Page 46

Stella

Siren Song, Maine

W hen Stella entered the dining room, she found Ren seated at the table behind an open laptop.

He had arranged a secure call with the Bishop Security team.

Stella felt a swirl of unease as she entered the room.

It was ingrained in her to keep secrets.

Even as a gabby teenager, she had never shared information about her agency.

Then, of course, there was the elephant in the room.

Ren had slept with her and left without a word.

She may be inexperienced, but Stella wasn’t an idiot—that was asshole behavior that left her feeling cheap and used.

All it would have taken was a kiss on the cheek or a word of praise—he certainly wasn’t short of them while he was fucking her—and everything would have been fine.

As it was, she couldn’t continue the arrangement.

What was the point of great sex if she felt awful afterward?

Newton seemed to sense her disquiet; he left his usual spot at Ren’s feet and followed Stella into the kitchen.

After getting a cup of coffee, Stella joined Ren at the table. “So, what’s on the agenda?”

“First, this.” Ren slid a tablet in front of her.

“What’s this?”

“The results of my last physical. I know we both said we were clean, but you’ll forgive me if I’d like some proof. Figured if I wanted to see yours, I should show you mine.”

Stella blinked back the tears misting her eyes and picked up the device while she corralled the sadness and rage coursing through her. After a minute of pretending to read the results, she returned the iPad and said, “I can’t show you my results.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’ve never been tested for STDs.”

Ren shot to his feet. “What?”

“Was I unclear?”

“Why the hell not?”

“Because I’ve never had sex before.”

Ren was pacing and tugging at his hair. “Of all the irresponsible, stupid—”

Stella watched as her words finally registered.

“What did you just say?”

“Before that night in the hotel in England, I was a virgin.”

“A virgin?”

“Did your IQ suddenly drop? Yes, a virgin. You deflowered me. Should I draw you a diagram?”

Ren turned to face her, and Stella couldn’t begin to read his expression.

It was like looking through the window of a running dryer: awe, distrust, attraction, disgust, fear, and arousal all tumbled past like T-shirts and socks.

He opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again. He looked like a fish on a dock.

Stella was an outstanding spy because she prepared for any eventuality.

At this moment, she wasn’t sure if Ren was going to throw her across the room, spread her out on the dining table, or walk out the door.

Fortunately, the alert coming from his laptop spared her additional theorizing. His team was ready for the meeting.

REN

“ Y ou sure you’re okay, Buddy? You look a little peaked.” Steady smirked on the screen.

Of course, his smart-ass friend would notice that Ren was out of sorts. He couldn’t focus on the call, couldn’t retain information. Hell, he could barely speak.

Stella was a virgin.

She was also a liar.

He blew out a breath. No matter how much he tried to factor in that Stella was a master manipulator and a skilled prevaricator, deep down, Ren knew she was telling the truth.

Her hesitation and unsureness, the look on her face—that mix of desire and shock—all added up.

He wondered if she had ever even touched herself.

“Ren.” Tox snapped his big fingers, taking up most of the screen.

“Sorry. Where were we?”

Nathan looked at Ren curiously. “Stella is briefing us on the guy who’s trying to kill you. So if you want to pay attention, that would be dandy.”

He glanced at Stella sitting beside him. She was the height of professionalism—not a hint that she had just dropped an emotional bomb.

She cleared her throat. “As I was saying, from what Ren said about the man he spotted at the party in England, I’d say it’s a contract killer known as The Priest.”

Chat leaned forward and rested his hands on the conference table. “What are the odds he can track you?”

“With enough resources, anyone can be found.” She hesitated. “It’s also possible he had access to my Hyperion tracker and pinned us in Massachusetts before we removed the chip.”

Ren saw Stella’s slight shudder at the memory of her assault as she unconsciously rubbed her scabbed wrists. Ren wanted to kick his own ass for not attending to her injuries after she had so caringly treated his. Her half-smile eased his guilt.

Steady slapped his thighs on the screen. “Alrighty. I’m flying Chat to New York in the morning. I’ll bring Tox, and we can hop up to Maine and relocate you.”

Ren shook his head. “They haven’t tracked us so far. I’d like to stay put for the time being. There’s something suspicious about Iggy’s father’s death I’d like to look into.”

Nathan Bishop looked at them. “Stella?”

“I agree with Ren. The spy has the resources to locate us, but I’m betting they don’t want to make any moves that would draw attention or raise questions.”

Steady said, “Then how ‘bout I head up for outer perimeter security?”

Twitch looked at Stella with concern. “How are you holding up?”

Ren watched confusion and gratitude play across Stella’s face as she realized Twitch wasn’t holding a grudge about her deception. She couldn’t mask the emotion in her voice when she replied, “Good. I’m good.”

Ren wondered how Twitch could be so forgiving. Of all the team, Twitch had been the closest with Sofria Kirk. How was she able to simply let that go?

With a knock on the table, Nathan got everyone back on track. “Okay, Ren and Stella, stay put for now. Steady will fly up tomorrow and establish outer-perimeter security. Twitch will arrange equipment. My assistant, Rosemary, will take care of accommodations and vehicles.”

Ren confirmed, “Good copy.”

After a brief sign-off, the screen went dark.

Stella looked at Ren expectantly. Expecting what, he wasn’t sure. All Ren knew was that he needed to sort the torrent of thoughts tumbling around in his head.

Without explanation, he stood. “I’ll be on the deck.”

Ren hadn’t felt this addled since his first year of college when anxiety attacks plagued him. So he once again returned to his coping mechanism and made a list.

He was furious Stella had invaded his privacy and embarrassed she had discovered his little OCD habit. But it could have been so much worse.

His phone held a few dozen lists, primarily for entertainment purposes—movie recommendations and restaurants he liked. Thank God she hadn’t found the box hidden at the back of his closet where Ren kept thousands of lists he had made over the past two decades.

When he discovered what his mother had done, Ren’s father sent him to a therapist who suggested the list-making tactic.

From the age of sixteen, Ren translated his thoughts, ideas, and feelings into numbered order.

Sometimes, it was on his computer. Sometimes, it was on whatever available scrap of paper he could find.

Most of the time, it was in a pocket-sized black notebook.

The shoe box in his apartment held at least fifty.

He picked up the pen and began ordering his thoughts on the yellow legal pad he had brought out.

1. Virgin

That was as far as he got. His inner turmoil wouldn’t be resolved quickly.

He was angry, but Ren knew it was irrational.

He wished he had known, but there was no way in the frenzy of their violent encounter in that hotel room that she ever could have told him.

If he had known, would it have changed things?

Would he have been gentler or stopped altogether?

He hated to admit part of him was glad she hadn’t told him.

There was no issue of consent: Stella had encouraged him every step of the way.

Fuck . Ren wasn’t violent or impulsive, but the startling truth was he had no regrets.

Ren wasn’t a virgin, but his mother’s betrayal had triggered nearly crippling sexual dysfunction. He could count his conquests on one hand. In layman’s terms, his brain got in the way of his dick.

Except with Stella. He wanted her constantly.

When she wasn’t with him, he obsessed over her.

When she was near, he couldn’t drag his eyes away; he wanted to burn every curve of her body, every look on her face, into his memory.

He hated Stella Keen, and it infuriated Ren that he had to remind himself of that fact.

What was this feeling? It was as if some Neanderthal had awakened inside him, breaking down the advancements of evolutionary progress. It was all he could do to beat back the uncontrollable urge to drag Stella by her hair to the bedroom and claim her.

Years ago, a therapist had warned Ren that when his libido returned—and the doctor assured him it would—Ren would have to be careful.

His sexuality had not developed at a normal rate, and when it rebooted, Ren would experience all of the irrationality and lust of a teenage boy not an adult male.

He blew out a breath, relieved he had such a firm grip on his emotions.

When Ren checked the time, he was shocked to discover an hour had passed. His list had only one item.

A gust of wind blew the pen across the table and onto the deck. As he bent down to retrieve it, movement in his periphery pulled his gaze to the bluff.

In an instant, Ren flew from his chair and ran.