Chapter Four
Zach sat on the dock, his feet swinging over. He knew he was asleep, having not been to this particular lake since he was eighteen years old. If he looked to his left, he’d see Adam and to his right. In a moment, Sarah would join them, her feet joining his in the dangle over the dock.
Only, Adam’s feet were not dangling where they belonged. He quickly looked right and Sarah leaned back next him on her elbows, her feet not pushed out in front of her, instead, tucked beneath her. She wasn’t fourteen. She appeared older, beautiful not in the way of a teenager, instead the gorgeous woman she had become.
“What’s with the strange look on your face?”
His cock jumped to life, hard and straining in his pants as if she had been stroking him instead of simply speaking to him. “I’m dreaming. And my scene is different than I’m used to it.”
Sarah reached out and brushed his hair off his forehead as she had done when he’d rested his head on her lap in the helicopter.
The helicopter…
“Does it matter? If you’re dreaming, have a good go at it. Pretty place. I’m hot as hell, obviously.” She spoke with a twinkle in her eye. “Go wherever the dream takes you.”
A blaring horn sounded and it seemed so out of place. Where would a horn be coming from at the lake?
“What if the dream takes me to some place where you are on top me with your legs spread, moving up and down on top my erection and making me come?”
“As I said, sometimes the dream needs to go where it goes.”
Her words sounded good to him. He moved forward and…
Zach.
“Did you say something?” He ran his finger on the gentle slope of her nose. Sarah had such dainty features. Someone who could do her justice should paint her. Too bad he didn’t possess an ounce of artistic ability.
“No.” She smiled. “Well, I mean you heard what I said.”
Zach. I need you to wake up.
Oh, right. He was asleep. Damn it. Of course he’d never been alone with Sarah on a dock and she had never invited him to put his hands on her. Although she’d admitted she once crushed on him.
His eyes flew open on the thought. Disoriented, he braced himself for blurry haze, which always came on after a bad headache.
“You’re okay.” Sarah’s soft hand stroked the side of his face. “I’m sorry I had to wake you at all.”
“No. It’s. Fine.” His brain needed to cooperate and it needed to immediately. Sometimes, when he first awakened it took him awhile to find words, as it had been when he first came out of the coma. Although all his problems were considered normal for his healing brain—the words a doctor used—he hated it and didn’t want Sarah seeing him so laid out.
He cut his gaze away, pretending to look at his surroundings instead of giving his mind time to catch up with his alert state. They were in a car, a sedan by the size of it. Leather interior. Power steering. Four-wheel drive. When he’d conked out, pathetically on her lap, they’d been in the helicopter with Brad piloting. How had they gotten into the car?
She watched him, quietly, for a bit before she spoke again. “Miami. We’re at a Motel 6. I’ve rented us a room. Paid in the cash Brad gave us before he took off. He helped me maneuver you into the car. You kind of roused then, although, I don’t think you really woke up.”
Great. There was nothing he hated more than his brothers seeing him fall apart. Although he doubted Tungsten would ever tell a soul. Brad had seen him a lot worse when he had first awoken in the hospital, when he hadn’t been able to speak at all.
“Miami. Good choice.” Easy to be lost in a huge city, and since he was coherent again, he’d take over keeping her safe.
“That’s why I told Brad to leave us here.” She winked. “I would have let you sleep some more, only I can’t carry you inside the hotel room by myself.”
“Yeah, no, you trying would be humiliating.” He extended his hand. “Do you have the telephone to the room? I’ll go check it out.” She furrowed her brow, and he realized he misspoke. Zach clenched his jaw. Exactly how much embarrassment with Sarah was he going to have to endure? “Do you know what I meant although I said the wrong thing? Probably if I try to self-correct over the next few minutes I will continue to misspeak. So, I’m hoping you know what I…”
As an answer, she placed the keycard in his outstretched hand. “Don’t worry, I speak Zach.”
He laughed at her response, the reaction catching him by surprise. “Then you’d be the only one. I’m not sure I speak me anymore.”
Zinc exited the car. Maybe he couldn’t always make himself understood—stupid brain—yet he could still check out a hotel room to make sure it was safe. Sarah was a very capable woman, and Zinc had known a lot of extremely tough ladies in his day, and if she’d wanted to argue with his protection, she could. The fact she hadn’t fought him on that point, satisfied his need to protect.
The number of the room was on the key. The hotel looked old and in need of either a major renovation or a tear down. She’d been right to pick it. If ever there was a location where there wouldn’t be video cameras, it was the motel she’d chosen.
He pushed the key into the slot and then entered. The room smelled as if it had been cleaned. Someone had at least sprayed air freshener, and he knew, unfortunately from experience, the air freshening might have been the extent of the sanitization. Zach did a quick look through. It seemed safe enough. He had no equipment to search for bugs so his eyeing the room would have to be good enough.
He crossed the room to the door and opened it before waving Sarah in. A few seconds later, she joined him. Her presence brought home a major factor he missed in his perusal. There was only a single bed.
His mouth went dry.
Maybe they didn’t have double beds in the hotel…
“How is your head?” She tapped her bag before pulling out three medicine bottles. “I temporarily stole a phone off a man in the gas station and googled migraine meds. Then I stole these three from a pharmacy. I left money they’ll find, although I suppose it’s really a moot point. No prescription, equals theft.” She shrugged.
“You stole from a pharmacy? In my pajamas?” He took the vials form her hand. “How did you manage? And you temporarily stole a phone?”
“I gave it back. The dude never knew it was gone. I’m a CIA operative. I know I was held captive, and I mostly chase paper. It doesn’t mean I don’t have some skills. Maybe I have a trustworthy face. Maybe the guy liked the Yankees?”
Her answer did nothing to quiet his utter astonishment that she had stolen him medicine after Googling them from a stolen—excuse me, borrowed—phone. He stared at her, hoping he didn’t look like an idiot as she moved farther into the room. Her hips swayed when she moved. Why hadn’t he noticed before? Well, his head had been throbbing and they’d been in deep trouble. Or maybe the movement was simply more pronounced.
“What do you think? It’ll do, right? I didn’t go in without you. I figured a small, functional room was what I should expect.”
He wanted to ask her about the bed and instead looked at his stolen prescriptions. One of them was right, the other two he had used and not found effective.
“You should take it round the clock. Stay ahead of the pain. It’s really an autoimmune thing. Not letting the body find the pain again.”
“Do you have a medical degree I don’t remember?” He winked. The last thing Zach wanted was for her to think of him as some kind of patient who needed to be pitied.
She raised a dark eyebrow and walked toward him with those hips again. His cock hardened. “I care about you so I’m going to level with you.”
“Hold on.” He held out his hand. There were things to say before she told him off. “You were held captive for a month by a sicko. Then you had to rescue your rescuer. I’m so sorry. It’s inexcusable.”
She blinked rapidly and it took at least ten seconds for her to respond. “Are you out of your mind?”
“Always.” She’d seen him in the car. Hell, she’d practically had to carry him.
“Zach. You rescued me from a psycho. You shot a bunch of people to do it. Killed a pilot who wanted to kill us. Managed to safely crash—if you say ‘bail out’ I’ll kick you in the shin—the plane. Then you got a migraine headache because you are three years removed from a head injury caused in an explosion, which killed you temporarily. I think I can live with what little role I have played in our adventure.” She pointed her finger at him and poked it right into his shoulder. The movement actually hurt and he took a step back. “Enough with the crap. Are you hungry?”
The abrupt change in topic threw him off his game. “I could eat.”
“Great. Any residual headache? I’m asking because I want to know if we need to find somewhere quiet or bring take-out here.”
“I’ve always got a bit of a throb going on. I still manage in crowds pretty well if I don’t let myself think about it.”
“Okay. Then I know the place. It’s quiet and we’ll blend in. I have some extra clothes for us in the car.”
She did? What else had she been doing when he’d been unconscious? “Did you buy them or steal them?”
“A little of both. I don’t want to use all our money today. Oh, and I know you want to talk about what happened before I got taken. We’ll do so at dinner.” She nodded as if she liked the idea. “Another thing.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. Had Sarah always been so bossy? And why did he find it so fucking hot?
She got and steadily held eye contact. He had no interest in ever looking away. She was so…pretty. “I know I’m not your type.”
What? “Come again?”
“I am not the type of girl you prefer.”
“Ah.” He rubbed his forehead. His head didn’t hurt. The movement gave him something to do so he could catch his breath. Sarah Steele was every guy’s type. “I don’t think I have a type. If I recall correctly, my former dating life involved all kinds of women. Brunettes,” although none of them had so many different shades in their hair as she did, “blondes, redheads, across the gambit for race and religion, too. I enjoy women. Period.”
“You misunderstand me. I don’t mean physically.” She smiled then. “I have killer legs, of course, you’d want me.” As if she wanted to show them off, she held her left out in front of her for a second. His cock jumped in his pants. Shit, she was so fucking hot.
Sarah kept talking. “I mean, you go after girls who are needy. I’m not traditionally that girl. Other than being caught by Walter David, I can basically manage myself. For that matter, I can manage you, too. I’m loyal as hell. I don’t fall apart easily. I can understand you, Zach, in a time when I would bet a wimpy partner wouldn’t. Something for you to ponder over dinner. Maybe you’d want to make the next few days more than running for our lives. I can make you feel good. We can attend to each other. Come on. You can help me pull the clothes out of the trunk.”
His feet were glued to the floor. Sarah had propositioned him and it hadn’t been at all as he’d imagined it. Ever. His heart spun and sweat broke out on the back of his neck. Shit. She was really, so completely hot.
“Ah. Okay. Right. Coming.”
He chased her to the stairs. Would she never stop surprising him?
***
Sarah loved the sound of a steeldrum band. She expected a different kind of music—usually loved listening to Salsa when she was in Miami—the seafood restaurant they had fallen into had a small group of musicians in the corner and she let the music drift over her while she sipped her red wine. Zach had ordered water, which he causally sipped while he eyed her.
They’d both quickly finished their raw gulf oysters and were waiting on the crab claws for their next course. For his part, Zach hadn’t uttered a word since they’d sat.
“Have you slept since your abduction?”
She took a deep breath. Somehow her lack of sleep would be his fault. Zach seemed to take responsibility for things when they didn’t belong to him. Fortunately for him, she knew the feeling.
“No.” She fingered the wineglass. “I think tonight will help. So will the music.” And maybe sex if she could talk him into it. “Don’t start bemoaning my alert state. It’s called adrenaline. I wouldn’t have slept, even if you hadn’t gotten a migraine.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “Let’s talk about how you got grabbed.”
She’d rather talk about the sex idea. Although, she supposed his line of thinking made better sense.
My name is Sarah Steele and I am apparently obsessed with having sex with my brother’s best friend. I’m in a 1980s romantic comedy movie, complete with the music playing in the background.
“After you and Adam died, and by the way, it’s totally strange to be discussing your death with, well, you.”
Zach leaned forward. “Trust me. I get the weird.”
“After you guys died, and we couldn’t retrieve any information from Uncle Sam, I thought I’d be able to gather some intel the other families couldn’t. What good is security clearance if you can’t use it to find out why your world is suddenly emptier?”
Zach furrowed his brow, yet didn’t speak. He was so handsome, backlit by the setting sun visible through the windows. In another, fairer world she could simply sit and watch him for a while, pretend she was a girl he’d asked out. One of Zach’s women, as Adam had once called them. Or as Ally, the lady he’d finally chosen, must have done.
She and Zach were old friends and maybe they’d be lovers, if she could pull his head off the job for a few hours. She’d never, however, be the girl he simply chose.
And when she wasn’t suddenly feeling melancholy from coming off an ordeal, she wouldn’t care about not being the type of woman who sat admiring sunsets with hot men.
Sarah forced herself to concentrate. “The most I could find, and it took a lot of digging, were two words, Operation Phoenix. Afterward, it all dropped dead. Nothing. No trail to follow.”
He nodded before he took a sip of his water. “I bet.”
“I basically gave up for a while. Work was busy.” She pulled at her sleeve, which itched her, or maybe her whole body found their conversation uncomfortable. “And I was grieving you guys. There were things to do. My parents did not take the death well. Neither did I, only helping them fixed me a bit. A few months ago, I went ahead and asked my handler if he could help. I didn’t expect much. A tiny drop of understanding maybe. He said he would. Then I got taken. Four guys. Hoods, drugs. I kicked a little ass although clearly not enough.”
Zach drummed his fingers on the table. “Fuck, you were so set up. Your handler. Who is he? Where is he?”
“He lived in New York City. When I wanted to see him, we had a signal.” Like out of a movie. She’d drop a red grocery bag into a particular garbage bag, and the next morning he’d be on a bench, waiting. “His name is Thomas. We kept it first name, although he clearly knew more about me.”
“We’re going to New York tomorrow. If I have to, I’ll stick a gun to his head and find some answers.”
She figured as much. Who else could have set her up except Thomas? Funny, he’d always looked so unassuming. Small, non-descript, glasses. Her own job was always done to perfection. He’d never had to deal with her, other than an occasional meeting and then—boom—sex slave kidnapping. She shook her head.
I’m Sarah Steele. I am not lost to what happened to me. I’m in Miami, drinking red wine, listening to soft music, and wanting to give Zach a blowjob. Life is much better.
“Right.”
“Sarah.” Zach reached across the table. “Your color is changing. Despite the food, you’re getting paler by the moment. I asked you about sleep. You’ve been through hell. We’re in a great restaurant, and sitting here, watching the light play on your hair? It’s the best thing to happen to me in three years. I think, however, it’s too soon for you. My suggestion is we take the food to go and eat in the motel room so you can sleep.”
“Hmm.” He made sense and she hated how true his words were. “I don’t fall apart. I’m Sarah Steele. I keep it together when the rest of the world loses their collective minds. I didn’t cry once on the island. I’m not going to here.”
He motioned for the waiter, and when the man came over, he asked for the check. Was Zach really not going to say anything about her statement? Suddenly, the music wasn’t so romantic and the wine tasted bitter. She felt as though her skin might have become too tight on her body.
After throwing a few bills onto the table, he stood and walked to the waiter. Zach’s movements were always so precise. Nothing about how his body related to gravity had changed since the explosion. And how obsessed did it make her that she knew such a detail about him?
Dinner bagged and retrieved, he returned and extended his free hand. “Come.”
She stood, wrapping her fingers in his. “I only fall apart when I’m alone.”
“Is the world going to end if you do it in front of someone else? You forget I’ve already seen you cry.”
They walked hand in hand out of the restaurant, and she paused on the sidewalk as she digested his words. “When? You’ve never seen me cry.”
“I think you were sixteen. Adam and I were home on leave. You had a date who stood you up. I remember it, because after you went to bed, Adam and I went to the kid’s house, dragged his stoned ass out, and beat the shit out of him. Twice.” His mouth quirked as he remembered.
“You two beat him up?” Was it possible for the world to actually spin off its axis?
“Twice.” He nodded. “Come on.”
How was it possible she didn’t know the roughing up happened? “I actually had sex with him years later in New York. He tried to be an actor. And I have no memory of you being there when I was crying. All these years I thought I hid my tears.”
“Hey, don’t tell me about your sex life. I absolutely don’t want to know. And I want to beat him again. If it makes me a Neanderthal, so fucking be it. The ass should never have gotten to touch you after hurting you. As for the tears, I may have caught you doing it for only a second without you knowing when you walked from your bedroom to the kitchen.”
“Sneaky, I see. What can I say? I have a forgiving nature. Think of it as a revenge fuck. I walked away before he’d even woken up.”
Zach snorted and opened the car door. “Come on. I’m driving.”
They rode to the motel in silence, and if she was a sulker, she’d probably give in to the urge. Any chance she’d had to see Zach between the sheets had flown out the window in the restaurant. The look in his eyes? The way he had taken back control from her? Zach wasn’t going to see her as anything other than a victim he had to protect.
After they arrived at the hotel, he checked the room once more before he let her inside. It was a sweet trait, although not necessary. With the gun tucked neatly in the back of her pants, she could easily get rid of anyone in the room as she did Walter David.
Had it only been the day before when she’d shot him?
“At least it makes sense why the guy you beat kept asking me if any of my family was around during the brief day we were together.” She spoke to fill the silence.
“Seriously. No more about him. Unless you want me to Google him and reacquaint him with my fist.”
He motioned for her to enter first. The buzz of the air conditioner in the window filled the room with a loud white noise, which would either keep her awake all night or help her sleep. She’d requested a king bed, hoping they’d be sharing it. Only, since he’d already noted the beginning of her meltdown, she doubted he’d be interested.
“Go shower. Ten minutes, at least. More would be better.”
Had Zach given her an order? “Do I smell?”
“It’ll relax you. I have something to do and then I’ll be back. I won’t be far and I’ll be within range to eye the room.” He pointed his finger. “Don’t argue.”
Well, okay. She walked toward the bathroom and heard him click the door shut. Zach had ordered her to the shower, and though he’d told her not to argue she hadn’t intended to in the first place. What was her compliance about?
She wasn’t submissive, or at least she’d never been before. The few times she played at her friend’s private dungeon in New York City, she’d practiced the dominant role. She had much to learn before she would ever call herself a master.
Except she had a feeling if Zach wanted her to do almost anything, she would and really because she wanted to make him happy, see his bright blue eyes gleaming with approval and kindness when he gazed at her.
Those thoughts occupied her when she got into the shower and bathed herself under the hot stream.
She’d managed to work in a good lather when the bathroom door opened and she jumped backward nearly stumbling when she did. A strong hand reached out and steadied her. “Easy there. It’s only me. My fault. I should have knocked. I did tell you I would be eyeing the room. No one was getting in here.”
“Did you need something?” She wiped the water out of her eyes. He’d busted in the bathroom. Had something happened?
“Desperately.” He pulled off his shirt and threw it behind him. “Unless you’ve changed your mind. You can, you know. You can tell me tonight’s all too much and you want me to leave you alone.
Zach was built akin to some kind of Greek god. His abs were well-defined and strong, his arms shaped as though he worked out regularly. When he’d been young, he’d been long and lean. The Marines made him stronger. He was pure muscle.
Her mouth went dry. He’d come into the bathroom because he wanted her. Desperately.
“I…” She wasn’t sure what to say. Instead, she launched herself at him, and he caught her in his strong embrace. She was soaked, and he was half-dressed. Whatever, it all worked for her.
His mouth met hers and he kissed her—hard. His lips were unrelenting. He didn’t ease her in, wasn’t gentle.
Zachery’s embrace was a claiming—the exact claim she’d been waiting for her whole life. Even if tomorrow she pretended she hadn’t been disconnected, acted as if tonight meant less than it did, she knew it right then. She was Zach’s girl. He’d always had her heart.