Читать книгу Mission: Marriage: Bulletproof Marriage - Lyn Stone - Страница 11

Natalie jumped on Sean, pushing him to the ground.

“Stay down,” she growled.

Though he narrowed his eyes, he did as she asked. In the past, he’d led and she’d always followed. No more. Still, with his muscular body pinned beneath her, she was suddenly hyperconscious of their positions.

Thoughts like that in times like this would get them both killed.

“Come on.” She yanked his arm. “We’ve got to get out of here.”

“Get off me so I can move.” His voice sounded strangled. Whether from arousal or from annoyance that she’d taken the lead, she couldn’t tell.

She scooted down the length of him, purely for revenge, then got to her knees. “We’d better stay low. Come on.”

Making sure he was following her, she crawled to the nearest section of iron fence. “Corbett’s man is dead.”

“We’ll mourn him later.” He paused, catching his breath. “I’m thinking he took the code with him.”

“Lost in the explosion, no doubt. But they’ll check to make sure.” She glanced over her shoulder. “We’re going to make a run for the car.”

“Right.” His tone was dry.

Too late, she remembered his walking cast. “Can you do it with that thing on?”

“Yes.” Again, her assuming the leadership position seemed to bother him. But, unlike the Sean she’d once known, this Sean clenched his jaw and said nothing else.

She didn’t have time to reflect on what that meant.

“You go first.”

He shot her a go-to-hell look. “Why?”

“In case you can’t get over the fence on your own. I can help you.”

Without another word he got to his feet and hobbled to the next statue. At this rate, they’d be there all day.

Somehow, Sean managed to climb over the fence unassisted and without getting shot. Natalie could only hope their luck would hold.

In the meantime, she needed to take steps to make sure she wasn’t recognized again.

When they reached the car, she went to the passenger side. She’d let him drive. She’d learned a long time ago how to pick her battles.

Natalie kept a sharp lookout for any hint they might be being followed, but not a single car made the same turns.

“Are they playing with us?” she wondered out loud.

“Could be. They have to know their rigged explosion was a failure. We’re not dead. Maybe they want us alive.”

“For what reason?”

“The code. Could it be possible that damn code is more important than any of us realizes?” Intent on the road, his expression gave away none of his thoughts.

“Surely they know their own code.” She heaved a sigh, wishing she could still rest her head on his shoulder as she’d done in the old days.

“Unless it’s not theirs.”

Natalie stared. “What do you mean?”

“Think about it. Why would the Hungarian be so eager to get some old, coded message away from you? Whatever information it contained, he could simply change.”

“But if it belonged to someone else—”

“Like one of his enemies.”

“Who would be foolish enough to go up against someone so powerful?”

Sean smiled wryly. “The Hungarian has a lot of enemies. Maybe a bunch of them got together to plan something.”

“Wouldn’t we know? I mean, both SIS and the Lazlo Group have undercover operatives in place. We would have heard something by now.”

But they both knew that wasn’t necessarily true. Huge secrets had been kept before, men killed, wars fought, with no one in the intelligence community the wiser until it was all over.

This time, when their gazes met, for the space of a heartbeat, she couldn’t look away.

Taking a deep breath, she bit back questions she didn’t want answers to and instead pointed out a sign on the corner ahead, advertising a discount drugstore.

“I need to stop at that store.”

Sean shot her a look that plainly said he thought she’d lost it. “I know you like to shop, but your timing sucks.”

She nearly smiled. Nearly. “Trust me, this is a necessity. But it doesn’t have to be that one,” she said as they drove past. “Any chemist’s shop will be fine.”

A quick stop at the first druggist on the way out of town, and she had what she needed. Climbing back into the midget-size car, she buckled up and dropped her small bag on the floor. “I’m good.”

The stark expression on Sean’s face made her catch her breath. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

“I just got off the phone with Corbett. He already knew he’d lost a man.”

Natalie bowed her head. In the undercover community, the death of a fellow operative was treated the same way it was by firefighters and policemen when one of their own died—with respect and sorrow.

“Did you convey to him my condolences?”

“Yes. He was on his way to talk to the family.”

She winced. “That’s one duty I wouldn’t want.”

“No one would. But as head of the agency, Corbett takes his responsibilities seriously.”

As if she didn’t know. Her own father couldn’t speak highly enough of the man. When her father had lost his legs in an explosion while working undercover, Corbett had helped him find the best surgeons, paid for a wheelchair and paid to renovate his home, even knowing he’d have to retire. The two men still talked regularly. Their stories about the life of a secret agent were why she’d gotten into the business in the first place, though in her bid for some sort of independence, she’d chosen to work for the government rather than the Lazlo Group.

“I’m assuming Corbett had his own copy of the code.”

“Of course. He’s working on another way to get it to us, along with a computer.”

She nodded. “Perfect.”

“Yeah. But still, we need some help. What about your resources? Can you access any of them?”

She stared. “Resources? You mean like SIS?”

“Exactly.”

“No.” She hoped the single word would shut him down. “I’m on leave. Administrative, due to the trauma of losing my entire team. As far as they know, I’m recuperating on the French Riviera.”

She waited for his questions, but apparently he had none. The sky had grown darker and it wouldn’t be long before the inky night became complete. Suddenly exhausted, she yawned.

Noticing that in the dim light from the dashboard, Sean smiled. Again, she felt the beauty of that smile like a punch in the stomach. “Stop it,” she said crossly. “It’s been a long day.”

“We’ll find a place to stop for the night.”

“Great.”

Parking in the back drive of the first B and B they came to, Sean went inside and secured them a room. When he emerged, he looked grim.

“I rented one room.”

“Why?”

“Security reasons.”

Too tired to argue, Natalie simply nodded.

Opening her door for her, he helped her out. Natalie allowed this, telling herself his touch didn’t feel good, not at all. The shiver that ran down her spine was due to the chilly air, nothing more.

“Wait.” She dug into her knapsack and retrieved the bandana Auggie had given her. This she placed over her head, tying it under her chin. “Camouflage,” she said. “Best I can do at the moment.”

Sean raised a brow but didn’t comment.

They walked into the brightly lit sitting room, neither of them speaking, staring straight ahead. The tension between them seemed palpable—almost unbearable, like the electricity in the air right before a thunderstorm. Natalie had to grit her teeth to keep herself pleasantly smiling.

Their hostess, a plump, bespectacled woman with a shock of bright orange hair, led them to the rear of the house. “You two even have your own bath,” she exclaimed. “All of the rooms upstairs have to share the big one at the end of the hall.”

Once they reached the room, she handed them a folded paper listing breakfast options and left them alone.

Natalie eyed the double bed with dismay. “I’m guessing she didn’t have a room with a king? Or even a queen-size bed?”

“I’m sorry,” Sean said, sounding anything but. “I can sleep in the chair if you’d like.”

Eyeing his walking cast, Natalie tried not to think about how badly she wanted to touch him, to run her hands over his once-beloved skin while breathing in his never-forgotten scent, to feel him move inside her again. “I’ll sleep in the chair. Since you’re driving, you’ll need your rest more than I.”

He narrowed his eyes. Once, he’d been able to read her thoughts, her desires. Or at least it had seemed that way to her. Once. No longer.

They’d been so happy. Or, she amended, she had. Obviously, Sean had felt differently. She’d never understand how he could do such a thing to the woman he supposedly loved.

“I’ll sleep in the chair,” she repeated, in case he wanted to argue. “But first, I need your help with this.” Opening the paper bag from the drugstore, she removed her purchases. “I’m going to cut and color my hair.”

For a moment, he froze, reminding her how he loved her hair, short or long. After lovemaking he’d always run his fingers through it.

Ruthlessly, she shut down the memories. “I know it’s short, but I’ve got to make it shorter. I can’t be recognized again. It’s compromising our mission.”

A trained spy, Sean understood. She could tell from the set of his chin that he didn’t like it, but he knew the reasons why changing her appearance was necessary.

The way he studied her sent shivers down her spine. Finally, he nodded. “Unfortunately, you’re right. What do I need to do?”

“Let me wet my head in the lavatory sink.” As soon as she’d accomplished that, she combed through her already short locks and returned to the bedroom. “Now I’m ready.”

“I’m not.” He didn’t sound as if he were joking.

Ignoring him, she dug out her newly purchased scissors, holding them out, along with the comb. “Will you do the honors? I could do the sides, but I’m afraid I’d make a hopeless mess of the back.”

Accepting the scissors, he moved the desk chair over by the bed. “Sit here in front of me.”

One deep breath for strength, and she did as he asked. The mattress springs creaked as he took a seat on the bed directly behind her. “How short?”

Did his voice tremble?

“Chin length.” Her hair touched her collarbone now, which meant he’d be removing two to three inches.

As he combed through her hair, she sighed and closed her eyes. When they’d first met, he’d loved her long hair, insisting on brushing it every night. Sometimes those sessions had turned heated, and they’d made fierce and passionate love. Her entire body warmed just thinking of it.

She could tell from the catch in Sean’s breathing that he hadn’t forgotten either.

The first time he skimmed the comb through her hair, a chill skittered along her spine. How she wanted to turn her head and press a kiss into the palm of his hand, the way she used to. Instead she held herself perfectly still, trying to relax.

Impossible.

His breath tickled her ear, her throat. Any moment now … She braced herself for his whisper-soft kiss, so familiar she ached for it, so alien she dreaded it.

When it never came, she reminded herself to breathe. Too much time and deception had passed between them. They each had a job to do, for their country, their agencies and their own personal satisfaction.

Giving in to old memories, old lusts, would accomplish nothing.

“It’s done.” His voice sounded husky. When he ruffled her newly shorn locks, she couldn’t suppress a shiver.

To keep from doing something foolish, she jumped to her feet and went to the mirror over the desk.

She looked … different. The choppy haircut brought out the hollows of her high cheekbones, but it was more than that. Life had returned to her face. Her eyes were no longer a muddy brown, but the amber color they’d once been, the color Sean had always teased her about by saying they glowed with passion.

Passion. No matter how she might try to hide this, even from herself, passion burned in her and her body knew. Each moment she spent with Sean, hearing his voice, longing to feel his touch, marked her.

Natalie was no longer Natalie Major, the efficient Super-spy, the woman made of ice. Despite her best intentions, she resembled Natalie McGregor, the woman hopelessly in love with her mate.

From behind her, Sean made a strangled sound. In the mirror, she saw him standing on the other side of the bed. His dark eyes glowed, full of such heat she nearly gasped. Their gazes locked and held.

Slowly, she turned, her pulse beating erratically.

When he came to her, gathering her in his arms, the scent of him, the feel of his muscular body against her, was almost unbearably painful.

Still, she hungered.

His touch as intimate as the old days, he trailed his hands over her skin and caressed the small of her back.

Ah … this. Arching against him, she lifted her face for his kiss, starving. He met her halfway, crushing her mouth beneath his. His lips devoured hers, demanding, hard and punishing, making her whimper a weak protest at first. But as he deepened the kiss, she welcomed his mouth as though two years had been erased.

Finally, her world was … full.

Stupid. With a hiss, she jerked away. Though she immediately felt bereft, she hid it with a scowl. “Don’t do that.”

The lazy look he gave her had amusement mingled with the desire. “You’re mine,” he stated, with all the confidence of a lion surveying his pride.

“Not anymore.”

“Always.” His voice dared her to disagree.

Though she could have argued, Natalie chose not to dispute his words. He’d always been able to tell when she was lying.

Instead, she grabbed his head and pulled his mouth down for another kiss. Impatient now, anger blazing into desire and need, grief becoming longing and the shame of his betrayal subjugated into want, she used her tongue the way he’d always found unbearably arousing, stroking the inside of his mouth, suckling his tongue. Reckless, abandoned, she tore at his clothing, craving him naked, hard and deep inside her.

His breathing came harsh, unsteady.

“Natalie?”

“Don’t talk,” she growled. “Not now.”

Grabbing her hands to hold them still, he held her away. The question she saw in his eyes felt like a dash of ice water down her back.

What had she almost done?

“I—” Hand to mouth, she backed away, as far as the small room would allow. Still, her body throbbed, wanting him.

“Shhh,” he told her, not coming after her. Was that grief she saw flash across his rugged face, or merely thwarted desire? No matter.

He’d saved her. She owed him that. She’d nearly made another huge mistake to add to her already huge list of them.

Even now, trying to clear her head, one look at the front of him, at his blatant arousal, and she nearly said to hell with it and went to him.

Closing her eyes, she drew one ragged breath, then another. How well she remembered the fit of him, tightly sheathed inside her. Their lovemaking had been explosive, intense and fulfilling, something she’d known no other man could measure up to.

“I’m sorry,” she told him, absurdly on the verge of tears.

“I understand,” he said, though she knew he didn’t. Aching, she wanted to weep.

“I’m …” She couldn’t find the words, though she knew she should be asking questions. Ask, hell, anyone else would demand an explanation. As if anything he could say would explain his betrayal.

When her mother had left, Natalie was six, but she well remembered her questions, and the way her father had had no answers. Finally, he’d told her she was better off not knowing.

Now she understood what he’d meant. Sometimes knowing the truth could hurt more than whatever the mind could imagine. She’d been an adolescent when she’d finally figured out her mother hadn’t wanted her, didn’t love her, and had left of her own free will. Up until that point, Natalie had convinced herself the woman had been abducted, forcibly dragged away from the daughter she adored and the husband she loved.

No longer a child, nor a teen with easily bruised emotions, Natalie knew she should demand answers. Should, but wouldn’t. She didn’t really want to know.

Instead, she brushed past Sean, grabbed the box of hair coloring off the table and went into the toilet, closing and locking the door behind her. She needed to walk, needed it the way a smoker craves a cigarette. A breath of fresh air and a brisk, two- or three-mile walk would clear her head and help her regain her shredded composure.

The crack of gunfire woke him.

Sean jerked up, years of training enabling him to snap instantly awake. Since he was still fully clothed, including his damned uncomfortable cast, he shoved himself to his feet and did a quick survey of the room.

Natalie was missing.

Moving as fast as the boot would allow, he grabbed his gun and yanked open the door, then moved down the hall to the front door. He opened it and cautiously stepped onto the porch, closing the door behind him.

Another round of gunfire had him dropping to the ground.

Where the hell was Natalie? Combined with the streetlights, the full moon provided ample light, but he couldn’t see her anywhere. Maybe she’d taken cover. Maybe she wasn’t there. So where the hell was she?

He had to assume she was safe so he could concentrate on taking out the shooter.

Keeping close to the brick building, he moved in the direction of the gunshots. He heard sirens, which meant someone had called the police. This could be good—or bad. It might stop the shooter, but there was no way he or Natalie could talk to local law enforcement.

The shooting stopped—Sean could only guess the gunman had heard the sirens, too, and was calculating how long he had before he needed to escape.

More confident now, Sean moved closer. He’d fitted his Glock with a silencer, which would do the job nicely if he had to take out an enemy. Though he’d rather capture the guy and question him. With the police on their way, that might not be possible.

Right now what mattered was keeping Natalie safe.

Rounding the corner, Sean stopped. A long, open stretch lay between his building and the next. No way was he going out there blind, making himself a perfect target.

The wail of the sirens grew louder.

A shadow moved.

Sean raised his gun.

Natalie jumped up and began running toward him.

His heart stopped.

Then, knowing he had no choice, he jumped out into the open, both to cover her and, he hoped, distract the shooter.

When she reached him, she knocked him back around the side of the building. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Shhh.” Listening for more shots, he heard only the rapidly approaching sirens. “He’s gone. We’ve got to get back to our room.”

Though her gaze shot daggers, she didn’t argue. Together, they ran, keeping close to the wall.

Another shadow.

“Get down,” he shouted, just before the shooter again opened fire.

She dropped like a rock. Sean felt a searing heat right above his cast. “Damn it,” he cursed.

Rat-ta-tat-tat. And again. The sirens were closer still. Again the shooting stopped.

“What’s wrong?” Natalie asked, her eyes and gun trained in the direction of the gunman.

“I’m hit.”

“Where?”

“The leg.”

Natalie was beside him. “Cover me.” Then she was tearing her shirt to make a tourniquet on his leg. A rapidly spreading crimson stain showed the wound right above his walking cast, as he’d suspected.

“You’re determined to lose that leg, aren’t you?” she muttered. “Come on. We’ve got to get out of here.”

“Can’t.” Perspiration ran from his forehead into his eyes.

She muttered a string of curse words strong enough to make a sailor blush.

“What the hell were you doing out here anyway?” he asked.

“I needed a walk,” she growled, her expression daring him to say anything.

“A walk.” He stared, wondering if he’d ever really known her. The Natalie he’d known and loved wouldn’t have left him to go for a walk.

“We’ve got to go. Now.” She grabbed his arm.

“No.” He jerked away. “I’ll do it on my own. You’re not strong enough.”

“Been there, done that. I got you out from under a ton of concrete, didn’t I?”

“Blind luck.”

Another round of gunfire. More smoke. He swore.

Who was this psycho? They didn’t know and had no time to find out. Again he cursed his clumsiness.

“Blind luck, my ass. Try blind skill.” This time, when she grabbed him, he didn’t resist. Half tugging, half shoving, she got him moved to the limited shelter provided by a Dumpster trash bin. His eyes drifted closed. Shaking his head, he tried to keep them open. “Let’s go.”

“Stay conscious. Sean, you’ve got to stay with me.”

“Why?”

The question appeared to blindside her. “Because,” she told him fiercely. “This isn’t the way you want to go out.”

“True. But it’s taking all I have to stay conscious. So tell me, Super-spy. Now what?”

“Usually I have backup or radios or one of a hundred tricks a well-equipped spy has at her disposal.” She snorted. “I’m guessing there’s no use looking toward the sky for a James Bond-style helicopter to magically appear and rescue us, right?”

The fact that she could joke in such a tense situation made him attempt a smile. “Let’s move.”

They made it to the next building without incident, huddling under the small portico over a back door, protected a bit by metal trash cans.

“Listen,” Sean said. They both heard the sharp click as the shooter reloaded. Any second now, he’d squeeze off another volley of shots.

Heart in his throat, Sean tensed. He’d been away from this game far too long.

“Is he following us?” Natalie whispered.

“You broke protocol,” Sean suddenly told her, fiercely. “I thought you were a professional.”

“I am. I—”

“Professionals don’t leave without telling their partner. You could have gotten us both killed.”

“Stop, Sean.” She glared at him. “I screwed up, true. I’m sorry. But this shooter was obviously heading for our B and B. I surprised him out in the open, before he was ready. He could have cut us down in our sleep. So part of this worked out for the good.”

Attempting a nod, he sucked in his breath instead. He didn’t know how much farther he could go. His strength ebbed out of him with every breath.

“How—” He couldn’t finish.

“How did he find us? I don’t know. Maybe we need to do a sweep for bugs.”

Another series of shots. Several rounds cut a wide swath through the metal trash bins.

“Too close. Run,” he gasped. “Go. Save yourself.”

“No.” She prodded him forward.

Assess. The. Situation. She wouldn’t leave him. Nor he her, he knew. Never. His life wouldn’t be worth living if he lost her again. Result. He had to save himself, and, in doing so, save her.

The sirens were nearly upon them. Somehow, he had to get them to safety. No way could they attempt to explain to local authorities what had happened here.

“Come on.” He made his voice harsh. Strong. Commanding. “Let me lean on you.”

Without hesitation, she moved her shoulder under his arm. Taking a deep breath, he lurched forward.