“I’m so magnificent that you’re dumping me?” She wanted to kick his butt back into the water. Instead she continued to wade through the convoluted path of his reasoning, because she cared about him. She loved him, damn it, and now he was trying to leave her too. “And about me going back to search and rescue work. What does that have to do with the two of us as a couple?”
“I’m retiring.”
“Yeah, that’s what I hear,” she said, gripped the edge of the bench until splinters dug into her palms. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“We’re taking different paths now. I’m stepping off the adrenaline junkie treadmill.”
His placating—bullshit—tender expression made her want to scream. She should have seen this coming. Six months ago, she’d predicted something just like this happening, so she’d stayed well away from Liam McCabe even when her body and heart screamed go for it.
“You know what, Liam? You are making up excuses to walk away.” She shot to her feet, unable to sit there any longer while he played out this letting-her-down-easy farce. “You may be a badass out there on the job, but when it comes to falling in love you’re scared to death. Maybe it goes back to losing your mom or the divorces or combat stress. But it’s time for you to let yourself be happy.”
“Rachel, listen to me.” He stood, clasping her shoulders, slipping back into his protector mode as surely as if he’d put on his uniform. “I just want to be fair to you. I want you to be happy—”
“No. You want to play this safe, which is a long way from anyone being happy. No risk, no glory, pal.” She jabbed his chest, hard. “You love me, Liam McCabe. You really love me, not the halfway measures of picking the wrong woman. I am the best thing to happen to you, and you are making the biggest mistake of your life in being too afraid to admit it.”
Her rant left her breathless. Even more so the longer he just stood there staring back at her, saying nothing. His eyes were distant. Already he was putting up walls, just as he’d told her he always did. Even knowing he was protecting himself from the hurt of losing his mother, of history repeating itself with his self-destructive relationships, here he went all over again.
He’d already decided, damn him.
Every gasp was a trial. She’d lost one man she loved… Ah shit. Shit. Shit. Shit!
She wasn’t falling in love with Liam. She was already there. Yes, she loved him, so much that losing him could devastate her, wipe her out. She’d barely survived Caden’s death. Oh God, it had been so much easier believing she’d lost her one soul mate, and that therefore her heart would never be at risk again.
She’d been dead wrong.
The screen door creaked open again, fast, banging against the cabin wall. Cuervo burst through and onto the porch.
“Agent Cramer just gave the all clear. Meal’s over. Time to report in.”
“Agent Cramer, step into my office,” General Ted Sullivan barked from his open door.
The day was going to hell fast, and he was running out of time to stop a plan two years in the making from unraveling because of one insignificant lieutenant who just wouldn’t go the f**k away.
Which left him to deal with what he could. Grab control wherever possible. Line up his allies and eliminate the obstacles.
Special Agent Sylvia Cramer had been his staunchest ally when he first arrived here. Ideologically, they’d been on the same page about the proper realignment of the satellite missile defense program and how badly the program needed a regime change. They’d spent hours after work discussing, theorizing on the effectiveness of different strategies. Her input on the effect such changes would have on the intelligence-gathering community were inspired.
He’d found a kindred spirit. He hadn’t doubted her loyalty, her willingness to do anything he asked—until Liam McCabe and Rachel Flores turned up missing.
Either Sylvia Cramer wasn’t as good an agent as he thought or Liam McCabe was far better than he’d anticipated. The culmination of too much work depended on the exchange of information at this summit going off without a hitch. He needed confirmation that people were loyal to the death.
Special Agent Sylvia Cramer glided into his office on her mile-long legs in red high heels. Her hair a bit mussed, but not a wrinkle in her skirt and blouse. The perfect professional. Until she wasn’t.
He closed the door behind her.
And locked it.
Time to find out if she’d betrayed him, too.
Sylvia pivoted on her heel, one perfectly plucked eyebrow arching slowly. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but it’s common courtesy to ask a lady first.”
He planted his hand on the door, his body grazing hers. “And since when do you want to be treated like a lady? Correct me if I’m wrong”—he tunneled his palm under her skirt and up her leg to the band of her silky thigh-high stockings—“but I was under the impression you wanted something entirely different from me.”
Her leather purse slid from her shoulder to the floor.
He slipped his hand into her thong and thrust two fingers deep inside her. Her body clamped around him. Tight. But dry.
“Too fast for you?” He pulled her closer with just those two fingers until the tips pressed against just… the right… spot.
Her lashes fluttered and she stumbled back against the door before regaining her balance, her hands flat against his chest. The slick juices of her arousal began to cream his fingers.
Damn straight, he knew what to do. He wasn’t taking advantage of anyone. He always pleasured the hell out of her before they finished any encounter. He might be her superior, but she wasn’t in his chain of command. Not a thing wrong with what they’d been doing the past month, since a late night spent working together had led to a shift in their relationship, a mutually satisfying shift.
He kissed the side of her neck, never her mouth. He hated the taste of cigarettes and she’d been sneaking smoke breaks more and more often lately. Stress. Came with the job. They all had their methods for working it out. Some exercised. Some drank. Sylvia smoked.
And this was his way of releasing tension.
He moved his fingers inside her, nudged the collar of her blouse with his chin until he could grab the strap of her bra with his teeth and inch it aside. The scent of her filled the air and he lifted his head, tipping his face to catch a whiff of her, going harder, knowing how she couldn’t resist him. He slipped his fingers in and out, faster, until her nails dug into his shirt.
Sylvia panted softly. “We haven’t been together in a few days. I thought you were angry.”
“Over what?” he asked, even though he knew.
He wanted to force her to spell out how she’d f**ked up, to test her, to see if she could still be trusted. Just because she was screwing him didn’t mean she wouldn’t screw him over to get ahead. He flicked open the buttons down her blouse, exposing white lace.
“How McCabe”—she gasped as his knuckle caressed the inside curve of her breast—“and the Flores woman disappeared from the safe house.”
“Nothing to worry about. We’ll find them.” He pushed under the demicup, lifting her breast until her dusky nipple slid into sight. A growl of appreciation crawled up his throat.
“That’s good,” she purred. About his tongue flicking over her nipple or that he would find the missing couple? “Although we really had no legal reason to hold them. We were doing them a favor by protecting our own asses with the cover story once they left.”
He looked up. “That still doesn’t excuse them getting away without your knowledge. You knew how important it was to contain the Flores woman, to keep her from racing to the nearest reporter with her wild”—too damn correct—“claims.”
“Of course.”
“You deserve to be reprimanded for your mistake.”
“Is that so?” Her eyes narrowed as she rubbed her br**sts against his chest. “What are you going to do? Write me up?”
He almost exploded in his pants like an untried teen instead of a forty-nine-year-old man, and she knew it. He could see the glint of power in her eyes.
But that was okay with him. Power plays were fun. He liked his mistresses strong and demanding. It made the rush even better when they came apart for him, because of him.
And for that reason, never once did he take his eyes off her. He slipped his fingers from her, sliding his hands around to cup her ass, cheeks bared by her thong.
“It’s my job to dole out your punishment.” He slapped one globe. “You’re good, but mistakes have to be rectified.”
He smacked her again.
Her pupils widened as she flicked her tongue along her lips, distracting him for a second.
“You like to play rough?” She slapped him across the face.
The sound echoed in the quiet room. He grabbed her wrists and held her arms akimbo, backing her up against the edge of his desk, already panting in anticipation over what she might do next.
“Ted, you either trust me or you don’t,” she said with a grit that made him throb all the more. “But don’t think you can play mind games with me like you do with everyone else. I see you for exactly who you are.”
“And you keep coming round for more.”
He kissed her, hard, grinding against her, and yes, the taste of her was smoky from a recent cigarette, but he was past caring as she thrust her tongue in his mouth. His grip on her loosened and she clawed his back. He shoved his fingers inside her again, rougher this time. She sucked his tongue, drawing it into her mouth.
Her damp warmth clamped around his fingers and his thoughts scattered, his every ounce of concentration zeroed in on her. Her head lolled, giving up her neck. He could see the second her restraint snapped. Just a second before she tore at his belt and yanked open his trousers. Her cool hands cupped his hard-on, one hand stroking, the other cupping his balls, already tight against his body.
“Ted…” Her voice rasped free, husky and raw, and she worked him until his eyes nearly rolled back in his head. “Anything we do now will have to be hard and fast, which, don’t get me wrong, is fabulous sometimes. But today, I want slow and explosive. If you’re a good boy and wait until tonight, I’ll let you pick the toys. So? What’ll it be? Fast now. Or everything later…”
Toys? Not even a choice. “Later it is.”
He was a patient man in all aspects of his life. Made the payoff all the sweeter.
“Wise decision.” Nipping his earlobe, she pulled her hand away too damn slowly. “While you’re behind your desk today, know that I’m behind mine, fantasizing about all the things I’m going to do to you once we’re alone. Now, no cheating and coming to my office before then. I’ll meet you at our regular place, eight o’clock tonight.”
Stepping back, she adjusted her thong and brushed her skirt back down, swiping away any telltale wrinkles. She had admirable poise in the workplace, but almost too much so right now. As she calmly tucked her br**sts back into her bra, he considered pulling her to him again, taking her over to the big leather sofa and going down on her until she screamed. But as he reached for her, she neatly sidestepped.
“No, no. We agreed.” She patted his cheek right over the spot she’d slapped earlier. “And besides, I have a meeting with my boss in five minutes about security for the summit. Good thing you opted for later and we didn’t take longer now, or I would have had a tough time explaining why I’m hanging out of my underwear.”
She made fast work of her buttons, retrieved her shoe, and slicked back the lone strand of hair that had worked its way free. All before he’d finished zipping his pants.
“Wait,” he ordered. He was in control. Not her. He buckled his belt. “Now, you may leave.”