Resurrection, page 15
part #1 of Redemption Harbor Series
“I think he’s part of a book club now,” Colt muttered as he steered the truck they’d borrowed from Brooks into the driveway of a two-story Colonial-style home. The lawn was pristine.
“Seriously?”
He snorted. “No, not seriously. A gun club, maybe. He’s in his fifties and still practices martial arts.” As he turned off the engine, he rolled his shoulders once.
It was strange, seeing him so uneasy over a visit with his father. “We don’t have to stay long.”
“I know.”
With her ball cap pulled low, Skye got out and met him at the front of the vehicle. His shoulders were stiff and his jaw tight. Immediately she took his hand in hers. “I’ve literally seen you face down the barrel of a loaded weapon without flinching.”
He sighed and rolled his shoulders again. “Yeah, I know.”
And that was all he said as they approached the front door. It swung open before Colt could knock and they came face to face with an older version of Colt. His dad was a little over six feet, lean but muscular like his son, and had dark hair peppered through with gray and bits of auburn.
“You have a beard now?” Colt blurted so suddenly Skye knew he hadn’t meant to say it.
His dad half-smiled and ran a hand over it. “Yeah. Trying something new.”
“It looks good,” she said. “Makes you look distinguished. I’m Skye,” She held out a hand, which he shook firmly, introducing himself as Senior—she knew his first name was also Colt.
Then he stepped back to let them in. “I was surprised when you called.”
Colt let her walk in first, then shut the door behind them, his movements stiff and so out of character for the confident man she knew.
“We’ve got a problem,” he said, motioning between him and Skye. “Related to work. Anyone from the Agency contacted you lately?”
“No.”
Skye knew he had top-level clearance—or he had at one point—but he would have known what his son’s job was regardless, since he would have been interviewed before Colt was hired.
“Are you cleaning guns?” she asked, knowing the question was a little weird, but not caring. She could smell the gun oil with a hint of citrus, and these two needed to talk about something they were both comfortable with so they could break through whatever this was. She might not have had the most conventional childhood—ha!—but she’d give anything to have her parents still alive.
Senior looked startled, but nodded.
“I love the smell of gun oil.”
“You like weapons?”
She snorted. “That’s like asking if Santa likes Christmas.”
He smiled and motioned with his hand for them to follow. Skye ignored the annoyed look Colt gave her and followed the older man to a dining room where multiple weapons had been laid out on towels. Most were broken apart, in the process of being cleaned.
“Oooh, an M1911.” She didn’t touch it, but moved around the oval-shaped table to look at it. From 1911 to 1986 it had been the standard-issue sidearm for the armed forces. She had one herself and knew Colt did as well.
“It’s how I got my name,” Senior said.
She looked up from admiring the pristine weapon. “So…you were both named after Colt manufacturing, then?”
Colt gave a half-smile and nodded. “Yep. Grandpa named Senior after the manufacturer of his favorite sidearm.”
“And I did the same,” Senior said.
Somehow that seemed fitting, considering who these two men were. “You’ve been keeping secrets, Colt.” He’d never told her that he was named after a weapon.
Colt just lifted an eyebrow, and okay, that was fair considering what she’d done.
“So what’s going on? Are you in trouble?” his dad asked, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Things have gotten complicated.” Colt rubbed a hand over the back of his neck.
“Your son and I used to be partners, so you know who I worked for.” Okay they’d been way more than that, but calling him her boyfriend or lover felt too weird. “I faked my own death because someone threatened everyone in Colt’s life. That was months ago. Now we think the man who threatened everyone Colt cares about—including you—might be on to the fact that I’m alive. Which means everyone who means anything to Colt is a target and needs to be careful.” Maybe she should have let Colt tell his dad, but he seemed to be struggling with finding the words. This just got everything out into the open quickly. Like ripping a Band-Aid off. Now they could move forward.
“And Mary Grace is alive,” Colt added. “Which has nothing to do with what Skye just told you. But you should know, we just rescued her from Mexico. For the time being we’re hoping to keep it out of the media.”
Senior blinked once, taking it all in stride Which wasn’t really a surprise, considering he’d been in some type of special forces. “That’s a lot of information to digest… I’m really glad to hear about Mary Grace. Now, who threatened you, son?”
“My recruiter.”
Senior didn’t even blink at that. “You need help bringing him down?”
“No…not yet anyway. We’re working on something. I just wanted to let you know that you could come stay at Brooks’s property if—”
“No one’s running me out of my home. If someone wants to come at me, let them.” He got the same stubborn look on his face Colt did when he’d made up his mind about something.
Before Colt could respond, she said, “If you want to get beat in a shooting competition, come out to Brooks’s place, then.”
“Beat by who?”
She smiled widely. “Me, of course. And I won’t go easy on you either.”
He tilted his head slightly, eyeing her curiously. “Long range?”
“Sounds good to me. But fair warning, I’m awesome.”
“Is there enough room at your friend’s place?” he asked Colt.
“More than enough.”
“All right. Let me think on it. Anything else I need to know?”
“If you think you’re being watched, contact me, but not over the phone. I don’t know if your phones are being monitored. Feels unlikely, but just in case.”
His father nodded once. “Okay. I’ll grab a disposable cell from the store. I’ll pay cash.”
“Good.”
“You guys hungry?”
“Ah, no, we already ate. Mercer made pizza.”
Senior snorted. “I’ve been to one of his restaurants a few times. Good stuff.”
For a few more minutes Skye stood by as Colt and his father engaged in awkward small talk. It was almost painful to watch, especially since she knew Colt wanted to basically demand his father come out to Brooks’s property. Strained relationship or not, he needed his father to be safe. Especially if they were going to go after Gianni.
When things started winding down, Skye subtly took off her ball cap and dropped it onto one of the dining room chairs.
Senior walked the two of them out and once they were on the front porch, she turned to Colt. “Oh, I forgot my hat, will you grab it?”
He nodded before heading back inside.
Skye immediately spoke to Senior. “Look, Colt needs to be in the right headspace for going after this guy,” she said quietly and quickly. “He won’t come out and demand it, but he wants you at Brooks’s place. If he knows you’re safe, it’ll be easier to do what needs to be done. And his well-being means more to me than anything.”
Colt chose that moment to step back outside, her cap in hand. Senior didn’t respond, not that she’d expected him to. Not in front of Colt.
So she smiled. “It was nice to meet you.”
“You too.” He gave her one of those half-smiles that were so much like Colt’s. It was easy to see what he’d look like in a couple decades.
“Can I talk to you a second?” Senior nodded once at Colt, the question clear. He wanted privacy.
Skye took her cap and headed to the vehicle. Watching the two of them from the truck made her shake her head. They both stood stiffly, their facial expressions barely changing as they talked to each other. Then, one hard hand pump and they separated before Colt got into the driver’s seat.
“So?” she asked once he’d pulled out into the street.
“So what?”
“What did he say?”
“He’ll be coming to Brooks’s tomorrow. He wants to pack up his stuff and feed his neighbors a lie about going on vacation in case someone comes sniffing around.”
“Smart.”
“Yeah. He also said I needed to put a ring on your finger.” Colt shook his head slightly. “Said that you are utterly perfect for me.”
She blinked, taken aback and definitely not sure how to respond, considering she’d been in Senior’s company for all of ten minutes. “Oh.”
“Really? Oh is all I get?” His voice was dry. “You can do better than that.”
“Colt…I don’t think now’s the time to talk about…stuff.”
“Stuff? Are you kidding me? I love you, Skye. And this is getting old.”
“I love you too,” she muttered.
“What was that?”
“Oh shut up, you big jackass! I love you too!” He was determined to make her say it. But saying the words, putting them out into the universe, made her feel raw and vulnerable. Because it made her even more afraid for him. For their future. Almost as if she was jinxing it.
When she’d faked her death, left him, she’d had to compartmentalize everything in her life, specifically her feelings for Colt. She’d never expected him, never expected everything he evoked inside her. Working for the CIA, helping strangers and risking her life on a constant basis had been easier than falling in love. She still felt like she was in a free fall when she was around him—or thought about him.
“I’m going to get that quote framed for our one year anniversary.”
Gah. One year anniversary? What the hell was he doing to her? Nope. She could absolutely not go there. They needed to deal with Gianni, then…they could talk about other stuff. Oh yeah, she was going to avoid talking about this completely. “So what’s the official plan once we get back to Brooks’s?”
“You can’t avoid talking about the future forever.”
“I can for now… Come on.”
He gave her a frustrated, sideways glance before turning back to the road. “Tonight I’m going to call one of my assets—using an alias Gianni doesn’t know about. I’ll tell him I’ve got a seller for a bioweapon who wants to move it fast. It’ll get back to Gianni soon enough. A day, a week, he’ll find out about it.”
“Then he’ll start hunting me.”
“This time we’ll be hunting him first.”
She liked the idea of that a whole lot. But she didn’t like the idea of Colt going after Gianni. She worried that he was too connected to the man. What if they went toe to toe and Colt flinched or paused and got himself killed?
Icy fingers danced down her spine at the thought. She’d done everything she could to keep him safe. No way was she going to lose him now.
Chapter 17
—Secrets.—
Seven months ago
Colt pushed up from the hotel bed when Skye walked out of the bathroom wearing nothing but a pair of panties—with the text Congratulations—you made it this far on the front. This woman constantly made him smile. Familiar hunger swelled inside him but there was something in her gaze, something distant he didn’t like.
They’d arrived back in DC yesterday and opted to stay in a hotel room for a few days, wanting downtime and a little luxury after being in the jungle for the last couple weeks. Last night she’d gone for a workout in the hotel gym and when she’d come back, he’d felt the distance. As if she’d put up a wall between them.
“What’s going on with you?” he asked as she picked up the robe she’d draped over the end of the bed and slipped it on.
She frowned at him as she pulled her damp hair from under the collar of the robe. “What are you talking about?”
“Are we good?” He pulled her close to him, wrapping his arms around her waist.
“Yeah. Of course.” But that look was still there. The one that sent an arrow of panic through him. “I’m freaking exhausted, is all.”
“We have been going hard the past few weeks.” Holding her like this, feeling her body against his, his own body automatically reacted. Simply the way it was with her. If she started pulling away, he didn’t know how to stop it. Didn’t know if he could.
Sighing, she laid her cheek against his chest and just held him. “You think you’ll do this forever? Our job?”
The question took him off guard. “Not field work, no.” He loved what he did, but he wanted more from his life. If he and Skye ever did have kids—another thing that seemed to terrify her—he didn’t want to be gone all the time. Even if they didn’t have a family, he didn’t want a life where he was constantly on the road. “Why? Feeling burned out?”
“A little, I think.” There was a note in her voice that was slightly off and even though he wanted to fix whatever was going on, demand she open up, he knew that wasn’t the way to go with Skye. If he tried that, she’d close up even more on him.
“I’m not married to this job,” he said quietly.
She didn’t say anything, just pulled back to look at him. Then she was on him, kissing him with an intensity that made him stumble back a step. He’d learned that if she didn’t want to talk about something, sex was the way she communicated. It didn’t take long before her robe and panties were tossed to the side, his own clothes joining them on the floor.
His cock was heavy between his legs, pressing against the flat plane of her abdomen as they fell onto the plush, king-sized bed.
Reaching between their bodies, she grasped his erection and started stroking him. He groaned into her mouth, his body on fire for her. He’d learned that there was nothing off-limits between them in the bedroom. He loved that about her.
Skye was giving and open with her needs, her wants—at least sexually. If she wanted him to go down on her, she told him. If he wasn’t hitting the right spot, she told him that too. And she gave back everything she asked for, taking joy in everything she did. By now, however, he’d learned what made her tick, knew exactly how she liked to be kissed, teased, stroked.
Grasping her wrist, he pulled it away from him, even though he hated to lose her touch. Right now he wanted to make her crazy, to push her over the edge. Then do it all over again. If she thought she could put walls back up, pull away from him, it wasn’t happening.
He guided both her hands above her head. “Stay put,” he murmured against her mouth. The headboard was the tufted kind so he couldn’t restrain her. This would have to do.
She arched her back as he began kissing down the column of her neck and bare chest. Outside lights from the busy city filtered in, illuminating her soft, bronze skin. When he reached the pale white line of an old scar under her ribcage, he brushed his lips over it, taking his time.
He did the same when he reached the even paler spider-web scar on the right side of her stomach. Her body was a warrior’s.
His resilient and determined warrior, more beautiful to him because of the scars. And one day he’d learn all her secrets.
“How’d you get this one?” he murmured before gently raking his teeth over the scarring.
She speared her fingers through his hair and spread her legs wider. “Less talking.”
“Tell me.” He moved parallel from the scar until he reached her bellybutton.
She let out a light laugh as he teased it with his tongue.
“I’ll torture you until you talk.” He moved lower still, kissing over the smooth skin of her completely waxed mound. She always waxed before a mission—less maintenance, she said. Always so practical. He loved it either way.
“I like this brand of torture.” Her voice was thick with desire.
He flicked his tongue over the pulsing bud of her clit once, twice…then stopped.
She dug her fingers into his head, but he moved higher, away from the pleasure point.
She huffed out an irritated breath. “Stray bullet hit me on a mission in Panama. Rescuing some diplomat’s daughter. Now lick me,” she demanded.
“Lick what?”
Growling in annoyance, she tried to move her legs together, as if to deny him, but he moved his hands between her inner thighs and held them firm. “You know what.”
“I want to hear you say the word.”
“You have a weird obsession with that word.”
“Say it.”
“Pussy. Lick my pussy.” Her voice was raspy, her breathing coming out harsh now.
Oh yeah. He was working his woman up. Just the way he liked it. Dipping his head back down, he did exactly as she’d ordered and started teasing her slick folds until she was writhing against his face.
“So close.” She dug her fingers into his scalp, not caring about his order to keep her hands above her head. Skye was like that, always doing whatever she wanted.
Something he loved about her. Then again, he loved everything about the woman. Most days he thought she was all in too. Until today. He’d sensed something off, and he wasn’t sure what the hell was going on.
Her body was trembling, her breathing harsh and uneven. They’d done this enough that he knew she was close.
He wrenched his head back. “Want to be inside you when you come.”
She spread her thighs to accommodate him and wrapped her legs around his hips as he thrust inside her. On a cry of pleasure, she arched her hips against his.
His balls pulled up tight as her inner walls tightened around him, clenching each time he thrust inside her. Every time he was with her, it was like coming home. Every. Single. Time.
He’d never thought it would be possible to feel this connected to someone. She knew everything about him and loved him anyway. Because he was no saint. But Skye didn’t care.
Her fingers dug into his ass as she met him stroke for stroke. “I can never get enough of you.” She said the words almost as an accusation.
