“Hey, it’s not like I’m saying he won’t cap all of us if we get in the way. Stand between him and his ‘asset’. But it won’t be a random spree. He’d want to keep it all contained. One singular incident he can explain away. Gas explosion. Terrorist attack. I’m sure he has more than a few contingencies already planned. So, we just have to make sure he doesn’t track you down before we have what it takes to burn his ass.”
Bishop palmed the table then stood. “Which is our cue to get moving. Colt, I’ll keep you updated on the burner. It’s going to take a while, since we won’t be taking any kind of direct route there or back. We’ll be stopping to check up on Six, too.” He smiled at Ellis. “Hang in there, kid.”
“Kid?” Ellis thought about knocking the man down a peg just on principle. “That had better not stick.”
He laughed. “After the way you leaped at Colt last night, I’ll consider that a viable threat.”
Rigs and Addison stood, too, heading for the door. Kameron gave Ellis a tight smile then followed Bishop and the others out. Damn, there was definitely something different about the other woman. Something beyond Ellis disappearing. Though that had obviously struck Kam hard. Ellis recognized guilt when she saw it, and knowing the other woman had blamed herself all these years, stung. Maybe, when this was over, Ellis could get her to talk.
Over. Would it ever truly be finished?
Midnight mumbled something about a perimeter check and about Bridgette doing some more discreet investigating, before disappearing with her down the hallway.
“I’d say a penny for your thoughts, but I’m pretty sure I know what they are.” Colt shuffled closer, bracketing his legs around hers. It was the most he’d touched her since leaving the bed. “It’s going to be okay. We’ll get McCormick. Get you your life back.”
He looked so…serious. So confident. He had absolutely no doubts that he and his team would come out on top. Not that she expected anything less. Delta Force soldiers didnotaccept failure. It happened, sometimes. But none of them ever went into battle considering any other outcome but victory.
“I know you’ll try. It’s just…”
“Don’t you want it to be over?” He frowned. “Do you want to stay with the CIA?”
“Of course not. I would have left years ago if I thought I could get out. Roger McCormick is not the kind of man you double cross unless your life is on the line.” She shrugged. “But it’s not like I had a life. I guess, I didn’t really see the difference. Living on the run, waiting for an operative to catch up with me, or believing I was, at least, helping in some way by carrying out missions. Figured I’d die on an op, so…”
“Screw that.” He stood, took her with him. “No one’s dying. Least of all you.”
He was all warrior. Fierce eyes fixed on her. Narrowed. Glinting in the light. Brightening up the room. There was no questioning him. They were making it through, alive, and that was it. Case closed, filed, and stored away.
“You always were hardheaded. Okay, we’ll kick ass. But to do that, we need information. Don’t suppose you’re up for a trip to that warehouse? I know it’s a long shot, but if those files don’t give us any answers, it’s the only other lead we have.”
His jaw clenched and released, jumping the muscle in his temple. She didn’t need to read minds to know what he was thinking. Warehouse meant leaving the safehouse. It meant danger and cameras. All of which could end up biting them in the ass. It was also where she’d been tortured. Not memories he’d want to subject her to. But it wasn’t up to him. Ellis wasn’t exactly thrilled at the prospect of going back, either, but it was necessary. And under the circumstances, she could man up.
Brett stared at her for a full minute. Gaze searching hers—observing every tiny movement. “How ‘bout this? We’ll go recon the area. Find a safe place to park and watch who goes in and out for a while. Then, once the main workers leave in a couple of hours, if it still looks remotely safe, we’ll head in. Take a peek. Just don’t do anything rash, okay?”
“Me, do something rash? I’m too cool to resort to that.”
“Try not to kill, anyone, either.”
“Now, you’re just being mean.” She moved sideways. Got some much-needed distance between them because if she stood there another second longer, she’d definitely be doing something rash. Like kissing him. Forgetting all about the warehouse, the mission, and dragging him back to the bedroom. Back into her. “I’ll go grab that stuff from yesterday.”
Brett nodded, half a smile lifting his lips, before she turned—headed for the room. “Oh, and El. Earlier, when I said we could pick up where we left off? I fully intend on holding true to that.”
She stopped, held her breath, forcing herself to meet his gaze over her shoulder.
“And I wasn’t talking about the fight.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
For someone who’d spent the past five years avoiding any kind of relationship in order to limit emotional pain, Colt found it poetic to discover he was a masochist—not something he’d understood about himself until this exact moment. Until he’d spent two hours doing reconnaissance on the warehouse. All of it sitting one foot away from Ellis. Close enough he could smell the clean scent of soap on her skin. The citrus undertones from the shampoo. Feel the heat from her body—the sexy, desirable one he’d spent all night holding. Touching and tasting. Rediscovering every dip and curve, every spot that made her skin bead in anticipation or her eyes roll slightly. Sitting there, trapped in sensory overload andnotbeing able to act on it. To lift her onto his lap. Spear his fingers into her hair—take down the pony tail and see all that rich brown mass spill around her shoulders and across his hands—taste her mouth. How her body molded to his…
It hurt. More than he’d imagined. And yet, he knew he’d sit there for a thousand more hours, his damn dick painfully swollen against his jeans, his heart ready to pound through his chest, if it meant more time with her.
Yeah, he obviously really loved suffering. Wallowing in it becauseshedidn’t seem to be suffering, at all. Her breathing was steady. Even. Her muscles primed but not strained. Ready to react if necessary, but not stressed from sitting in the Jeep with him. Even her face looked relaxed. No tightness around her eyes or mouth. No sudden blushing that suggested she was reliving their night together.
He was. How soft her skin had been. How she’d looked up at him, lip snagged between her teeth, skin flushed pink as she’d inhaled, then crested, crying out his name—her head pushed back into the pillow. The way she’d wanted him to hold her. Keep her safe.
Every second he’d spent touching her, loving her, over and over until it was all he could do not to scream. To not put that Wrangler in drive and leave—nonstop until he’d reached the tip of South America. Somewhere so remote, so lost to the rest of the world, even Roger McCormick wouldn’t find them.
Then, Colt would lose himself in her. Just dive in and never resurface.
