She had been frightened to leave base during those days, terrified she would be followed somehow. Jordan and Noah, along with the communication agent, Kira Richards, and her husband Ian, had all but ordered Tehya with them for a shopping trip, supposedly funded by the Ops to outfit her in more than the worn clothing she’d owned. She’d learned later that Jordan himself had paid for her clothes.
“It is.” Her heart began to race. That something so small as the knowledge that he remembered that day should excite her, she decided, was truly pitiful.
He stepped closer, a predatory male animal suddenly shifting into stalking mode, his expression tightening with lust, his gaze blazing with hunger.
“I shouldn’t want you again so soon,” he growled as he stepped in front of her, the backs of his fingers whispering over the leather that covered one breast. “But I swear, Tehya, the sight of you wearing leather and the knowledge that you could kill a man before he drew his next breath has my dick harder than hell.”
And her pussy was creaming. Tehya could feel it, hot and moist, her juices saturating her cunt and preparing her for him.
“We could take a long break for lunch,” she suggested, as the other hand curved around her back and drew her flush against his body.
“If I get you back in that bed there’s no way in hell I’d go for the quickie it would have to be.” His head lowered, but rather than the kiss she needed, all she received was a sensual nip to her lips. “When this is over, though, I’m taking you to a beach somewhere and I’m keeping you naked for a month. Naked and covering my body like a second skin.”
The hard wedge of his cock pressed against her lower stomach as she tried to keep back the low moan of rising need surging inside her.
Laying her head against his chest and feeling his arms surround her, she wished there was a way to delay it, just for a little while longer. She would pay whatever price she needed to pay, kill whomever she needed to kill, for just a few more hours of security in his arms.
“When this is over,” she repeated, her voice soft, her arms tightening around his waist as she felt that cold hard kernel of fatalistic knowledge harden inside her soul.
It would never be over until her own death.
“It will be over soon, baby,” he promised as she pulled back.
Staring up at him, she realized the past eight years had only been the road to bring her here. She had been hiding, and a part of her had known it, just as she had known there would be a price to pay for it later.
“I love you, Jordan,” she whispered before he could keep her from voicing the promise. “You don’t have to love me. You don’t have to keep me. Just always know, if I had known what was coming, I would have made certain I hid better. I would have kept this from happening.…”
“God, Tehya.” His fin
gers were against her lips before she could finish the hastily whispered words. “Son of a bitch, baby, do you think in a million fucking years that I would even consider letting you face this alone? Do you think, Tehya, that I, or the others, weren’t watching for a threat against you? That we weren’t doing everything we could to ensure we were here if you needed us? Do you believe, for even a second, damn you, that I could have ever totally let you go?”
Frustrated anger, surprise, and a hint of amazement filled his voice now.
Jordan stared down at the little imp that had both tormented and comforted him for the past eight years. So delicate and tiny, he swore a good strong breeze could knock her over. She had a backbone of pure titanium, though, and a will that often amazed him.
“Teyha,” he chided, his voice softening as he allowed himself the luxury of running the backs of his fingers down the side of her silken cheek. “I’m not a fool. I’m not one man trying to protect a mother and a child. I’ve told you this before. If you don’t stop doubting me, sweetheart, then I’m going to become irritated.”
“It’s not you I doubt. Sometimes…” She swallowed tightly, fear flashing in her eyes, “fate—Lady Luck—doesn’t often favor the good guy, Jordan.”
He had to grin at that. “But baby, I’m Irish. Fate, Lady Luck, the Muses, and the gods. They love me.”
And he was bragging even as he knocked on wood. It wasn’t Fate, Lady Luck, or any other mythical force. It was preparedness, knowing what he was facing, and never taking things at face value.
“Do you expect Ascarti to be at the party tonight?” she asked as she moved away from him, no doubt to hide the hurt that he hadn’t returned the words of love she had whispered.
His heart ached at the refusal. There were days, nights that he worried about the question himself, but refused to answer it.
He was prepared, but he also knew better than to tempt the future. He wouldn’t make plans, he refused to delve too deeply into the unfamiliar emotions that sometimes assailed him. Not until it was finished. Not until he knew he wasn’t going to lose her, or God forbid, that she, his men, and their families, were left without his protection.
He almost grinned at his thoughts. As though he could control any of it. But it sure as hell made him sleep better at night knowing he had done all he could to cover all the angles he could think of.
“I don’t expect Ascarti to be at the party tonight,” he finally told her. “He won’t show his hand so easily. Nor would his handler.”
“His handler?” She turned back to him, those thick, luscious waves of red-gold curls flowing around her as those mysterious green eyes narrowed on him. “Sorrel’s dead.”
Jordan gave a sharp nod as he moved to the bar, aware of her gaze following him as he passed her to prop himself on one of the bar stools.
“Sorrel’s dead,” he agreed. “But Ascarti isn’t a man who can work alone, nor is he capable of leading his men effectively without a powerful commander.”