Avenged (Hostage Rescue Team Series) (Volume 5) (12 page)

He glanced toward the ceiling, thought of her curled up in that antique four-poster bed upstairs. Was she sleeping soundly? Or did she have nightmares still like he did? The way she’d looked at him earlier in her room, like she’d been imagining what he tasted like, had been a special kind of torture. Even now he wondered what it would feel like to slide his hands into her curls and kiss her, sink into her. He got the feeling if he did, he’d be drawn in so deep that he’d never be able to pull free.

And for some reason that didn’t scare the shit out of him like he’d thought it would. Taya was different from all the women he’d been with. Losing himself in her wouldn’t be about escaping his issues; it would be about mutual respect and healing. He hoped for both of them.

Needing to collect his chaotic thoughts, Nate slipped outside onto the back porch, shutting the French door quietly behind him. He walked to the railing and eased one hip onto it, staring out at the rolling waves as they crashed against the shore, illuminated by a sliver moon peeking out from behind a bank of clouds. The damp, salty breeze ruffled his hair and went straight through his jeans and T-shirt.

Taya’s words about forgiveness and not letting the past define her kept coming back to him. She was absolutely right. He had to find a way to make peace with, or at least become at peace with what had happened in Afghanistan, and during his childhood. He was a grown-ass man. Time to own his shit and deal with it.

He just wasn’t sure how to.

Vance’s deep voice came through his earpiece. “Single vehicle approaching from the east. Silver minivan.”

Nate sat up straight. “Roger that.”

“Parking near the front walkway. Looks like single occupant. Driver’s getting out. Single male, carrying a stack of something in his hands. Maybe magazines. Can’t see a weapon. Want me to follow?”

Could be hiding something in the magazines. “I’ll check it out. Stand by. Cruz?”

“I’m on it.”

A slight shuffling sound broke into his thoughts. He was on his feet in an instant, staring toward the left side of the house where the sound had come from.

Footsteps. Barely audible over the sound of the waves.

Nate tapped his earpiece. “Footsteps coming from out front now. Vance, he still alone?”

“That’s affirm. On his way up the walkway.”

Nate reached back for the weapon he’d placed at the small of his back and moved into the deep shadows hugging the wall, all his senses on alert. His boots were silent on the wooden floorboards as he slowly made his way to the corner of the building and paused. The man was moving around out front.

There’s no way anyone could have found us. None.

The FBI had booked all four rooms at the inn, paying double the usual rate with a Bureau credit card just to ensure they’d be alone and have plenty of privacy over the next few days. And there was no way anyone had followed them here. He, Vance and Cruz had been hyper vigilant.

Weapon lowered in front of him but at the ready, Nate eased around the corner and started for the front porch. This was probably nothing, but he wasn’t leaving anything to chance. He’d take any principal’s safety seriously, but especially Taya’s.

The lamps mounted on either side of the front door were still on, illuminating the front of the inn. He caught sight of the man moving on the porch and stilled, just out of sight, then eased his head forward enough to see. As if he sensed someone watching, the man looked up and froze.

Nate took in the shock on the middle-aged man’s face, and the stack of newspapers in his hands. He was bent forward slightly as if he’d been about to place them on the doorstep, frozen as he stared back at Nate.

Nate tucked his weapon away out of sight and nodded to him as he fished out his badge and held it out for him to see. “You’re out early.”

The man straightened, watching Nate warily. “I always deliver this time of the morning. Nancy likes her guests to have their papers first thing, in case they get up early for coffee.”

Nate nodded. “I’ll take one.”

The man hesitated for a second, then stretched out an arm and handed one to Nate. “Have a good day.”

“You too.” Nate stayed there until the man walked down the pathway and out to his car parked near the end of the walkway. When the headlights swung in an arc and the car drove away, he did one more sweep of the property just to be sure.

“We’re all clear,” Vance reported from down the street.

“Copy that.”

Cruz was waiting for him at the side of the porch when he got back. “See anything?” he asked, holstering his own weapon.

“No, all clear.” Nate glanced down at the newspaper in his hand and unrolled it. On the front page, the headline read Shooter Targeted Qureshi Trial Witness and showed a picture of the federal marshals tangled on the floor with the dying shooter. Below it, embedded into the article was a picture of Taya, dressed in a business suit, smiling on stage during an Amnesty International speech.

“Fuck,” he muttered, and handed it over to Cruz.

His teammate scowled at the front page. “Greeeeaaaat,” he drawled sarcastically before lowering the paper. “Makes our job so much easier, to keep her hidden now that everyone from here to D.C. knows she’s in the area.”

Nate sighed. “I’ll call DeLuca. You go on back to sleep.”

“All right.”

Alone, Nate headed back around to the rear porch. A slight movement caught his attention as he neared the French doors leading off the kitchen. He stopped as the handle turned and then a head of dark curls appeared in the opening. Taya glanced over and gave a tentative smile when she saw him. “Cruz said it was okay for me to come down.”

She was wearing some sort of long, knit coat that came to her ankles, over what looked like yoga pants and a snug top that hugged the ample curve of her breasts. She wrapped her arms around her middle, cutting off his view of her breasts, for which he should probably be thankful.

He unstuck his tongue from the roof of his mouth. “Yeah, it’s fine, but you should still be upstairs sleeping.”

“I heard someone on the front porch.”

“Just the paper delivery guy.”

“I know. Cruz left it on the table at the bottom of the stairs. Not the first time I’ve made the front page.”

Hell. “To them it’s business as usual. All they care about is their story and selling papers. They don’t think about what the consequences of the material they print might be for others.”

Taya looked out at the ocean, then over at the porch swing at the end of the deck before coming back to him. “Can I sit out here with you for a while?”

He’d planned to go back inside but if she wanted to stay out here with him, he’d allow it for a while, but not out in the open where he couldn’t guarantee her safety. “Uh, sure.”

He indicated the porch swing, set with its back to the far wall of the enclosed porch. She walked over to the swing, her curves highlighted by the moonlight filtering beneath the eaves of the porch. And just like that, a fantasy took shape in his mind.

He envisioned her standing naked in front of him, her back to him, his hands mapping the shape of her body from her shoulders and down her ribs, to the indent of her waist. He’d slide his hands around her hips and hold her steady while he bent to nuzzle the vulnerable spot at her nape, just beneath where those enticing curls began.

She’d been violated by a man before, by someone she’d been forced to rely on for protection and survival. Nate longed to worship her, burn away those memories with his touch, his mouth, his body.

He’d nibble and nip his way down her neck to her shoulder, feeling every little shiver and gasp, kiss and lick at the thin scars there, then follow the indent of her spine, touching his mouth to every little mark the shrapnel had left on her body. Savor her the way she was meant to be savored.

When he reached the base of her spine he’d let his hands wander over the backs of her thighs, then up the insides, before sliding his fingertips in between. And when she was wet and needy he’d bend her over at the waist, hold her hips tight and use his mouth on her most sensitive place until she writhed and begged for more.

Taya sank onto one end of the swing and looked up at him uncertainly. Nate shook away the erotic image, feeling guilty for even imagining it. And shit, now he was half hard and had to sit out here pretending she was nothing more than a principal on a job to him, when she was already so much more than that.

She wrapped the folds of her sweater coat tighter around herself. Nate grabbed a folded up quilt from the top of a chest near the railing and shook it out. “Here.” He settled it around her, tucking it over her shoulders for good measure. Not only would it keep her warm, it would give him another layer between them.

Taya offered him a little smile. “Thanks.”

“Sure.” He sank onto the opposite end, leaving about eight inches of room between them.

Taya tucked her feet up underneath her and breathed out a soft sigh. “It’s peaceful out here, listening to the waves.”

He nodded, half his attention on her and the other half watching and listening for anything going on around the perimeter. He was still on the clock and he wasn’t going to let his guard down fully, not even out here alone with her in the darkness.

“How do you think that reporter found out about me?”

He grunted. “Who knows? Could be something as simple as paying off a bystander who happened to get a picture of you at the scene. Or someone who worked at the airport.”

“Do you think they know where we are?”

“
No
.” No way.

Her shoulders relaxed. “That’s good.”

He resisted the urge to wrap an arm around her shoulders. “I don’t want you to worry about things like that. Not with us here.”

She sighed. “I know, and I don’t want you to think I don’t trust you guys and your abilities. It’s just hard for me to put my safety into anyone else’s hands in light of everything that’s happened. Both before and now.”

“I can understand that. But you leave everything security related to us and use this time to recharge. Think of it as a kind of vacation.”

A slight nod as she stared out at the waves, and the hint of a smile played around the edges of her mouth. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t worried about the trial.”

“Have you been prepped for it?”

“Mostly. The prosecution wants to meet with me a few more times before I take the stand. But it’s not testifying or security concerns that bother me the most.”

Nate watched her, waiting for her to continue.

“It’s seeing Qureshi for the first time in five years, and worrying that my testimony won’t be enough to put him away.”

“It will be. With you and the others, there’s no way it won’t be.” And he admired the hell out of her for standing up and doing what she could to see the asshole brought to justice.

Now she turned her head and met his gaze. In the soft moonlight, her eyes seemed to gleam bright silver. “Whenever it happens. The attacks today could delay it weeks or months, or even more.”

“We’ll know soon enough. And if it’s going to be a while, I think you should consider going into WITSEC.”

She stared at him. “Because that worked out so well for Chloe.”

The devastation in her eyes sliced him inside. Unable to stop himself, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “I’m sorry about what happened to her.”

Her lashes lowered. “Yeah, I am too.” She huddled deeper under the blanket. “Can we talk about something else?”

“Sure. Like what?”

“Like, what did you get your degree in? I read that all HRT members are Special Agents or higher, and therefore have to have a four-year degree at the minimum. And that you have to serve with the FBI for at least two years before you’re eligible to try out for the HRT.”

“You Googled us,” he said with a grin.

“Of course I did. Last night I was insanely curious about the HRT all of a sudden.”

He chuckled under his breath. “Criminal justice.”

“Really? Mine was in inter—”

“International studies,” he finished for her. “I know.”

She quirked a brow. “You checked me out too?”

“Something like that.” Initially after the CSAR op he had, but now he’d read her official file the Bureau had compiled on her. He was sure she’d at least guessed that. With one foot on the porch floorboards he set the swing into motion. The slight creak mixed with the sound of the waves pounding against the sand in the distance.

“Can I ask you something?”

At her soft question he glanced over at her. Damn, she was pretty with the breeze tousling her curls around her face. Her expression was serious, her eyes nearly silver in the moonlight. “Sure.”

“Did what I told you about Hassan change the way you see me?”

What?
Now she had his full attention. “No, not at all. Why would you think that?” Had she seriously been worried about that?

She moved her shoulders in a taut shrug. “I just… I know how it must have sounded to you. Like I was a victim.”

“You
were
a victim. But that’s not how I see you, and it’s not how you present yourself. Not at all. Like I told you before, you’re a survivor.”

A slight smile tugged at her mouth. “If that’s true, then I’m relieved.”

“It’s true. I think you’re one of the strongest people I’ve ever known.” His hand tightened around her shoulder. He needed her to believe him. If he’d said or done something to make her feel otherwise it would slice him up inside.

She gave a slight nod and focused her gaze on the quilt spread across her lap. “I’m working on it.”

Sweetheart, compared to the rest of us, you’re already way ahead of the game.

“Since coming home, I haven’t uh, haven’t gone out much.” She shot him a sideways glance, as though gauging his reaction.

Nate sifted through her words, trying to figure out what she was getting at. “You mean in general? Or do you mean with guys?”

“Guys. I haven’t…dated since then.”

He stared at her in surprise. In five years? This gorgeous, brave, accomplished and sexy woman hadn’t been on a date in five fucking years because of what had been done to her? “Well that’s… I can see why you wouldn’t have wanted to.” God, what the hell had that fucker Hassan done to her? His free hand curled into a fist, his entire body tensing.