I Spy a Dark Obsession (12 page)

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Authors: Jo Davis

Tags: #Intelligence Service, #National Security, #General, #Romance, #Erotic Fiction, #Suspense Fiction, #Suspense, #Erotica, #Fiction

BOOK: I Spy a Dark Obsession
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“Yes, I am. Does that bother you?”
“Not at all. I think it takes a lot of courage to simply be who you are, with no apologies.”
“I appreciate that,” he said. He shot a quick look at Michael, who in turn took great fascination in studying his shoes. “I don’t advertise at work, but on my time, I live life on my own terms. More people should try it, and put less stock in what others believe is right.”
“I couldn’t agree more.”
Bastian’s face lit up, taking her breath away. Yesterday, when she’d said she found him sexy, he didn’t look convinced. The man couldn’t possibly know how attractive he was, inside and out. An angel. All he needed was a pair of wings.
“I don’t care what others think,” Michael said defensively. “But I know what’s right for
me
.”
“Do you?” His friend’s voice held a note of challenge.
Katrina’s attention bounced between them. “Okay, someone want to tell me what’s going on with you two? Whatever it is, you haven’t done a good job of keeping it out of the workplace, because I’d already noticed the tension.”
For a long moment no one answered, then Michael let out a deep sigh. “Just a difference of opinion. That happens when a couple of guys have known each other as long as we have. Nothing to worry about.”
In other words, none of her business. She’d have to live with that, unless one of them saw fit to let her into the inner circle. But given her observations before and the exchange between them just now, she could venture an educated guess as to the crux of their disagreement. If she was correct, her heart ached for them. Especially Bastian.
The limo arrived, stopping under the awning at Shakers. She wasn’t easily impressed by wealth, but she had to admit it was pretty cool going out for an evening on the town in such a fine ride. The necessity of the fortified vehicle and armed escort trailing at a discreet distance didn’t escape her, but she planned to enjoy herself to the fullest.
Blaze and Emma were waiting just inside the club, and Katrina beamed at them. “You guys look terrific!” The couple was striking in matching leather outfits of deep purple, perfect for a night at the club. While Blaze wore pants, Emma wore a short skirt that showed off her long, toned legs, and a snug tank top.
“So do you!” Emma called, giving her a hug. Blaze kissed her on the cheek.
“Oh, thanks.” She felt slightly out of place in her staid black pants, though she’d attempted to make her outfit more fun by wearing a thin, gauzy blouse and black bra underneath. It wasn’t as if she went clubbing a lot, so her clothing was more suited to dinner at a nice restaurant.
“Hey, guys!” Emma greeted her bosses, followed by Blaze. “Drinks? We reserved a table in the corner.”
“Lead the way,” Bastian said.
Blaze showed them to a darkened corner where they could observe the action but were mostly hidden. They took their seats at a circular table, Blaze and Emma on one side, Katrina between her dates on the other. Katrina noted again the chain that Emma called her collar resting at the woman’s throat, and wondered what it would be like to be “owned” by a man in that way. Though she liked some kink, the D/s lifestyle wasn’t for her. But she’d be really happy to belong to someone special.
Or two someones.
A server hurried over and they ordered a round of drinks, settling into lively conversation. An outsider would never guess that her dates were everyone’s bosses; they were so fun to be with—once they decided to let go of their differences for the evening and let their hair down.
Blaze was sort of a nut, which was a far cry from the tough agent she’d infrequently glimpsed at work. While they sipped their drinks, he kept them entertained with stories of ops gone FUBAR, with the other two men chiming in on occasion. With his shoulder-length, dark hair, chiseled face, and muscular build, he was quite handsome. But he couldn’t hold a candle to Michael or Bastian.
“You did
not
put a millipede in Ozzie’s sleeping bag,” Emma admonished her lover, referring to fellow agent Dean Osborne.
Blaze shrugged. “Hey, they’re big and ugly, but harmless—unless you kill yourself getting away from one. You shoulda seen the guy dancin’ around, screamin’ like he was being skewered by Freddy Krueger.”
Emma smacked the big man on the arm. “That is so mean!”
“Speaking of dancing.” Bastian drained his martini and stood, holding out a hand for Katrina. “Would you like to?”
“As long as you’re all recovered from the wreck,” she said. A small, flesh-colored bandage on his forehead peeked from under a fall of blond hair. “I don’t want you to overdo it.”
“Oh, I think we both know how
recovered
I am. Please?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Michael asked, frowning.
She grabbed Bastian’s offered hand and they ignored the other man’s question. “In that case, yes!”
As he guided her to the dance floor, she caught Michael’s stare. He always appeared so controlled and distant that the fierce hunger in their dark depths surprised her, sent a shaft of awareness zinging through her body. Did he know what she and Bastian had almost done? Would he be angry? Or possibly turned on? Then Bastian tugged her through the crush, onto the floor, and the connection was severed.
The warmth, however, remained. Stoked to arousal as she and Bastian faced each other, they began to move to the throbbing beat of the music. It was a driving number with sexual lyrics, a standard club tune, but there was nothing common about the way her partner’s hips swiveled to the tempo. His body swayed with fluid grace, suggestive. Mesmerizing.
The man had missed his calling as a porn star. He had the moves and the beauty, that touch of soiled innocence she found difficult to resist. Had she thought him an angel? Perhaps one with a slightly crooked halo. She’d dearly love to learn just how far he’d fallen from grace.
Her thoughts must’ve been telegraphed to him somehow, because he reached out and pulled her flush against his body, sealing them together from chest to groin without breaking his rhythm. She’d dirty danced once or twice, but never had she felt as though a man was made to fit against her. His lean, hard muscles were so good under her hands, so right. His sexy mouth was tilted up at the corners, those bottle green eyes shining with amusement, as if he had a wicked little secret and was waiting for her to discover it.
The impressive erection digging into her stomach, however, was no mystery. His desires were clearly communicated, but whether he’d ever finish what she’d started was the question. Maybe he felt funny about playing with an employee. Maybe not.
Returning his look, grinding against him with the beat, she silently gave him her vote.
She had about a dozen queries on her mind, things she’d love to ask him about himself. She’d really love to know more about his bisexuality, his experience. Whether or not he was seriously seeing anyone, though the vibe he was sending off said no. It was just as well that the loud music made conversation almost impossible, because his personal relationships were none of her business. Much as she wished differently.
Just as they found their groove, a hard male form pressed into her from behind. Twisting to see the newcomer, she smiled at Michael and then continued to dance. Nothing fired her blood like being in the very position she’d dreamed of, even if they weren’t all naked. Being sandwiched between them felt very right, as though she was a lone puzzle piece that finally found her matches.
One erection rode low on her belly, the other her ass.
Oh, God.
Arousal heated her sex and she wanted so badly for their clothing to vanish, it drove her nearly insane. Michael’s hands skimmed her arms and then one pushed her hair aside. Soft lips nibbled her bare neck. She groaned, but neither man could hear.
Body language was more effective than words, anyway. Simpler. Usually, people couldn’t mess up a good time by keeping their mouths shut. It was when the mouth engaged that things sometimes went south. She should know.
So she was content to ride the waves of delight swelling higher with every thrust and gyration. Music and sensuality swept her away so that she was hardly aware of Michael maneuvering his way in front of her, edging Bastian to the side, until she found herself staring into dark eyes. Michael’s hands molded to her waist, and she twined her arms around his neck, pulling him as close as possible. Which meant they were stuck together like glue.
After a couple more songs, he leaned over and spoke in her ear loud enough to be heard over the music. “Want to get some air?”
Her heart beat a bit faster and she nodded. There was no mistaking the very male triumph on his face as he took her hand and led her through the throng. It occurred to her that Bastian had disappeared from their vicinity, and as Michael led her past their table on the way out, she saw the other man sitting with Emma and Blaze, toying with another martini. When had he left? Guilt assailed her to see him sitting with their friends, yet looking so . . . alone.
But it’s not like we asked him to leave us. I certainly would have liked for him to stay.
Maybe he simply hadn’t wanted to hang around, or he was more tired than he was willing to admit. He was a grown man, for God’s sake, and he could do as he pleased.
The pep talk didn’t completely ease the feeling that a piece was missing as she and Michael stepped outside into the night. Still, she basked in the presence of the man at her side, certain that her life was about to change in a significant way—for the better.
Linking their fingers, they strolled along the sidewalk companionably. She noted he kept them to the shadows, placed his solid bulk between her and the street. The reason caused a shiver of fear that threatened to ruin the wonderful mood, and she scanned the surrounding area.
“Michael, this probably isn’t the best idea.”
“I’m not going to let anything happen to you.” His hand squeezed hers, then released it so he could slide his arm around her waist.
“It’s not me I’m worried about. You were nearly killed while out with friends just a few weeks ago.” Turning her head, she studied him. “In a situation very much like this.”
“I wasn’t prepared then. I am now.” His expression was unreadable. “This very second, we’re surrounded by security, though they seem invisible. If Dietz or anyone working for him makes a move right now, he’s ours.”
The absurdity of the situation hit her, and she couldn’t help but give a short laugh. “You romantic, you. Who would’ve guessed?”
He chuckled. “I try.” They walked a bit farther in comfortable silence, and she wondered at his life. “Is it always like this for you?”
“Like what?”
“The danger,” she said softly. “Always having to watch your surroundings. Taking agents along for a simple evening out. Never knowing when one of your enemies might finally succeed in bringing you down.”
He considered it for a moment. “I was always cautious before Robert turned traitor, but it was never like this. I’ve had security in place at my estate since I established SHADO, but the measures were merely precautionary. The hit Robert put out on me was unprecedented, and once he’s neutralized, life should return to normal.”
She hadn’t missed the harsh emphasis he’d put on the word
neutralized
. “You mean killed or taken into custody?”
“Locking him up didn’t work out so well before,” he said with a hint of bitterness. “So stone-cold fucking dead works for me.”
“Mr. President will have something to say about his punishment, since it was the government’s weapon Dietz stole.”
“He already spoke. Bastian and I have full authority to stop the bastard however we see fit. And I intend to use that authority to put him in the ground.”
“I see.”
He frowned. “You don’t approve.” It wasn’t a question.
“I can’t
approve
of killing, no matter how badly a man deserves it. But it’s not my call, and the idea of Dietz leaving this earth isn’t what bothers me most.”
“Then what does?” Michael studied her in puzzlement.
“How big a scar your vendetta against him is going to leave on your soul.”
“
Mine
? I didn’t start this little war, but I’ll damned well finish it. Where he’s going,
he’s
the one who ought to worry about his soul, not that he owns one for the devil to take.”
Just like a man to think in black and white, regardless of the personal price.
“Hearing you talk that way . . . concerns me. I’m afraid your hatred will blind you to the danger or affect your judgment, and that scares me for you.”
“I don’t know whether to be flattered or insulted.”
“Neither. It’s not a slam against your ability to get Dietz, which I have no doubt you will.” She gave him an earnest look. “It’s a question of how much of you will survive the bloodshed.”
“I never knew you cared about me.” He sounded pleased about that idea.
“You miss a lot of signals from those around you,” she said, thinking not only of herself, but also of Bastian. “Or you ignore them.”

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