Compromised (8 page)

His tongue touched hers and her senses and nerve endings came alive. He felt like home. A dark, impenetrable, warm, and sexy home. Her heartbeat raced and butterflies heralded the coming of spring in her stomach. He still wanted her. She still wanted him. She didn't care about anything else.

She held his face as she stood and climbed astride his thighs, still kissing him. His hands went to her breasts, and he ran the backs of them over the swell above her neckline. And then he found the zipper of the dress and pulled it down to her waist.

He yanked her toward him and put his mouth around her nipples, through her bra. As he sucked and bit, she arched her back, aching for him to make her feel more. And more.

She grabbed his short hair and rammed her mouth against his. She wanted to hurt him, to be hurt by him, to bruise her mouth, so she'd be sure his being here wasn't some crazy fucked-up illusion. But mostly so he'd regret lying to her and leaving her.

His dick strained against his cargo pants, and she ground herself against it, moving her hips so that she could feel the whole length of him.

“Stop,” he whispered, out of breath. “Not like this. I don't want to hurt you.”

“Now you decide you don't want to hurt me?” she whispered back, not wanting to lose the moment. She wanted to come so badly.

His hand splayed against her throat, dragging his fingers slowly from her chin to her bra. His mouth followed, slow and firm. She wanted to protest, but his tongue snaked a hot trail over her pulse points, making her heart race. She'd protest in a minute.

“You've changed so much,” he murmured against her throat.

She was about to respond when he found his way under her skirt to her panties. He slipped under them as if he was trained in stealth. Which he was.

For a second she was embarrassed at how wet she was for him. But the new Sadie took over and moaned as his fingers slid against her gently. She'd forgotten how the slightest touch from Simon would have her climbing the heights of pleasure. How had she forgotten that?

She arched again, this time rising from her knees to allow him better access. He pressed against her clit with his thumb as he slid a finger inside her. Heat spread through her, and she gasped for air. It wasn't enough; it just wasn't enough. She wanted to feel him all over, wanted him naked and hard all over beneath her fingers. She wanted to touch him in a way that she never had before. This wasn't the place for that.

Neither of them could afford the scrutiny if the police happened to wander in to the quiet gardens. “We…shouldn't do this here…” she said, voice cracking.

“I don't care. Do you care?”

“If you get caught…”

“I won't get caught,” he whispered. “But if it makes you feel better, I absolutely won't tell anyone that you jumped me as I was taking my evening walk.”

She laughed and was about to retort that no one would believe he'd be that lucky, when he grabbed her hips and stood with her legs around his waist. He strode toward a half-tumbled-down wall. Actually a T section of wall covered in graffiti to within an inch of its life. He set her down and pushed her back into the angle of the wall. They were completely invisible now.

Her pulse picked up again as he tore off his shirt over his head. Her fingers trailed a damp path down his chest. His own hands stayed at his side, fists clenched. Why wasn't he touching her?

“Tell me what you're doing here, Sadie.”

Did he mean here here, or in Athens? There was no way he was going to interrogate her

while she was standing here in her bra.

“I'm trying to fuck my ex out of my head,” she said, knowing her words would shock him. She reached behind her and removed her bra. A muscle clenched in his jaw.
Score
.

He still didn't move. So she turned around and, bending at the waist, shimmied out of her panties. When they were on the ground, she braced herself against the wall with her arms. “Do I have to remind you what to do? I can recommend a sex-ed boo—”

The noise of the slap reached her faster than the sharp pain on her butt. She gasped and tried to turn around. He wouldn't let her.

“Enough. You stay right there, missy.” He put her hands back on the wall and kicked her feet apart. “You've been…bad. Very, very bad. You fuck me like I'm some gigolo, you refuse to tell me anything that's going on in your life, you have a boyfriend—in case you've forgotten—and now you try to distract me. Am I wrong?”

She had no comeback. She was about to accuse him of desertion the previous year, when he flipped up her dress's skirt around her waist. Words choked in her throat as his fingers lightly scraped down her butt to the top of her thighs. A thread of something lit up in her. A pulse of life. She couldn't help but bend over a little more.

He just laughed and slid his hand between her legs. “Jesus. You're so wet. Is that for me or for your boyfriend?” He was brutal.

She moaned. She wanted to dive into this feeling, this moment, and never come up again.

He slipped a finger inside her and she groaned. “Do you want me to fuck you?”

He'd never used that word before when they'd been in bed. She suspected he was trying to turn her on and make her feel bad. It was working. It was so fucked up.

“Yes,” she gasped over her shoulder. She felt like everything inside her would come tumbling out if he didn't.

He spanked her again and spun her around. “I'm going to fuck you all right, but you are going to be facing me, not turning away, imagining it's someone else inside you. You're going to know for sure it's me.”

He undid his pants with one hand. The parts of his body she could see in the dim light were a work of art, as they always had been, all defined muscles and swagger, but she had no time to look at it. He grabbed her butt and dragged her to him, lifting her so that she had to wrap her legs around him.

He backed her into the wall and, with one hand, took his dick and thrust into her. Her back grazed against the wall, adding friction and pain to the pleasure that was pulsing through her.

He stayed there, not moving. She tightened her muscles around him.
Come on. I need this.

He pulled her hair down her back, exposing her neck to him again. Biting down on her throat gently, he groaned and started sliding in and out of her, each thrust taking him farther and farther into her. She felt as if she were absorbing him.

She rocked her hips, needing all of him to fill her up. “More,” she whispered, as he moved his head to look at her. She lowered her mouth to his and kissed him, softly at first, almost like a declaration of love. His tongue pushed against hers, as if he couldn't get enough of her, and the kiss became deeper. His thrusts became more forceful and faster. Heat expanded in her as he tore his mouth away from hers and groaned as he came. She rocked her hips lightly against him, reveling for a second in the power she had over him like this.

When they were just talking, she was on guard, flippant, playing a role. With Simon buried deep inside her, losing himself in her, she was free from all that. Free from everything. It was a strangely addicting feeling. One that had her hypersensitive to everything, as if every cell on her body had a cool breeze blowing on it, even in this sticky, still, humid heat.

Simon put her down slowly and then stretched his arms out on either side of her on the wall. He took a breath.

Sadie was worried he was about to get serious again. “That'll be sixty euros, mister,” she said with wide eyes.

He drew his head up and peered down at her.

“What? You're the one who brought up hookers.” She winked at him cheekily and he burst out laughing.

“You're the worst.”

“Yes, I am.” She bent over to get her bra and picked up his shirt too. Pushing it into his stomach, she said, “You should get dressed. You look like the Terminator. No sense startling the locals.”

He laughed again and shook his head. “Jesus, Sadie. I can't believe how much you've changed. It's like…I don't know. Were you holding back with me before? Were you…scared of me or something?”

Her heart dropped. She didn't mean for him to think that what they had wasn't real. Or…
but wait
. He lied to her when he met her. She had to remember that. She'd been thinking about it constantly since she left The Farm, and yet after just a couple of nights with Simon, it had somehow slipped out of the front of her mind.

“What? No,” she scoffed. “I've just had…different experiences since we broke up. Learned more about myself.” Shit, what was she saying? She meant she'd become more independent and empowered, but as she said the words she realized that it had sounded like she'd been spending her time sleeping with guys.

His eyes narrowed and he looked away as he put on his shirt. “Come on. I'll walk you back to your apartment.”

“There's no need,” she said, struggling into her panties and stuffing her bra in her purse. His voice was suddenly hard, and every part of her wanted to reassure him that she wasn't sleeping around, but her brain told her that she didn't need to. It wasn't on her to clear up any confusion he had about her life. It was nothing to do with him.

“I'm going to take you anyway.”

“What if I don't want to go to my apartment?” she asked, ire rising.

He stopped and stared at her for a moment. “Whatever.” He turned and walked away, through the garden, disappearing from view almost immediately—something she thought she was used to.

It still hurt.

H
e'd followed her home—of course he had. There was no way he was going to let her walk home by herself with that glow on her face and her bra in her bag. She'd gone straight back to her apartment, not even noticing the number of men who'd walked past her and craned their necks looking at her when she passed. He'd wanted to snap their necks for just looking, but he pushed away those emotions and concentrated on the mission: Get Sadie home safely.

He'd loitered on the opposite side of the road as she went in. He saw her light go on but only left some minutes later when the light was finally extinguished.

Bars called out to him like a siren song, but as much as he wanted to drown in some liquor somewhere, he knew he couldn't fuck up like that two nights in a row. He needed some sleep.

He walked past the hotel bar on his way to his room and clocked Garrett and the minister still awake, giggling—there was really no other word for it—over the small table they were sitting at. The minister's minders stood around the wall. When Mal saw him, his face evened out for a split second, giving a virtually imperceptible nod. He then started laughing again at something the minister said. Clearly Simon had made the right choice by not drinking. They couldn't both have a hangover tomorrow.

He went to his room and stepped into the shower before lying naked in the dark, wondering what the hell was going on with Sadie.

“Get your cacks on, mate. I don't need to see that.” Something hit him in the face, and he sat bolt upright. Garrett.

“How the hell did you get in here?” he asked, holding the thrown towel to his crotch.

“The same way I get in everything and everyone. Charm.”

Simon squinted and saw he was holding a bunch of towels. So the maid let him in, then. “What time is it?”

“Time for you to tell me the plan,” Mal said, plugging in the coffeemaker.

“What plan?”

He turned around. “You haven't checked your email since…? Huh. He told me you were focused, efficient. I guess you better boot up. Fuck…where is the sodding on switch for this fucking…okay, got it.”

Dread washed over Simon as he realized that he hadn't actually checked his encrypted email since yesterday afternoon. He'd been trained to check it every three hours when not in the field on an op. And it hadn't once crossed his mind to even look at his computer since Mal walked off with the minister. His focus had been Sadie and nothing else. Shit.

He strode to the safe and got his PC out, booted it up, and while waiting for his ID card to be authenticated, he slipped into jeans, for which he earned a thankful look from Mal. It also occurred to him that his boss at Fort Bragg could easily see when he last logged in.

Shit.

“You want to fill me in while I'm waiting for this?” He nodded to his PC.

“Nope. I'm the temp, remember? You may take something totally different away from your email. If I'm running the op, too right I'll tell you about it. You're running it? It's on you to figure out the nuance in that email.”

Nuance. Who would have thought that word would come out of his mouth? He was a surprise. Hadn't heard anyone external to CAG draw op lines in the sand like that so succinctly since…when? Fuck. Enduring Freedom. Nearly ten years. “Well, make yourself useful with the coffee, then,” he grumbled.

“What do you think I'm doing, asking it out for dinner? Jesus. It's coming.” Mal shook his head and sat on the arm of the chair nearest the percolator. “I suppose it didn't occur to you to preorder breakfast and proper coffee to the room, did it?”

He was in to his computer. “Nope.” Five emails. Eh, three of them were regarding admin, two of them from Barnum. “What the…?” He looked at Garrett, who stared impassively back at him.

Simon reread the email and then clicked into the second email. He looked at the ceiling for inspiration. “Are you kidding me?” he murmured.

“Here.” Garrett passed him a white china mug of coffee and sat again.

“We have to prepare to save the minister ourselves if it looks like anyone else is trying to extract him? That's…”

“The dog's bollocks? I know. It's brilliant. If the Russians are sending out rumors that the CIA is going to kidnap him, imagine their surprise when we
save
him! No one expects the Spanish Inquisition,” Garrett said, looking schoolkid excited for the first time.

“Seriously? Am I expected to understand what you're talking about?”

Garrett leaned forward and etched a look of fake concern on his face. “You do know I'm speaking English, right?” He spoke really slowly, sounding out every word until Simon seriously contemplated reaching down his throat to rip his larynx out.

“What did you and the minister talk about last night?” Simon asked, wondering if anything he said might give them an in, or at least a weakness to exploit.

“Women mainly. He thinks Francois is a complete dog when it comes to women, so he delights in detailing all the nitty-gritty of his exploits. He had three of his regular—well, he calls them mistresses, and who am I to judge—flown to Athens for the three weeks he's here and has them all staying at different hotels. He tells his wife he's going to a meeting, and voilà. I guess you have to give him props for his balls.”

“I've followed him to…wait—let me check.” Simon got his GPS watch from the nightstand and clicked through the locations he'd checked. “Four—I have him going to four hotels.”

They looked at each other for a second with mirroring frowns. “Could be nothing? Just another girl he's met?” Garrett said slowly.

“Could be some other kind of meeting,” Simon said with a shrug.

“Could be…” Garrett agreed softly.

Sadie got to work bright and early, feeling a little better than she had the previous morning. She'd gotten up early enough to get coffee and a pastry from the bakery around the corner from the office, and she was looking forward to a refill from Sebastian's heavenly coffee machine.

She was working very hard to keep Simon out of her mind. The sex had been incredible. Better than she remembered—more…raw and hungry. Just the thought of it sent cool ripples through her stomach. Like butterflies but sexier. Sexy butterflies.
Shit. Get a grip, girl
.

Sebastian wasn't in yet, so she grabbed a coffee from his personal stash—better to apologize later than ask for permission before—and looked at the intel messages that had come in overnight. Nothing seemed unusual, and there was nothing that needed action, but she did what she was supposed to do and went through surveillance photos from her region.

She hadn't even gotten through the first set from Turkey before the phone startled her. She looked at the black phone on her desk. The light was flashing next to Devries Construction again. Her heart stuttered as she looked around. She was alone in the office. No one to lean on for support. She picked up the phone and affected a nasal voice. “Devries. Can I help you? Certainly, please hold.”

It was Platon. She looked at her cell phone. Again, he hadn't even tried it, so she assumed that it was another call orchestrated by Stratigos.

“Inventory Management, Sadie speaking.” She hoped he couldn't hear her heart through the phone.

“
Koukla mou
! How are you?”

She played a hunch. “I'm great, thank you. I'm alone in the office today, so I don't have my boss breathing down my neck.” She cast her eyes at the chief's empty office.

“Can you slip out for a few minutes? Stratigos wants to talk to you.”

“Um…okay. Will you be there too?” Her mind started racing.

“Of course,
koukla mou
!” He named a café and a time before hanging up.

Sadie hung up the phone and breathed deeply. Was she ready for this? What was this about? Had he discovered who she was? Was he going to kill her? Test her? Invite her over for dinner? Where was Sebastian? She fumbled for her cell phone and dialed his number. It went straight to voice mail. Why hadn't she called from the office phone? She was losing her shit over one phone call. She could do this. This is what she'd been trained for. She took a breath and deleted the number from her phone and tapped her fingers on the desk as her eyes caught sight of her group photo from The Farm. There were six of them in the photo, muddy, having just completed the final physical test. All their faces were blurred out except hers. Everyone was given the same photo with only their face showing. It was a joke, but she'd loved it and brought it with her.

She took another breath and remembered her extensive training.
Use your brain to get out of trouble, not a weapon. As soon as you use a weapon, your cover will be blown
. She opened her drawer and grabbed the piece of paper that she'd used to plot out how she thought inventory management would work at the fictitious Devries Construction. She'd memorized it when she'd arrived in Athens but thought a refresher would calm her down.

Suddenly she wished she had Simon following her. Covering her back. Protecting her.
Dammit
. No she didn't. She could handle this.

At the appointed time, she arrived at the café, swinging her purse as if she had zero cares in the world. She gave them both a wide smile when she saw Platon and Stratigos sitting at a table slightly isolated from the other coffee-drinking tourists.

Platon jumped up and kissed her chastely on both cheeks. Stratigos's expression was appraising. She ordered another coffee and wondered just how jumped up on caffeine she was going to be by the end of the day.

Stratigos started. “I understand that your company constructed the new annex on the US embassy here in the city, correct?”

“Yes. I think so. It happened before I was hired, but there is a large photo of the embassy in one of the restrooms in the office.” What was he angling for?

Stratigos laughed, and Platon joined in, although she could tell by his expression that he wasn't entirely sure why he was laughing.

“Appropriate positioning for the embassy, perhaps?” He guffawed again.

Sadie ignored the instinct to punch him in the face and giggled too.

“So, I would like to pay you for a copy of the construction blueprints. Say, one thousand euros for a large copy?” He held his hands out to indicate the size.

She knew exactly what was happening, and she couldn't control her glee. He was trying to recruit her with the oldest trick in the book. The one that she'd been taught to use. They were going to pay her for information anyone could easily obtain—the blueprints for all government buildings were kept in the central library—and after she took money from them once, she would belong to them. They would ask her for slightly more difficult things to find before they'd ask her for the one thing they really needed all along. When she refused, they'd show photos of her accepting money from them and tell her she was already a traitor who would go to prison.

She couldn't believe Stratigos was using it on her. And that Platon was letting him. Bastard.

“You look happy, yes? You need the money?” Stratigos asked, patting her hand.

“I can always use extra money.” She smiled. “When do you need the blueprints?”

“I give you the money now, and you give me the blueprints tomorrow, yes?”

“Wow. Absolutely. I saw these shoes that I really…” She stopped herself as if she were embarrassed, but he smiled.

He passed her a small envelope, and she put it in her bag. She was absolutely sure that someone was close by taking her photo, so she ducked her head slightly. No sense in putting her face on record if she didn't have to.

The older man got up. “Excellent. You can arrange the drop-off with Platon. I have some people who are here to see me.” He nodded to three men who were ostensibly looking at the menu at the entrance to the café.

She got up and shook his hand before leaving with Platon.

“I'll walk you back to your office,” he said excitedly.

“Thank you,” she said, tucking her arm in his. He seemed fidgety, on edge. As if he were on drugs. He laughed at nothing and wrapped his arm around her supertight.

They walked down a small back road, away from the tourists, and into the cool of the shadows. Suddenly he stopped. When she looked up at him, he crushed her mouth with his, pushing her into the opening of an alleyway. Shit.

She tore her mouth away. “Wow, Platon. What's gotten into you?” She rubbed the side of her mouth to show him that he'd hurt her, but his blazing eyes barely seemed to register her words. He pushed her against the wall, banging her head as he did.

“I need you,
koukla mou
. I've waited so long.” He nuzzled her neck as his hand snaked down to her skirt.

She was about to stop him, insist he make a date to see her in the normal manner, when his hand started an upward trajectory. She slapped his hand away playfully, but before he could react, he was yanked off her.

A man in a hoodie threw him to the ground, sat on him, and punched him twice. Platon was already unconscious when the man brought his hand up for another swing. She kicked the man in the armpit to inflict the maximum amount of pain. He jumped up with a grunt, and his hood fell down.

“Simon. What are you…?” She looked down at Platon, who was stirring. Or at least moaning. “What the hell are you doing?” she hissed.

“What do you mean, what am I doing? He was attacking you. I stopped him. You expected me to walk on by?” His voice suggested he was barely containing his rage. “I should kill him.” He took a step toward Platon.

“Don't move another inch,” she bit out. “I
let
him touch me. He was under control. Get away from here. Get away from
me
.”

He stalked off to the end of the alleyway, took one furious look back at Platon, and disappeared around the corner.