Renegade (Elite Ops 5) (41 page)

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"You're always hot," he told her. "One of these days, those jealous bastards are going to come up missing eyes, though."

The teasing struck at Nik's soul, slicing through his heart with a jagged blade.

He could have that, with Mikayla. But for how long? How long before the job, his

responsibilities, tore at their relationship? How long before she decided she needed a lover? . . . That thought fractured.

No, if Mikayla made the vows, she would uphold them. But love died when it

wasn't nurtured. He wasn't free. The Elite Ops still had two more years of his life, and the missions were often near-suicide trips.

If he and Mikayla had a child, if an enemy found Mikayla, if she fell out of love

with Nik, if she learned who and what he truly was, if she needed more than he could give . . .

If. So many ifs. So many that he knew there was nothing to do at the end of the

road but walk in the other direction.

As he entered the kitchen, his gaze moved to her. She was just as pale as Ian said she was, and she looked tired. She needed to be sleeping rather than putting up with this.

She needed to be making her dresses rather than fearing for her life.

She needed to be tucked close against Nik's body where he'd know she was safe.

Her gaze lifted to him as he stepped inside the room, her unusual eyes flaring with hunger and pain. Even after he'd hurt her, made her cry, still she wanted him.

Aching need and a fierce, almost furious desperation shadowed them now.

Damn her, she was tying herself to him. She was falling in love with him, if she

hadn't already. Dealing with that knowledge was something he found harder to do than facing terrorists. Facing the hungry need he could sense inside her was like facing a bomb. Nuclear. With the potential to destroy more than just his sanity. It had the potential to destroy his very soul.

"Now that you're happy with your dress, we'll head back to the hotel." Ian grinned down at his wife as though she were the socializing little butterfly she pretended to be.

The truth was, Kira Richards was probably just as dangerous as her husband. In some ways, more so, because a man wouldn't expect it coming from her.

"I'm ready." Kira's gaze turned to Nik. "Take care of her, Nik; I have a feeling she and I are going to become very good friends."

That statement was enough to send frissons of alarm scattering down his spine,

but he gave her a tight nod anyway. He held back the awareness in Kira's statement that he'd always have a tie to Mikayla. Kira would keep up with her. She would keep Mikayla safe.

That didn't help him sleep at night, though.

Holding Mikayla in the darkness hours later, Nik smoothed his hand down her

back, over the light, sleeveless gown she wore, as his eyes closed in agony.

There were few times in the past ten years that he had allowed himself to

remember the fact that once he had loved his deceased wife. That he had trusted her, laughed with her. That he had lain in bed and dreamed of the future they would have together.

But it hadn't been the same, Nik admitted. There had always been a part of him

that had wondered if his wife's affair with Anton had been fully dead.

Anton Vileski.

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Nik's jaw clenched. She had been sleeping with Anton before Nik met her, but he

hadn't learned of the affair until after their marriage. An affair that had supposedly been over before she met Nik.

He'd always wondered, though. He'd loved her more than he'd ever loved another

woman at that time, but a part of him had always feared that his position inside the Russian federal government had been the reason she had married him. That she had

married him for her lover.

Nik had never doubted Nicolette was his own, though. From the moment of her

birth, staring into her pale, pale blue eyes he'd known that tiny scrap of screaming humanity was his. And he had adored her. Cherished her.

And he had lost her.

Stroking his hand lower, his fingers met bare flesh where Mikayla's gown had

ridden up above her hips. She was naked. There were no panties covering her, just sweet, warm, feminine flesh.

Memories of his deceased wife retreated beneath the warmth of Mikayla's bare

flesh. The need to touch her became more important than the need to push back the

unfamiliar emotions crowding inside him.

Those emotions he was finding only amped the pleasure, though. As his fingers

moved over the curve of her rear to find the damp, slick folds of her pussy, they tightened his chest, his muscles, allowing nerve endings to pulse closer to the skin, to experience each nuance of touch.

As his fingers slid over the plump folds, he felt the heat rising inside him. His

cock became immediately erect, pulsing, throbbing with an unsated hunger impossible to control as Mikayla shifted slowly awake beside him.

Without saying a word, she flowed against him, lifting, her hair falling around her to spread out around his face, her lips lowered to his.

It was a drowsy, sleepy kiss. One filled with slow, lazy hunger and heated need as one slender leg slid over his hips.

What she did next rocked him clear to his soul. Lifting above her, her hips moved, shifted until the hot folds of her pussy cupped the engorged head of his cock.

As she pressed down, the snug tissue parting, flexing around the sensitive crest,

electricity began raging over his flesh. From the top of his head to his toes, sensation traveled like flames through him. It thundered through his veins. It raced through his chest.

Her pussy gripped his cock like a tight, sensual glove, milking it, loving it. Like the tightest little mouth sucking him deep and strong, she drew him into her.

Gripping her hips with his hands, Nik thrust powerfully against her, parting the

tender tissue as she cried out above him and burying into her to the hilt.

It was fast, glorious. It was a rush of flames searing his flesh as he began

powering inside her, driving her fast and hard into an orgasm that had her shaking, shuddering against him.

As he felt her pussy flexing and gripping him, Nik gave in to his own need. As his seed spurted inside her, Mikayla collapsed against him, breathing hard, trembling in his arms.

"I love you, Nik. I love you so much," she whispered. "So much."

The words exploded inside his head, fractured inside him, and tore one last,

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torturous jet of come from his cock. That final burst of pleasure shattered his senses as her words had shattered his soul.

She loved him.

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Chapter 22

Had she actually whispered those words the night before? Had she told him that

she loved him, or had that simply been another dream?

The next day, as Nik and Mikayla entered the parking lot to Holbrook

Construction, Mikayla fought to remember what was real and what was simply a dream.

It wasn't as though it was the first time she had dreamed of taking Nik, riding him to completion as she whispered her love for him.

Nervous tension ratcheted inside her at the thought that she could have revealed

that secret to him. She hadn't even wanted to admit it to herself until now. Until there was the danger that she had dared to whisper those words to Nik.

Surely if she had said them he would have mentioned it. Been angry, unnaturally

cold, or something. He was so determined that she not love him, that he not love her, that surely he couldn't have ignored it.

He wasn't acting any differently, though. He was acting as though it hadn't

happened. As though nothing were any different between them than it had been the night before.

She was very well aware of the fact that Nik didn't want her love. So where did

that leave her?

At least she was with him, she thought wearily. He hadn't argued over her

accompanying him; he hadn't suggested she hide at the shop instead. That was his normal suggestion as they started each day.

"Holbrook isn't known for his control over his temper," Nik warned her as they moved toward the entrance. "Stay behind me, watch, and listen. If you think of anything, then get my attention and we'll discuss it where he can't hear it. Let's not give him the chance to one-up us."

"Do I ever mess up?" she asked.

"Never." His surprising admission nearly had her pausing in shock.

Gripping the door, he swung it open and stepped inside before drawing her to

him. With his hand riding low on her back they moved to the receptionist's desk.

The blue jean-clad young woman sitting at the desk glanced up from a movie

playing on the computer, her brown eyes widening as she stared at Nik warily.

The small nameplate on her desk read: "Tabitha Holbrook." Nepotism didn't always pay. Then the girl grimaced in distaste as she stared back at Nik.

That surprised Mikayla. She'd been in Maddix Nelson's office building several

times, and never had she seen this.

"What do you want?" the receptionist's voice squeaked.

Mikayla nearly winced at the complete lack of protocol.

"Nik Steele. I'm here to see Reed Holbrook," Nik informed the receptionist, his dark, rough voice as casual as Mikayla had ever heard it.

It was obvious he was trying not to frighten the young girl.

The receptionist pressed a button on the call pad before speaking into the headset 201

she wore. "Yeah, uh, there's a Nik Steele here to see Uncle Reed--" She blinked up at Nik as the person on the line obviously spoke. Mikayla could have sworn she paled.

"You want me to do what?" she hissed as she ducked her head. "Look, you want him told that, then you tell him. Not me. He's scary."

Mikayla glanced at Nik, noticed his frown, and hid a smile. Actually, she thought

he looked pretty damned sexy.

"You tell him . . . ," Tabitha repeated.

Nik leaned forward, placed his hands flat on the desk, and Mikayla almost giggled

when he scowled down at the receptionist, causing her to jump back in fear.

"Holbrook. Now. Tell him Senator Stanton advises him it's in his best interests to speak to us." Pure male dominance transformed Nik.

It reflected on his face and in his voice.

Pure arrogance. A force of nature. It was going to kill Mikayla to lose him, but

what she was learning from him she would never forget. Determination, arrogance. And how to navigate more anger than she could have imagined she would have to face.

Nik used the senator's name, a calling card he'd debated leaving unused for this

meeting. The senator had left a message on Nik's phone that morning that his name

would get Nik in to see Holbrook if nothing else could.

Stanton was part of the founding Elite Ops organization. Though his participation

wasn't known outside the secret group of agents, his power was still far-reaching.

Nik was still glaring into Tabitha Holbrook's frightened gaze when the doors

behind her pushed open.

Reed Holbrook's personal assistant, Arlene Dayton, was harried. Shoulder-length

black and gray hair was disheveled, dark gray eyes filled with irritation as her overly red lipsticked lips were thinned and held an angry line.

Mrs. Dayton was a far cry from Alison Chenkins, Maddix Nelson's personal

assistant. There was clearly no professionalism here, no business protocol.

"Mr. Steele." Arlene Dayton's tone was just as harried as her appearance. "Mr.

Holbrook has a very tight schedule, but he can give you five minutes if you'll come with me."

Nik straightened and turned back to Mikayla, his hand reaching out for her. She

didn't hesitate to take it. The move clenched his chest even as he fought against the reaction and resulting emotions rising inside him.

The personal assistant led them through another room and then to Reed

Holbrook's office.

Opening the doors, she stepped aside as they entered.

Holbrook stood behind his desk, his craggy face and wide goateed beard giving a

harsh appearance. There were none of the neat, conscientious appearances here, that was for damned sure.

"I'd offer you a drink," Holbrook sneered. "But I didn't exactly invite the two of you here."

"Oh, that's okay, Reed," Nik answered. "A drink wasn't really what I was after to begin with."

Nik placed himself just in front of Mikayla as Reed snarled back at them while

they took seats in front of the desk.

"I don't fucking have time to deal with this," Reed bit out furiously as he threw 202

himself back into his seat.

"But you made time to meet with Eddie Foreman on a Nelson construction project the day he died. Now you can take time to discuss it with me."

Reed rolled his eyes. "So what? Little fucker swore he'd make it worth my while.

He didn't, so I left. So don't try pinning Nelson's actions on me. I didn't kill Eddie."

"How was he going to make it worth your while, Reed?" Nik asked with mocking curiosity. "What did Eddie have that he thought you would want?"

"He said he had some information, proof Nelson was using shoddy materials for a project. He wanted money for the proof, but he didn't have shit. I left."

Nik arched a brow. "He just wanted money? Was he having any problems with

Nelson?"

"Little fucker was always after money, just like he was always looking for an angle he could cheat someone with."

"You sound like you dealt with him a lot," Nik stated conversely, watching the cunning and temper that flashed in Reed's gaze.

"Enough," Reed answered. "But not nearly as much as you want to pin on me.

Now, if this is all, I have a meeting to leave for."

Reed rose to his feet, glaring back at Nik as he and Mikayla rose to their feet.

"Tell me, Reed, do your business partners, your brothers, know that several of your projects are backed by a known criminal figure?"