Wild Card (40 page)

She could feel her body warming, her breasts and clit swelling. Flesh became overly sensitized,

and when his hands dipped beneath the short hem of her blouse and touched the bare flesh of

her back, she drew in a hard, deep breath.

"I've missed you," he breathed against her ear and she felt herself flinch at the admission.

Eyes closed, her face buried against him, she didn't worry about anyone seeing the pain in her

face, or her eyes. He hid her, sheltered her.

"There's nothing to miss," she finally answered, forcing herself to remember that he was going

to leave her, walk away from her again.

He caressed the side of her head with his jaw.

"I want you, Sabella. I want back in that big bed with you. I want to feel you hot and wet

beneath me."

"For how long?" She shook her head against his chest. "How long, Noah? A night? Two? A

week? What do you want from me? What makes you think you can just breeze into town,

breeze into my bed, and then ride into the sunset and I'm just going to accept it?"

Noah could hear the hurt in her voice, he could feel it. Jealousy over the memory of the man

who had spoiled her into seeing exactly how much she was worth, and the knowledge of what

he was now, tearing through him.

She deserved so much better. Deserved a man who didn't face those nights that, for whatever

reason, pumped the remnants of the damned drug back into his senses. When the lust and the

hunger consumed him to the point that he was terrified to be around any woman. Especially his

Sabella.

And he couldn't tell her that. He couldn't tell her about the animal that raged inside him. He

couldn't tell her his agreement with Elite Ops, and he couldn't forget that for eighteen months

he had refused to let her know her husband was alive.

The truth would destroy her as surely as the lie eventually would. And at least with the lie, she

would have that memory of her husband and what she had meant to him.

"There's so much you don't know," he finally sighed against the shell of her ear. "Why I'm here.

What has to be done."

"Then tell me, Noah." She lifted her head and stared back at him. her gray eyes dove soft, filled with anger and with need. "I'm not a child. I'm not some little ditz that can't understand or

handle the realities of life."

Noah stared back at her, feeling the wild pulse of hunger tightening between them, and the

need for answers blazing in her eyes.

"I already know part of it," she said softly. "You can sleep with me? Torture me with

everything I can't have, but you can't tell me the truth?"

Only so much of it, and he knew it. But parts of it, considering what was coming tomorrow,

parts of it she had to understand. When this operation started moving, it would move fast. He

needed to know she could protect herself, she had to know she needed to stay safe. For him.

For his sanity.

"Ride with me," he invited her, knowing that the partial truths would have to come tonight.

Who he was, what he had been, would have to remain a secret, forever.

"I wore shorts."

He shook his head. "I'll be careful. Come on." He pulled back as the music stopped. "We'll ride."

Sabella took his hand, her heart thudding in her chest, a feeling of hope rising inside her,

though a part of her knew, a part of her accepted, he wasn't going to tell her who he was.

But she couldn't stop hoping.

She was aware of the eyes watching them as they left that bar. Rory and Toby stood as they

passed. She took a second to shoot Rory a narrow-eyed look. The day was going to come when

they were going to talk. Hard and deep. And that day wasn't far off.

She didn't confront him now, wouldn't confront him until Noah left, because she needed to

know
. She had to know what had happened to her husband, why he hadn't come back to her as

he should have. But even more, she needed to know that he wasn't leaving her. That no matter

the
things
he needed to sort out, that he intended to stay. That he intended to claim her again.

"Rory called you, didn't he?" she asked as he helped her on the back of the Harley before

straddling the machine himself.

"Rory called." His voice was harder now. Cool. "How do you feel about a ride to the city

park?"

He pulled off his jacket before turning and helping her into it.

She nodded slowly. "The park sounds fine."

The Harley throbbed to life. The motor vibrated with throttled power before Noah kicked up

the stand, kicked it in gear, and pulled out of the parking lot.

The summer air whipped through her hair. The remembered sense of freedom that overcame

her brought a smile to her face as she wrapped her arms around Noah's lean waist and held on

as he headed to the small park.

Medina Park was small, beautifully kept. Noah pulled into the deserted parking lot and helped

her off the motorcycle.

Holding her hand, he led her along a narrow walkway until they turned into a small sheltered

picnic area. A lone table sat in the shadowed area, together with the dim outline of an iron

barbecue grill.

Sabella shoved her hands into the pockets of the jacket as she stepped up on the seat of the

table and sat on the wide bench of the table itself.

"Why here?"

"No ears to listen," he said, sighing. "And if there were, I'd know it."

His head turned as though probing the shadows.

"You can see that well in the dark then?" Nathan had always had exceptional sight, even in the

dark.

"You know I'm here for a reason, Sabella," he finally bit out, moving until he was sitting

behind her, his powerful legs bracketing hers, his arms looping around her as he pulled her

back against his chest.

"Have you heard about the bodies they found in the national park?" he asked her then.

Sabella nodded carefully.

"Legals and illegal aliens alike, as well as three FBI agents, have died over the past year or so,

victims of a vicious hunt. I'm trying to track the men who did this, get the evidence needed, and

turn it over to the federal agents working the case."

"You're not an agent?" Something inside her tightened into a hard knot of pain.

"I'm independent. Contracted," he told her, brushing his lips against her ear. "It doesn't stop here, Sabella. The link to this goes much further than this little county. It's growing, and it's a

security threat to the nation. I don't have a choice about where I go from here."

She nodded jerkily. "So you really won't be staying?"

She was shaking on the inside. She couldn't understand how she was managing to stay calm,

collected, on the outside.

She felt him behind her then, the question hanging between them, filling the heated air with

tension and with regret.

"You're the best thing that ever happened to me," he finally said. "In my life, touching you, holding you, is the best thing I've ever done. But shit happens, baby. And shit blew up in my

face a long damned time ago."

She felt the first tear fall, and made sure it was the last.

She could feel the pain inside her though. It was clawing, vicious, digging out her heart as she

fought against the sobs that wanted to tear through her. Her lips trembled, but she held them

back. She didn't know how she held them back.

"I want you safe," he continued. "From here on out, I want you to stay out of the bars, out of town. Stay where I can keep an eye on you, where I can keep you safe in the event that anyone

has managed to suspect why I'm here, or what I'm doing."

"Something's going to happen then?"

"Something could happen at any time," he said. "But this case is moving now. Once it blows to hell and back, I don't want the fallout at your doorstep."

She nodded, then froze, her eyes closing tight as his lips took a slow, gentle sip of her bare

neck. How could she have not known those lips the first time they touched her, the first time

sensation had slammed into her. Only her husband, the man she had given her soul to, could do

this to her.

Before Sabella could help herself, she leaned her head to the side, inviting more, needing more.

God help her, he was going to leave her again. She should be screaming. Kicking. She should

be crying. But the hope wouldn't still inside her ragged heart.

He had told her this much. He was just waiting, just preparing her for what could happen. Noah

wouldn't actually walk away from her again. Not her Noah. Not the man whose hands were

tightening on her now, whose breath was growing ragged, and whose hunger was flaming over

her.

Her Noah would never walk out of her life like that. Never by choice. Not her
husband
.

"Who are you chasing, Noah'?"

She asked the question he was hoping she wouldn't ask.

"You're as safe as I can make you right now." He let his lips feather over her jawline. "The less you know, the safer I can keep you."

"Knowledge is power." She tilted her head for him, letting his lips and tongue caress the

sensitive little path down the side of her neck.

"Not in this case." He nipped at her neck. '"In this case, for you, innocence is your best weapon.

And I'll keep it that way, Sabella."

He felt her soften then. As though he had given her something she needed. What could it have

been other than an assurance that he cared for her, wanted her safe?

God in heaven knew he wanted her safe. He could live without sex. He could living without

Sabella in his life. But he couldn't live without Sabella living. His heart would stop beating. All

will to live would flow out of his body.

He had known that before he ever married her. The night he had realized that his heart beat for

this one tiny little woman, Nathan had known he would give up the free and easy lifestyle he

had held on to for so long, and marry her.

And now, letting go of her again, it would rip his soul out.

It would tear him into so many pieces he was certain he would only be a living shell of what he

was tonight.

"I missed you in the bed with me." He pulled the jacket from her shoulders and laid it beside

them before caressing her bare shoulders, her arms.

His hands smoothed over the silver armband he had bought her. Damn, she looked good in that.

Like a savage princess decked out for a sensual battle.

"This isn't going to solve anything." Her voice was weak, filled with hurt and with desire.

That vein of hurt in her voice broke his heart. It tore something in his chest and left him

burying his face in her neck, fighting to hold back the pain ravaging him.

And he couldn't stop touching her. Having her against him, in his arms, he couldn't help it. It

was like an addiction, a craving he couldn't control. He needed this, needed her. When the time

came to walk away, he wanted as many memories as possible to take with him. Enough to help

him survive the lost, lonely nights he knew he was going to face.

"You deserve so much more," he whispered, his hands sliding beneath her blouse, cupping her

side, caressing over silken flesh to the heavy weight of her breasts. "A man that's whole. That's

what you deserve, Sabella. And I'm not whole any longer. I haven't been in a long time."

Her breath hitched and he knew it was a sob that shuddered through her body.

"My Sabella." He turned her to him, pulling her legs over his thigh and cradling her in his arms as he stared down at the tear tracks on her face. "I won't lie to you. I can't do that. I can't tell you I'm going to stay and that we're going to fulfill the dreams we each have." He touched the

tears on her face. "We can't do that to each other, or for each other. I'm not your husband,

Sabella. And we both know no one else is going to fill your heart but your husband."

He pushed her, he had to push her. She had to realize what could happen. She had to face it.

Her eyes flashed.

He caught the hand that aimed at his face as surprise stuttered through him.

He stared at the hand, then at the anger flushing her face.

"Sabella, did you just try to smack me?"' he asked her carefully.

It had been one of their rules during their marriage. She could throw anything she pleased, she

could scream, cuss, she could call him a dirty son of a bitch, but she was never to try to hit him.

Or to surprise him. No running up to goose him, or jumping out from corners.

His reflexes were too well honed, that survival instinct inside him too well developed to allow

her to know any fear of him.

He wouldn't hurt her, but he'd be damned if he wanted her afraid he would hurt her when he

had his hand around her neck and had her on the floor before either of them thought.

"You're lucky I don't try to shoot you!'" She scrambled off his lap, stumbled on the bench

below, and would have fallen if he hadn't caught her.

He stared back at her in surprise. One second she was sweet and soft in his arms, now she was

spitting at him like a little cat.

"Where the hell are you going?" He grabbed his jacket and followed after her as she began

striding, almost running, along the path back to the parking lot. "Dammit, Sabella.'"

"Go to hell!"

"I've been there, thank you,"' he retorted. "I opt not to return, if you don't mind."

"Then go wherever the hell you go when you drive off in the evenings." She waved a hand

back at him, her expression, the set of her body, flat furious. "I told you the other night, Noah