Page 31

Kelly

Did I really say making love?

It wasn’t meant as a forever promise. Yet, in the heat of the moment, I’d admitted more to Scott than to myself.

I gasp when he unclasps my bra. As it drops to the hearth, calloused thumbs flick over my nipples. Leaning forward, he sucks, shooting zings of pleasure to my lady parts.

“Wild….” A desire, an ache, an overwhelming need floods my senses.

Mindless, I lose my panties and slide my wet want over his hard shaft.

“Babe.” His guttural tone plucks a lusty string inside me.

So near to the edge, so high, I shove down his boxers. My hand slips between us, guiding him to my entrance. With his silky helmet stroking the perfect spot, he grips my hips, impaling me to the bone.

“Yes!” Brain cells explode behind my eyelids. I buck, I shudder, and as I ride him into oblivion, his fingertips dig into my hips.

Impossible for me to believe, but another wave swells.

“My God, Kell.” He doesn’t let me come down. Instead, he holds me in place as he thrusts.

This momentous tsunami of passion devastates me, I’m powerless to do anything but reach our bliss together.

“Stay with me, baby.” His thigh muscles clench, his abs tighten, and as he shouts, he drives so deep, I climax again.

Gravity-free, we stare into each other’s glazed-over eyes. We float for an eternity before we slowly slink back beside the fire. Inhaling his musky scent, I collapse on his chest, heart thumping in my ear. As he slips the thick sleeping bag over my back, I blink back tears.

Damn it, I’ve fallen. No man will ever be enough after him. What the hell have I done? With nowhere to shove my feelings in, my tears drip onto his skin.

His steady breaths tell me he’s asleep. Thankfully, he won’t ask questions.

Too exhausted to sleep, I turn my head toward the dancing flames. Outside, the wind howls through the trees, rattling the tin roof. The storm mirrors the chaos inside me. I should be lost in the afterglow, but my thoughts spiral to poor Robert and the looming danger.

My body is sated, and for now, I’m safe in Scott’s arms. But the moment the blizzard moves on, I have no doubt these terrorists will come for us.

Was Rob’s murder connected to the FBI cameras, or was Jack Gurion’s appearance a mere coincidence? There are so many pieces to this puzzle, yet none of them fit.

Stirring beneath me, my lover pulls out, staring into my face. “Where’d you go?”

“Is this pillow talk?” When I roll off his torso, he sits cross-legged beside me.

Snuggling under the blanket, he tickles me while pretending to search. “Uh, not unless you got one in here, somewhere.”

I cup his rough, stubbled cheek, locking eyes with his sharp, intelligent blue ones until he realizes I’m deadly serious. “Be honest. Was Dante murdered because of you?”

His brows lift. “Huh? No, sweetheart. He’s been dead for days. Why?”

My throat tightens. “If I hadn’t asked him to handle The Inci—” I swallow hard. “The rape—he wouldn’t have struck a deal with the devil.”

Scott rakes a hand through his hair and hisses through his teeth. “Listen, I don’t know all the details but here is my take. Robert made his choices. He could’ve asked for more resources and hunted these bastards down. A coward, he let Bourdin operate under his nose. Now, we’ve got God knows how many Iranian chemists working on some kind of ricin project, not to mention trying to kill us.”

“But he did keep Bourdin away from me and my family,” I whisper.

When the final log collapses into embers, Scott dresses. “Kelly, no more what-ifs. Move forward or we die.”

He pulls on his boots. “Speaking of… we need more wood. I’ll be right back.”

A frigid blast hits me when he exits. Three trips later, we’ve got plenty of split logs stacked by the hearth, the fire roaring once more. As the cabin glows orange, firelight flickers across the plaid curtain under the old sink.

Is it possible? Heart drumming, my bare feet race over the wooden planks. I yank the fabric aside, but it’s too dark. “I need a flashlight.”

Mr. Prepared-for-Anything reaches into his pack. Light in hand, he squats beside me. “What is it?”

I grab a knife from the drawer, slide it into a gap in the floorboards, and pry it up. “I can’t believe it. It’s here.”

Tipping forward, I remove a Glock, a rusty tackle box and pull out Dante’s laptop. “I hope it still has battery life.”

We bring it back to the fireplace where I sit in a half lotus. Crossing my fingers, I hit the power button. “Crap. I don’t know his password.”

“Give it here.” Scott wraps his shirt around the computer and shrugs on his jacket as he disappears outdoors with the flashlight. When he returns, he shakes off the snow. The PC is now parked at the home screen.

Wondering what miracle he performed, I raise my eyebrows.

He grimaces. “I used Dante’s thumbprint.”

Ugh. I shove down the tension rolling through me before clicking on the file explorer. My pulse spikes as I point at the display. “See here? Rob had an external drive plugged in the last time he powered down. We need to find it.”

Scrambling to the kitchen, I drop to my knees. “Dammit. Nothing.”

Scott kneels beside me, one hand solid against my lower back. “Open the tackle box.”

Reaching for the corroded container, I set it on the floor. The circle of light steadies while I tilt the lid up. The top tray contains colored bobs, hand-tied flies, and hooks of all sizes. Wedged in the corner? A bright blue USB drive.

“Gotcha.” My breath hitches when I pick it up between my thumb and forefinger. Hell, I half expect it to detonate.

Once I’ve shoved everything back in place, I hurry to the slate hearth, hitting it hard.

My hands tremble as I plug in the stick then open the only document. The first tab displays GPS coordinates. The second lists names.

My partner leans over the display, scanning the contents.

After a moment, he stiffens. “I know some of these people. They’re FBI.”

My arm slides around his waist so I can burrow into his side. Perhaps, if I get close enough, I’ll wake from this nightmare.

Heart pounding, I pose the question I’m not sure I want answered. “Are they helping the Iranians or working against them?”

“No clue.” Jaw clenched, he copy-pastes the locations into Google Maps while I look on. New York City. LA. Chicago.

Back on the spreadsheet, he reveals a hidden column. “Oh shit. These dates are this week.”

OhmuhGod, ohmuhGod, ohmuhGod. Throat tight, my heart slams so hard, my ears start ringing. Ricin. FBI agents. Iranians. Millions of deaths.

While I clutch onto his forearm, his stormy eyes snap to mine. “We need to send this. Think, Kell. How?”

“We might get a signal at the summit.” It’s a crap shoot, but hey, we have to try.

“How far?” No question, he’s already calculated our odds of survival.

“No more than a mile. In the summer, there’s a decent path. Now?” Picturing the treacherously steep trail, I shake my head.

The veins in his neck throb while he nods. “Let’s get some shuteye. We move out at dawn.”