Seduced by the Storm (12 page)

Shortly
after Faith left his quarters, Wyatt walked outside and stood on the edge of
the platform, looked out into the swelling ocean that seemed unable to calm
itself since the earlier storm. The entire atmosphere seemed strange,
discontented, and the unease settled deep in his gut.

This
mission—the failure of this mission—could bring on the end of the motherfucking
world, and there wasn’t a thing he could do to help beyond destroying the
motherboard to prevent future disasters like the hurricane currently
threatening to strike the United States.

At
that point, it was all on Remy’s shoulders.

He
moved back and gripped the deck rails hard, hung his head and tried to get rid
of the dizzy feeling that had been rearing its head more and more often. The
off-the-rails feeling was related to his gifts, had hit him hard since he’d
gotten onto the platform. Had hit him even harder since he’d been with…

"Wyatt,
are you okay?" Faith’s voice floated over him, half-lost in the wind.

"I’m
great. Fine. Perfect," he said. He lifted his head but didn’t look at her.
Couldn’t. He knew every emotion would show on his face and he took a minute to
compose. To get back into Wyatt-the-roughneck mode, to a place where it was all
good and nothing could shake his game.

"Okay,
then, if you’re sure."

"I’m
not sure of anything," he admitted. "But I didn’t mean to freak you
out before. I just can’t seem to keep my hands off you. I don’t want to keep my
hands off you."

"I’m
not freaked out," she said, but he had the feeling she was lying.

"That
makes one of us, then."

She
turned to him and he shifted his weight and moved to hold them both steady as
the wind churned up and rocked the platform. He locked his arms around her,
holding on to either side of the pipe railing. "It’s all right—I’ve got
you."

"Why
are you freaked out, Wyatt?" she asked, concern in her eyes.

"Lots
of complicated reasons, Faith Black. Too complicated to go into here."

"Funny
thing, I understand complicated pretty well."

"I
thought you didn’t want to get close to me."

"I
didn’t say that, not exactly."

"You
didn’t have to, Faith. You ran out of the room before. Literally."

"You’re
the last person I expected to find out here. And you didn’t seem too thrilled
to see me either—you didn’t want me to remember you."

Yeah,
he wasn’t about to get into that one now.
Hey, Faith, you’ve been sleeping
with a crazy man who has special gifts.
"I grew up on a rig," he
said finally. "My family—everything—was all fucked up. Still is, I guess.
So I don’t have great memories of rigging."

"So
why do you keep working on one, then?"

He
shrugged. "Catharsis, maybe," he said, hoped she’d keep her hand on
his chest because, God, it felt good. He felt upright, like two halves closing
in to create a whole, and he wondered what it was about this woman that made
him feel so connected.

He
knew that he wasn’t going to let that feeling—or Faith—go easily. At first,
he’d figured it was something to do with the incredible sexual energy that
flowed between them, but he’d figured out in this instant that it went far
beyond sex. "I want to see you, Faith. I want to keep seeing you once we
get off this platform."

She
shook her head. "I don’t know if I can do that. I certainly can’t think
about it now."

"You’re
all I can think about."

"Wyatt!"
Don’s voice rang out over their heads.

Wyatt
turned toward the rig manager and Faith broke off contact with his chest. The
empty, scattered feeling returned instantly. "What’s up?"

"Boss
wants to see you."

"I
thought you were the boss."

"Cute,
Wyatt. Real fucking cute. Stowe requests that cuteness in his office.
ASAP."

That
was not a good sign—Wyatt had given the man a wide berth, not wanting to
trigger any suspicions that an ACRO agent had infiltrated the rig operations.
But he now had a sneaking suspicion of his own, that everything was about to
change rapidly—it was time to move it forward.

"Are
you in trouble?" Faith was asking. "Is this about the free dive
before?"

"Who
knows. The guy’s a total control freak. It’ll be fine." He gave her
shoulder a light squeeze, her energy zipping through him, and for a moment—just
a moment—he wondered if there was something special about Faith Black.
Something really special. "We’ll talk later."

He
reluctantly left her behind on the deck and ran the options in his mind to get
back into agent mode as he strolled casually to Sean’s office. He’d dressed
earlier with a few concealed weapons under his clothing. His powers were back
at full force—he’d talk to Sean, take a licking for the free dive and then it
was weather-machine time.

The
door was open and Sean, the man responsible for the weather machine that could
take out entire countries with the touch of a button, was waiting for him,
standing behind the desk, staring at his computer and not looking happy.

"In—and
leave the door open," Sean told him.

Wyatt
nodded, tried to keep the scowl off his face. "You wanted to see me,
sir?" he asked, arms behind his back in perfect SEAL posture. Because he
could pretend to kiss superiors’ asses with the best of them.

"That
stunt you pulled today, with the free dive, endangered too many other men. It
pulled attention away from shoring up the rig during the storm."

"That
stunt saved a man’s life. And that’s something I won’t apologize for,"
Wyatt shot back—so much for the ass kissing. It had never really worked for him
beyond the initial
sir
anyway.

"That
stunt is why you’re being fired," Sean said, hand on the button, probably
ready to call in his thugs and have Wyatt immediately escorted off the platform,
which would not work for Wyatt. He could handle them, sure, but then he’d be
giving away his hand even more, plus any shot at the weather machine. He
couldn’t blow it now, not when he was this close. And so, he would do what he
needed to do.

And he
wasn’t going to like it.

Damn,
he did
not
want to have to pull out this card, to have to seduce any
man—this man in particular—but when his back was up, and firmly against the
wall, he’d do what he needed to do to survive.

Wyatt
drew in a deep breath and took a step toward Sean. "Can I be honest with
you?" he started, letting the familiar tickling begin at his feet and
travel up between his legs and outward at a much faster pace than he’d normally
allow. He’d need a cloud of the mojo to release fast and furious, a pheromone
promise that Sean wouldn’t be able to resist.

"I
can’t guarantee that I’ll reward honesty," Sean said, but his hand dropped
from the button. Wyatt watched him shift his feet and throw his shoulders back,
posturing, and yeah, this was working.

"I
pulled that stunt for you." Wyatt hadn’t made a move, feeling the
vibrations in the air between him and Sean, and shit, he needed a plan for
after this plan.

"For
me?" Sean cocked his head and smiled, his eyelids heavier than they’d
been.

"Yeah."
Wyatt shrugged, sucked his bottom lip in and saw the hunger in Sean’s eyes,
could nearly read the man’s mind. Men were so fucking easy, much easier than
women. "I can’t ever seem to get you…alone. Can’t seem to get your
attention. I figured, maybe, if I impressed you, I could."

"What
would you need to get me alone for?" Sean asked, his tone lighter,
teasing, and Wyatt noted that the man had taken several long strides to close
the distance between them. He was seriously buying Wyatt’s cheesy bullshit.

Wyatt
had let out extra pheromones on Sean and maybe, just maybe, this was going to
backfire badly. But if he could get the guy so turned on he couldn’t think
straight, Wyatt could escape and leave Sean a panting but memoryless mess on
the floor.

Or
maybe he’d have to go all the way.

"How
about I tell you—no, I’ll show you. Once you switch off the security cameras
and close the door," Wyatt suggested.

They
were inches apart, Sean’s breathing quicker than it had been seconds before,
the change no longer subtle as his body leaned in toward Wyatt’s as he spoke.

"Why
don’t
you
shut the door? Perhaps there’s something we can work out that
would be mutually acceptable for both of us." Sean’s voice was low, husky,
with more than a hint of suggestion bleeding through the proper British façade
as he flipped open the security panel on the desk and paused the cameras.

Office
space—space in general—was at a premium, enabling Wyatt to shut the door
quickly and move back into position in front of Sean within seconds.

"What
did you have in mind, Mr. Stowe?"

"Many
things, Wyatt. I wish you’d come to me sooner about this. Why did you
wait?"

"Because
last I looked, I was just a lowly roughneck."

"Last
I looked, you were much more than that." Sean’s hand hooked the back of Wyatt’s
neck, caressed it with a lover’s touch before attempting to pull Wyatt’s mouth
toward his.

It
would be so easy, too easy, to kill Sean now, to snap his neck like a dried
twig. But killing him now was the surest way to death—although the other option
sucked dick as well. Literally.

Well,
hell, this was going to be more interesting than he’d anticipated.

Wyatt,
one of these days your pheromones are going to get you into big trouble—use
them wisely,
Sam, one of ACRO’s top
psychics, had told him just a few months ago. Of course, that’s when she’d been
in his lap.

She’d
been trying to figure out if there was a way someone could actually put up a
barrier against it. She’d had no luck at all in that department.

Sean
hadn’t let go of Wyatt’s neck and now his gaze—and his hand—traveled down
between Wyatt’s legs.

When
Sean began to kiss Wyatt’s neck, Wyatt wondered just how far he was going to
let this go.

This
will save your ass.

This
would eventually get him killed. All of it. Killing with his bare hands was a
skill he had, and one he used often enough, but it wasn’t going to be enough
against this enemy. And sex—the ultimate power—would get him far, but he
suspected it wouldn’t be far enough.

FAITH
HAD a very bad feeling about the meeting Sean had called with Wyatt. She hoped
it was about the free dive, but she wasn’t going to bet Wyatt’s life on that.
If Sean knew that she and Wyatt had been sleeping together…

Shit.

She’d
paced for a few minutes after Wyatt had gone, but her concern had gotten the
better of her. Earlier, right after she and Wyatt had screwed in his room,
she’d showered, changed, and had taken a brief sojourn into Sean’s office,
where she’d planted a micro–video camera that fed into her cell phone. TAG’s
tech team was top-notch, and the device, as long as it wasn’t in operation,
couldn’t be detected by security sweeps. When activated, it did put out a
signature, but the chances that someone would be sweeping Sean’s office right
at this moment were slim to none.

She
slipped into her tiny cell of a room, sank onto her bed and switched on her
phone’s feed. There was no sound, but the picture was clear, and…
holy shit.

Wyatt
and Sean were…She swallowed. Surely it wasn’t what it looked like, because what
it looked like was the beginning of a male-on-male sexfest.

The
two men stood chest to chest, Sean’s hands on Wyatt’s hips, his fingers delving
beneath Wyatt’s waistband and his mouth on Wyatt’s neck. Wyatt’s head was
thrown back, his eyes closed, his lips parted in that sensual way that made her
shiver.

A
surge of jealousy spiked in her veins. Wyatt was hers, not Sean’s, dammit.

Oh,
bloody hell. This line of thinking was insane. Wyatt was
not
hers, and
if he was gay, then there was nothing to be jealous about.

Except
he wasn’t gay. She knew that as surely as she knew how his skin tasted on her
tongue.

Wyatt’s
eyes peeled open, and that was when she saw it. The reluctance. He didn’t enjoy
Sean’s hands on his body any more than Faith enjoyed watching it. When Sean bit
into the straining tendon between Wyatt’s shoulder and neck, Wyatt’s teeth
bared like he wanted to kick Sean’s ass.

No,
Wyatt was definitely not into it—she knew because she’d bitten him there too,
back at the hotel, and his reaction had been swift and sure. He’d gasped in
pleasure, put her against the wall and had pumped into her until she screamed.

So
what kind of game was Sean playing? She knew him, knew he’d do
anything
to complete a mission—which made him no different from any other secret agent
on the planet. But as a rule, he’d never been into guys.

He
was up to something. Maybe he was toying with Wyatt, trying to humiliate him.
Sean did have a cruel streak, something that had developed over years of being
bullied. It didn’t take much imagination for her to picture him telling Wyatt
he could keep his job if he’d give Sean a blow job.