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The man’s face crumpled. “I’m hanging in there.” He took a hard breath and regained some of his composure. “Your father must be so proud of you.”
“You’re being very brave,” GQ said, Mr. Bailey’s words hitting harder than he expected. Taking a cue from Rose that Mr. Bailey needed moral support. He sat down next to him on the cot as Rose started with her questioning. Mr. Bailey answered, and GQ understood why the basilica had been so damaged. There had been three suicide bombers. His need to track down these bastards churned in him. This time around, they had to get enough information to make a difference in the next attack. GQ was sure that was in the works. They needed to know when, how, and where.
After Rose asked her last question, a young woman and an older man entered the tent. She ran over. “Dad! Oh my God, I was so worried.”
Mr. Bailey rose, and his daughter hugged him. The older man came over and touched his shoulder. “Jason…it’s good to see you.”
Ice pulled GQ away from the scene with Mr. Bailey’s daughter and the archbishop. “Good eye there. They were after Rose. We have two of them alive, vials removed. It’s time to get these bastards to talk.” He looked ready to kill.
“If you need any help inpromptingthem to spill. I’m your man.”
Iceman looked over at Rose, his eyes going steely. “They think they can intimidate us. They’re going to find out the hard way we don’t intimidate.”
* * *
Karasu wasglad it was dim in the bathroom and she couldn’t see herself clearly in the mirror. She didn’t want to look into her own eyes and know she was destroying anything real she could have had with Preacher. She’d already grabbed her catsuit and another bag filled with other clothes she would need. Her contact had been busy while she was making love to Preacher. She wasn’t just deceiving him, she was leaving him behind, but the Company was all about deception and cutting losses.
She had to do this. This was CIA business—Shadowguard business. She had already broken rules by bringing him to a covert CIA station.
Sure, it was.She was well aware he was lethal, a black ops warrior, but she’d committed the cardinal sin. She’d gotten emotionally involved with him. He would want to come with her, get his team involved, and she was determined that the only people who knew what she was going to do would be her and her shadowy contact. There was the distinct possibility he would be a casualty of the night’s work. She couldn’t bear that. Preacher was the only decent thing in her life right now. He was honest and strong, the sexiest thing on the planet. But that made her vulnerable, and if it came down to it, he’d protect her, and that would get him killed.
She left the bathroom, grabbed her bag, and headed for the front door. In the darkened house, she went to the hook where she’d left the key fob to the sleek BMW, but when she searched for them, they were gone.
A light snapped on and his deep voice asked, “Looking for these?”
She whipped around and saw him sitting in one of the living room chairs, the key fob to the Beamer dangling from his fingers. He was watching her intently, his expression unreadable as he jingled the key fob. He hadn’t made a sound and if he’d wanted to, he could have done anything to her in the span between the time she got up and now. Good thing he wasn’t an assassin, but it drove home to her how good this man was at his job. There was no fooling him.
“You are a pain in my ass,” she said between clenched teeth.
“You have no idea, lady. What gives?”
He rose and came up to her and she focused on the key fob, a sudden twist of guilt ravaging her. “I have something I have to do.” She reached for the key fob, but he curled his fist around them so fast, all she grabbed was air. “Preacher—”
“Whatever you have to do. I’m coming. No arguments.”
“Don’t get tough with me,” she said as he leaned his back against the counter and folded his arms across his chest, watching her. “I don’t work for you.”
Weariness still radiated from him, and Karasu watched him, her own feelings of vulnerability unearthing a sensitivity to his. She wanted very badly to touch him, to cradle his head against her and tell him not to try to intimidate her, not to worry, but she stifled the urge as quickly as it came. “Is that all we have between us, Karasu? Work? Is that what you were doing in the bedroom? Working me?”
It was so far from the truth, it left her speechless. This man had touched her so deeply, down to her soul and, sue her, she didn’t want to have to think about him being involved with this op because she was going to have to be the ruthless assassin she was. It scared her to think he would see her like that and that he would…be disgusted.
“You know that isn’t true, Preacher. What we have—”
“What we have is you sneaking out of here like I’m not important enough for you to tell me where you’re going.”
His eyes were such a gorgeous shade of gray, so mysterious and deep, and she tried so hard to be cool and unemotional, but the instant she met his gaze, something inside her just snapped. She went to him, touching the side of his face. She didn’t have to urge him, and his arms slid around her, stirring her again as she kissed him. The power of it rocketed through them and he pulled her against him, his hands sliding down her back, cupping her buttocks.
“It’s definitely not that.”
His gaze was glacial, and she wanted to tell him how sorry she was for causing him such pain. It shredded her, hurting him like this, and felt way worse than she thought it would. Karasu pressed her thumb and middle finger against her eyes to try to stall the ache that kept spreading.
This rage in him was tied directly to her because he was in as deep as she was.
“Then what is it about because this…this crap you’re trying to pull cuts deep, Karasu. I want more with you than a working relationship, or fucking, or clandestine meetings.” He grabbed her upper arms, the key fob biting into her skin. “Maybe you don’t give a damn and I’m spinning my wheels, but if you walk out of here without trusting me, what kind of a foundation can we build from that? We’re either in it together or not at all. There are no half measures. I’m all in all the time. You should know that.”
Anger licked through her, but not at him. It was at herself, Savic, her circumstances, what she’d made herself into to survive the overwhelming humiliation and pain from being his whore.
Her voice husky and gently prodding, she asked, “Do you really want to know? Know the real me?” She couldn’t bear it, emotion thick inside her, profound tenderness making her heart ache. “Because you’d better be prepared for that. For the real me. I do things. Terrible things. I kill people.”
