Hard Target (15 page)

Shouldering her bag, Alex peered around the place. A splash drew her attention toward the far side of the room where she spied an Olympic-sized pool behind a glass block partition. She stepped around the glass to watch both men, Speedos tightly suctioned to their well-muscled posteriors, cut through the water in a race. Torso undulating with animal grace, Simon executed a perfect turn. The practiced move allowed him to edge Günter out by a fingertip on the second lap.

With a shake of his head, Simon sent water arcing through the air. He gasped and laughed, giving Günter a breathless high-five. Alex stepped away from the glass, drawing the men’s attention. The mirth fell from Simon’s face. Holding her stare for a moment, his expression darkened.

Günter studied them both before pulling himself out of the pool. Simon followed. Alex couldn’t tear her eyes away from his chest and the way the water cascaded down heavy pecs and defined abs, first in a rush and then in a tempting trickle that traced its way along ridges and valleys.

Günter grabbed a white towel and rubbed at his temples then chest. “I’ll be needing a shower before I see Jenny. Good night.”

Alex cleared her throat and feigned interest in her nonexistent manicure. Jerking his towel from a teak bench, Simon snapped it over his skin with angry vigor. “I thought you’d send Ryan.”

Alex shrugged. “Nope. It’s still me.”

What would it be like to make love to Simon in that pool? To tumble into the blue-green waters in strong arms, then sink to the bottom as he plundered her mouth and body with lips and hands designed for decadent pleasure?

“Don’t look at me like that.” Simon’s command grated against her awareness with the aural finesse of a metal rasp.

“I brought the laptop.” Alex hefted the bag she still held. “Do you want dinner first?”

“I want you to leave.” He stepped toward her.

“I can’t.”

“You mean you won’t.”

“No. I mean I can’t.”

He stopped in front of her and forced her either to retreat or to painfully contort her neck to see his face. She chose the latter.

“Because of your career?” He spoke through clenched teeth, forcing his dimples to flex.

“Partly.” She kept her reply soft. Nonconfrontational. “But also because I think we make a good team.”

Heat poured off Simon’s still-damp skin, bringing with it the scent of chlorine and fabric softener. Alex licked her bottom lip. Simon zeroed in on the movement. Heat crept up her neck.

“A bet,” he said.

She blinked. “A what?”

“I’ll fight you for the right to choose my handler. If I win, I work with Ryan.”

Her chest grew so taut she thought she heard a crack. She didn’t look away. Didn’t dare refuse his offer out of hand. “What do I get if I win?”

“Anything.”

Her heart leapt and caught on to the broken fragment of hope. “Okay.”

“What do you want?” He searched her face. “If you win?”

“You.” Where the answer came from she had no idea. Once the word came out, it broke like a water balloon, splashing them both with the cold shock of truth. The potential for a fatal head-on collision between anger and lust had been set in motion. That was all it took. One word.

Simon stepped a fraction closer and folded his arms over his naked chest. “Let me get this straight. I want you out of my life and you want me…to fuck you?”

Rendered mute, she only nodded and let her gaze travel the stretch of his navy-blue suit. His erection strained the Spandex and she said a prayer of thanks. If she won, he wouldn’t be forced to endure her. She’d never do that to him or any man. That he wanted her, however, made all things possible. And right.

He nodded to her overnight bag filled with things she’d collected from her place earlier. “Do you have workout clothes in there?”

She ran her fingertips along the leather shoulder strap. “Yes.”

“Change and meet me on the sparring mat.”

On shaky limbs Alex went to a small dressing closet and changed into tight thigh-length shorts and a sports bra. Belly exposed and feet bare, she stepped into the gym. Adrenaline and fear, lust and a haze of unreality wound around her senses, tripping both her mental and physical equilibrium.

A moment later, Simon followed, shorts outlining the contours of an erection that had begun to stain the area around the tip of his cock a darker shade than the surrounding material. They faced off across the mat. The last time they’d sparred she’d been teaching him some of the more aggressive moves from her fighting style.

“First one unable to get up from the mat loses,” he said.

A deep breath brought her limbs and mind under control. She had to win this. For both their sakes. Otherwise, they’d never have a chance to fix what they’d broken.

Simon circled her, the landscape of skin across his delts and pecs rippling. Alex turned tightly, keeping her front to him. They danced with one another for more than a few revolutions. She wondered why he didn’t attack. His method had always been to pin her—get her close and use his force to unbalance her. He’d topple her to the ground where she’d be vulnerable to his greater size and weight. Once he attacked, however, he’d lose the advantage. He’d become momentarily unbalanced and she would strike a series of blows to vital areas.

“Just once I’d like to see you give me the advantage,” he said as they continued to circle, their feet rhythmically sticking to and peeling away from the mat.

“What would be the point in that?” She kept her attention on his hands. “I fight to win.”

“Even when it’s not in your best interest? Or mine?” Voiced with quiet logic, his question made her blink.

He attacked in the split second of darkness. The heel of his hand hit hard in the hollow below her collarbone. Forced off balance, she stumbled, but recovered and spun out of his reach. Using the momentum of the spin, she drove her heel into his Achilles tendon.

“Fuck!” He bounced backward on his uninjured foot. Narrowing his eyes, Simon regarded her with undisguised irritation. “Playing like that, are we?”

Alex shrugged. God, she wanted to win this.
Needed
to win this.

His nostrils flared. The flexing roll of his right shoulder made her shift her weight forward in anticipation. Reading his cues had always given her an advantage.

He didn’t attack.

Fuck.
She readjusted her stance and watched. Waited.

Sweat dotted his forehead and nose. Florescent lights emphasized the dusting of red hair on his arms. His hands fisted.

She dropped back and crouched, ready.

Feinting left, then right, he came in swift and low.

Hands at the ready, she stepped in to the attack.

He stopped an arm’s length away.

Confused, brows drawn together, she started to back away.

That’s when he struck.

His foot plowed into her gut and she swore her bellybutton met her spine. Alex flew backward. The force of impact with the mat stunned her long enough for Simon to close in. Instinct to move warred with the need to breathe. Moving won. Barely.

Simon dove forward and grabbed her ankle as she rolled away. His grip was bruising. Any hope she had that he might go easy shattered. God, he must hate her. The thought was like a spark to hydrogen—hot fury to bitter-cold devastation. She kicked out with her free foot. Sick satisfaction clashed with humiliation, the combination vicious and volatile. Bounding to her feet, she rushed him.

He was shaking his head out when her uppercut hit his solar plexus. Air exploded from his lungs. His mouth worked. Nothing came out.

Alex fisted her hands together and swung wide.

Simon stepped into the swing and disrupted her momentum. He grabbed her biceps and swept her feet, following her down in a controlled fall. When she tried to twist away, he drove his elbow into her inner thigh.

Pain exploded in the muscles. Quads cramped in the mother of all Charlie horses, and Alex couldn’t stop the shout of pain. Simon had to relax his grip in order to turn her over and pin her. She jerked her able leg up, nailing him in the groin.

He fell over, clutching his balls.

Scrambling away, she lurched to her feet at the same time he did.

Freckles, normally soft, were stark against his sickly pale skin. “Low blow, Alex.”

She fought to keep from grimacing as she rubbed her thigh. “Screw you.”

A dark brow arched over insolent green eyes. “You already named your terms.”

“Fu—” She stopped herself, snapping her mouth closed so hard her teeth clacked. The heel of her hand dug into her thigh as she tried to work out the cramp. “Goddammit!” She lunged to the side, barely escaping Simon’s unexpected charge.

He turned around and one corner of his mouth curled up, the grin wicked and dark. “Prison taught me a few things.”

“So it did,” she murmured.

“Most important? Showing mercy will only get your ass kicked.” He whipped his chin to one side to crack his neck.

She rushed him the moment his ear started for his shoulder. Hands fisted, she swung out to hammer-hand him in the floating rib.

Fists crashed down on the radius bones in her forearms.

Nerves screamed, firing hard and fast. Numbness raced away from the impact in both directions, ending at her fingertips and stopping just below her shoulders. Her arms wouldn’t work. Hands wouldn’t fist. Focused on getting her body to obey, she missed Simon’s foot sweep.

He rode her to mat for the second time, one hand shoving her shoulder and the other pulling her hip. Her body followed as easily as if he were leading her in a dance. The room whirled and she landed on her stomach with a resounding thud.

Every bone in her body vibrated. Wind rushed from her lungs in a painful logjam against her solar plexus. Air refused to fill the resulting void. Simon landed on her hard enough that any remaining air was wrung out. She wheezed.

Straddling her, he tightened his thighs so hard she cried out. He gave no quarter. Her arms were wrenched behind her back, thumbs pointed up. He gripped them together in one hand so tight that the bones ground together. A burning pain ripped across her skull as Simon fisted a generous handful of hair and yanked her head back, hyperextending her neck.

Time slowed, the pause between seconds interminable. She knew it was over. Memories of their past haunted her and the future they’d never have taunted her. She’d fought with everything she had, and he’d still shut her down with a brutal efficiency he hadn’t had six years ago. Any hope she’d harbored shattered, tumbling into a darkness more bleak and cold than the loneliest night she’d ever known. Facing a lifetime of regret, she closed eyes that burned.

They rested on the mat, sweat slicking the rubberized surface, rivulets tracing down her neck and between her breasts before pooling at the band of her sports bra. There was no need to drag this out.

“Give,” she said finally as her loss seeped into her marrow, an undeniable and unavoidable reality. When Simon didn’t move, Alex closed her eyes against the burn in her arms and scalp and repeated, “Give.”

“Give.” His echo of her response resonated straight through the pit of her stomach. Still, he took another moment before he released her and pushed himself away.

At first her arms refused to come to her sides as her muscles protested the unaccustomed stretch. Cheek pressed to the mat, she rotated each shoulder and flexed her fingertips before rolling to her back. Simon stared at her, arms hanging loosely at his sides.

“I just need a minute.” She massaged her wrists and elbows to bring back the circulation.

“Take your time.” His reply was quiet, almost understanding, and she had to look away from the remorse she knew she couldn’t be seeing in his eyes.

When she could do so without embarrassing herself further, she sat up and pushed herself to a standing position, using her hands on her quads for leverage.

“I’ll just…” She hooked a thumb toward the shower.

“Sure.” Simon moved toward his own gym bag. “I’ll escort you out when you’re done.”

Salt stung her nostrils, but she refused to let tears creep past her sinuses as she jerked her head once and entered the shower room. The antiseptic glare of white tiles clawed at the blanket of numbness she attempted to pull around her psyche, shredding the barrier into useless bits. She closed her eyes. Immediately, visions of a ginger-lashed green-eyed visage popped to the surface.

Forcing herself to turn on the tap, she made it into the shower and under the spray before the last of her reserves crumbled. She shook the water from her face and leaned her palms against the cold tiles as a sob worked its way from her abdomen to her throat and came out as a strangled cry. Fat tears mingled with the shower spray, trickling down her cheeks. Biting her lip, she stifled the sounds that threatened to escape from her lungs. It hurt so much. How could it still hurt this much?

He’d told Günter he’d meant to propose to her. A vision of him kneeling before her brought her to her knees under the spray. Hugging herself, she sat on the tile and let her arms muffle her sobs. In that moment, she’d never hated anyone more than herself for what she’d done to Simon. For what she’d done to them by not remaining steadfast in her belief of his innocence.