Wild Card (26 page)

like this. Like an animal, intent on nothing but sex. Hard. Fast. Driving sex. He'd used the last

of the witches' brew of antibiotics, painkillers, and lust supressors that the Navy doctors had

put together for him the night before. It hadn't helped.

"You shouldn't have come," he bit out to the Israeli Mossad agent, or former agent. Dead men.

They were all fucking dead men now.

"Jordan called in the order." Micah kept his voice low. "We came in Travis's car. The garage isn't being watched. Travis had been watching for any eyes. You didn't pick up notice until that

fight in the bar last night. Did you inject yourself when this happened?"

Noah nodded. "Last of it last night. It didn't do much."

"You'll need a larger dose. Ian should have more here soon. The new batch was flown in last

night."

"You'll be noticed leaving," Noah bit out. "I can't trust all my mechanics. Sabella's going to have questions now."

"Rory has eyes like a hawk. Jordan called him first thing. He's watching everyone, keeping the

boy inside. And you were advised to inform Ms. Malone of the status of this operation to begin

with. She was given clearance for partial information, it's because of your stubbornness that

she'll be pissed off now. You can deal with it. Now stop worrying. You sound like my mother."

"Fuck you."

"Wrong sex, big boy," he grunted. "I've a mind for a little satin flesh, not your tough hide."

"Bastard." Noah coughed out a laugh.

"Yeah, ain't we all." Micah grinned as he mangled his hopeless Texas accent all to hell.

Noah dug his head into the pillow as a punch of lust slammed into his balls. He swore he could

smell Sabella's scent. It was making him mad with the need to fuck. The fever and adrenaline,

twice, this close together, was too much. He thought he'd have time to get the refill on the

injections whenever he was wounded. Evidently, he'd been wrong.

"Ian has your meds, Noah," Micah told him softly. "We can't give you anything for the pain until you get that, you know what that shit does to you. But the doctors sent some new shit,

they seem to think they have a nice little concoction put together for that woody of yours and

the pain as well."

Noah shook his head. "No more drugs." It would go away, it would ease, until he was as close

to normal as possible. He'd fought this for too many years now. He was learning to get by. Or

he had thought he was, until last night.

"We have to do something for the fever, Noah," Micah warned him, his black eyes concerned,

worried. "There's antibiotics in it, a mix of painkillers. Same crap they used on you when you

took that bullet three months ago. It eased it then. Let's give it a chance this time, okay?"

Nothing really eased it. Sometimes, the crap the Navy doctors came up with allowed him to

keep his sanity, but it didn't ease the need. The fiery, bloodcurdling lust for his woman.

Not any woman. His woman. His wife.

As he blinked back the sweat from his eyes he loosened his grip on the straps and fought back

the driving insanity. It had held him in a grip like iron for months after his rescue. Incessant,

burning, the furious lust was like a vicious plague burning through his system.

All he needed was Sabella. If they would just get the hell away from him he could survive it.

Let his sweet little wife wash over him like rain.

A ragged groan tore from his throat at the thought of her. So tight and hot, just flowing over

him, sucking him into her and taking everything he had to give.

"There's Ian." Nik moved from the doorway and headed back into the apartment, where Sabella

was.

Murderous jealousy rose inside him. He'd always had to fight his jealousy. He'd never let

Sabella know it, had never shown it around her, but it had been like a growling animal inside

him anytime, every time another man had been close enough to touch her.

And now Nik was in the other room with her. Big, blond, gentler no doubt. Noah doubted the

Russian would take her without foreplay. Or that he would sit her on a table while he bled to

death and care about nothing but burying his face between her legs.

"Whoa. Hold on there, Noah." Micah pushed him back to the bed as he surged upward. "Break

my stitches and I'll knock your ass out like I did with the bullet."

That pierced the haze, a little.

Noah grunted a laugh. When the doctors refused to give him a painkiller and Noah refused to

pass out from the pain, Micah had taken care of it. He'd gone behind the hospital gurney,

behind Noah, and the hell if Noah knew how he'd done it, but after that, there was only the

dark. And no pain.

He couldn't afford to lose consciousness this time. Sabella could be in danger. If Toby was in

danger, then he knew Sabella would be. It was just a matter of time. God, he should have

stayed the hell away from her.

"How's he doing?" Ian stepped into the room.

His voice was rough, almost as ragged as Noah's was now.

Noah stared up at his friend. When they were ten, Noah had heard Ian's screams piercing the

desert surrounding his father's ranch. He'd forced his father from his bed, harassed and

screamed until Grant Malone had followed him.

And they had found Ian, cradling his mother as her life nearly slipped away. Screaming.

Enraged. His voice broken by the time they reached him.

They'd been best friends from that night. And that friendship had endured, even after Noah

learned that Diego Fuentes was Ian's father. Even after Fuentes had nearly destroyed Noah.

"You look like shit." Noah growled as Ian moved to the bed, his eyes dark with pain, with

regret.

"I should have killed the bastard while I had the chance," Ian said heavily. "I'm sorry, man.

Fuentes should be dead."

Diego Fuentes was Ian's father. The man who had tortured Nathan, who had nearly destroyed

him.

"Yeah, and once for me as soon as those bastards at Homeland Security lift the ban on him."

Noah breathed in roughly before glaring back at Ian. "Get Sabella out of here, Ian. Get her to

Jordan in the comm bunker. Keep her safe till this is through."

He could smell her, like sweet hot rain.

"It's bad this time," Micah murmured to Ian. "Doc send him some goodies?"

"Here." Ian tossed Micah the black leather bag he carried and turned back to Noah and stated,

"Belle's not stupid, Noah. You know that. You'll have to give her the mission parameters at

least. She and Rory both were cleared for that. She's probably already figured you're an agent

of some sort anyway."

"I hate this shit." Noah rose up in the bed, glaring at both of them, ignoring Ian's warning as Micah shoved a syringe in his shoulder.

"Come on, Noah, it made it better last time." Ian breathed out roughly.

"The hell it did. Made it better for you guys because you couldn't hear me screaming," he

snarled. "I heard it in my own fucking head."

"Do you want Sabella to hear it?" Micah asked him then.

Noah shook his head. "That's the only reason you got that needle anywhere close to me."

He lay back on the bed, glared at Micah as he inserted a second syringe. "I'm going to break

your fingers. You won't be able to shove that shit in me then."

Micah grinned at him. It was the norm. They cursed, insulted each other, threatened to kill each

other on a daily basis. It kept them alive.

"Keep chirping at me and I'll pump you so full of this shit I'll make Fuentes look like a

choirboy. You got me?"

Noah nodded shortly, licked his dry lips, and breathed out. "Bastard."

"I can't take Belle to the bunker," Ian told him then. "You know we can't do that, Noah."

He closed his eyes. God, he wanted her safe. He wanted her away from his madness and away

from the danger he had brought down on her and the questions he knew she was going to ask.

Where the hell had his mind been? He should have never taken this mission. He should have

gone to Siberia.

"We're tracking the car that went after Toby." Ian sat down in the chair by the bed. "Some of the mechanics thought they'd seen it last night, close to the bar. I'm guessing it's one of the

yokels that attacked you."

Noah nodded jerkily. "Yeah, stupid bastards. Thought they could slice and dice me and run me

the hell off. Toby was a message, they'll target friends next."

"They definitely sliced and diced you." Micah snorted. "I have you all stitched and bandaged now. little soldier. You can go back and play with all the bad boys again tomorrow."

"Bite me, you half-breed little bastard," Noah said.

"He keeps forgetting I prefer the female persuasion." Micah laughed.

"Doesn't that go against your damned religion? Don't you have to be married first or some

shit?" Noah bit out.

The general insults were a game. A tension stiller. Bitch at each other to take your mind off the

pain. It was a head game, because it sure as hell didn't help the pain.

"What religion?" Micah rolled his black eyes. "Since joining up with you yoohoos, all my

beliefs have been shot to hell."

"Yahoos," Ian corrected him, but his eyes were on Noah.

Slow easy breaths. Noah could smell Sabella with every breath he took. He could feel his blood

pounding in his dick, the need racing through him as fresh, as violent, as it had been the first

time Fuentes shoved a needle in his arm.

Noah dragged himself up on the bed, the fabric of his jeans cutting into his dick. Hell, he

needed to fuck. This wasn't like the past six years when taking a woman meant breaking the

vows he'd made to his wife. Now it would mean burying himself inside his wife. Feeling her

tight and sweet around him.

It would mean loving her, touching her. It would be stilling the fire burning in his gut and

probably bleeding like a stuck pig all over her again.

He breathed in roughly, feeling his head beginning to clear marginally. As much as he hated

that shit they shot into him, at least he could think now.

"Hell." He took a hard breath then looked at Ian. "Get Micah, Travis, and Nik out of here. Put Travis on Mike Conrad's ass. I want to know why I was hit last night and why they struck at

Toby today. Tell Rory to keep his ass and Toby's in the office, Nik can keep an eye on them

without anyone knowing. I want Micah on long-distance watch of the garage and the house,

make sure no eyes caught you coming in and none catch you leaving. People would expect Ian

and Kira Richards to show up, they'd expect Nik to help his boss's lover up to the apartment.

That's it. Get the rest of them out of here.'"

"And Belle?" Ian asked.

"Sabella stays here." It was too late for her to leave and he knew it He would only follow her.

No matter where they hid her. And the bunker was off limits to her unless she was directly

targeted.

"Noah, you're in no shape for this decision,'" Ian said quietly. "You know where it's going to go. Those drugs haven't done anything for the lust, man. It's burning in your eyes. And that

surgery might have darkened them, but right now, they're blazing almost pure sapphire. You

need her out of here."

"I still have the control.'" He was sure of it. He knew he did. "I won't hurt her." He'd never hurt her. He'd slice his own throat first. "And the eyes are just fucking eyes. They'll dim once this

eases."

"You'll have explanations to make. Tell her what the hell is going on," Ian told him harshly.

"At least as far as this mission is concerned. But you're fooling yourself if you think she's not

going to figure out more than that. You didn't see the look on her face when Kira and I

arrived."

Noah breathed in deeply. It would kill him, but he'd take care of that too. She wouldn't suspect

who he was when he was finished. After all, her husband never yelled at her, he didn't fuck her

like an animal, and he sure as hell didn't put her in the middle of a dangerous assignment. No,

Sabella would never suspect who he really was.

"You break open my stitches and you'll bleed like you were gutted again," Micah snarled.

He shook his head. "Get the hell out of here. Now. Leave Nik in the garage. Tell him to stay in

place for cover. We can't afford to have the team here like this. When those bastards move we

need to be right behind them. Until then, we won't have a break in this and we'll never catch

them."

"And if you break with Belle?" Ian asked him. "If you tell her who you are, what you are. What then?"

Noah stared back at him. That wouldn't happen. Ever. He couldn't bear for his Sabella to know

what had happened to the man she had loved so desperately that she came to him in hell.

"Dead men don't talk," he said, his voice bleak. "She won't know. Ever. Her husband is dead."

Ian stared back at him, his lips tightening before he turned to Micah and nodded to the door.

"He's fooling you," the Israeli snapped. "He doesn't have enough control not to hurt her."

Oh, he had control, Ian knew. More control than any of them realized.

"Get out of here," Ian ordered. "Give the others their orders. This is his play, not yours."

Micah rose to his feet, glared at both of them then lifted his lip in a sneer and headed to the

door. Like the Russian, the Australian, the Englishman, their Israeli didn't always understand

some of the rules they broke, and others that they made. Incorporating these men into a viable

working team hadn't been easy. They were hard men. Dead men with nothing else to lose but