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He’d want her even more fiercely.
Naked and beneath him.
On top of him.
It wouldn’t matter.
And yet… Yes, it would.
Because not only would he blow his assignment and put lives in jeopardy… He’d also break her heart.
She’d already suffered that tragedy.
Was that why she was willing to sacrifice herself for a terrorist movement?
Because Nikita Isabelle Balentine-Kane had nothing left to lose?
3
Damen had to rethink all the mental minutia he was mired in.
What the fuck did he care if he broke this woman’s heart or hurt her in any way? She was harboring detrimental intelligence he needed in order to stop more explosions from happening again, like the one in Mexico City.
The challenge here, however, was that Nikki didn’t strike Damen as the spy type. She had psychology degrees and impeccable credentials—and put them to good use, counseling trauma patients.
Then again, he had a law degree with an emphasis in estate planning, which he’d used for this latest case.
He’d been recruited into special ops. So had she, apparently. Ops of a different variety. The wrong variety.
So he soldiered-on.
“When did you first meet Agent Garcia?” he quietly queried.
Nikki’s head slowly swiveled his way as she glared at him once more. “Who?”
“Fiora Garcia. She was one of the ‘nurses’ attending to me in the hospital. She was working with me, on my team. She went MIA after I regained consciousness, though. Disappeared.”
“Everyone attending to you went MIA after you regained consciousness,” Nikki said. And seethed. “They all disappeared.”
“Actually, they’ve been accounted for, with the exception of Garcia. You made a hell of a lot of inquiries as to their whereabouts, including mine and Garcia’s.”
“Because you fucking vanished into thin air! One day I was reading A Tale of Two Cities to you and the next…you were a vapor trail. A wraith. And no one could explain where you’d gone…or why. Or…how. I mean, you couldn’t have even been mobile at that point. People had to have moved you, correct? There was no way in hell you were getting up and walking away on your own.”
Damen’s jaw worked as he considered how agitated she was over his abrupt and mysterious departure from the hospital. As though it had affected her on a personal level. Like she’d been…worried about him. Concerned.
That was one more thing that didn’t play into the spy theory he’d formulated in his mind. All she needed was the intel—she didn’t need to know what had happened to him once he’d come to. There’d been no need for her to seek him out. To so diligently try to track him down.
If anything…his relocation would have provided her the perfect opportunity to slip away.
She hadn’t. She’d stayed in her hotel, close to the hospital where she made daily appearances. So as to not draw any suspicion to herself?
Damen had no idea. But he intended to find out.
“Garcia went rogue,” he told Nikki. “And handed off some valuable information I plan to possess, myself.”
Her expression turned incredulous. “Are you interrogating me?”
“Informally, yes.” He sampled the salmon on his tray. A touch on the dry side so he reached for his cocktail again.
