust me completely, not after the way things ended with us before. But I have you.” He nodded. “I will take a bullet for you. I will fight any threat. I will kill if it means keeping you safe.”
The furrow deepened. “You’re wrong.”
Nash shook his head. “I’d do it in a heartbeat. You need to know that. Whatever is coming, whatever happens, I will be there for you. One hundred percent.”
“No, I meant—look, I trust you completely. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have fucked you.”
He blinked.
She pursed her lips. “Any other big, important disclosures that you’d like to make to me? While our elevator appears to be stopped between floors?”
Nash swallowed. “We’re married.”
She rolled her eyes. “Nash, we are fake married. We have been over this.”
He shook his head. “Delaney—”
“Sir, is there a problem with the elevator?” A disembodied voice drifted through the speaker, cutting across the jazz music that had been playing.
Shit. “No problem.”
“Then the elevator should restart,” the voice told him. “Prepare for it to restart within the next ten seconds.”
Delaney watched Nash with wide eyes.
His hand slid under her chin. “We are married,” he said again.
“I know the cover story. I won’t forget it.”
The elevator began to descend again. Her lips were right there, and his time with her was running out. Nash knew it. Dammit, he didn’t want their time to end.
He wanted for Delaney to choose him. To stay with him. To love him. “I’m sorry,” he said. Words that he should have said a very, very long time ago.
Her long lashes fluttered. “For what?”
“For hurting you. Hurting you is the biggest regret that I have in my life. If I could take away every bit of pain that you’ve ever felt, I’d do it.” He needed her to understand this. “I am sorry.”
The elevator dinged. The doors began to open. He edged back.
She grabbed his shirt and hauled him toward her. Her lips pressed to his. A hot, passionate kiss. Her tongue dipped inside his mouth. His hands closed around her hips. He dragged her closer.
“Ahem.”
Dammit. Dammit to hell and back.
Nash raised his head and glared over his shoulder.
A frowning man with a goatee stared back at him. “People need this elevator,” the man huffed. His white hair was swept back from his high forehead, and his right hand gripped a cane.
“Oh, Lawrence, stop!” The woman beside him sent Nash a merry smile. “Have you forgotten what it’s like to be in love?” She wrapped her hand around Lawrence’s arm. “Once upon a time, you couldn’t keep your hands off me!”
Lawrence huffed again.
Nash bobbed his head toward the couple. “We’re newlyweds. And you’re right, I just can’t keep my hands off my wife.” His hands curled around her waist right then as he escorted Delaney from the elevator.
He was surprised to see that red flashed on Delaney’s cheeks.
They hurried from the elevator and walked into the lobby.
Their hotel fed directly into the attached casino, so it was only a short walk until the sound of slot machines filled the air.
Voices rose and fell. Some with excitement.
Some with dismay. Waitresses bustled around, handing out drinks like candy.
In a place like this, the customers always gambled a bit more when the drinks flowed freely.
Tipsy customers made for better business.
“All right, sweetheart.” He kept her tucked against his side, and Nash bent so that his words whispered into her ear. “It’s showtime. So stay focused. We’re going to take a stroll through the casino, see and be seen, and then we’ll venture to our next stop.”
She stiffened. “Agents are watching us?”
“Lawrence and his wife Frannie are agents.” Agents in careful disguise.
Her head whipped toward him. She nearly clocked him in the chin. “What? That couple waiting for the elevator?”
“Welcome to the spy world. What you see is not always what you get.” Not even close. “Time to let the games begin.”