Page 75

R yan Sullivan watched Meghan Donnelly walk down the sand, kick off her combat boots and pants, then slip into the warm waters off the private Caribbean island.

Gold Team were camped out on the beach after a successful operation that had concluded in the arrest of an internationally wanted terrorist and one fucked-up billionaire.

Most importantly, they’d found their beloved team leader, Kurt Montana, back from the dead.

Ryan glanced around.

Most of the guys were asleep on blankets. The fire had died down but was still giving off significant heat. It was a little after two a.m.

He frowned.

Didn’t she know it wasn't safe to go off swimming alone in the ocean at night. Hadn’t she watched Jaws ?

Aaron Nash opened one eye and flicked a tired look at him that suggested one of them should go after her and that it wasn’t going to be him.

Dammit.

Not like he’d be able to sleep until she came back anyway.

Ryan eased slowly to his feet and headed toward the water’s edge. Perhaps he could keep an eye on her from the shore. He scanned the flat surface, but it was too dark to see clearly when the moon kept disappearing behind slow-moving clouds. He couldn’t see her.

He growled.

He stripped off his shirt and his tactical pants, left them in a pile in the sand near Donnelly’s clothes.

Fuck it.

He stripped off his underpants too, no point getting them wet when nobody would see anything anyway.

He slipped soundlessly into the water, enjoying the coolness against his hot skin.

He waded out past the gentle breakers, wondering where the hell she was.

The black water looked unbroken as far as he could see.

He swam out while doing a quick 360.

Members of the Hostage Rescue Team were combat swimmers who had been drown-proofed both in the pool and in the sea—which didn't mean they couldn’t drown—more that, they did it slower and with more grace than regular people. Most of HRT operators were also advanced scuba divers.

All that to say, Meghan Donnelly should be fine in the water alone, so he should head back to the beach and mind his own damned business.

But where the hell was she?

He heard something break the surface close by, a rush of relief washed over him at the sight of her slick black head rising out of the water.

She startled and then released deep breath. “Jesus. What are you doing here?”

Ryan rolled his eyes. “Thought I’d take a quick dip before trying to get some sleep. What do you think I’m doing out here?”

“Were you worried about me?” Her voice rose incredulously—as if he were the crazy one.

“I’m a big believer in the buddy system.”

Her snort told her exactly what she thought of that. “You know I’m a grown-ass adult, right?”

He kept quiet .

“I’m a former soldier, an FBI agent, a highly trained operator.”

“I'm not doubting your skills, Megs.”

“Just my judgment, apparently.”

It wasn’t that . “Didn’t you ever watch Jaws ?”

“Didn’t you ever watch The Meg ?” she countered.

He exhaled heavily, knowing he was being overprotective. “I was worried.”

“If you’d done this a few weeks ago, I’d’ve thought you were trying to get into my pants.”

Ryan showed his teeth in a feral grin.

“Now I know you're all talk.”

What ?

“All talk?”

“I've been watching you.”

The idea sent fear skating along his nerves. Fear and something else, something equally unpalatable.

“You’re attentive, and you flatter the ladies— all the ladies, young and old—laying on the charm, flirting the same way you breathe. Yet for all your reputation, I haven’t seen you actually go in for the kill.”

“The kill ?”

“Yeah, you know. The wolfish smile, the hand on the small of the back as you escort your latest conquest out of the bar to find any available surface to…you know.” Water lapped against her T-shirt-clad chest as she shrugged.

He gave her a wolfish smile now, though he doubted she could see it. “Yeah, well, you weren’t in that private jet a couple weeks ago, now, were you?”

He wasn’t sure why he needed to keep reminding her of his base nature. Except he knew why.

“Just before I tried to seduce you. Yeah, I remember.” Her words were murmured vibrations off the heavy expanse of water. Neither of them wanted anyone else to know what had happened that day .

“Yeah, when you were crying over the fact you lost your dad. What am I, a complete asshole?”

The memory of her body pressed against his, her lips on his skin was enough to make his body burn. He was glad it was nighttime, and he was neck deep in the ocean.

“So if I hadn’t been grieving, you’d have taken me up on my offer?”

“Hell, no.”

She turned away. “Ah. Of course.”

“Of course, what?”

“I don’t even know why I didn’t think of that.”

“What?” He’d missed something.

“You don’t find me attractive.”

He dragged his hand through his hair. “I told you that night. I don’t sleep with colleagues.”

“I am literally the only female on the teams, and I know you aren’t bi. That rule seems highly convenient as it only applies to me.”

Did she really think he’d created that rule so he could reject her without hurting her feelings?

“Darlin’, if you weren’t my teammate, that night would’ve taken a whole different turn, and we would’ve been making use of every available surface in your house.”

Even the thought terrified him. Once he started with her, he was terrified he wouldn’t be able to stop.

She cocked her head to one side as if deciding whether or not he was telling the truth. “But you wouldn't have stayed, would you? Because the staying over, not the fucking, would’ve been too much like cheating on your late wife.”

He swallowed hard and looked away. He wished he hadn’t told her those private things about himself and Becky. He didn’t even know why he had, except he’d recognized the depth of her grief after losing her father, understood the magnitude of her pain. He swam a little ways away from her.

“Running away?” Her voice was disembodied in the darkness .

He guffawed. “From what?”

“Everything.”

He hated to acknowledge that she might be right. “Do you wish I’d taken you up on your offer? Is that what this is?”

It was her turn to swim a little further away.

“Maybe.”

Maybe ?

“I mean, it’s obviously just physical for you. That’s all I want. Good clean sex. At least then I’d get rid of the itch plaguing me without worrying about all the other bullshit.”

His heart rate ramped up right along with his blood pressure. He was familiar with the itch.

“I guess I’ll have to use your method. Go pick up a strange guy next time I have a night off. Find a motel. Screw his brains out.”

He tightened his jaw against the image of Donnelly with someone. Anyone. It was none of his damned business what she did with whom. He was in no position to preach.

“You could always get yourself a good vibrator.”

She threw back her head and laughed loudly, probably attracting attention from those on the beach. “Trust me, I don’t need any advice on vibrators from a guy. Not even the God of sex.”

God of sex ?

It stung like a whiplash.

Before Becky there had been no one.

After Becky…

“Then what do you need a guy for?” He sounded pissed, even to his own ears.

“The kissing. The physicality. The unpredictability of the act. The weight of a man against me. The illusion I’m not alone for a few hours.”

He closed his eyes because he understood the need for that kind of connection .

“You have a favorite bar when you go to pick up women?” she asked.

What the fuck? “Looking for tips?”

“Sure. Why not? I haven’t had a boyfriend, or sex for that matter, since I applied to HRT.”

She floated on her back and his eyes followed her whether he wanted them to or not. Her long legs were bare. The black T-shirt clung to the top of her thighs and made his fingers clench.

“I’m out of practice flirting. If it doesn’t involve gun oil or gun powder, I’m not sure I remember how to do it anymore.”

Thoughts of Donnelly and sex were not good for his sanity.

“You want me to teach you how to flirt?”

“Why not? I know you’re good at it. That’s what all the guys say. Though I haven’t witnessed it personally.” She mumbled the last.

“You shouldn’t pick up strange guys in bars, Megs, it’s not safe.”

“Every time a woman goes somewhere alone with a guy, it’s potentially not safe. At least I know how to fight.”

The thought of anyone attacking a woman drove him crazy.

“Can’t you try a dating app or something?”

Donnelly snorted. “That last serial killer put me off.”

She treaded water and moved a little closer.

She gazed up at the stars. He gazed at her.

“What do you want out of life?” He had no idea where that question sprang from or why he was foolish enough to voice it.

“I’ve been focused on this for so long. I don’t even know anymore.” Her arms swayed slowly through the water.

“You want to get married? Have kids?”

A flash of moonlight revealed a frown. “I spent most of my life trying to make my dad proud. Now he’s dead, none of that seems to matter anymore.”

“No way you only got into HRT because you were trying to please your dad.”

She swam even closer. “Why do you say that? ”

“Because.”

“Because what?”

She wanted a real answer.

He sighed. “Because you were born for this, Megs. Look at today. You walked into that vault on those high heels and took out an armed bodyguard and a deranged billionaire single-handedly. You didn’t do that because it would make your dad proud.

You did it because you could. Because you’re a damned good warrior. ”

He was close enough to see that vulnerability move across the features. The vulnerability she tried so hard to hide.

“I wouldn’t mind getting married but it’s not as important as finding the right person to share my life with. I don’t think I want kids.” She hunched her shoulders. “It’s not that I don’t like them. I just don’t think I’m built for the stay-at-home-and-look-after-them business.”