COLE (Dragon Security Book 1) (14 page)

“I know, sweetie. But they clearly pulled him back in.” I touched her face again. “At least you know that it wasn’t that he didn’t want to be with you. That it was his sense of duty.”

“Do you think he knew about Peter’s car accident? Do you think he could have stopped it if—?”

“Don’t do that to yourself. Don’t drive yourself crazy trying to figure out something that you can’t figure out with so many missing pieces.”

“I miss him, Cole,” she whispered. “I miss him so much that sometimes I can’t breathe.”

“I know.”

When I was young, in middle school and high school, it was always Megan and Luke. It was never just Megan, or just Luke. It was Megan and Luke, almost like one whole word: MeganandLuke. When I got the letter, announcing their wedding, it was almost anti-climactic. Everyone had always known that they would marry someday. In fact, I think Mom and Dad were sort of relieved when she announced her intentions to go into the military after high school. I think they thought she and Luke would get married the moment they were of legal age. So, being around her without Luke was kind of strange. Even to me.

I gave my sister a hug. For a minute—a rare moment—she let me hold her. Then she straightened up and walked away. After a few minutes, the CIA guys were back in their van, pulling away. Hayden and Dominic climbed into their Hummer and sat there, the engine rumbling, waiting to escort us back to town.

We’d all been through enough for one day.

Megan

I stood in the doorway, a part of me afraid to go inside. It’d been several days since our confrontation with the CIA agents. I should have done this sooner. Now that I knew Peter had gone to Luke with his concerns about the software, the part of me that had been driven to find out what happened the night of Peter’s accident was suddenly losing interest.

What if it turned out that Peter’s accident was a direct result of something Luke had done? Did I really want to know something like that?

But I needed to know.

Daddy was behind Peter’s desk, staring at the few things on the desktop, his eyes glossy with pain. I should be in there; I should be the one doing the search. But Daddy would know better what he was seeing in Peter’s files, on his computer, in the things that would tell us the most about what Peter had been up to in the final days of his life.

“I’m sorry, Daddy.”

He looked up, a little light coming into his eyes when he looked at me.

“This has been a long time coming, Meg. We need this office. It’s not fair to Angela that we’ve made her stay in her smaller office while she’s taken on all of Peter’s duties.”

“I know. But I hate to force your hand.”

He shook his head. “Maybe something in here will tell us who was selling the software illegally.”

Daddy turned on Peter’s computer. I took a more leisurely tact. I walked around the office, touching Peter’s collection of photographs, the few artworks he’d admired and wanted to have around him as he worked each day. Almost reluctantly, I approached the large filing cabinet set to one side near his desk and began searching through the drawers, pulling out the odd file here and there, looking through them for something I might understand.

Software and computers and all that had never really been my forte. That was Sam’s thing. She was the one who did all that at the office. It was something she and Peter had always had in common, which likely led to the crush she had on him back when we were kids. They still talked about it quite often. Every time he came to the office, I would find them with their heads together, discussing some new software one or the other had discovered. They were like kids sharing their collection of baseball cards.

I understood invoices. I understood business correspondence, and I found a lot of both. Most of it seemed routine. There were software specs that I set aside for Daddy to go through. There were other things that I wasn’t sure how to categorize. And then, way back in one file drawer, I found a folder filled with personal correspondence.

Birthday cards. Letters from Cole when he was overseas. Letters I’d written while overseas. There were even letters from Sam that I didn’t know she’d sent to him. I found myself fighting tears as I looked through the things he’d chosen to save. Things I would have thrown away, he kept close…because they mattered to him.

Momma joined us after a while, carrying a stack of empty boxes.

“We might as well do this all at once,” she said.

I hugged her for a long moment. I knew how hard this was for her. She may still have Cole and I, but Peter was her first born. There was a special bond with the first.

At least, that’s what I’d observed.

Daddy helped her pack up the artwork while I finished organizing the contents of the file cabinet. No one seemed eager to work on the desk itself. It felt like that would be the one place where Peter would have kept his most personal items. The inhaler he occasionally needed when the dust and humidity was high. His extra pair of glasses. The comb that he kept handy so that he could freshen up before a meeting. He was always fastidious about his appearance, always conscious of the way people saw him. Seeing those things felt too much like invading his personal space.

I opened a side drawer and dug through extra pens and pencils, erasers and extra staples for the stapler. I thought I was done, but then I saw something at the very back of the drawer. I reached my hand deep and found a small, wrapped package.

It had Amber’s name on it.

“What’s that?” Daddy asked from across the room.

I shook my head. “Something for Amber.”

He came over and picked it up. He ran his fingertip over Peter’s handwriting before handing it back to me.

“You should give it to her. He clearly wanted her to have it.”

I nodded, setting it aside.

We worked for hours, but didn’t find much of anything out of the usual. By the time the movers got there to move the boxes to the storage unit where the rest of Peter’s things were, we’d come to the conclusion that there was nothing to be found. Peter had left all he had with Amber.

Fitting, I suppose.

I took the hard drive for his computer to Sam. There was definite sadness in her eyes when she took it, but she promised to do all she could.

By the time I got home, I was completely exhausted. But I couldn’t sleep. For days I’d been thinking about Luke and the fact that Peter had gone to him with whatever it was he’d found. Why hadn’t either of them told me? Why did they keep me out of it?

The only answer I could come up with was that they were protecting me. But from what?

None of it made a lot of sense to me.

I lay alone in bed and began to drift to sleep. Luke came to me in my dreams sometimes, and I hoped he would tonight. It was the only thing that truly got me through.

“I won’t leave you,” he whispered against my ear that night in my dream, a dream that was more a memory. “I can’t survive without you in my life.”

“You’ve made it this far.”

“Because I knew you were here waiting for me. In the darkest moments, that’s the only thing that gets me through. And now…I won’t ever leave you again.”

It was the night he showed up on my doorstep to tell me he’d quit the CIA, that he was done with all those covert operations, that he was home to stay. He even had a job, selling pharmaceuticals. I laughed and told him he’d be bored in less than a week and he should come work for me. But he wanted to show me that he could support me on his own.

That had always been a thing between Luke and me. My family was filthy rich. His mother worked as my mother’s personal chef. He’d always been so conscious of the economic differences between us. But I…well, I suppose the reason it never bothered me was because I was the one with all the money. But it didn’t. And it took me a long time to understand why it bothered him so much. But that was just Luke. That was the kind of man he was. He needed to be able to take care of me, and I…I was more than willing to allow him to.

I needed him to…now more than ever.

Cole

The baby began to cry and Amber stirred, but she didn’t wake. She hadn’t been sleeping well lately. So many things were happening. She was struggling with it all, struggling to believe I really cared about her, struggling to believe Megan didn’t think poorly of her. But—most of all—she was struggling to remember everything about Peter so that she could be of help in the investigation. And that brought up things that I’m sure she would have preferred to forget.

Or maybe it was me who’d prefer she forgot.

I slipped out of bed and padded over to the nursery, lifting the baby from his crib. He was wet, so I changed him. Then I took him downstairs and bounced him a little in my arms, trying to keep him happy a while longer so that Amber could get some extra rest. He was nearly two months old now, brightly alert and so very aware of everything around him. As I paced in the living room, he turned his head to stare at things like the light coming through the windows and the bright red splotches of paint on a piece of art affixed to the wall.

“You’re a good boy,” I whispered to him. “And so lucky. You have a beautiful, caring mom and grandparents who can’t do enough for you. An aunt who’s caught up in her own stuff right now, but who loves you more than anything else. And me. I’ll tell you all about your Daddy; I’ll make sure you know everything. Even the bad stuff, like when he drove his car off the side of the road because he was drinking at some party in high school. I thought Dad would have a stroke when the cops showed up at our door with Peter in tow. He wouldn’t let him near the car again for six months after that.”

The baby made a little gurgling noise at that information.

I smiled. “You like that? Well, let me see, there were other things, too. Like the time he snuck out of the house, but he forgot that Dad always set the alarm before he went to bed, so when he tried to sneak back in, he set off the alarm and the cops showed up again, escorting him to the front door and waking Dad up. He was grounded for six weeks after that one.”

The baby gurgled again.

I laughed, bending slightly to kiss his cheek. “But there were good things, too. More good than bad. Your dad, he was a prince, really. So near perfect that it was impossible for Megan and me to compare. We should have hated him, but how do you hate someone like that? It’s not possible.”

I stood at the windows and looked down at the city, not really seeing it. What I saw was Peter, the way he’d looked in his casket when I walked into the viewing the night before his funeral.

“Peter was too good to be true sometimes. There was a time in high school when I denied being his brother if someone asked. But I was pretty proud to have him as my brother.”

I missed him. There was a part of me that would do anything to have him back. If I could trade anything for him, I would. My money. My service medals. Even my own life. But then I thought about Amber and this little bit of fear danced in the pit of my stomach. The truth was, I knew that if Peter had lived, he and Amber would be living happily ever after right now…and I would be the one out in the cold. Was it possible to be jealous of a man who was nearly ten months in the grave now?

The more time I spent with Amber and PJ, the more it felt right. Like it was meant to be. But there was still that little voice in the back of my head telling me that I was her second choice. I would forever be her second choice.

“Hey.”

Amber came up behind me, resting her hand on my arm as she brushed a finger over PJ’s cheek. The baby took one look at her and began to cry.

“He’s hungry.”

She nodded. “I know. I was leaking a little and it woke me.”

She took the baby and settled on the couch, offering him a bare breast that he took with a small sound of pleasure. She leaned back as soon as he was happily latched, closing her eyes as she lay her head against the back of the couch.

“Have you heard from Megan lately?”

“No.”

“Do you think you will? I mean, she’s still checking all this stuff out, right?”

“Of course.”

She peeked at me. “You okay?”

I settled on the couch beside her and slid my hand across her bare belly. She rested her free hand over mine, reaching over to kiss my cheek lightly.

I wanted to ask her. A part of me desperately wanted to know the details of her relationship with Peter. Was it really just a one-night thing? Or was there more to it than that? Did she love him? Was she still grieving him like Megan grieved Luke? Or was it just a chance thing that caught her in a mess she couldn’t control?

But then there was this part of me that really didn’t want to know. Because if she was in love with him, that would always be this barrier between us.

I kissed her neck as the baby drifted off to sleep, his suckling growing lazy and intermittent. She sighed, moving her hand to my bare thigh.

I might not know what was in her heart. But I knew this, she was willing to share with me…and I fully intended to take full advantage of it until she reached that point where it wasn’t enough.

I slid my hand up her thigh, pushing it under the thin material of her nightie. She hadn’t bothered with panties, and my fingers were quite grateful for that. They slipped over her trimmed mound, slipping down to where her labia just poked out between her outer lips. I ran the tip of my finger just lightly over it, feeling the moisture that had already gathered there, the effect of just sitting on the couch beside me. That idea excited me more than anything she could say or do.

“He’s asleep,” she whispered, as I moved slowly over her jaw, making my way along her chin to her beautiful lips.

“Good boy,” I responded just before I tackled her mouth, taking possession of it like a jealous child wrapping his arms around his mother’s leg.

We kissed for a long moment, my fingers digging, searching for more than that little peek of labia. But then I pulled away and slipped the baby from her arms, laying him gently in the portable playpen set up across the room. She watched me almost shyly as I crossed back to her, the evidence of my arousal thick and heavy, pressing against the front of my shorts. She reached for me, sliding to the front of the couch, releasing my cock before I’d even stopped moving.

Her mouth was like a bow when her lips were pressed together. But when she let those lips fall apart, like they were now, they became a promise that made my balls tighten and pull up into my lower belly. There was this look that came into her eyes when her lips were that way…it made me nearly lose control each time I saw it.

And that tongue. She was so impossibly talented with that tongue. She might have been innocent when she first came into my bed, but she wasn’t now. She was a devil, an incredibly erotic devil, the way she used that tongue to touch the most sensitive parts of my cock. All I could do was close my eyes and hope that my knees didn’t give out.

I let her take the lead for a moment, let her decide how much she could take, how long she wanted to hold me in that hot, silky mouth of hers. I let her do her best to drive me out of my mind—something that she was very capable of doing. But when my control began to slip away, I couldn’t help but bury my fingers in her hair; I couldn’t help but feed her more than she had taken thus far. But she was a willing playmate, taking more and more until I could feel the muscles of her throat working against the edges of my cock.

It was…
damn,
there were no words for it!

It was all I could take, watching her swallow me and ask for more.

I pulled away and lifted her, flipping her over as if she was a pancake, but a beautiful pancake full of erotic surprises. I lifted the back of her thin nightie, exposing the perfect curves of her beautiful ass. I ran my hand over it, smacking her lightly a few times. She glanced back at me, a smile on that bow-like mouth. I kneeled on the couch behind her, guiding my cock to her cunt, sliding it along her moist lips, teasing her clit with just the tiniest bit of pressure. She pressed her hips back against me, begging me to fill her with my length. But I pulled back, waiting until her hips were still before rubbing against her again.

She gripped the back of the couch with both hands, soft moans slipping from her lips that spun around me, making me dizzy with need. I played with her until my own need refused to be ignored a second longer. At that moment, I thrust hard inside of her, filling her in one, quick thrust that made her cry out. But she pushed back against me, wiggling her little ass, encouraging the underside of my cock to rub hard against her clit. She was grinding into my pelvis, pleasing herself, as her movements sent wave after wave of pleasure through my body.

I leaned over her, tugging her head back to steal a kiss. Then I began to move, thrusting against her over and again, filling her and escaping as much as her responsive movements would allow me. I wrapped my arms around her waist, wrapped my body around her, my hips flying in air as friction made my cock as hard as it’d ever been, as her muscles tugged and pulled at me, begging me to come deeper, deeper, deeper. And then she screamed, her thighs quivering, her muscles going wild as they pulled against me, her orgasm racing through her entire body until I could feel tension in just about every muscles in her small body.

I tried to last; I tried to offer her more than one. But her movements, her body, her scent, her pleasure…it was all too much. I straightened up, ready to pull out since I’d forgotten, in my haste, that the condoms were all upstairs. But, at the last second, she pressed her hips hard against mine and reached back to grab my thigh, refusing to let me move away.

“Amber,” I groaned, but it was already too late.

I lost control, filling her with very ounce of desire that lived and danced along my spine. I cried out, once again melting against her body. And when it was over, we sort of collapsed sideways.

“You shouldn’t…” I whispered breathlessly.

“It’s okay.” She ran her hand along my thigh, our bodies still intertwined, my cock still caught partially inside of her. “The doctor prescribed the pill for me last month.”

“Yeah? But what about other things? Aren’t you worried about—?”

“I trust you.” She was quiet for a second, her fingers making a little pattern in the hair of my leg. “Besides, I want to be as close to you as possible.”

My heart did a little stuttering jump in my chest.

She drew a word on my leg. I thought I knew what it was, but I was afraid if I was wrong…

“You’re the first person I’ve ever felt like I could truly trust.”

“You can.” I kissed her neck. “I won’t hurt you if I can help it.”

“I know.”

“You and PJ…I can’t imagine what my life would be if you hadn’t come into it.”

“We certainly made everything exciting, him coming into the world the way he did.”

I chuckled softly. “You did.”

She was quiet for a long moment, her finger drawing that word again. I pressed my face to her shoulder, my eyes moving to the baby, just barely visible in his little play pen. I really couldn’t imagine my life without them, which was funny since there was a time, not long ago, when I couldn’t imagine settling down to the same domestic prison that so many of my fellow unit members had done. But now I could see the draw. To have Amber in my bed every single night for the rest of my life…now that was a dream in which I was afraid to allow myself to indulge.

“I never thought I would ever find someone like you,” she said softly. “I was so used to being on my own, to people wanting only one thing from me, that I thought I would always be alone, always have to fend for myself. But then you, dragging me out of that trailer, insisting on buying me things, just taking charge of everything. I didn’t know what to do with all that.”

“I could have been a little less demanding.”

“No…I don’t think we’d be here now if you hadn’t done things the way you did. I was so stubborn that I’d be living in that piece of junk car of mine if you hadn’t taken charge.”

“You’ll never have to do anything like that, Amber.”

She nodded, her fingers still dancing on my skin. Then she grew still, leaning back into me.

“I love you,” she whispered so quietly that I almost didn’t hear her.

A part of me wished I hadn’t.

I carefully lifted her and carried her upstairs to the bedroom we now shared. I just wanted to hold her, to pretend for a while that she’d always been mine. That I wasn’t just sloppy seconds and that her love didn’t come from a sense of gratitude rather than true emotion.