Too Hot to Hold (3 page)

“I’ve got to transmit.”

Aaron put a hand over his. “That’s how they got you in the first place. They’ve known Americans were coming in. All they had to do was tune into your frequency.”

“Our source sold us down the river,” Nick muttered
.

“We’re going to need some FM,” Joe muttered back, and yes, fucking magic was right
.

“I want to see your scars from that night,” Kaylee said.

“That doesn’t sound like official report-speak to me,” he said, but he shrugged out of his jacket and began to unbutton his shirt.

She leaned over him, her hair brushing along his bare chest as she studied the two scars that were nearly side by side. He’d ended up with an infection, a delayed pneu-mothorax that presented late and a bruised lung, but he’d been lucky. He’d recovered quickly, was back with his team after two months.

“How much did that hurt?” Kaylee asked him quietly as she put her hands on him and he tried not to jump. But her touch was firm, not soft, and that helped moderately.

“Not much.” At the time, that hadn’t been a concern. Getting the hell out of Clusterfuck City was.

“We’re out of here,” Aaron said as gunfire resumed. “You’re going to have to take the Alternate Supply Route if you want out. And you’re going to have to do it soon—you’re losing blood, no matter how much I’ve packed your wound.”

“You’re a merc,” Nick said as Aaron began to load up his bag and reload his own AK-47
.

“I’m nobody. I’m AWOL,” Aaron said
.

“How long?”

“Long enough that there’s no way back.” Aaron smiled, but it didn’t reach to his eyes. “I’ve lost everything, including my girl.”

“Jesus, man, it’s never too late.” And for the first time in his life, Nick actually believed that
.

He leaned back against the rock and loaded more ammo. Joe was passed out again and there was no sign of his other three team members. “Tell me what I can do—saving my ass is going to go a long way in front of the board if you come back with us.”

“Give me your name,” Aaron interrupted. “I’ve been keeping a list—men I’ve helped. I know she doesn’t love me anymore, but I need her to know that I tried to get out.”

“Get out of what?”

“Your name, man. That’s all I want, your name.”

Nick grabbed a pen from his pocket and wrote it quickly on the guy’s hand, because fuck, he owed him that
.

Aaron reached into his pocket and handed Nick a worn patch, pressed it into his hand. “Give it to her.”

“To who? Your girl?”

“She’s not my girl anymore. But yeah. When she calls you, just give this to her. That’s all you’ve got to do.”

That’s all you’ve got to do…

“Helo approached area of enemy fire at 2400.”

He’d turned to tell Aaron to get onto the helo and face the consequences, to get out of this godforsaken country.

But Aaron had been long gone—and what the man had left behind still made Nick’s blood run cold, so much so that Nick knew he wouldn’t mention it to Kaylee if Aaron hadn’t. At the time, Nick had clutched the patch tightly for a second before he’d shoved it into his pocket, dragged Joe up over his shoulders and ran for the safety of the helo.

“Helo liftoff with all six men at 2404,” she finished.

But it wasn’t finished, not in the way he’d thought it would be when this day had finally come. There was no full circle, no closure—only more questions. And her hand was still on his chest, her palm covering the old scars, white with age and slightly raised. There were more than that, but he barely noticed the others.

These two he took note of daily. A reminder, like the one on his throat that still tingled whenever he felt danger lurking nearby.

Her warm palm on his skin was also a reminder that he was supposed to be out tonight looking for something different—an outlet. A beautiful woman who wasn’t bringing up his old baggage … or bringing some of her own.

He sat up abruptly, and her hand fell away. “Aaron was definitely AWOL, Kaylee. He told me so himself. So I don’t know why the Army reported him as KIA.”

She frowned, her hands rubbing together as he lightly rubbed the old tracheotomy scar on his neck, mentally cursing the tingling that had just begun.

“I’m still getting his benefits,” she said.

“What do you really want to know? What do you want from me?” he demanded. He pushed himself up off the ground and she followed suit quickly, standing right in front of him. So close. Too close, and normally he’d step backward in order to reclaim his own personal space.

This time, he didn’t. He could still feel where her hand had been on him.

“I want to know why the Army has him listed as dead for a full two years before he saved you. I want to know why he went AWOL. I want to hire you to help me find all that out.”

“I’m not for sale.”

“I can pay you well.”

“I don’t need your money. I’m not a hired gun, I’m a military man. They point, I go. End of story.”

“The Army won’t help me. The DoD won’t either.”

“Neither can I. I held up my end of the bargain… what I promised Aaron I’d do.”

“You wouldn’t have to do anything, you could just take me to the last place you saw Aaron—”

“That’s classified.”

“—and make sure that I’m safe …”

“I’m nobody’s bodyguard. If I protect someone, it’s called PSD—Protective Service Detail—and it’s ordered. Officially.” Okay, that wasn’t exactly true—he’d done plenty of Black and Gray Ops, things the military didn’t sanction, and he’d even worked with a group of mercs in Africa as recently as last year. But he certainly wasn’t telling this woman that. He barely admitted it to his brothers.

“And suppose I go to your superiors and tell them that I know where that mission took place. Exact coordinates. What then?”

A chill went up his spine as her hand figuratively wrapped around his balls and squeezed.

Shut it down, Devane
. “Is that why you called me out here, to blackmail me?”

“If I have to. I need to know how he died. Where he died. You’re the key to that.”

“I’m not the only man who Aaron saved—you said so yourself. Try one of them instead. I paid my debt to Aaron. I’m done.”

“So you came here just to shove this patch at me, pat me on the head and send me on my way? You’ve done what Aaron asked and now your conscience is clean?”

“My conscience has never been clean, Kaylee. It’s never going to be either, so don’t you worry about that.”

“I need to know more—about what happened that night,” she told him. “You might’ve been the last one to see him alive.”

“I thought you said he was still alive.”

“It sounded just like him. He knew it was my birthday.”

“So can anyone with a computer and common sense,” he pointed out.

“Except for you. No one could find you.”

“Keep that in mind.”

“You’re here now, aren’t you?” She fronted big, but when push came to shove, he had no doubt she’d back down.

He leaned in toward her. “You’ve got nothing, little girl. You want to run with the big dogs, you’re going to have to do a hell of a lot better.”

Her soft laugh echoed in his ears long after he’d left her standing on the playground.

Kaylee waited a beat after watching Nick walk into the bar across the street before turning back toward the diner’s parking lot.

She’d been wondering what kind of man survived that kind of hell on a constant basis, thought she knew and realized now that she’d never had a clue.

During their conversation, her fingers had itched to pull out a pen and take notes, but her mini-recorder would do just as well.

She smiled as she switched the recorder to the off position. She
could
run with the big dogs in her world. Whether or not she could do so in Africa remained to be seen.

For right now, she had a more immediate urge.

The Porsche—Nick’s Porsche, a 911 Turbo that was more than four years old but still in prime street condition—was parked toward the back of the lot, near her car, in a less vis-able area. He’d backed into the space and that alone had her shifting her glance around the lot in a way that made the all-too-familiar alarms go off in her head.

What are you thinking? You can’t steal his car
.

I just want a ride
, her inner juvenile delinquent cajoled. And yes, it was a beautiful car. It was also unlocked and there was no alarm system. The temptation roiled through her, thick and hot, and somehow this was going to make things better.

She still carried Aaron’s all-purpose pocket Leatherman utility tool with her—mainly for sentimental purposes, but it would come in handy now. She strolled casually toward the back of the car, crouched down low to the engine and looked around.

She had the tool—now for the wires. Luck was on her side in the form of a
4?4
parked next to Nick’s car. She eased over to it, loosened one of the lights from the roll bar and took the wires she needed.

Back at Nick’s car, she jimmied the lock carefully to get to the engine. There would be no scraping paint or scratching. Not on this beauty.

From there it was simple, the directions Aaron had given her all those years ago running through her brain, her hands working overtime as though they had a charge of their own—
Run a wire from the positive side of the battery to the coil, then use the screwdriver to cross over the negative and positive leads on the coil
.

The engine cranked right over, a deceptively low purr with a backside kick that made her smile.

Less than a minute and a half and she was inside the car. Not her best time by far, but she hadn’t exactly come prepared for this, hadn’t expected to feel this need tonight.

As the engine rumbled, she ran her hands over the sleek dash, caressed the wheel with its smooth black leather and inhaled the scent—of car and man—felt it race through her blood the way it had when she was fifteen and stealing hot cars made her a hot commodity.

Yes, she was going to do this. In the fingerless racing gloves Nick had left on the passenger’s seat.

When she shifted gears, the throttle hit her right between the legs, an unexpected charge of engine and exhaust that told her he’d dirtied up his princess with headers to run like a race car.

She went out the back entrance of the lot, past her own waiting car, and took the short route to the nearest highway, where she could really open it up, could run away from Nick, from Aaron. From everything.

The walls were closing in fast on her real life, but here, in this car, on this highway, she was just a fifteen-year-old girl with no responsibilities to anyone but herself.

You should tell Nick Devane everything
.

But it wasn’t in her nature to share that kind of information—thanks to her ultimate distrust of authority, law enforcement and the system in general. From childhood, she’d learned that secrets were best kept to oneself.

Why didn’t you call the police, honey? When’s the last time you saw your mommy? Tell us and we’ll help you…

She hated Aaron for bringing all this on her, had no desire to have her past slammed back in her face because of a phone call and a safe deposit box. She already dragged it behind her like some kind of heavy albatross she couldn’t quite cut away.

As a reporter, she knew that the best way to blow a lead was to let too many people in on it. It was the same idea here. No, she’d deal with this herself if Nick wouldn’t help her.

Halfway down the open stretch of road, the engine began to sputter—of course the man would have a fuel cutoff anti-theft device installed.

And of course he’d have installed it so it was hidden, or else she would’ve seen it during the wiring.

She moved the car smoothly toward the side of the road, realized that she’d have no way to get herself home now, except walk.

She’d covered at least twenty miles in the short time span, thanks to this beauty’s speed. And as she put her head back against the headrest, hands in his racing gloves and still on the wheel, the driver’s-side door opened swiftly.

Nick was standing there, staring down at her, and no, that couldn’t be a good sign.

She was so busted, but she’d learned that the best way to handle these situations was to remain calm.

Obviously, Nick had learned that as well.

“You’re just full of surprises, aren’t you?” he asked as he leaned one arm against the open door and held out the other to help her from the car.

Her own car was parked behind the Porsche. Obviously, Nick believed in an eye for an eye.

She attempted to slide by him and found herself pinned against the side of the car, Nick’s arms on either side of her effectively locking her in.

She could still feel the heat, the vibration from the car’s rumble somewhere deep inside of her. She could feel the heat coming off Nick as well, a mix of anger and desire, and she jutted her chin up toward him, refusing to give in to either emotion. And failing.

When he spoke, he leaned in close, nearly whispered in her ear, “First you try to blackmail me and then you steal my car.”

She didn’t bother to deny the first accusation. “I borrowed your car. I was planning on returning it.”

“How do I know that’s true?”

“If I were going to steal it, I would’ve ripped out the wires under the wheel.”

“You don’t know who you’re messing with, Kaylee.”

“Then tell me.”

He ran a thumb over her bottom lip before he spoke. She fought the urge to do the same to him. “Aaron was AWOL—he was working in the jungles for the highest bidder. He was a mercenary. You’re never going to find the information you want. The Congo’s a dangerous place.”

“And you’re just as dangerous, aren’t you?” she asked.

“You’d better believe it.”

“You don’t scare me,” she said.

“That’s because I’m not trying to.”

Still, her breath came fast, her belly tightened and her throat went dry. But that reaction wasn’t caused by fear. “I’m seeing someone,” she heard herself say, even as he moved in closer to her, his hand dropping down to the curve of her butt. “We’re almost engaged.”

“Then what the hell are you doing here with me?” The low purring growl caught her between inhales, made her breath hitch audibly.

“He doesn’t know anything about me.”

“He doesn’t know you steal cars?”

“He doesn’t even know how to make me come.”

Nick’s mouth tugged at the corner, but he didn’t smile, not fully, even as his other arm wove its way around her waist to pull her closer to his body, and God, the heat raced through her like a fever she couldn’t control. “Does anyone know how to make you come?”

“No,” she whispered.

“Don’t be so sure of that,” he said gruffly, then released her. “Go home, Kaylee. Forget you ever met me.”

Forget you ever met me
.

From the way her body had reacted to him, she knew that was never going to happen.

Kaylee, why do you do this to yourself?” Carl Van Patterson, her boyfriend of nearly a year, stood in the doorway, watching her rifle through the box of Aaron’s personal effects a half an hour after she’d lost sight of Nick’s car on the highway.

“Sorry. I know it bothers you.” She shoved the top onto the lockbox quickly, but not before putting the tape of Nick’s story in there and tucking the patch he’d given her inside the pocket of her shorts.

“It bothers me that you can’t get past it.”

“Growing up was complicated,” she told him as she put the box on the upper shelf of the closet—out of sight, out of Carl’s mind, hopefully. It was never far from hers. “You know that. We were much more than husband and wife.”

“I know that you missed another dinner with my father and our business associates,” Carl reminded her, and yes,
shit, she’d
forgotten. Or else it was another case of selective memory, something that always seemed to happen whenever she had to attend events of any kind with Carl.

“I’m sorry. I had to work.”

“That damned job again.”

“That damned job is one of the reasons you were initially attracted to me. Or did you forget that?”

Carl was wealthy, a lawyer and the son of an even more prominent lawyer—possibly a soon-to-be congressman, if the polls were correct. Carl himself was on the fast track to that same political world—but now he feared her being a reporter might cause too much friction, be a conflict of interest.

So I won’t report on politics then
, she’d told him time and time again.

He’d already tried to warn her, gently, that when they got married, she’d have to retire from reporting, and she’d told him that she had no plans to marry anyone or give up her career.

So far, he hadn’t believed her.

So far, she’d never once agreed to actually consider his marriage proposal. “You know my past is going to come out, Carl. Especially when you decide to run for office.”

“I told you we can bury that.”

“I have no intention of doing that.” She fought the urge to tell him about wiring Nick’s car that evening and realized that she wasn’t in the mood for a lecture. She’d been in the mood to be alone, to go over the tape of her conversation with Nick.

She hadn’t expected Carl to be waiting for her at her apartment.

“Sometimes it sounds like you’re almost proud of what you used to do,” he continued, the frustrated look crossing his face the way it always did when this subject was broached.

She stared at Carl’s face and wondered again how she could get herself involved with someone who’d been attracted to her wild side and later wanted to tamp it down. “I’m not ashamed of where I came from. I don’t know why that’s such a problem. It used to be a turn-on for you that I had a record.”

“A sealed record, Kaylee. You were a juvenile delinquent, not a hardened criminal.” Carl shook his head. “Records like that are sealed for a reason. To let you get on with your life—so your past doesn’t haunt you.”

“Yes, well, too late for that.” With her back to Carl, she fingered the worn patch Nick had given her, the one Aaron had ripped off his clothing, judging by the frayed ends.

The notification that her ex still had her listed as the sole beneficiary in his will had been nearly as shocking as the phone call. Add to that the enormous amount of money Aaron appeared to have left behind, if the bankbook he’d put into the safe deposit box was any indication.

How a man who came from a foster-care background and went straight into the Army could have that much money, doubtfully earned by legal means, made her head spin.

She wouldn’t touch it, wished she could forget about it, and Aaron himself, the way he’d forgotten about her and fucked anything that moved even when they’d still been together.

Bastard
.

She hadn’t told Nick that part, because some things were too personal. She was still wounded deeply from those betrayals, even though she’d had her own fantasies and flirtations with other men the years they were married. The years he was away giving the military his love.

The fact that he’d cheated on her bothered her much less than the fact that her best friend had broken her trust. Badly.

“I won’t hide my past, Carl. I won’t hide who I am.” She slammed the closet door shut and turned to face him.

Of course, her job was more covered up than she would’ve liked—she was an investigative reporter, doing the down and dirty kind of work that necessitated her name and image not appear in the paper. So she wrote her articles as K. Darcy and most readers assumed she was a man.

“I don’t want to have this fight anymore,” he told her, in the same tone he’d say that he didn’t want to stay over at her apartment any longer, that he didn’t understand why she didn’t want to get married. He brushed past her and headed toward her bedroom and she went in the opposite direction.

Sometimes, in the deepest part of the night, when she felt most alone, she’d do this, wrap a blanket around herself and swing the patio door open. Alone, out on the balcony, she’d stand and look at the city laid out below her and she’d wonder if there was someone out there for her.

Her body ached for him, this man she’d dreamed about from the time she became interested in boys.

Aaron had always been more of a best friend than a lover. And in the recesses of her mind, she longed for the man who would come into her world and bring her body to life.