Midnight Pursuits (22 page)

Ethan wasn't sure whether he was turned on or scared shitless. His past girlfriends hadn't spent much time discussing which weapons produced cleaner kills—that was for sure. And yet while Juliet's ruthlessness unnerved him, the fact that she was so deadly excited him like nothing else.

“I wish I had a better cover in place, though. Normally I don't do up-close kills without months of prep.”

“What kind of prep?”

She paused thoughtfully. “Well, I probably would have positioned myself in the ministry itself. I'd have worked there for about six months and gained his trust. Eventually I would make my move, and then disappear and nobody would ever know it was me who killed him.”

He frowned. “You'd put that much time into a job?”

“Six months is nothing. One of Noelle's other chameleons, Bailey, stays undercover for way longer. She spent more than a year on her last job.”

“That seems excessive.”

“Not really. See, it's not always about the end result. It's easy to blow someone's brains out, but a lot of our clients require zero-to-minimal fallout, which means doing things right, no matter how long it takes. But I don't have the patience when it comes to Orlov. I want him dead.”

“Because of Henry?” He hesitated. “Jules . . . would your brother really want you to do this? If he's as compassionate and good as you say he was, then wouldn't he want you to—”

“Henry's the one who asked me to kill Orlov.”

Ethan was startled. “Are you serious?”

“That was the last thing he said to me,” she admitted. “‘Kill him.' That was his goddamn dying request. Don't get me wrong, though—I would've killed the bastard even if Henry hadn't begged me to do it.”

“To avenge your brother.”

“Damn right.”

He cocked his head. “Would you kill someone to avenge me?”

“If I say yes, are you going to make a huge deal out of it?”

Ethan hid a smile. “Should I?”

“Nope. Because it doesn't mean what you think it does.” She shifted awkwardly. “Look, I like you. I respect you. And if someone took you down, I'd go after them. But that doesn't make you special or anything.”

“Hmmm. I see.” The smile continued to tug at his lips. “Would you do the same for Sullivan or Liam?”

“Probably not.”

“Then that makes me special.”

He pounced on her before she could object, pushing her onto the bed as his mouth came down on hers.

She kissed him back so passionately that his cock went from semierect to harder than a flagpole in a matter of seconds. Christ, he couldn't get over how incredible she was. So willing, so fiery, not an ounce of shyness about her. She always kissed him as if she had one minute left to live and she wanted nothing more than to spend it with him. But he supposed that made sense, seeing as she lived a life of danger where any move she made could result in death.

As Ethan slid his tongue through her parted lips and explored the warm recess of her mouth, his hands slipped beneath her sweater to cup her firm breasts. Son of a bitch, he still hadn't feasted his eyes on her breasts yet, he realized, and the desperation that surged through him made him determined to rectify that.

He swiftly tore his mouth off hers and shoved her sweater up to her collarbone, groaning when her skimpy black bra was revealed.

“We don't have a lot of time,” she murmured. “We have to scope out the hospital.”

Story of their fucking relationship. Stolen kisses and vehicular trysts and a mind-blowing quickie with Sullivan ten feet away. But although Ethan knew they couldn't linger in here for too long, he refused to deprive himself of a taste.

With another groan, he unhooked the front clasp of her bra, baring her breasts to his eager eyes. His breath instantly caught, his erection hardening to a whole new level. She had the prettiest dark pink nipples, rigid with arousal, and her skin was so creamy and soft, he never wanted to stop touching it. He admired her flat belly and surprisingly defined abdominal muscles, then frowned when his gaze landed on the puckered red bullet holes and the neat row of transparent stitches.

“How's your wound? Still hurting?” he asked roughly.

“Just an ache every now and then.” A mischievous smile lifted her lips. “But not as bad as the ache between my legs.”

He laughed softly, bringing his gaze back to her chest.

Juliet's breathing grew labored as he squeezed those perfect mounds and feathered his thumbs over her puckered nipples.

“The door's not even locked,” she protested, trying to rise. “We . . . we can't . . .”

When he captured one nipple between his lips, she quit talking and sagged back onto the mattress. Ethan flicked his tongue over the distended bud, then suckled gently. His head was spinning, heart thudding, cock aching. He was beyond turned on—starvation had set in, and the only way to cure it was to devour this woman whole.

Her breasts bore pink splotches by the time he finished playing with them, and when he finally lifted his head and peered into her eyes, all he saw was a haze of lust shining there.

“Get inside me,” she growled.

This time he'd come prepared. In the blink of an eye, he produced the condom he'd tucked into his back pocket, then unzipped his pants and yanked them halfway down his legs. Juliet dealt with her own pants while he sheathed himself, leaving one pant leg on and the other off, and when he hurriedly plunged into her tight core, she wrapped those legs around his hips and gave an upward thrust that made him moan.

Jesus. It felt so wickedly good, he never wanted it to end. He knew that if anyone decided to burst into the bedroom unannounced, they'd be treated with quite a sight. His naked ass hanging out for all to see, Juliet's bare leg hooked over it, their bodies moving together in a desperate race to the finish line.

With his pants half-on, it was difficult to move, but Juliet took pity on him by rolling him over and straddling his thighs.

“You're so fricking beautiful,” he hissed out.

The little smile she gave him only validated his words. With her dark hair streaming over her shoulders and her shirt scrunched up to reveal her breasts, she made the sexiest picture he'd ever seen.

She rode him, her nails digging into his abdomen as she fucked him so hard, his brain damn near imploded. His climax came without warning, seizing his balls and burning every square inch of skin. Juliet wasn't far behind. Her lush lips parted to release a soft, tortured cry, and then she was trembling over him.

It was short and sweet and, hands-down, the best sex of his life. And he wasn't nearly sated. He wanted more. He wanted everything, damn it.

As Juliet collapsed on his chest, he tangled his fingers in her hair and held her close. “When this is all over, I'm locking you in a room and taking my goddamn time with you,” he mumbled. “Don't care if it takes weeks.”

Her laughter tickled his neck.

“I mean it, sweetheart. You're not walking away from me. Not until we finish what we've started.” His grip on her hair tightened. “And even then, I still won't let you go.”

“How very caveman of you.”

“Don't care. You're not going anywhere, Jules.”

“Whatever you say.” Rolling her eyes, she climbed off his body and hopped to her feet. “C'mon, rookie, we've got recon to do.”

Across the street from the veterans' hospital was a large, well-maintained park with winding flagstone paths, wrought-iron benches, and a square fountain that had been emptied for the winter. A blanket of snow covered the ground and clung to the gnarled bare branches of the trees littering the area. Despite the frigid temperature, several people were making use of the park, strolling the paths, walking their dogs, and sipping coffee and reading newspapers.

Ethan and Juliet, therefore, did not look out of place as they took up residence on one of the benches that offered a perfect line of sight to the hospital entrance. Bundled up in winter clothing and sharing a thermos of hot chocolate, they were nothing but a young couple enjoying a February afternoon.

Only the weapons beneath their coats and their vigilant gazes said otherwise.

“I can't drink this stuff without thinking of my mom,” Ethan said as he drank from the thermos lid that also doubled as a cup.

He passed the cup to Juliet, who took a long sip. Steam rose and brought a rosy glow to her cheeks, and she'd never looked more beautiful to him than she did right now. He found himself wishing that this was an actual date and not a recon mission. He liked the idea of just sitting around with this woman. Taking a walk, seeing a movie, doing something that didn't involve guns and danger and the impending death of a government official.

“Was she really into hot chocolate?” Juliet's teasing voice interrupted his thoughts.

“Sorta. When I was a kid I used to play hockey on this outdoor rink every winter, and whenever I came home, all numb and frozen, my mom would have a huge mug of hot chocolate waiting for me. And cookies,” he said as the memory hit him. “Freshly baked chocolate-chip cookies. It was awesome.”

“So she was a real Susie Homemaker, huh?”

“Yes and no. She taught the second grade, so she wasn't a stay-at-home mom. But she did enjoy cooking and baking and all that stuff.”

“Was she sweet and delicate and, you know,
momlike
?” He didn't miss the note of envy that entered her tone.

“Yes and no,” he said again. “She was the best mother in the world, but she wasn't always sweet.” A laugh sprang to his lips. “This one time, she got into a fistfight at one of my hockey games.”

Juliet burst out laughing. “Seriously? Why?”

“One of the other moms was trash-talking a kid, a player on the opposing team. She was being really nasty, booing the poor kid, yelling at the ref to toss him out of the game when he bodychecked her son.” Ethan grinned. “My mother asked her very politely to stop, which led to the woman turning her nastiness on Mom, and, well, nobody gets away with talking to Debbie Hayes like that. All us kids were on the ice—the game was stopped so the refs could deal with the fight in the bleachers—and we were just standing there, gaping at them.”

“What happened afterward?” Juliet asked curiously.

“They were both ordered to leave the arena and never return. So for the rest of the season, my dad was the only one allowed to come to my games.”

She snorted. “Sounds like my kind of woman.”

Ethan swallowed the lump obstructing his throat. “I think you would've liked her.” He paused. “And she definitely would've liked you.”

“I highly doubt that. She would have taken one look at me and told me I was completely unsuitable for her son.”

He was about to argue, but she didn't give him the opportunity. She abruptly rose from the bench, an indefinable expression on her face. “I'll be back. I just want to check something out.”

She was gone in the blink of an eye, leaving Ethan sitting there in frustration. He was tempted to hurry after her, but he didn't want to draw any attention to himself, and sprinting down the sidewalk in pursuit of Juliet was guaranteed to do just that.

What the hell had he said to send her running like that? It wasn't like he'd asked her to come home with him to meet his folks; both his parents were gone.

So what? Did the idea that his dead mother might have approved of her terrify Juliet
that
much?

He gritted his teeth, impatience coursing through him as he waited for her to return. It was always one step forward, two steps back with the woman, and he was getting damn tired of it. Just once he wanted her to admit that she enjoyed spending time with him. That she
cared
about him. But it seemed like she was determined to keep her distance, no matter how hard he tried to bridge it.

She was gone for nearly forty minutes, and as each minute ticked by, Ethan grew more and more tense. He was about to abandon his post and go looking for her when he spotted her dark hair in the crowd of pedestrians. His shoulders relaxed but his features remained hard, even when Juliet settled next to him on the bench again.

“What the hell was that?” he demanded.

She shrugged, and he noticed that her cheeks were redder than before, as if she'd just finished doing something strenuous. “I told you, I had to check something out.”

He scowled at her. “Are you going to elaborate?”

Sighing, Juliet reached into the inner pocket of her coat and pulled out a rumpled brown bag. “Before, when we were cruising the area, I noticed a little bakery a few blocks east of here.” Her face burned brighter. “I popped in to see if they had any chocolate-chip cookies.”

His jaw fell open, and he had to wonder if he'd misheard her. “Chocolate-chip cookies,” he echoed.

“But the bakery was closed,” she hurried on, “so I had to break in and—”

“Wait. What?”

“I broke in,” she repeated. “Don't worry. Nobody saw me. Anyway . . .” She held out the paper bag, embarrassment filling her gaze. “The bastards didn't have chocolate chip, so you'll have to be satisfied with good old gingerbread.”

Dumbfounded, Ethan stared at the bag before meeting her dark eyes. “You broke into a bakery to steal cookies for me?”

She shifted awkwardly on the bench. “Yeah. You know, 'cause of what you said about your mother, and the hot chocolate and . . .” She trailed off, then shoved the bag into his lap, a defensive edge creeping into her voice. “Let me guess. You're pissed off that I compromised our surveillance.”

He just gaped at her.

“Fuck, fine. It was a stupid idea, I guess. Toss the bag in the trash if you—”

He cut her off with a kiss. A firm, fleeting kiss, over before it even began, but it conveyed all the emotion he couldn't seem to put into words.

“Thank you,” he said gruffly. “That was really nice of you, sweetheart.”

He saw her pulse jump in her throat. “You're welcome,” she said after a beat.

Although he kept his expression casual, Ethan was jumping for joy inside. Juliet Mason continued to surprise him. Just when he thought he knew her, she did something that revealed a whole new facet of her personality.

Thoughtfulness. That's what she'd showed him just now, and he was still floored by the sweet gesture.

“Don't you dare read anything into it,” she grumbled, as if sensing his thoughts. “They're just cookies, for fuck's sake. Doesn't mean a thing.”

Ethan did his best to fight the enormous grin threatening to surface. “Uh-huh.”

She made an irritated noise. “Ugh, just pass me a fucking cookie.”

•   •   •

Stacie was feeling homesick. Which was ironic, because normally she hated being at home. Her father was hardly ever there, her friends weren't allowed over, and her only company was their housekeeper, Marta, and her dad's bodyguards and aides. Not exactly ideal surroundings.

But after three days at the safe house, her big, lonely house suddenly seemed like paradise. Juliet and the others had tried to make her as comfortable as possible—they'd even stuck a candle in a muffin yesterday and wished her a happy birthday—but it wasn't enough. She was so worried about her father. As angry as she was with him, she didn't want him to get hurt. Or, worse, to
die
. She desperately wanted to call him and make sure he was all right, but Juliet had insisted that it still wasn't safe.

Stacie wasn't the only one getting impatient—Alisa had been yelling at everyone all day long, to the point that Stacie felt like strangling the annoying woman. Much to everyone's relief, Alisa had finally disappeared into one of the bedrooms to lie down, and without the woman's piercing voice and nonstop complaints, the living room was blessedly quiet.

Stacie was alone on the couch with the novel her English teacher had assigned the class, but she couldn't concentrate on the story. She'd sensed the tension in the air ever since Juliet and the men's long discussion on the porch this morning. She desperately wished someone would tell her what was going on, but nobody seemed interested in doing that. Now it was evening time, and Juliet and Ethan were outside, while Sullivan and Liam rested before they took over watch duty, so Stacie knew she wouldn't be getting answers anytime soon.

She was just attempting to focus on her book again when she heard footsteps. She looked up hopefully, but the person who emerged from the corridor wasn't one she wanted to see.

In the same body-hugging dress she'd worn since she got here, Alisa strode into the living room, looking far happier than Stacie had ever seen her.

The woman glanced around the empty room, then approached the couch. “Where are they?” she asked in their native tongue.

“Outside,” Stacie replied. “And Sullivan and Liam are sleeping in the other bedroom.”

“I have to tell you something,” Alisa whispered. “But you have to promise not to tell them.”

Suspicion floated over her. “What is it?”

Alisa sat down and reached for Stacie's hand, her sharp red fingernails digging into Stacie's wrist. “I'm getting us out of here.”

The older woman spoke so softly, Stacie wondered if she'd misheard her. “What?”

“I'm getting us out of here.”

“How?” A queasy feeling churned in her belly. “What did you do?”

“You can't say anything.” Another hushed whisper. “Promise me.”

“I . . . I won't say anything,” she lied.

“I overheard the blond one say where he hid my cell phone. So when I went to use the bathroom earlier, I snuck into the room and took it.”

The queasiness transformed into a rush of pure nausea. Alisa's brown eyes shone with satisfaction, and Stacie felt like throwing up as she stared at the woman in horror. Juliet had specifically told them that any calls they made could be traced.

But maybe Alisa hadn't used the phone yet. Maybe she—

“I called my husband,” Alisa told her, bursting the little balloon of hope that had risen in Stacie's chest.

“You shouldn't have done that,” she hissed out. “What if the people who tried to kill me find us?”

“They won't.”

“How do you know?”

“Because they don't exist. We're not being protected—we're
hostages
. My husband has been worried sick about me—he had no idea where I was! And when I told him you were here, he was very upset. These people have been lying to us, Anastacia. They are not government agents. They've kidnapped us, and it's all over the news.”

Stacie swallowed. “That's not true. They're protecting us.”

The image of Nina's cold blue eyes flashed in her mind. The gun. The blood.

Juliet and Ethan had saved her. They'd saved her, and now they were keeping her safe.

“They're going to find us now,” she mumbled.

“We'll be rescued,” Alisa said happily. “My husband told me to keep my phone turned on. He's getting in touch with Colonel General Durov—you do know who Durov is, don't you? He's the head of the
militsiya
. And he's going to send a rescue team. They're probably on their way right now!”

The anxiety Stacie had been battling her whole life made an appearance, dampening her palms and making her heart race.

Whoever ordered Nina to shoot her was going to find them now.

She shot to her feet. She had to tell Juliet.

But Alisa bolted up too, grabbing Stacie's arm and stabbing her flesh with those sharp fingernails. “You can't say a word! You'll ruin everything!”

“No,
you've
ruined everything! You put us in danger!”

Neither female was whispering anymore, and the loud argument must have alerted their protectors, because Sullivan and Liam came barreling out of the hallway.

“What's going on?” Sullivan demanded.

Alisa glared at Stacie, commanding her with her eyes not to say a word.

Stacie looked from one man to the other. Then she opened her mouth and told them everything.

•   •   •

“The team's in place.”

Satisfaction surged through Orlov's blood and brought a harsh smile to his lips. He was still at the office, reading the reports that the head of his counterterrorist unit had faxed over, but Kirill's update took precedence over the files on his desk.

His mysterious enemies had slipped up, which led him to believe that he couldn't possibly be dealing with professionals. Any operative worth their salt would not have allowed a hostage to get their hands on a mobile device, but Alisa Baronova had done just that. The insufferable woman had contacted her husband in a panic, claiming to have been abducted by American terrorists.

Unfortunately, Durov hadn't seen fit to alert Orlov until one hour ago, but Orlov's people were far more efficient than the members of Durov's force. Within minutes of gleaning Baronova's location, Kirill had assembled a team and dispatched them to the house in Vitebsk.

Orlov's body hummed with the sweet vibrations of victory as he envisioned his men advancing on the farmhouse and shooting everyone inside like the dogs they were.

Well, almost everyone.