Agent M4: Riordan (12 page)

Natalie’s gaze shot to Riordan who stared at her, jaw clenched. “You called Tristan?”

Bending over, he helped her to her feet. Lifting her in his arms, he walked away from the party without a word.

“Goodnight, Natalie.” Cass called out to her, a chorus of the same from the others.

Waving to them over Riordan’s shoulder, she said, “I can’t believe you’re here.” She tucked a strand of hair behind his ear.

He carried her into the elevator. “We’re going to get some things straight, Natalie, once and for all.”

A sense of foreboding came over her. His tone didn’t hold a hint of affection or desire. He sounded all business.

“I like your strategy, Riordan. Attack while she’s injured and high on alcohol and painkillers.”

His gorgeous smile flashed, making her grin. She rubbed her hand along his beard.

“Secret Agent stuff 101. Strike while they’re vulnerable.”

Softening her voice, she said, “I’m always vulnerable around you.”

Stopping in front of his door, he ran his thumb over the security panel. The door popped open.

Walking inside, Riordan kicked the door shut behind him and headed straight for the bedroom. He set her on the bed and stepped away, his arms crossed over his chest.

Her stomach knotted. The romantic toss on the bed and subsequent ravishing she’d envisioned wouldn’t happen. He’d come to take care of business. She wanted to cry.

Sitting against the headboard, she propped her injured leg on the mattress and lifted her chin. “Let’s do this.”

He gave a brief nod. “No screwing around. I want the truth, Meeks – whatever that may be.”

He expected her to lie. Whatever this was about, it wasn’t good. He had come here because she’d told him that tonight would be different. Tonight she wouldn’t be the conservative, straight-laced doctor. Tonight he would get the real Natalie.

“Okay. I ask the same of you, Riordan.”

“Agreed.” Taking a deep breath, he said, “Frederick Richey.”

She frowned, confused. “Who the heck is Frederick Richey?”

His gaze bore into hers, hard and studying. “You don’t know?”

“No.” She shook her head. “Should I?”

“Rose and I picked him up today. He’s sitting in a cell at the San Diego office.”

Fleeting hope fluttered in her chest, a sense of dread on its tail. “Is he responsible for the bomb threat? The fire?”

“No.”

Shaking her head, she held her hands palm up. “So, what does he have to do with me?”

“He’s been living under my identity for the last year and a half.”

She gasped aloud. Identity theft happened all of the time but, to
live
as someone else…?

“Oh, my gosh. That would take some major planning, careful maneuvering and good acting.” Bracing her hands on the bed, she shifted positions. The pain had slowly worked its way back into her leg.

He pointed at her. “You’re right. Someone planned out every detail and coached him.”

Coaching involved preparing someone for a role... “Are you saying he used your identity to commit a crime?”

“He’s been working as a Vice President in Luke Powers’ Management Company, sent inside to infiltrate Powers’ trust, and steal his research and development.”

Luke Powers. One of her father’s greatest foes.

Oh…
no
…

She shook her head several times. “You don’t think-”

“That’s exactly what I think.”

Her mouth dropped open. Good God, he thought she’d lied to him, that she’d infiltrated
his
trust and D.I.R.E. in the same way Richey had gained access to Powers’ management company. He thought she’d used him to help her father.

Her heart shattered. If he only knew how much she cared, how much she loved him, he’d never consider it.

Because she did. Love him. Immensely.

Tears pooled in her eyes. “You really believe I could do something like that? To you, of all people?”

His strong, protective stance withered. His arms dropped to his sides, his frown disappearing above wide eyes.

“That’s what I’m trying to find out, Meeks. Were you involved?”

She was such a fool. Riordan would never trust, least of all her. She had the wrong last name, the wrong profession, the wrong feelings for him.

He knew how to handle hate. He couldn’t handle love.

Still, she wanted to be nowhere else but in this room, with him, knowing he could never trust her. Knowing it would never work.

Bracing a hand on the nightstand, she stood up. “I’m sorry to disappoint you but, I didn’t even know you existed a year and a half ago, Riordan.”

She walked to the edge of the bed and stood before him. “Contrary to what you believe, I don’t know my father’s business and I don’t want to know. All of my life, I’ve tried to separate myself from his career, to escape his corruption and greed.” She swallowed over the lump in her throat. “But, it follows me everywhere…”

Tears filled her voice. Dammit, she didn’t want to cry. Neither he, nor her father, were worth it.

“…like a shadow, haunting and dark. I can’t escape it, no matter what I do.” She rubbed her eyes with her forefinger and thumb. “I had accepted it, chalking it up as my cross to bear.”

She looked up at him. “Until you. Until you forced me to see what I had become – just a ghost of the real me.” Turning away from him, she limped to the bathroom. “I may be a fraud, Riordan, but I’m not a criminal. I’m sorry you couldn’t see that.”

He reached for her. “Meeks…”

She skirted away, pain shooting up her leg. She had to get her acetaminophen.

“No, Riordan. I don’t want to hear anymore. I think we got to the gist of the issue – you’ll never be able to trust me. So, let’s leave it at that.”

Reaching the bathroom doorway, she stopped but didn’t face him.

“Find somewhere else to sleep tonight. I’ll be gone tomorrow.”

Riordan stared at the closed door, wondering how the hell he’d gotten here. He’d set out to get answers on her involvement with Richey and ended up fighting back such intense self-loathing he wanted to puke.

Right now, he didn’t care if she had sent him to Mongolia herself, he… needed her. Knowing she had shut herself off from him pissed him off. He wanted to rip off the door from its hinges, throw her over his shoulder and onto the bed.

He sat on the mattress and rubbed his hands down his face. As soon as he’d uttered the words ‘were you involved,’ he’d wanted to grab them out of the air and stuff them back inside his big, fat mouth.

Back in San Diego, away from her, the idea of her involvement seemed plausible. Logical.

Holding her in his arms, with her fingers in his hair, impossible. Ridiculous.

She’d bared her soul to him, left herself wide open for him to see and he’d pushed it off as insignificant.

Paul Warner probably wouldn’t have done that.

He spat a raw, succinct curse. What the hell was wrong with him?

This freaking phobia he had about trust had caused him to lose the one woman that had ever really meant something to him.

She cared about him. Why, he couldn’t fathom. He’d been nothing but a proud, arrogant jackass.

Leaning back his head on his shoulders, he squeezed his eyes shut. He had some major sucking up to do and no freaking idea how to do it.

Standing up, he clenched his fists. He had to fix it. Somehow, some way, he had to get her back. He had to prove that he trusted her.

Going to the bathroom door, he reached for the handle then stopped. Her rejection scared the crap out of him. Working in the field, spending time in prison, he knew what to expect.

When she’d told him to leave, that hurt cut deeper than any whipping he’d ever received.

“Natalie.”

He tried the brushed nickel handle. Locked. He could repel it and barge inside but he didn’t want to frighten her.

“Can’t you at least show me a little respect and do as I ask, Riordan?” Clogged with tears, her voice sounded small, tired.

He leaned his forehead against the door. Dammit, he’d done this to her. “Natalie, open the door.”

This time her voice came through angry and sharp. “Are you really that stubborn, Riordan? Or completely daft?
I’m not opening the bloody door.”

He smiled to himself. There was his copper-haired spitfire.

“I think we both know I
am
that bloody daft, Natalie.”

No response.

Letting out a frustrated breath, he slumped his shoulders. Enough of this shit. He was taking over.

Holding out his hand, he repelled the handle. The door shook in its hinges before it flew back against the wall.

Gasping, Natalie whipped around, her back to him.

Ho-ly shit.

She wore a pair of black, silky panties that barely covered her ass, three tiny straps wrapping around each hip. A matching bra criss-crossed her back, with three tiny straps wrapping around the sides of her breasts. She had the sexiest back he’d ever seen, her pale skin immaculate.

“I can’t believe you’d do this.” Her arms covered her breasts.

“Believe it.” Turning her around to face him, he gave her a full onceover.

Full, rounded breasts were covered in tiny scraps of black, her belly flat and…

“Is that a belly button stud?” He knew his eyes were like saucers but he couldn’t help it.

She lifted her chin. “So? What’s wrong with it?”

He shook his head with a smile. “Not a damned thing. It’s sexy as hell.” Bending down, he kissed her there, his tongue snaking out to tease her.

She sucked in a breath. “
Riordan
...”

Straightening, he pulled the clip from her hair and let it fall around her shoulders. He took his fill of her, his vision of perfection, his voice of sanity.

His greatest fear.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, hoping his words, his voice conveyed the reverence he felt.

A blush blossomed over her chest, up her long neck, to her face. “This changes nothing, Rior-“

He crushed his lips to hers, pouring all of his regret, his need into his kiss. He cradled her head with a gentle touch, trying not to show his complete and utter desperation for her.

She opened for him, her mouth cool, her kiss slow, luxurious. Her palms rested against his chest, hot, soft, before curling into his shirt.

God,
yes
. This was it. Where he belonged. The reason why all he’d endured before had been worth it.

Pulling away, he stared into her hazel, passion-glazed eyes. With her hair mussed, her skin flushed, she had to be the most stunning thing he’d ever seen.

His hands rested on her bare back. She sucked in a breath. Her skin felt soft, velvety against his palms. He slid his hands down to her waist, a shiver following down her spine.

Slipping beneath her panties, he clutched her backside and squeezed, his fingers gentle, her breathing harsh. He kneaded her there, her hands clinging to his biceps, her cheek against his arm.

“Riordan…” she said, her voice raspy, breathless.

Feathering his fingers through the narrow straps at her hips, he stopped there before trailing them around to slip under the elastic at her thigh. He teased her there before slipping to her center.

Swallowing hard, he gritted his teeth against the rush, the hunger that threatened his reason. He would lose
it
completely, if he didn’t gain control. He couldn’t afford to scare her.

Bathing his finger in welcoming heat, her body dampened more the longer he played, her hands in a vice grip on his arms.

Sweat dotted her shoulders, his lips finding her there. The salt on her skin excited him, his body hardening to the point of pain.

It had been too long.

He took her to the brink, her gasp echoing in the otherwise silent room.

“Please Riordan…”

“Please, what, baby?” He teased her unmercifully.

She swallowed hard. “
Please
-“

Her cry of release rang sharp, her breath hot against his skin. She shivered in his arms, the scent of her desire filling his nose.

He’d nearly walked away from her? From
this
?

Kissing the top of her head, he held her tight - and hoped like hell, she forgave him.

“Well, okay. Maybe we can negotiate.”

Natalie smiled against Riordan’s shirt, his laughter rumbling against her ear. She knew he struggled with trust and she hadn’t exactly been receptive to him, but she’d thought they had a connection. An unspoken bond.

She’d felt it, anyway. That’s what had scared her. He tempted her, drew her to him without any energy on his part. Right now, in his arms, proved to be the most exciting yet comforting experience she’d ever had. He’d given, not taken, with only reconciliation in mind.