THIRTEEN
Rome wanted Stina before he was even fully conscious.
His body woke to her before his brain—the warmth of her back against his chest, the slow drag of her breathing.
The way she fit against him like she’d been carved for the space.
The base wasn’t awake yet, which made everything feel slower and unhurried in a way things rarely were in Sierra.
He pressed his mouth to the curve of her shoulder and she stirred, reaching back to curl a hand around his neck.
Taking that as an invitation, he slid his hand around her waist and up to cup her breast. She arched into his palm with a sleepy little noise that had him going from morning hardness to solid steel.
He kissed his way along her shoulder to her neck while letting his fingers skim lower, tracing over her stomach and between her thighs.
She was warm and soft and he found her clit and worked slow, easy circles while he pressed kisses to her neck. With a low moan, she rocked against his hand. He was just starting to ache with the need to be inside her when she shoved his hand away.
He froze. “Stina?”
She rolled out from under his arm and sat up, putting distance between them, her hair a wild dark cloud around her face.
“What’s wrong? Whatever I did, I’m sorry.”
“You made me forget that I’m mad at you.”
Incredulous, his jaw dropped and he blinked at her. “You didn’t seem mad at me when I was fingering you just now.”
She pulled the sheet over her bare breasts. “Because you made me forget.”
“You weren’t protesting when I made you come three times last night either.”
She lifted her chin a notch in that arrogant way that drove him crazy and made him want to slam his mouth over hers every time. “When you left for Chicago, you didn’t even say goodbye. I didn’t know you left or when you were coming back.”
“It was an op. I didn’t have time to. Besides, you saw me when I came back. We had a talk—”
She narrowed her eyes, but he still took the bullets shooting from them. “Exactly. You distracted me.”
“From your anger.”
“Yes! I made you a special meal. I spent half the afternoon digging through that disgusting freezer to find pork chops because you mentioned your grandmother used to make them, and I made the stuffing from scratch.”
He stared at her, a place deep in his chest sparking with emotions he didn’t want to name. “You made me stuffed pork chops?”
“That is not the point, Rome.”
“It’s a little bit the point.”
She hurled a pillow at him, and he caught it with a laugh.
“Your teammates devoured every bite, so you don’t even get to have leftovers. Not that you deserve them.”
He watched her, throbbing hard. There was something magnificent about how worked up she was over pork chops. The pink high in her cheeks and that set of her chin made his fingers twitch to reach for her.
He scooted closer, but she grabbed another pillow and wielded it like a shield.
“I’m sorry I didn’t say goodbye. There wasn’t time.”
“Jolie said Archer always takes time to say goodbye even when he’s running out the door to catch a helicopter.”
He gave her a playful smirk. “Next time I’ll wake you up and give you a formal goodbye.”
“Don’t be a smartass.” Her lips twisted as she fought her smile.
He trapped one of her curls between his thumb and forefinger and gave it a little tug. “I’m being sincere.”
“You’re being a smartass pretending to be sincere.” Her voice shifted into a new rhythm with less heat, slipping into a cadence they both knew.
He realized in the middle of her outburst this wasn’t really a fight. This was them.
This argument was only Stina’s way of letting him know she missed him without coming right out and saying it.
And their bickering…was foreplay.
His mouth curved, and her eyes flared wide, mouth parting as she prepared to give him the sharp edge of her tongue again.
He cupped her proud chin and swiped the pad of his thumb across her pursed lips. “How can I make it up to you?”
She crossed her arms over the sheet, unimpressed with his attempt. “I don’t know. Pork chops aren’t exactly replaceable.”
“I can think of a few ideas.” He slid his hand from her face to her side and started kissing his way down her throat, lower—
“Nope.”
He stopped and looked up at her. “No?”
“Not like that.” She pushed at his shoulder, though there wasn’t much force behind it. “I mean, I like that. Obviously. But I need more than that.” She stared at him as if he could read her mind, and he realized he was in deeper trouble because he wanted to.
Propping himself on his elbow, he studied her. “What kind of more?”
“I have cabin fever, Rome. I’ve been underground for what feels like a month.”
“Two weeks,” he confirmed.
He understood where she was coming from. He was Blackout, which meant he did anything he was ordered to, even if it was living underground. But she didn’t sign up for this.
He racked his brain for something to make this stay easier on her. “You seem to enjoy cooking.”
She tilted her head. “I do. But the equipment in your kitchen is terrible. If I’m going to practice making bread, I need a proper mixer, and half the pans are warped.”
“I see. What did you used to do before all this?”
Her eyes softened as she stared into space. “Go out for drinks with my friends. Walk through the park near my apartment. Window shop downtown even though I have no money to actually buy anything.” She shrugged, making her words smaller than he knew it must feel. “Normal things people do.”
He didn’t say anything right away, but his mind was already turning over an idea. He swung his legs out of bed. “Stay here. I need to talk to Cannon.”
“Rome—”
“Stay.”
The look she gave him, eyelids drooping and that flush of desire climbing her cheeks told him she got just as turned on by their brand of foreplay.
Unable to stop himself, he launched back into bed. He kissed her long and deep while plucking at her hard nipples. When she pushed him down her body where she wanted him, thighs parting in invitation, he dipped his tongue into her slippery folds.
But only for a minute.
He lifted his head. “Be right back.”
Her groan followed him as he climbed out of bed and she threw a pillow at his head as he hurriedly dressed. When he walked out of his bedroom, he caught the sound of her giggle through the closed door and grinned to himself.
Though the base was still quiet, Cannon didn’t sleep more than a few hours at a time. Rome located him in his office, just as he expected. He sat behind his desk, going through the reports that came in overnight, coffee steaming at his elbow.
He looked up at Rome and arched a brow.
“I was about to call you in here,” Cannon said.
Tension thickened in the space.
“What’s going on?”
“Sit down.”
Great. Cannon only said those words when things were about to go sideways.
He dropped into the seat across the desk.
Cannon eyed him. “What do you know about Stina’s parents?”
That threw him enough to make his back snap straighter. “Only that her parents planned to come visit her in Chicago. What’s going on, Cannon?”
“Mr. and Mrs. Velez contacted police early this morning.”
“Tell me they’re okay.” The thought of breaking tragic news to Stina made his blood run cold.
Cannon dipped his head. “Physically, yes. Unharmed. They were leaving for work and a strange man drove up and asked if they knew where Stina was.”
“Fuck. Any read on who it was?”
“They didn’t recognize him, but they were concerned about their daughter and called her several times. When she didn’t answer, they called the police. The news reached the appropriate people, who contacted me this morning.”
“Camera footage of his face? License plate?”
“That’s what tipped off the police that they might be dealing with something beyond their jurisdiction. The plate was a fake and registered to a false ID.”
“Dammit.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Did they talk to her parents?”
“No. But you just volunteered.”
“I think you mean I was voluntold.”
Cannon’s mouth twitched. He pushed a slip of paper and the secure satellite phone across the desk. “Their number. Just tell them anything you need to in order to make them feel better.”
Rome drew the phone toward him and dialed the number. When a man answered, voice roughened by fear for his daughter, Rome’s heart squeezed. If he had a daughter, he’d be losing his goddamn mind trying to find her.
“Mr. Velez, I’m with a federal task force assigned to your daughter’s case. I understand someone came to your home this morning.”
Silence. Then, “Where’s my daughter?”
“She’s safe.”
The man let out a shaky breath.
“Can I talk to her?”
Rome hated the question. “Not right now. For her safety, we have to keep her location and communications restricted.”
“Is she hurt?”
“No, sir. She’s being protected.”
Another pause. “Tell her…” His voice cracked. “Tell her that her mother and I love her. Tell her to come home when she can.”
Rome swallowed past the knot in his throat. “I’ll make sure she gets the message.”
“Please keep her alive.”
“That’s exactly what we’re doing.”
When he ended the call, he controlled the sigh he wanted to push out and set the phone on the desk. Cannon met his stare.
“You did what you had to do.”
He passed a hand over his face. “I don’t like where this is headed.”
“We never do.”
He sat there for a few more heartbeats, recovering from speaking to Stina’s father, before he remembered his reason for coming here.
Rome squared his shoulders. “I want to take Stina up to Montclair. Just for a few hours. She needs air and light. She needs to feel like a person again instead of an asset.”
Cannon didn’t even blink. “If you feel the need to ask for permission, then the answer should probably be no.”
“Requesting permission, sir.”
“You seem to be getting too close.”
He started to form a response, but a scrape of a footstep sounded just outside the open door. He traded a look with Cannon and then walked to the entrance to find Stina with her back pressed against the wall.
Christ, how much had she heard?
“Bring her in, Rome.” Resignation rang in Cannon’s command.