Release, page 11
The moment she could, she ransacked the drawer next to the sink where she knew she’d put some condoms. She tried to remember when that had been, but it didn’t matter. They were going to be used tonight.
There. She found not one but two little gold packets. Hallelujah.
Instead of turning off the bathroom light, she left it on. It didn’t make the bedroom too bright but just right.
The first thing she saw, in fact, was that Seth had obeyed orders. He was stroking himself, and she had to admire his technique. Long and slow, from the base to the tip.
He’d leaned back against her headboard and he was watching her through heavy-lidded eyes. She let her own gaze linger on his handsome face, his strong jaw, that amazing chest, all the way down to his cock. He was perfect in every detail—and, no, she wasn’t forgetting a thing. He truly was gorgeous.
She forced herself to walk slowly, to let him look at her the way she’d looked at him. It wasn’t that she was ashamed of her body so much as she wasn’t used to being so open. So vulnerable.
What kept her going was the expression on his face. Much like his kiss, his eyes told her that he was more than pleased. That she was extraordinary, to him at least. It was a heady feeling and damn good for the libido. A thought crossed her mind, but it was stupid, unreal. What she saw on him was lust, pure and simple. Nothing more. Hell, she didn’t want more. She’d tried to imagine being in love, being loved back, but she’d never gotten past the absurdity of the concept. His lust? That she could handle.
She crawled back onto the bed on all fours, feeling sexier than she could ever recall. His hand stilled and then he reached for her. She kissed him and he kissed her back for a long time. And when she couldn’t stand it another minute, she straddled his thighs and rubbed her breasts against his chest.
“Oh, yes,” he whispered as his head went back against the headboard. “Harper.”
“You think that’s fun,” she said, “just wait.”
He moaned, and she bit the tip of his jaw, then used her teeth to open the condom wrapper.
She could feel him, pushing insistently against her butt, the little round head all wet and eager. Of course, she had to lift herself pretty high to get in the right position, but then he stepped in and held his cock still while she rolled the latex down.
The moment it was done, he shifted his hand to her waist. She moved again, this time getting herself lined up.
She could feel him trembling with the effort not to push up with his hips, to wait until she made the move.
He didn’t have to wait long.
11
HE COULDN’T BELIEVE it was happening, that she was so beautiful and so willing. He wouldn’t push up, he wouldn’t, not even if he died from the anticipation. Finally, though…“Please.”
She smiled at him, a long, slow grin that made his chest constrict. As she lowered her body, he struggled between squeezing his eyes shut to drown in her wet heat or watching her face. He couldn’t close his eyes. Not when there was so much to see.
Her head had gone back, revealing the arch of her neck. He wanted to kiss her there again, but he couldn’t move. At least not much. So he did what he could—he touched the tip of her nipple with his fingers, then spread his hand to cup her perfect, small breast.
She leaned into his hand as she worked her thighs, raising and lowering herself in a maddeningly slow rhythm.
It was so good, so much better than his pitiful imagination.
“Seth,” she said.
“Hmm?”
“You’re grinning.”
“I’m happy.”
“I bet you are.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
She closed her eyes for a moment as she settled on him, moving her hips in a wicked circle. “I’ve seen you, you know.”
His hand gripped her breast and she gasped. He let go instantly.
“No, it’s okay,” she said, putting his hand back.
“What do you mean you’ve seen me?”
“I have. Hungry little stares when you thought I wasn’t watching.”
He snorted. “Conceited much?”
She laughed and then she squeezed him back, only it wasn’t with her hand.
His head banged against the headboard, but he didn’t feel a thing. “I don’t think I can do this much longer.”
“You want me to stop?”
“No. Yes. No. I mean, I can’t stay so still.”
“Who said you had to?”
Before the words had settled, he gripped her waist with his right hand, balanced her side with his stump, then used his hips to flip her onto her back.
She cried out, but from the rapid rise and fall of those excellent breasts and the smile on her face, he didn’t think she was hurt.
The problem was that he was no longer inside her. It only took a moment to spread her legs with his knees, but he was off balance. It was the damn stump. She followed his gaze, pulled a pillow from the far side of the bed and folded it in half. Then she put it on her right side next to her shoulder. Exactly where it would work the best.
“You are amazing,” he said.
“I know.”
“And modest.”
She laughed as she ran her hand down his chest.
He settled himself over her, grateful he’d been doing his push-ups. The stump didn’t hurt at all and—oh, yeah—he had his balance now. What he didn’t have was a free hand to guide his cock, but the astonishing Harper took care of that, too.
Once he was in, he took point. Her smile disappeared as he gave in to the overwhelming need to go deep. Go hard. He thrust into her, shaking the whole bed, but it wasn’t enough. He pulled back and slammed home, and she cried out, her fingers scratching at his back, her legs curling up around his ass, urging him for more.
He did it again and again, until sweat blinded him, until his arms trembled, and she kept rising to meet each thrust. He grunted, swore. And then it was there, the tightness in his balls, in his gut, and he lost any control he might have had as he came.
Harper opened her eyes as the climax took him. His face twisted up with the strain and release, but all she could see was the warrior. He bared his teeth and groaned like a wild man, and it was so erotic, so primal, she came again herself. Or maybe it was just a continuation of the one that had hit after two minutes of him on top.
He collapsed, thoughtfully, to her left. She closed her eyes and tried to get her breathing under control. They sounded as if they’d just finished running a marathon, which they kinda had.
Selfishly she was glad he’d worn the condom so that she didn’t have to get out of bed to clean up. All she wanted to do now was sleep. God, she hoped he didn’t want to cuddle.
“Shit,” he said.
“I know.”
“You okay?”
“Fabulous. You?”
“Worn out.”
“Me, too,” she said. “So you won’t take offense if I get some sleep, right?”
He turned his head to look at her, and she could tell she’d shocked him. “You want me to go?”
“No. You can stay if you want to. But I’m sure I won’t have another nightmare tonight.”
He didn’t say anything for a while, probably deciding how to feel about things. Hell, she’d told him up front what she wanted. He should be pleased. No pretense, no faking it. They’d both needed a good fuck, and now that they’d had it, they could move along.
She sat up, pulled the covers from the bottom of the bed, then turned on her side to go to sleep. A moment later he rose and headed for the bathroom. She was asleep before he returned.
* * * * * *
Seth got up at five; although he’d been awake a while. Mostly he’d just watched Harper sleep. She was very quiet, very still, and he was glad that she was able to get the rest she needed. But what the hell?
Not that he’d expected a declaration of undying love, but jeez. Slam, bam, thank you…He guessed there wasn’t a little rhyme for the women who wanted it fast, hard and unemotional.
The truth was, he didn’t understand why he was so uncomfortable. He’d never been the kind of guy to turn over and go to sleep, so maybe it was just the surprise of it. She had never said she wanted anything but sex, and God knows that’s all he wanted, so what was the problem?
Something else had to be going on, that’s all. Some psychological thing about his hand maybe.
He went down to the basement and started his workout. Old habits kicked in, and he thought of nothing but the muscles, the count, breathing right, keeping the perfect position for each exercise. When he finally finished, he thought about going back to bed—his bed—but it was after six and he didn’t want to waste the day. He gathered his clothes and went upstairs to the guest bathroom.
The second he was in the shower, thoughts of Harper and the way she’d left things filled his head. Not being a shrink, he had no idea what kind of weird psychoses came along with losing a limb, but one of them was probably the need for extra reassurance when it came to the bedroom. She’d actually given him the best reassurance of all—it hadn’t mattered. She’d been quick to provide assistance when he’d needed it, but that was it. No drama, no trauma. Which was exactly what he’d wanted.
And yet her turning over like that…He’d been, well, hurt. The thought made him wince. He was Delta Force, hand or no hand. He knew exactly where sex fit into the program and where it didn’t.
He wasn’t looking for a relationship or a lover or anything close to it. His priorities were clear—train until the hand was a nonissue. Take down Omicron. Don’t get dead. It didn’t get more uncomplicated than that. And wasn’t it convenient that he and Harper could get their rocks off together. No need to worry about bringing some civilian into this.
The whole situation was a dream come true. So what was his deal?
He soaped up, washed his hair, told himself to stop being such a pussy. He had decided to go to the clinic. It was still his responsibility, at least until they hired someone to take his place. Only, he was going to cut his hours. This afternoon he was going to connect with Nate. They needed to figure something out to help Tam run her tests. Then tonight he’d finally take Harper to the shooting range.
It wouldn’t do any good to keep analyzing the situation with Harper, so he wouldn’t. Not even to wonder if he should sleep with her tonight.
* * * * * *
Eli Lieberman sat in his Toyota—the one he’d had since he was nineteen, and he’d bought it used. While he was grateful for the reliability, it was far from his dream car. That was a Porsche 911 Turbo, and he’d been dreaming about that baby for years.
If he went to the editor of the Times with the information he had in the trunk, odds were high that he’d never get his Ferrari. He’d never get married, have kids, go to Bali. Because he’d be dead. Dead like Corky Baker. Dead like all those people in Serbia.
It was crunch time. Take over the story or let Omicron and the CIA and Senator Raines get away with murder.
He would have liked to think that there would be no question, that he’d do the right thing because he was an honorable man. But it wasn’t that simple.
Ever since he’d discovered Baker’s body he’d been terrified out of his mind. He was pretty goddamned sure he was being followed. He’d stopped using his phone at the apartment, bought a gun and was at the shooting range every single night. And he’d pretty much stopped sleeping.
He’d transcribe+ed it all, seen the implications, and it was not pretty. He wasn’t even sure he could convince the -editor that it was the truth.
The scary part was, he believed every word.
He thought about his folks. Briefly he’d considered asking their advice. But he didn’t want them to know how real the danger was. On this one, he was flying solo.
So what was it to be? Forget he knew anything about this and go on with the rest of his life? Or risk it all to expose the truth?
* * * * * *
Harper finished with her ninth patient of the day, and instead of wanting to drink an entire pot of coffee, she actually felt ready to do more. She couldn’t believe how well she’d slept. And how amazing it had been with Seth.
She hadn’t seen him much today, although she knew he was out there working. But when she had, he’d seemed distant. Quiet. More like when he’d first come to work here.
Having never claimed to understand the male mind, she headed out to the waiting room to let Mary Lee know she wasn’t going to take a break. Since they closed early tonight, she wanted to finish with the last of the patients. There was another doctor and a nurse-practitioner here, so between them they should be out of here soon. She’d promised Seth nothing would stop them from going to the firing range tonight, even though she dreaded it.
Speak of the devil, there was Seth by the big cabinet, stuffing files back in alphabetical order. He’d gotten pretty good at using the claw. He improvised now as a person would do once they’d accepted the facts of the matter. It hadn’t occurred to her until this morning that his hand might have been an issue during sex. And that was because it hadn’t been.
It all went back to that salesman. That had been the moment Seth had left his victim mentality behind.
“Mary Lee?”
The older woman put out her hand for a moment as she finished some notes on a file. Harper glanced at Seth, who turned his head as soon as she met his gaze.
“What did you need, Dr. Douglas?”
She sat down in the guest chair next to Mary Lee. “First, did Seth tell you he’ll be leaving us?”
“Oh, no.” Mary Lee looked over at Seth. “I’ll be sad to see you go.”
Seth cleared his throat. “Thanks.”
“When will that be?”
“When you hire my replacement.”
The older woman smiled. “That’s very nice. I’ll put an ad in the paper in the morning.”
He nodded, then turned back to his filing.
“Was that it, Dr. Douglas?”
“Just wondering who we have out there.”
“Well,” Mary Lee said, “we’ve got Ms. Landry, who’s here for some birth control. Dr. Cavell is already with Mr. Taylor. That leaves Mr. Smith, who wanted to have a consult with you about some stomach ailment.” She leaned closer to Harper. “Personally I think he’s a taker.”
“Got it.” A “taker” was Mary Lee for a drug user who tried to con hospitals and clinics into giving them pain medication. They saw lots of them here, and—bless her heart—Mary Lee was always surprised.
Harper spotted him immediately. He didn’t present as a methadone addict, but she recognized the symptoms of his drug use. Too skinny, brittle hair, slightly jaundiced. “Tell him we need his social security number.”
Mary Lee smiled. They all knew the routine. She’d get his number, put the statistical database up on the computer monitor and type it in. The taker would see that, make some excuse to leave for a moment but never come back.
“Who else?”
They discussed the rest of the patients, but Harper kept looking back at Seth. No real reason to, just that something was off about him. She’d have to talk to him tonight, when they went shooting.
An hour later, she’d finished with another two patients and it was time for coffee. She headed for the break room but stopped as she saw Mr. Smith standing at the reception desk. Only, he wasn’t looking at Mary Lee or the computer. His gaze was on Seth, and from the look on his face, he was concentrating hard.
Of course, Seth had put on his face prosthetics and he was wearing his baseball cap. So she was probably being paranoid. But the man just kept staring. Without saying a word, he turned and hurried out the door, and all her internal alarms went off.
She went to Seth and signaled him to follow.
Once they were alone in the break room, she shut the door. “Did you see that man at the reception area? He was in the dirty green T-shirt?”
Seth nodded.
“I think he may have recognized you.”
Seth’s posture changed. He straightened and got damn serious. “What makes you think so?”
“He was staring at you like he’d known you from high school, you know?”
“How long ago did he leave?”
“Just now.”
Seth was out of the room so fast it made her jump, and by the time she got to the hallway he wasn’t in sight. She had a pretty good idea where he would look for the guy—the post office. That’s where his picture was, along with the other members of his Delta Force team.
She poured herself a cup of coffee, wondering if she could do anything to help. Call Nate? If Seth needed help, he had his cell phone. Try to find Smith herself? Whatever address he’d given Mary Lee would be false. They always were. So what could she do but wait?
* * * * * *
Seth lowered his baseball cap as he headed in the direction of the post office. If Harper was right, he had to find this guy. Now. The question was, what was he going to do with him once he had him?
Kill him? An innocent civilian? Hold him hostage? Where? How? Shit.
He got his cell phone out of his back pocket and hit Nate’s speed-dial number.
“Yeah?”
“Nate. I think I’ve been spotted.”
Nate swore for a while as Seth crossed Broad Street. Three more blocks and he’d be at the post office. “What’s his position?”
“Unknown, but I believe he’s going to get the Wanted poster so he can be sure.”
“You can’t let him get to the police.”
“What the hell am I supposed to do with him?”
“Can you get him back to the clinic?”
“How?”
“Use force if you have to. We’ll meet you there.”
“Then what?”
There was a long silence. “Just get him there.”
Seth hung up and rounded Broad. There he was. Green shirt, dirty long hair. He was walking with a purpose and—just as Seth thought—he was headed to check out the poster.
Once the guy determined he’d found his man, he’d do one of two things—go right for the phone to call the cops or walk the two blocks to the police station. Seth’s money was on the in-person visit. This was a junkie dreaming of reward money, and goddamned Omicron had made sure it was sizable. Enough to keep this junkie in drugs for a long time.
