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He tore free of Quaide, but the man positioned himself in front of Clay. They stood about the same height and were equally wide. In a fight, neither of them would for sure come out on top.
“You fucking planned this!”
“It was Lark’s idea, but yeah. We did. She’s right, you know—she looks the part and can play it well after my coaching.”
“You coached her? Christ!” He ripped off his ballcap and sliced his fingers through his hair.
“She’s a quick study. Have you considered adding her to Sentry?”
Clay leveled him with a look.
“She could make a great undercover agent.”
“She wants to be a reporter. You’re not twisting her dream into this dark life!”
“Calm down. I’m not forcing her to do anything she doesn’t want to do. And she most definitely wanted to play the part of a crack whore coming in from the walk of shame to a meeting.”
“Stop calling her a crack whore before I break your jaw.”
Quaide grinned. “This one got to you, didn’t she?”
The words tripped Clay up. He stopped. His chest heaved.
“Yes,” he bit off, miserable.
“She’s pretty hooked on you too. And if last night’s anything to go by—”
He cut his hand through the air. “Enough. Dammit!” He considered punching the side of the truck then remembered it wasn’t his vehicle. If he wanted the Abels on his team, leaving fist marks in the door of Julius’s truck wasn’t going to persuade them.
Instead he squeezed the bridge of his nose hard enough to bruise. “What now? My woman’s in there with a bunch of addicts.”
“They’re in recovery,” Quaide corrected. “Give her a chance to do the job. After all, any woman in your life is going to have to trust you. If you want a relationship to work between you, you’re going to have to grant her the same amount of trust.”
He narrowed his eyes at Quaide. “You’re such a dick.”
“You only say that because you know I’m right.”
Clay watched the front of the church. A minute ago he was prepared to do anything to get names, locations, learn of terroristic plots to blow the place clear to Mars. Now he just needed Lark out of there and safe in his arms again.
Quaide angled his head for Clay to follow him. His friend strolled, but Clay’s legs felt like wooden planks as he followed to a group of picnic tables off to the side of the building. He remembered driving by this church back in the day and seeing families sitting there, talking to the pastor after services and just visiting with one another.
Innocent people who didn’t deserve whatever blackwillow73 had planned for them.
No one was around now. The work week had started, and the nearby road didn’t even have any vehicles passing as a distraction, which left Clay sinking deep into his thoughts.
What happened between him and Lark the previous night…it was real. But finding love on an op? It was fucked up.
Love. He only knew the need to protect her, to nurture that expression in her beautiful eyes whenever she looked at him…was very real. He didn’t want to lose those things either.
Besides, the sex was phenomenal. She wasn’t only a lover who took—she gave and gave. Actually, after their second round of sex the previous night, he’d drifted off for a few seconds and awakened to the feel of her mouth surrounding his cock.
He sucked in a breath, hoping to dispel the need to tear into the church, toss the woman over his shoulder and fuck her right there on the grass.
A bee buzzed nearby, its quiet drone the only sound besides the light breeze coming off the mountains.
“Lark’s right—the tat’s pretty good, bro.” Quaide’s statement brought Clay’s mind to the present.
“Thanks. Thinking about a few real ones. Dirty myself up a little more. You know, look the part.”
