Aegis 01 - First Exposure (7 page)

A jealous lover, a couple that had just broken up because one or the other had experimented and things went a little too far… A resort like this could do serious damage to a relationship. And cheating—even if done with permission—was the kind of thing that some men—and women—couldn’t forgive. A backdrop like that, where drama was happening all the time, where the cops might be called out to break up domestic disturbances and other emotionally charged situations, was the perfect place to run any kind of black market items because no one would ever think to look for them.

Maybe Avery was right. Maybe he needed to have a chat with the bellhop after all, but he didn’t plan to involve her. For the time being, there was no sense getting Avery worked up. He didn’t need her knowing what they’d possibly stumbled into.

“
O
kay, I’m ready. But I wish I had a shawl or something. This is way too low cut.”

Drawing a deep breath of courage, Avery stepped into the suite and drew up short.

Empty.

“Cade?”

She looked toward the bar, then moved out to the patio, her heels clicking on the slate. The warm breeze blew her hair back from her face as she glanced around. The water sparkled like a thousand diamonds beneath the half moon, and shadows lay heavy across the sand, but there was no sign of Cade.

Frowning, she moved back into the suite, stepped up to the bar, and noticed the note.

Checking out a few things. Be back soon.

Wait for me
.

Disappointment trickled through her. Even though the sapphire dress he and her makeover specialist had picked out for her was too short, too tight, and dipped way too low to show off more of her breasts than she liked, a tiny part of her had been looking forward to Cade’s reaction when he saw her.

“Dammit, Avery,” she muttered. “You shouldn’t even care about his reaction.”

Disgusted with herself, she marched to the bar, pulled open the small fridge, and reached for a beer. After popping the top, she took a long swallow that did shit for her nerves and breathed out a heavy sigh.

“Melody,” she said aloud, hoping it would kill the stupid butterflies in her stomach. “You’re doing this to find Melody.”

“A dress that hot demands champagne, not beer.”

Startled, Avery looked up to find Cade standing in the patio doorway, wearing loose linen pants and a pale yellow, short-sleeved button-down that showcased the muscles in his chest, the width of his shoulders, and that intriguing tattoo on his forearm. His hair was mussed, his eyes as dark as she’d ever seen them, and that thin layer of scruff covering the edge of his scar made those butterflies take flight all over again. “I… Where have you been?”

He crossed the floor, gently took the beer from her hand, and set it on the marble counter. His scent—clean, musky, with a hint of leather and spice—surrounded her and made her legs weak. Without a word, he opened the small fridge, pulled out a bottle of Cristal, and unscrewed the metal cage from around the cork.

“Cade?”

He was watching her with those intensely dark eyes, just like he’d done earlier when she’d seen him in the lobby of Aegis. Only this time they weren’t cold and assessing; they were filled with a heat she felt everywhere, and her insides warmed with every passing second. He’d changed a lot over the years. Had become rugged. More rough around the edges. A hell of a lot more dangerous. But he still made her pulse quicken and every single cell in her body jerk to life in a way it hadn’t done for years.

The cork gave with a pop, and he reached for a flute from under the bar, poured the bubbly liquid into a glass, and handed it to her. “Drink.”

“Aren’t you having one?” She took the glass, tried not to jump when his fingers brushed hers and electricity arced all along her skin.

“I think you need this more than I do. I want you semi-relaxed when we head out there.” That sexy half smile quirked one side of his lips, the one that always did crazy things to her heartbeat. “So you don’t give us away.”

Apprehension and arousal tangled in her stomach. The way he was watching her made her think he had something else planned, but she believed him when he said he was here only to help her find Melody. She had to; otherwise, she might go mad.

Slowly, she brought the flute to her lips and took a sip. The bubbly liquid was crisp, full-flavored, and went down smooth. And God, she did need it. But not because of what she’d see out there. She’d already resigned herself to the fact she was going to see things she’d never seen before. She needed it because just being near Cade made her question every one of her resolutions where he was concerned.

She drank half the glass before she realized he was leaning against the bar, still watching her with that amused expression. She lowered the flute. “Are you not drinking because you’re technically on duty?”

His smile widened, brightening his eyes. “No.”

One answer. No hint as to what it meant. Mr. Dark and Mysterious was alive and kicking tonight.

“Don’t you drink?”

He shook his head.

“Why not?”

“It deadens the senses.”

There was more to that, but the way he was studying her was so penetrating, so wickedly intimate, she was afraid to ask more. Taking a sip of her champagne, she wove into the sitting area of the suite and looked out at the sparkling water. “Where’d you get that tattoo on your arm?”

It looked like a scroll and rose, and she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it. The artwork was amazing.

“A tat shop outside Vegas called Wicked Ink. The owner and I go way back.”

Surprised, Avery glanced over her shoulder. “You know Rush Merrick? How?”

Cade chuckled and pushed away from the bar. “Heard of him, huh? Jackass used to be a nobody, and now look at him.”

Rush Merrick was one of the best tattoo artists in the country. His work had been featured in more than one national magazine, and several of Avery’s friends were currently on a waiting list to see him. “He does work for a number of celebrities.”

He approached like a cat on the prowl, and Avery’s pulse picked up all over again. “When I was in Afghanistan with the military, we were on patrol one day and came across this bombed-out village. We had a few informants in that town, and the US had helped rebuild a school the Taliban had destroyed. The Taliban obviously didn’t like that.”

“That’s awful.”

“It was.” He looked out the window, and for a moment, his eyes darkened, as if remembering back. “I’m still not sure how it happened, but one of the guys in my unit tripped a mine. Shrapnel went flying. We were lucky no one was killed, but several of us got hit. Piece of metal burned my forearm to hell. It healed but always looked like crap.”

He turned back to face her, and when he did, the shadows were gone, making her wonder just what he’d seen and experienced overseas and how it had changed him. “So about a year later, I was home on leave in Vegas with a few buddies. One thing led to another, like it does in Vegas, and we ended up at this little tattoo shop. Merrick was the artist. He was a nobody then—just a kid—but even wasted on tequila, I could tell he had talent. We took him out with us after, got him totally shitfaced.” He smiled, looking more like the boy she remembered and not the man he’d become. “Pretty sure he doesn’t drink anymore after that night either. Whenever I want work done now, though, he’s my go-to guy.”

He was inches from her, standing at the windows with her, and she could feel the heat rolling off him in waves. Wondered if he could feel the same heat suddenly pouring from her.

He lifted his arm so she could see the lines and colors on his forearm. “Go on, take a look.”

Slowly, she did, and her breath caught. Lines rolled and flowed as if on canvas. Color blended in swirls to add depth and intrigue. “It’s really beautiful.”

She reached out to touch it, then realized what she’d been about to do and pulled back.

“That one’s for show.” With his other arm, he pulled up his sleeve. “This one’s personal.”

Avery’s gaze slid from tanned skin to sculpted muscle. A cross encased in a heart was surrounded by angel wings. This tattoo was bigger, starting at his shoulder and running down his bicep, and beneath the heart, three small letters were etched into his skin.

“My mom’s initials,” he said. “This is on her tombstone.”

Avery’s gaze jerked to his. His mother had died of cancer when he was eight. But she didn’t remember any tombstone.

He tugged his sleeve back down, covering the intricate art and, as if reading her mind, said, “I had one placed for her after my father finally kicked it. Asshole never did anything for her. Couldn’t even fork out a few hundred bucks for a gravestone. Anyway, that heart-cross-wing thing had been on a bookmark she kept in her Bible. It was ratty and frayed, but that and the Bible were the only personal possessions she’d ever really cared about. When she died, he burned both, but I remembered, and when I had the money, I had it replicated on her headstone.”

As he spoke, Avery was transported back in time. To when she’d known him as a teen. The misunderstood boy with the abusive father who’d lived in that small, unkempt shack and who’d had the biggest heart of anyone she’d ever known. He’d told her once he’d gotten the scar protecting his mother from one of his dad’s drunken rants. And that when he’d lost her, he’d gone down the wrong road fast. Until he’d met her.

That boy was still alive inside the man standing in front of her. And that realization made her swallow hard, because the heart she was trying so hard to protect took a hard, slow roll in her chest. “I…I’m sure she would have appreciated you did that for her.”

That half smile returned to his lips, but this time it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I know she does.”

Present tense. She couldn’t help but be amazed that after everything he’d been through as a kid, after the horrible way his father had treated him and the things he must have seen in the military and working undercover for the FBI, that he was still a man of faith at his very core.

His eyes narrowed before she could think of something to say in response, and he cocked his head. “You haven’t had any work done by Rush Merrick, have you?”

Avery’s eyes flew wide. “What? Me? Of course not.”

Turning away, she quickly downed her champagne, crossed the room, and set her glass on the bar. “Are we ready? I think we need to head to dinner.”

Cade caught up with her in the small foyer and snagged her arm. “Hold up.”

Avery’s breath caught.

“You did have work done by Merrick.”

“I most certainly did not.”

A mischievous grin crossed Cade’s rugged features, and he took a step forward, forcing her back until her shoulders hit the wall. “What is it? And where?”

Avery’s face burned, and inside, those butterflies flapped furiously. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He braced one hand on the wall near her head, leaned in so they were only centimeters apart, and trailed his finger down her cheek. Sparks of electricity ignited wherever he touched. She froze. Her stomach tightened, and a heaviness grew low in her belly.

“I could guess. That might be more fun than having you tell me.” His finger slid down her throat, across the line of her collarbone, then lower, to the top of her cleavage. Her heart rate sped up. Her palms grew sweaty, and she braced them against the wall to keep from reaching for him. “A dragonfly. Maybe a star, considering your profession.” His heated gaze rolled over her, hovered on her breasts, then slid lower to her hips. Her nipples tingled. Shot sparks of desire straight to her sex. “Must be somewhere no one can see. Somewhere private. Somewhere intimate. Oh…” He shook his head, and his grin widened. “I’m gonna have to have words with Merrick the next time I see him if he tattooed your perfect skin where I think he did.”

Avery’s chest rose and fell with her shallow breaths. She looked up into his amused eyes, and though she was vibrating with arousal being this close to him, the memory of that tattoo, of what it stood for, brought her focus back to the forefront. “You can guess all you want, but I don’t have a tattoo. End of story.”

His smile slowly eased, and he stared at her for several seconds in silence. Questions swirled in his eyes. Questions she didn’t want to answer. Not now, when her emotions were so close to the surface. It wasn’t just seeing him, being close to him that was throwing her off. It was remembering who he’d been. What they’d shared. And what they’d created.

“Are we going to dinner so we can try to find my friend,” she asked, “or not?”

Slowly, he straightened, but the humor faded from his features, revealing the serious, dark, and dangerous man she’d encountered at Aegis.

She ducked under his arm and reached for her clutch from the front table. Refused to acknowledge she was shaking. Maybe dealing with Mr. Dark and Dangerous was better than Mr. Smart-ass. Mr. Smart-ass would only remind her of the past, and that was a road she didn’t want to travel again. Mr. Dark and Dangerous she could easily keep at arm’s length.

“Well?” She steeled her nerves and turned to face him.