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They’d lived on adrenaline and sex—one feeding the other until she was sure they’d burn each other out. But they hadn’t. They’d lasted seven years and had a daughter before she realized living on adrenaline and risking your life for your country on a daily basis wasn’t a good foundation for a family.
They’d never planned to have children, knowing the risks of what they did and how they lived were too dangerous, but fate had stepped in, and Maddie had been conceived on their fourth wedding anniversary while they’d been under lockdown after finishing a mission that hadn’t turned out exactly as they’d wanted. They’d both been in shock after finding out she was pregnant, but there’d never been any question of not keeping the baby. They’d just promised each other that adjustments would have to be made.
They’d built a home in the country that no one knew about, and they’d raised their daughter there. And they’d been happy. For a time. Gabe would go undercover for weeks, and she’d go on her own jobs all over the world, and Maddie hardly ever got to spend time with both of them together. They never talked about their work. But they always came back to each other and loved each other fiercely until they were called away again.
And then Gabe had started to change. It wasn’t a little change, but all at once. He closed in on himself, spending a lot of time alone and rarely speaking at all. He rolled away from her touch at night, and it was then she knew something was really wrong.
It wasn’t until after Maddie died that she’d found out Gabe had spent twelve years building different covers and infiltrating some of the biggest terrorist organizations in the world. She thought he’d been in charge of the missions, handling other operatives and sending them out on assignments. She’d never known hewasthe mission.
Her child had died because Gabe had been one of the top men in Ahmad Sayad’s organization—a man that made Osama Bin Laden look like an altar boy. Gabe and Kamir Tussad took care of Sayad’s nefarious businesses while Sayad stayed hidden. Sayad was more of a figurehead than anything. It was really Tussad who called the shots. And it was Tussad who had found out Gabe was a plant. He’d destroyed them all as payment—Gabe, because his cover had been blown and he could no longer do his job with any organization—Grace, because he’d taken the one thing that had given her light.
Without Maddie, the darkness in her life crept in at her around the edges, eating at her soul. She could blame it on the CIA for making her kill. She believed in what she did. But after Maddie’s death, the kills stopped having meaning. They were just targets, not life. And she knew it was only a matter of time before the darkness overtook her completely. She could no longer function as she had been. She was empty inside, and seeing Gabe had only made her remember what she’d lost and could never have again. It didn’t matter that she’d loved him. The husk of her body was no longer capable of such things.
Grace’s hands finally stopped shaking, and she threw the thick down quilt that covered her aside. She tossed the T-shirt she’d slept in on the bed and pulled on a black sports bra and a pair of matching cotton shorts. She laced up her shoes, grabbed her key card and her SIG, and she escaped.
The clock in her kitchen said it was just shy of four, and she unlocked and opened her door that led into the hallway she and Gabe shared.
Silence.
She crept down the hall and rode the elevator to the fifth floor. Gabe hadn’t been kidding when he’d said there was a full gym. She ran her fingers over the free weights, picked one up and tested it with slow curls. There were machines of every variety, and an entire wall of mirrors. But it was the large sparring ring and punching bags that caught her attention.
Perfect. She needed to beat the hell out of something.
She wrapped her hands with tape and found a pair of gloves that fit. The first punch of her fist against the bag sent vibrations up her arm and down to her toes. Her body came alive from the pain, and the punches came faster and the hits harder.
* * *
Gabe didn’t know how long he stood at the edge of the room and watched her. She was like a fury—all hands and fists and feet. She looked like she was fighting for her life. Maybe she was.
She’d forgotten to braid her hair. It was pulled back in a loose tail that curled riotously down her spine. Sweat gleamed on her skin, and energy vibrated out of every pore. Her body was a beautiful machine, and toned muscles flexed and bunched with every hit to the bag.
Gabe felt the tightening in his lower body and anticipation coiled in his gut. He’d always wanted her, but seeing her again after so long turned the want into need. He knew as well as she did it would only be a matter of time before they had each other again.
He thought back to Jack’s surprise that Gabe hadn’t been with another woman since Grace left. He’d had women before Grace. Hell, he’d been no better than Jack. Having a different name in every country was exciting in more ways than one. He could be anybody, and there was a certain amount of excitement in sleeping with a woman who didn’t know your real name or that you’d killed someone the hour before.
But everything changed after Grace. He knew there was no point being with another woman ever again. No one else would come close to fulfilling him as she did.
Only she had that power over him.
Grace hit the bag hard enough that Gabe winced in sympathy. The band around her hair fell to the ground, and a waterfall of red spiraled down her back. There was no point in fighting it. He was already lost.
* * *
Grace stopped punching and pulled off her gloves, putting them back in the slot she’d gotten them from. She unwrapped the tape and tossed it into the trash bin before reaching down to grab her hair band. Her fingers tightened around the elastic and she realized she was no longer alone.
She turned and saw Gabe watching her out of hooded eyes. The desire in his eyes had her body jumping in reaction. The electricity between them made the hair on her arms stand on end.
“What do you say? You up for a little one-on-one?” he dared.
She wanted to say yes, but her mind was screaming no. “I don’t think so. I’ve already been down here an hour. You’re fresh. It hardly seems fair to me.”
“Come on. I figure you want to get even with me for taking you down in Colombia. I’ll even spot you a round. We’ll go two out of three.”
He pulled his shirt off and threw it on the ground before she could agree or disagree. God, he was beautiful. Scars and all. His body was lean, and she was distracted by the hard ridges of muscle on his chest and stomach. A thin layer of black hair curled across his chest and swirled down his stomach in a line, disappearing beneath his shorts. His shoulders were broad and his hips narrow.
His body was a finely tuned instrument that could bring pleasure or pain in equal measures. He was already climbing into the ring, sure she’d follow after him. Arrogant. And she loved it.
“Agreed.” She climbed in after him, the anticipation making her jumpy. Their fighting stances were different, but both effective. They circled each other, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
