Chapter 32
ETHAN
I lifted up on my elbows. Olivia slipped out of the bed and disappeared down the stairs. A cabinet was opened and closed. Something poured into a glass. Quiet footsteps grew louder as she approached, naked and carrying a drink I assumed was bourbon.
If we kept this up, I wouldn’t be thinking about home anymore when I drank—I’d be thinking about her.
“I’ve come to collect,” she said, handing me the glass and getting back into bed. “Tell me about hell.”
I didn’t hesitate. “Croatia, two years ago. I know what Kara said, how she thinks I saved Laurel’s life, but that’s not the case.”
I took a sip and handed it back so we could share, because she was going to need it.
“Laurel begged me to kill her.”
She jerked her head back in shock. “What?”
“The weeks before Jason found her, Juric—the man holding her—used all sorts of drugs to keep her amnesia going, including painful ones. My directive was to get close and gather intel. Absolutely no interference, no action without authorization.” The bourbon did fuck-all to help the bitter taste filling my mouth that the memory brought on.
“Whenever that psychopath tortured her, I had to stand aside and let it happen.”
The truth was Juric had been torturing two people every time he sank that needle into Laurel’s arm.
I knew what it was like to see someone in so much pain they begged for death, and I’d been helpless to stop it. Olivia’s confession about Gonzales told me she knew what that was like as well.
Yet another thing we had in common.
“You did what you had to,” she whispered.
“It doesn’t make it easier to live with.”
She set a hand on my cheek. “I know.”
Emotion, foreign and confusing, crept in.
My hell paled in comparison to hers. She’d made it through that night on the mountain with all sorts of scars, but she was still standing.
I was in awe of her. Like in South Africa, I watched her sip her bourbon, and my gaze trailed down over her neck as she swallowed.
“What else do you want to know?” I asked.
A slight smile tweaked on her lips. “Oh, I have lots of questions.”
But she didn’t ask them. She set the glass down and curled up beside me, her fingertips skimming over one of my scars.
“Enough interrogation for tonight,” she said. “I’d like you rested before I start in on you again.”
It pulled a short laugh from me. “You should strike while I’m weak, not wait for me to recoup.”
“Are you warning me that it’ll be more dangerous?” Her eyes sparked with warmth.
My hand covered hers. “Right, I forgot. You like danger.”
She gave a coy smile. “It makes me feel alive.”
Soft morning light filled the loft. I was half-asleep when a delicate hand stroked me. I was fully awake when the soft, wet heat of her mouth closed around my dick.
“What do you think you’re doing?” My teasing voice was strangled. Then I realized she’d have to stop to answer me. “Never mind, for the love of God, keep doing it.”
Jesus, this woman was going to be the death of me.
She was going to make the days waking up without her more difficult.
Beneath the sheet, that mouth slid up and down, and in no time, I was hard as a fucking rock.
Her hands joined in, adding to my pleasure, pumping.
I stared up at the cloudy sky and tried to focus on the details of the experience.
Couldn’t focus too hard, though. The woman knew what she was doing, and if I didn’t control myself, this wasn’t going to end how either of us wanted. Think about something else.
I’d have to check in with Daniel this afternoon, and that could lead to a trip to Langley. I blew out a long breath, stabilizing my body, resisting its selfish demands. She was down there for a lifetime, and I couldn’t take another second.
“Okay, you’ve got my attention,” I said.
A chuckle came from beneath the sheets. “Do I?”
“Stop torturing me and get up here.”
The sheet parted, and she came into view, climbing on top of me, her green eyes full of lust, her pink lips wet and kiss-swollen.
“I thought you CIA guys were supposed to be experts in torture.”
“Let’s not talk about that.” Her great timing had struck a nerve. When I sat up, it forced her to do the same. Then a ringing sound broke the tense moment. Her phone, not mine.
One of the Osterh?gen pilots had gotten sick, and the captain was hoping Olivia would join him as copilot so Shawn and Kara wouldn’t have to postpone their honeymoon.
“What do you think?” she asked. “Is that safe?”
“It’s fine.”
Only it meant she’d be gone for however long they planned to honeymoon. Not that I knew where I’d be either. Shit, this was going to be hard to figure out, but I was more than willing to try.
When she hung up, she stared off absentmindedly. “I need to pack.”
Right. I rose from the bed and promptly smashed my head into the ceiling. Again. “Fucking hell.”
“Are you a slow learner?” she teased. “Where are you going?”
“Let me grab a shower and I’ll get out of your way.”
She flung back the covers, exposing every inch of her sexy body to the sunlight and my eyes. “Get the fuck back in bed, Agent Foster. We have unfinished business.”
She was so goddamn right.
I finished my coffee while I was seated across from her at the high-top table in the bakery beneath her apartment.
After I’d fallen asleep last night, she’d hung up our clothes, which was good.
I didn’t mind doing the walk of shame in my suit today, with or without the wrinkles, but a wrinkled one would stand out more.
I’d pocketed my tie and left the top buttons of my shirt open, trying not to look so formal so I could blend.
Hard to blend with her, though. Not just because of her looks, but she had on her Osterh?gen flight crew uniform.
Black pants, white shirt with bars on the shoulders, a deep red scarf at the neck.
Beneath that uniform, there was a lacy pink bra and matching underwear.
Her tough, almost tomboy attitude was intact on the outside, but a girlie girl lurked beneath it all. Sexy.
I needed to stop thinking about it.
“What’s your plan for the day?” she asked, finishing a croissant. She’d been grilling me all morning about my parents, my sister, how the CIA had recruited me my junior year at Kentucky. Now it was time to focus on the present.
“I have a briefing this afternoon.” At the field office that wasn’t all that far from this café. “Where’s the honeymoon?”
“Monaco.”
“Sounds nice.”
“Ethan,” she said abruptly, like the thought just occurred to her, “does Laurel even remember what happened to her? You said she had amnesia.”
“It was temporary. She’s never told me, and I suspect not Jason either, but she remembers.”
There had been terror in Laurel’s eyes that she’d quickly hidden when she saw me for the first time outside of Croatia.
“Why wouldn’t she—?” Her face saddened. “She doesn’t want Jason to know what she went through.”
I had a darker theory. I’d had to threaten the marshal’s life when he came between me and my asset. That tense moment, with guns drawn, had to have been scary for her.
“I think she’s afraid,” I said, “that if she tells Jason, he’ll come after me.”
Thinking about that night, even briefly, made my headache worse.
Everything after Croatia, all the pain it brought on the Dunn and Hayward families, was squarely the Agency’s fault.
If only someone had fucking listened when I’d told them how slippery and manipulative Juric was.
That asshole had been a better liar than I was.
I was fucking glad Juric had gotten a bullet to the head.
Then I shelved the thoughts, not wanting to waste time.
“What happens now?” she asked.
Her question probably had a deeper meaning to it, but I glanced at my phone. “We should probably head to the airport.”
I liked seeing Olivia back in her element.
She looked at home beside the large aircraft and the other crew members in the hangar.
I scanned the environment, assessing it for threats and escape potential, habit I’d drilled into myself over the years.
It was unnecessary. Security had been tight getting into the private airfield.
There wasn’t much to look at either. The hangar doors were wide open, and other than an ancient-looking stair car off to the side, and the plane in the center, the space was empty.
A car drove through the open doors, and the sound of tires gripping pavement stole my focus. A charcoal gray Audi sedan prowled forward, the same make and model as Shawn’s car had been six months ago, although this one appeared to be brand new.
He was seated behind the wheel, Kara in the passenger seat. A dark blue BMW SUV trailed behind the Audi, but I couldn’t see the driver through the tinted windows. Both cars swung to the left and parked by the wall.
The driver of the BMW was Jason, who stepped out wearing jeans and a sweater, looking more relaxed than he’d been in the tux last night.
On the far side of the car, a door slammed shut, and then Laurel appeared from around the side.
At the same time, their siblings emerged from the Audi, looking like they were ready to go into the office and not spend the next few hours traveling.
“So you’re saying,” Laurel gave a pointed look to her husband, “if William wants to try ballet, you’re going to say no?”
“No, of course not.” Jason made a face. “I’m just telling you that Dunns don’t dance.”
Now it was Shawn’s turn to make a face. “I can dance.”
He shot a dubious look to his older brother. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure you proved last night that you can’t.”
Kara laughed lightly. “You really didn’t need to see us off, but I won’t mind getting to see my nephew again.”
When she reached for the backseat door, Jason gave her a regretful look. “Uh . . . my mom’s watching him for us.”
“Oh.”