Kat found part of her soul.

She wanted to sigh at the delicious sensation, and she wanted to groan. Of all the damn things to have done, making love with Orion “Wicked” Cross in complete abandon, on the floor of a gym for the love of God. He was still hot, all smooth skin and ironbound muscle.

With everything that they had endured, she could see the incident for what it was—a beginning.

And she’d do it again in a heartbeat—which didn’t address their current dilemma.

Somewhere between “I hate you” and “I blame you,” she’d found out she’d been so confused. There was that damn fine line.

She had to get herself off this delectable man.

Right.

She didn’t want to.

She wanted to stay where she was, plastered to him, propped above his lap, cradled around him. He was holding her pretty damn tightly, too, like he didn’t want to let go of her, either.

Oh, God, how had she been so blind?

She had wasted so much time, but thinking now was really hard, her body sated.

She definitely blamed him for that, the sexy bastard.

She wondered what her chances were of blaming him all over again later.

Except for holding on to her like he was never going to let go, he had hardly moved since they’d finished.

Around them was silence and it was as if the world was holding its breath.

“This is so complicated,” Kat said.

“We need to talk about it, and conversation and understanding will null the complications.”

“Maybe,” she said. “I’m a little rattled, though.”

“Rattled is one way to put it. Fucked up is another.” They were both most likely dealing with some heavy-duty guilt.

Hell.

They were fucked up.

“We should get moving,” she said without moving so much as a millimeter.

This was it, her first time with him, a way to work out the guilt. It was hard to let him go. He was going to come to his senses, and her party would be over.

“We’d better get off this floor before some overachiever comes in here and finds us. Might be hard to order him around after he’s seen you naked.”

“I’ll kick his ass and then order him around.”

He chuckled. “I believe that.”

They rose and got dressed. “I’d really like a shower.”

“Let’s do that, and then do you want to talk some more?”

She nodded, running her hand down his chest and abdomen even as he was trying to pull his shirt down. He grinned. “You’re impeding my progress, woman.”

“Oh, sorry, not sorry,” she murmured.

He rose and slipped on his underwear and pants. They collected what they needed and headed to the shower. Inside the stall, they washed each other, lingering. Then, it got as heated as the water and Wicked was inside her again, pumping and groaning as they came. She clung to him, the warm water splashing on her breasts, pouring off his chin. She kissed his hot, wet lips, devouring him while he was still inside her.

They got out and dried off, getting dressed in the quiet aftermath of their lovemaking. It was as if she couldn’t get enough. Then they settled into her bed, cuddling close, facing each other. She reached over and pushed at the damp hair on his forehead. He caught her hand and brought it to his mouth, kissing her palm. They stared at each other for several moments, the tension building, and an intangible, beautiful sensation of connecting to him flowed over her. She kissed his mouth for several seconds, then pulled away. She breathed deep of his scent and said, “What Susan said on that balcony was awful, hurtful, and short-sighted.”

His eyes stayed directly on hers, and he didn’t deny his feelings about it but didn’t elaborate either. She wanted him to open up, but she would be patient. Wicked needed time to sort through things. A quiet, introspective man. He would share when he was ready.

Her heart was heavy as she thought about her own family, her sweet mom, her attentive and wonderfully encouraging father. She might have been an only child, but her parents had loved her and wanted the best for her. Selfless and loving was all she knew. It shamed her all over again that she had let herself deny her feelings for so long. They had been excellent role models, and she couldn’t shake the feeling of letting them both down with her behavior.

“Kat, you have to understand, we never really got along.” The tightness in his voice, the rigidity of his body broadcast to her that this wasn’t going to be pleasant. She’d always had reservations about Wicked’s mother, but now she had a hard time not disliking her and wanted to figuratively kick her ass all over San Diego for how she’d treated her sons. All through it, though, Wicked had remained who he was. Calm, stoic, burying his anger and still treating his mother with respect. The feeling of admiration washed over her. He continued, “I never fit into that world, and I always felt out of sync. I would have been a lousy CEO. Sitting behind a desk everyday wasn’t my idea of fun.”

“Slogging through swamps, getting shot at all the time, being in constant peril, dealing with the most heinous and dangerous people on the planet, beating the odds, all that is fun?” She’d always been proud to serve with the SEALs, the world’s combat elite known as the quiet warriors. Like the CIA, they did what was necessary to get the mission complete, but unlike the CIA, it was brute force, door-kicking strength to save lives. It was cut and dried, where her job had so many shades of gray. They were the superheroes doing an impossible job.

He grinned at her, and the rarity and beauty of it knocked her for a loop. “Damn right it is. It serves a bigger picture. SEALs are born to protect. It’s ingrained in the men I know. It was my calling as it was theirs.”

“And Phoenix?”

His face closed down, the dim light from outside casting shadows over him. “I don’t know,” he said, his eyes going moody. “I didn’t encourage him to enlist. I just joined the navy and never looked back.” He traced patterns on the skin of her bare shoulder, his face unreadable. “Whether he was inspired to follow my lead, or it was something in our natures that meshed, I can’t say. All I know is that I’m damned proud of him for standing up to Susan and following his own heart. It wasn’t as easy for him as it was for me.” Finally, he dropped his hand and shifted his gaze to nothing over her shoulder, and Kat experienced a disquieting chill.

“She never had any expectations for me, and I think my dad knew I wasn’t cut out of the same cloth as he was. Phoenix, on the other hand, broke his heart. He was devasted when he left. I remember that phone call like it was yesterday. He said, ‘Your brother joined the Marines. It about killed me. I think this was your influence, but I’m also very proud of my boys. Now I have two sons in harm’s way and our family legacy is hanging in the balance.’”

He swallowed hard, then looked at her again. “It kept me going when Susan tried to cut me out of the family. She was so angry at me for coercing—her word—Phoenix into military service. She told me I ruined the family.”

“I don’t understand her resentment toward you.”

“I don’t know. I never asked her. Maybe it was her expectations and she wanted the perfect family, the perfect sons and daughter, fulfilling her needs instead of our own. Maybe I pulled my dad’s attention away from her, maybe I reminded her of someone she loathed.” He breathed deep and his eyes grew moist. It felt like drowning, that awful silence, then he continued, not a trace of inflection in his voice. “She sent us to Exeter, a boarding high school in New Hampshire. It hurt like hell when I was a kid, even worse when I got to be a teenager, especially when she tried to keep me away at holidays while ensuring that Phoenix went home.”

Kat curled her arms around him—the hard, drawn angles of his face speaking of his pain. She rested her forehead against his, anger at Susan Cross growing. She opened her eyes and looked at him, but his face was like stone. What wrenched at her heart was that beneath that rigidly controlled surface, she saw the hollow loneliness of the boy he’d been. Experiencing such a rush of feeling for that youth, and for the man he had become, she tightened her arms, her throat so full she didn’t dare speak. For a minute he absorbed her embrace, his hand absently threading through her hair.

Sensing how raw and stripped he felt, knowing without a doubt he’d never told another living soul about those feelings, she gave him the warmth and tenderness in her heart, finally understanding the source of his reserve, his wariness, his aloofness from people. The fact that she had added any pain to his already tough life cut her.

His chest expanded, and when he tried to pull away, she resisted. She cupped the back of his head. “You’re an amazing man,” she whispered.

He shrugged, his smooth, warm skin against hers. “I just decided that it was her issue, not mine. I was who I was and nothing she did could change it. I knew I wanted out then, and I saw a recruitment ad on TV for the navy. I wanted to be more than a sailor, and after going down to the recruitment center, I discovered the SEALs. After that, I started training so that I would be ready to go full-bore after graduation. There was no looking back.”

She released him and stared into the dark honey of his eyes. “I’d say that you were true to yourself, and that is worth everything, Rion. And Selene?” she queried softly. “Where was she in all this?”

He nodded, snagging a strand of her hair, rubbing it between his fingers, his expression drawn. For the first time since he began talking, there was a tiny glimmer in his eyes. “Selene was Selene. A stalwart ally.”

“I knew I liked her for a reason.”

Shifting his gaze, he caught one of her hands, then carefully laced his fingers through hers. His voice was husky, but firm. “She thought the world of both of us, tolerated Susan’s attempt to make a debutante out of her, and adored my dad.” His voice wavered, and he stopped and rubbed at his eyes; then Kat heard his released breath. It took a while before he was able to continue. “She is my rock star touchstone and has the kind of backbone that knows how to put Susan in her place while she remains calm and collected. I admire her immensely. She has always been my champion. I learned love from her; even as a tiny baby, she gave me all she had.”

She closed her eyes as tears welled, feeling like she’d been mauled. But that roughly spoken admission, that statement of commitment completely did her in. Unable to see, unable to speak, she clenched her arms around his shoulders, pressing her body against his, and Wicked held her hard, his face turned against her neck.

It was a long, long time before Kat could ease her hold. “Damn, I need a drink,” Kat said, as she rubbed the back of his neck. His body rocked as he laughed. Whether he would ever say it, it was clear that he needed his sister, he needed Kat. He needed sweetness and solace. And soft, soft loving. His trust in her humbled her to the bone. “Let’s get some sleep,” she whispered.

Long after Kat’s soft breathing told him she was asleep, he laid awake, his mind a morass of mixed up, jumbled up messiness. She had said that emotions made him human, and she was right. Being closed up kept him distant from everyone and everything. It had been the way he’d gotten through his adolescent and teenaged years. He’d carried that attitude through training, never fully giving himself over to the brotherhood, keeping himself right at the fringe, just enough to make him part of the team, but not fully engaging. SEALs didn’t do that mushy shit or, so he thought.

That was until now, until Kat had opened up her heart, told him the ugly secrets that she had harbored. How could he keep everything bottled up after she had been so brave?

She had made him open up because she had opened up, gave him a place to put everything he felt for his brother, his dad, and his sister.

During Phoenix and Kat’s love affair and subsequent engagement, he’d gone out of his way to keep his distance. It had been safer and easier that way. Then they had come home for Christmas. He could have avoided going home, but that seemed too selfish.

That Christmas had been tough. Phoenix and Kat were there, very much in love. Phoenix looked like he was on top of the world. On Christmas Eve, long after everyone else had gone to bed, Phoenix tracked Wicked down on his late-night run, and he’d told him he was going to ask Kat to marry him.

It had knocked Wicked for one hell of a loop. He’d literally stopped running, stopped in his tracks with the dread realization that he was losing her, then chastised himself for being a complete idiot. She wasn’t his to lose.

Even through his pain, Wicked drummed up his enthusiasm until his brother dropped the biggest bomb. He wanted Wicked to be his best man.

It nearly killed him, it was so torturous, feeling both happy for his brother and downright envious of his relationship with Kat. Phoenix had said that he wanted to tell Wicked first because Phoenix had such trust in him. That, of course, made Wicked feel like such a bastard for being unable to let go of his love for Kat.

He’d have to watch them join together. But after that night, after Phoenix had asked her to marry him and she’d said her joyous yes, he bucked up. This was the brother he loved, and he deserved the best woman in the world. Realizing that had eased the hole in his chest—the hole that had become a part of him. And he knew part of the burden of loving her was he could give her his amazing brother in the ceremony. It gave him the first peace he’d had in a very long time.

He stared into the darkness thinking about what had happened between them. He had received something from her he had never expected. Her deep trust. She had shed tears for him, and the only time he’d seen her lose it had been after he’d stumbled to his knees with his brother’s body safely tucked to him to keep him from the ground. She had wept openly, and he couldn’t hold them both. With his arms full, Amanda and Jason stepped up, holding Kat like Wicked had wanted to hold her.

Releasing a heavy sigh, he gazed at her, her expression peaceful. Even in the faint light from outside, he could see the shadows under her eyes, suspecting she’d had as little sleep during the past three days as he had. It was pretty obvious she had shaken him up. A small, wry smile appeared. Of course, she’d given him several shocks to his system as well. He lightly brushed his thumb along her arched cheekbone, then tucked a loose piece of hair behind her ear. Remembering that electrifying instant when she had taken him deep inside her, Wicked tipped his head back and closed his eyes, fighting the urge to draw her up against him. He waited for the emotion to ease a little, then took a steadying breath, glancing at his dive watch. Midnight. He wished he was close to the ocean for a challenging, bracing swim.

She stirred, and he snuggled her closer, the feel of her body making him hard and throbbing. He tucked his head and brushed a soft, lingering kiss against her forehead, smiling a bit when she made a soft sound and turned her face toward his warmth. He had to get some sleep. Tomorrow was going to be busy between Kat’s orders and his LT running them ragged to make sure they were prepared. He had no complaints for either of them.

Brushing back the wisps of her hair clinging to his stubble, he kissed her again, settling himself into a very comfortable position.

He was ready to kick some doors and gun-sling Eze’s ass into prison or the grave. There would be no quarter for terrorists. The bad guys of the world had nowhere to hide from the SEALs.

Hollywood felt the cold steel of the muzzle as it pressed to his temple. “Don’t move a muscle,” the harsh voice whispered, and shock coursed through him. He opened his eyes and couldn’t quite believe them. Was this a nightmare?

“Borkov, you asshole. How did you get out?”

“No questions,” he said as he motioned to someone. Hollywood darted his eyes toward Crow’s bunk. It was empty, but on the other side of Hollywood’s bunk was Ekon Afia, the…translator, a skinny, very nervous guy. Dammit, they’d been compromised. How? Why?

“Eze wants you to pay him a visit,” Borkov said.

Fuck! He was in trouble here. The guy had a syringe in his hand. Where the hell was Crow? They better not have harmed him. He would kill them with his bare hands.

Borkov looked at Afia. “Do it. We don’t have all night.”

Afia reared his arm back, and as it descended, Hollywood moved. Eze wanted him alive, which gave him an advantage. He swung his fist into the guy’s gut, and he doubled over, oofing in pain. Scrambling out of the bed, he knocked Afia down. He found himself naked again in a fight with an assailant with a gun. Hollywood delivered a hard punch to Afia’s jaw as Borkov came around the bed, the pistol raised to knock him out, but Hollywood ducked and delivered a punch to Borkov’s tight abs, reaching for the gun.

They grappled with the weapon for several seconds, then Borkov swept Hollywood’s feet out from under him. He fell hard onto his back, the solid floor connecting with the back of his head.

He saw stars, his vision blurring, and in that moment, Afia sunk the needle into his neck. Hollywood tried to move, but whatever drug they used, it was fast acting. In moments, he saw gray, then slipped into darkness.

Trailers of an exquisite dream faded in her mind when Kat surfaced from sleep, half-conscious of the hard, delicious male body next to her. Her first time waking up to Wicked was as wonderful as she’d dreamed it would be. Looking toward the window, she saw it was still dark out.

Her gaze drifted down the strong column of his throat, down over the heavy muscles of his chest and biceps, to the gap in the sheet that showed his powerful hips and thighs. Her eyes traced those sexy hip indentations, then back to the impressive wood, heavy and thick between his thighs.

When she looked up, she found him watching her, his gaze darkly serious, his attention focused on her face.

A wave of heat washed through her. Wicked was hard, calm, with a solid confidence she felt coming off him with every breath he took. No trace of the anger was left in his eyes, his deceptively lazy body belying his ready-for-action warrior vibe.

“You like what you see, wild Kat?”

She lifted her chin, his equal, as mentally strong and physically tough as he was. “If you’re talking about your impressive dick, that would be a yes.”

She slowly ran her fingers inside of his arm as his eyes heated, over the bulge of his biceps, his skin so smooth. He huffed out a laugh. “Very wild, wild Kat. Taunting the monster.”

She remembered everything that had happened last night. “You think you can handle my claws, sailor?” His arm was hard to the touch, the veins running down the length of it a confluence of strength underlying his soft skin.

He pressed his hips to hers, his hot erection making her breath catch. “Unsheathe them, babe. I can handle it.”

God, they were headed toward another stimulating bout of sex. She could feel it in his big body. The way Wicked went deep made her salivate. He slid his hand around the side of her neck, cupping her face as he lowered his mouth to hers.

Her response was effortless. She melted against him with a soft groan; her mouth opened, welcoming him. Her hands went to his chest and touching him felt so good. For a lifetime, he kissed her, his tongue sliding deep, his mouth slanted over hers, just letting the taste and passion wash over her.

She rocked her hips against his, her hand finding him diamond-hard and hot. He thrust into her hand, groaning low in his throat. His fingers found her, sliding against her slickness. His kiss got harder, his body pressing against her, his cock thrusting slow as he gasped when she tightened her hold.

He was riding that edge as he lifted her leg, wrapped it around him as he rolled, his body so big, hot, and delicious on top of her.

He pushed into her, one long slick slide of heated sex as her head went back, and her arms clasped his neck while he thrust into her again, and again.

She had her tongue deep in his mouth, her small groans echoing every time he pushed into her. He drove deep, hot, hard and fast, and just feeling him in control was making her come apart.

“Ri…Rion…Wicked.” She strained against him, wrapping her legs around him, and when she tightened around him, he went straight over the edge, pumping into her one last time, and oh, God, it felt good as he came.

“Kat,” he whispered her name and nuzzled her neck. He kissed her again, his mouth partly open on the soft spot under her lobe. She slid her fingers up into his hair, needing him against her palm.

She groaned at the sound of her phone. “It’s the middle of the damn night,” she groused, not thrilled for the first time in a long time with work. But it had to be urgent.

Honesty required her to admit that if her phone hadn’t started ringing, she might have stayed exactly where she was for at least a…month.

She pushed herself to more of a sitting position and grabbed her cell from the crude nightstand.

“Harrington,” she said into the phone, her voice husky. He hadn’t moved, and she was okay with that. He felt so good, all naked against her.

His gaze immediately fell to her breasts, and he rubbed his thumb over her nipple and suddenly she was all hot again—everywhere.

Then she focused laser hard on the number. Scarecrow. “Uh, Crow, hello.”

“You sound weird.”

“I’m fine.” She pressed the speaker button, and Scarecrow’s sweet Southern voice filled the room.

“Good. We have a big honking problem.”

And suddenly she wasn’t so hot anymore. She was cold and focused and listening to every word. “What kind of a problem?”

Wicked tensed.

“Hollywood has been taken. I went to the head, and when I got back, the room was empty. I found things that you need to see.”

Every cell in her body was instantly sitting on “go.” Without a thought, they started moving. Wicked lifted off her, and she set the phone down, so she could get herself buttoned and zipped, ready to rock and roll the hard way.

“We’re on our way.”

“We?”

“Um, I’ll rouse Wicked, and we’ll be right there.”

“Hard copy that,” he said, his voice devoid of any Southern comfort. “We’ve got a good idea of who has taken him.”

This team had weathered a lot but were as tight as hell. They even survived a breakdown when Blue had been taken and come back stronger than ever. “Ruckus is on the warpath. Just get here. Get here now.”

Just like that Kat’s mission was clear. She would need her suppressed pistol.

Yeah, killing people was easy for her. She kept it completely in perspective. It was part of her job description. But she wouldn’t give in to fear. Never again.

Fuck it, Hollywood taken. Kat disconnected the call and she shoved back the covers and slipped out of bed, immediately getting dressed. The nightmare of Blue’s capture washed over Wicked.

She gave him a knowing look, as she pulled a black T-shirt over her head, one that told him she was going to pull out all the stops. This also didn’t bode well. If someone had taken Hollywood, there had to have been some kind of a breach.

But waking up to her left him partially crazed. Dammit, he’d felt her tighten around him, and he’d come body-hard. He’d just had her, and his balls were still tight. He still wanted her. He knew her down to the taste of her mouth and the scent of her skin, and everything about her said she was his.

It had been fear motivating her, the morbid, self-destructive fear of Phoenix and his death that haunted them, mixed in with her own guilt, her own vulnerability. All the crap she couldn’t control. He knew her better than anyone, and he knew that—and he was still so fucking blown up by the whole damn mess.

Wicked reached for his underwear and pants, slipping them on. He searched for his shirt and found it partially hidden under the covers.

It would be so easy to throw it all away. To walk out the door and not look back, leave behind the bad girl with the heart of gold. So fucking easy. And impossibly hard. So impossible. He was tougher than that. Tougher than her. Dammit all anyway.

He looked at her where she was standing in front of him, looked down at her red hair and sharp green eyes, and he knew he was doomed.

Fuck it. He hadn’t known love could be so damn crushing. She had power, presence, but then she could just go…invisible. That power pulsed through her in a steady, unending beat.

His mouth tightened. His teammates and Kat were the ones he wanted with him to find Hollywood.

“We’re going to keep our relationship on the down low for now, right?” she asked, and he could tell by the tone of her voice that she wasn’t at all sure. But he was. This was private and between them.

“Yes.” The answer was so simple, and right there in his heart. He hadn’t had to go looking for it. Because no matter what happened, he didn’t want to live his days with this thing hanging over them. Sliding his hand up around the back of her head, he gently pulled her in closer, bringing her against his chest. A sigh left her, and her arms tightened around his waist. She was a hard woman, but that was good, because he was a hard man.

“Let’s go get Hollywood. This should humble him,” she said, her voice assassin cold.

Wicked chuckled. “Don’t bet on it.”