Seduced by the Storm (25 page)

"I’m
all yours," he ground out as he came, and God, he wanted that to be the
truth more than he’d ever wanted anything in his entire lifetime.

ML’s
car was a vintage Aston Martin DB9—he put the convertible top up and the heat
on in deference to the fact that Wyatt and Faith had been in the water and both
were shivering in their damp clothes.

Of
course, Wyatt wasn’t exactly happy at having to squeeze his tall frame into the
small back of the car, but ML had insisted Faith sit up front.

"What
does
ML
stand for?" Faith was asking Wyatt’s friend—a man he’d
known since his earliest ACRO days. One of the few people who knew Wyatt wasn’t
dead. He was a do-anything and get-anything guy for his friends, which was a
skill set Wyatt always appreciated. There were the usual rumors surrounding ML,
everything from him being a direct descendant of the Rockefellers to the
illegitimate son of Elvis.

"You
do look a hell of a lot like Elvis," Wyatt had remarked to him once. ML
had just smiled, the way he was smiling at Faith now, that surfer-dude,
I-don’t-have-a-care-in-the-goddamned-world smile that got him more ass than a
toilet seat. "Doesn’t stand for anything."

Wyatt
bit his tongue—because the only thing funnier than the fact that ML was
actually an escaped Amish farm boy whose name was Moses "Mose" Lapp
was that his initials spelled out his profession—money launderer.

ML
was the best in the game. He was thirty-two, and his empire stretched wide.
Even his enemies weren’t true enemies—ML had too much dirt on anyone for them
to bother to mess with him. No, everyone from the Irish Mafia to the Colombian
drug lords needed ML, and that was fine by him.

"I
don’t know how long we’ll be staying with you. And we’re going to need a ride
out when we leave," Wyatt interrupted before ML could take it too far with
Faith. Who was periodically shooting Wyatt death rays—and what the fuck, he was
the one who was pissed.

"Not
a problem. I suggest waiting at least twenty-four hours, though," ML said
as he pulled through the front security gates. His mansion was on Marco
Island—an exclusive area off the Florida coast. For the most part, ML refused
to travel with bodyguards—he was wearing a Sig Sauer, the one Wyatt had given
him a few years earlier.

ML
also had a flair for numbers that was almost inhuman.

"How’s
your sister?" Wyatt asked as they entered the revamped Spanish villa–like
mansion.

ML
shrugged. "She’s doing her own thing. I haven’t seen her for a while—she’s
still a little wild."

"Yes,
she’s the wild one of the family." Wyatt rolled his eyes.

"You
guys can have the west wing," ML told them. "Plenty of privacy, and
I’ll send extra security that way. Not that you’ll need it." He stared at
Faith for a second. "I assume you’re, ah,
special
too, right?"

She
smiled. "I’m going to need a safe."

"Not
a problem. I’ll find you some clothes too, for the night—tomorrow I’ll have
some stuff brought in new for you."

They
followed him up the winding staircase and long halls. While ML took Faith into
one of the bedrooms, Wyatt purposefully went into another and headed for the
phone.

Dev
picked up on the first ring. "Where are you?"

"I’m
at ML’s."

"With
the motherboard?"

"Yes.
It’s in hand, but not destroyed."

Dev
paused. "Problem?"

"There’s
another agent who’s after it—not Itor, a free agent. Her sister’s been
kidnapped."

"And
they want the motherboard in exchange."

"Yes."

Dev
was silent. "By the time we figured out the code you sent, it was too
late, Wyatt."

"I
know. I blew it."

"No
you didn’t—you had no way of knowing their ultimate plan. None of us did. It’s
in Remy’s hands now. You follow the lead, Wyatt," Dev said quietly.
"Follow the trail to the end. We might’ve lost control of the hurricane,
but we can’t lose sight of the ultimate goal—destroying anything else out there
that resembles this motherfucker. Whoever wants the machine is someone we want
to get to know."

"You
got it, Dev."

"I
trust you, Wyatt. And I’ve never not known you to be able to trust
yourself."

"Yeah,
well, I’ve never met a woman like this one."

"Mission
first."

"I
know. It will be. I can handle this." He just hoped ML’s sources came
through with Wyatt’s special order.

"I
know you can. Keep me informed."

"Will
do, Dev," Wyatt told his boss. He hung up the phone, muttering to himself,
stripped and headed for the shower.

Plan,
I need a motherfucking plan.

Of
all the times
not
to admit anything about his past to an agent of unknown
origin or status, this would have been the time.

She
had him by the balls, and he’d let it happen.

He
was going to need to handcuff himself to Faith for the night, there was no way
around it.

The
shower door jerked open and Faith walked in, completely naked except for the
black choker with the small white flowers on it. Her hands weren’t playing with
it the way she did whenever she got a little nervous. Instead, her body was
loose, languid, as though the swim and the sex—and the fight—had gotten her
back on track.

"ML
gave me access to the floor safe in my room," she told him. "The bag
didn’t leak. I have it drying out now."

"You
had to be naked to tell me that?"

"I
wanted to tell you that the motherboard is in the safe—safe and sound, as they
say. But I’m not going to give you the combination."

"I
don’t need the combination, Faith. I can take the door right off its freakin’
hinges." His calming meditation had been interrupted by her entrance.
Worse, his cock acted all we’re-so-glad-you’re-here, which was not the vibe
he’d planned on giving out. "There are three other bathrooms in this wing.
This is my shower."

She
ignored him and sat down on the teak bench. "We need to finish our
discussion. From the beach."

"Consider
it finished."

"You
tell me that you’ve been institutionalized, just like Liberty was, and you
expect me not to ask about it? I’ve been there too, Wyatt—"

He
laughed bitterly. "For what, a week? In some fucking fancy place that’s
more like a spa than anything? You don’t understand, the place they took me to
was a full-on psych hospital. I was in the lockdown ward at fourteen—the floor
with the most dangerous patients."

Again
with the true confessions. He sighed and stuck his head under the water in an
attempt to drown out her voice. Which didn’t work, since he’d been trained to
listen for intel under running water, by both the SEALs and ACRO.

"Am
I supposed to be afraid of you? Feel sorry for you?" she was asking.

He
came out from under the shower spray and attempted to grab her, but she stopped
him, fucking froze him in place like she’d done in the oil platform’s torture
chamber, and it was on the tip of his tongue to tell her that he didn’t want
her to feel anything for him.

But
that would be a lie. "Let me go, Faith," he said quietly.

"If
that’s what you really want."

"You
know what I want. I told you on the helo—I want you to love it, crave it. Beg
for it…beg for me."

"You
got it, Wyatt, got me to crave you. I’m attached to you. Something I shouldn’t
have let happen."

He
remained motionless. Naked. Vulnerable. She took a step toward him, her bare
body glistening under the soft lighting in the shower, the steam rising around
them. "So you’re attached. What now?"

"Any
good agent knows what should happen next. It’s the same thing you were probably
thinking about me when I walked in here, whether or not you should take me out
or trust me." She cocked her head, probably because she sensed the large
wooden loofah brush that he’d picked up with his powers hovering at the back of
her skull.

"Like
I said before, Faith, at some point someone’s got to lose the game of
chicken."

"I
COULD KILL YOU where you stand," Faith said. "Just a thought is all
it would take."

"Are
you so fast that you could do it before the wood cracks your skull?"

"Are
we going to find out?"

Wyatt
stared at her, his expression unreadable. She hoped her face revealed as
little, but the way her heart was kicking her rib cage and her adrenaline was
running like lit petrol through her veins, she doubted it.

She
was utterly turned on by this little game of life or death. From the looks of
things, so was he.

"You’re
a pain in the ass," she said, and suddenly, the loofah brush whacked her
on the butt. She yelped and leaped forward, nearly smashing into Wyatt.
"What the hell was that for?"

"You
threatened to kill me and you’re outraged that I gave you a little
spanking?"

She
shoved him against the wall and used her gift to pin his arms to his sides.
"I’m outraged because you are a complication I don’t need."

"Which
part are you pissed about? That I’m not letting you waltz away with the
motherboard, or that you’re starting to feel something for me?"

He’d
hit both nails on the head, infuriating her even more. She’d lost control of
her mission and her body, and with her sister’s life on the line, none of this
was acceptable. Making matters worse, the man at the center of all of it was an
enemy…someone she couldn’t trust. But someone she
wanted
to trust.

She’d
reached a critical stage, where she felt too much for him to turn back and was
angry at herself for letting it happen. She had a feeling he was at the same
place. They were both on a precipice, a precarious edge, where if they didn’t
take the other out now, it wasn’t going to happen at all.

"I
don’t need another Sean in my life," she said, earning herself another
stinging whack on the ass.

"Don’t
compare me to that piece of shit."

"Oh,
come on. Can you honestly say you could ever trust me?" Resisting the urge
to rub her bottom, she used her power to squeeze his sac, gently, smiling at
his harsh intake of breath. "What makes us attractive to each other, what
makes the sex so good…it’s exactly what makes us impossible to trust."

"I
trust the people I work with, and they’re just like you."

"So
if I worked for ACRO, everything between you and me would be perfect?"

"You
going to send in your application? Because I could put in a good word for
you."

She
snorted. "Thanks, but I’m quite happy with my current situation." She
moved closer to him, noticed the brush followed her. So did a bar of soap. She
ignored the items, ran a finger down Wyatt’s chest while using her power to
contract and expand the tissue of his cock, creating a rippling effect similar
to a hand delivering soft, squeezing strokes. "I get to make my own rules.
I don’t have to answer to anyone or follow orders I don’t agree with."

That
wasn’t entirely true. As the head of her own agency, she had a responsibility
to those who worked for her and with her.

Something
slid down her back. The soap. It slipped around her waist and up her belly, to
her ribs, her breasts.

"Two
can play at this game," Wyatt murmured.

"The
more the merrier, I say."

She
sent a stream of vibration into the sensitive area between his balls and ass.
He groaned. The soap smoothed over her breasts in a figure eight, speeding up
when she increased the amount of power she was funneling into his groin.

The
bar lowered, slipped between her legs and began to work back and forth in her
slit. Damn him, it felt good, and she allowed herself a moment of pleasure
before she stepped back into the stream of water.

"This
is pointless, this battle of wills."

"Then
release me."

"What
then? You don’t let me out of your sight, even though you told ML to have his
men watch me?" It was a guess, but it was what she’d do if the situation
were reversed. "I don’t like being a prisoner."

"So
you hold me like one?"

With
a shrug, she released him. "Now what?"

The
man moved like lightning. She found herself pinned to the wall by his hard body
and his big hands on her shoulders.

"Now
we see how you like it."

"Like
what?"

"Feeling
vulnerable."

She
laughed. "I can kill—"

"Yeah,
yeah, you can kill me with your mind, blah fucking blah." He slid one hand
to her throat, and for a moment, she thought he was going to threaten to
strangle her. Instead, he stroked his thumb over her choker. "Tell me what
you’re hiding, Faith."