TWENTY-ONE
The day ended completely differently than it had started.
I’d left for the museum happy with Alex in my passenger seat. I’d driven home alone and depressed.
The malaise followed me all the way back to Jersey where I unlocked the door of my apartment. The place I’d spent twenty-four hours getting to know Alex.
Now I knew I hadn’t known her at all.
The wet towels from our showers were gone. Washed and folded and put away. The bed, the scene of so much of my recent time with her, was made. The sheets were probably freshly washed as well, knowing my overachieving housekeeper who’d come to clean, expecting me to be in Virginia by now.
But none of that erased the memories . . . or the anger. Or the underlying ache that bordered on pain colored with disappointment.
I’d lived alone my whole life and never minded it. Enjoyed it actually, but for the first time my home felt lonely.
At a loss for what to do with myself, I moved to the kitchen and stood in front of the open refrigerator door. I’d never gotten around to eating anything at the event and it was well past dinnertime now. I should be hungry, but I wasn’t really. This felt more like restlessness not hunger.
When the doorbell rang I closed the fridge and moved toward the door. I reached for the knob and then hesitated.
I’d gotten a good look at the more sinister side of life recently. The world of spies and defectors. I’d been up close and personal with good guys and bad and those who operated in that gray space in between.
For the first time ever I considered who might be on the other side of the door and if it was safe to open it.
It didn’t matter if the building was secure. The museum was supposedly secure too and I’d watched the guards be misdirected and deceived easily by both Alex and Tristan and their various skills.
Blowing out a breath I chided myself for even worrying. My days as ad hoc spy were over. My world consisted of board meetings and emptying my inbox once again. No one was coming to my apartment to get me.
I should be so lucky to have that kind of excitement in my life—and I should be institutionalized for that last thought because a man in his right mind wouldn’t wish for that kind of excitement, no matter how mundane his life felt without it.
Without further consideration, I yanked open my door and drew back at who stood there.
“Alex.” My powers of scintillating conversation seemed to have gone out the window and that was the best I could come up with.
“Brent.”
Against my will my pulse raced just at the sight of her at my door. “Why are you here?”
“You’ve got my gun.” Her answer was matter of fact. The look in her eyes was anything but.
If I trusted my instincts I’d say she was as affected emotionally by our meeting as I was.
Unfortunately, I had proof I couldn’t trust my instincts so I dismissed that idea . . . or at least tried to. The shadow of it remained because I wanted her to be hurting too. I liked the idea that she, like me, had gotten attached only to feel the pain of suddenly being unattached again.
“If I give it back to you, are you going to shoot me?” I asked. Sadly, it was a serious question.
I should probably take the bullets out before returning the weapon to her. It would give me a few seconds head start. Me against a trained operator—I figured I could use any advantage I could get.
“No.” Her gaze dropped away. “Can I come in?”
When she brought her eyes back up to mine, I had a memory of the shy version of Alex I’d gotten to know first.
Then I remembered that had also been the fake, lying, manipulative honey pot Alex grooming me.
I moved back and she took the few steps forward that brought her inside my apartment. I closed the door, telling myself I’d only let her in because this wasn’t a conversation I wanted the neighbors to hear.
It was probably better if they didn’t see me handing over a gun in the hallway either.
It took me a second to locate the jacket I tossed on the back of the sofa when I’d arrived home. The gun in the pocket made it hang low over the side.
I reached inside and extracted the weapon from the fabric and then went the extra step to pop out the clip and check the chamber for a bullet like Zane had drilled into my head during our hour at the range. Hey, I pay attention sometimes.
I pocketed the clip and handed the gun to her, watching her react in response.
When she didn’t turn to leave, but seemed to be waiting for something, I said, “You’re not getting the ammunition so . . .”
She raised her gaze to meet mine. “Can we talk?”
I let out a sigh, feeling the weight of the past few days hit me.
“Why?” A lot had happened in a short amount of time and now that it was over, I wanted it to be just that—over. Talking wouldn’t change or help anything. “What do you want from me, Alex?”
She laid down the gun on the table next to my keys.
Somehow, after all I’d been through today, the juxtaposition of those two items on my table didn’t look as odd as it should.
“It wasn’t—”
“It wasn’t what, Alex? All a lie? I wasn’t a job?” I was getting nice and mad, ramping up for a good fight when Alex took a step forward.
“Shut up.” Her lips crashed against mine as she attacked me, pressing me back with the force of all that lean muscle I’d admired.
I expected her to attack me. I didn’t expect her to kiss me.
And crap, I kissed her back.
There was nothing loving about it. It wasn’t a healing kiss. It was hard and angry and God how I needed it.
Tangling her hair in my fist, I yanked her head back and thrust my tongue against hers. I backed her up until she smashed against the wall. I broke the kiss long enough to utter a curse. At her. At myself.
I hated her for lying to me but I still wanted her. For that I hated myself.
None of it mattered anyway. My desire was like an out of control freight train. There was no stopping it now.
Shoving all of my many emotions aside, I knew I was going to do it. I was going to fuck her.
And that’s exactly what it would be. Fucking. This wasn’t going to be making love. Nope. It was much too late for that. We were well past that.
She’d started this thing. I think I could have controlled myself if she hadn’t. But now that she had, there was no stopping it.
“Take off your pants.” My order came out sounding as angry as I felt.
She did, her deft fingers conquering the button and zipper quickly.
I was hard as a rock as I freed myself from my own pants. I shoved her face first against the back of the sofa, bending her at the waist.
Stepping up behind her, I took what I wanted, hard and fast.
I wasn’t a small man—one girl I’d hooked up with in college had spread the rumor that my bank account wasn’t the only big thing about me—but I didn’t care that I might be hurting Alex now.
With one palm flat on her back, I braced myself with the other hand on her hip. I wasn’t aware of much more than that except for the need to pound away my frustration.
I plunged inside her and tried to purge my own pain.
As I’d come to expect from Alex—at least this new version of her I’d gotten to know today—she gave as good as she got, thrusting back against me with a force that was nearly violent.
Her cries rose to a crescendo as I crashed into her until I felt myself on the brink.
Sanity returned just in the nick of time. I pulled out, coming on her back and hating myself for forgoing protection with a woman who was a proven liar.
Now I could resent her for making me lose my mind, in addition to everything else she’d done.
Why not? Someone had to share this blame I was piling on myself. After her deception she deserved more than a good dose of it.
I ran my hand over my face, trying to reconcile what had just happened.
Apparently I couldn’t resist her. That was on me. But whatever had brought her to my door and had her making the first move on me was on her . . . and so was quite a mess. All over her.
That part was my fault.
“Stay here. Don’t move.” Lips compressed with my bitter unhappiness, I yanked my briefs up, fastened my pants and strode to the kitchen to get a paper towel.
Back at the sofa where she was still bent temptingly, I stoically ignored the shape of her naked ass thrust in the air and wiped the worst of the mess off her skin.
Deciding that was good enough, I tossed the towels into the trash and folded my arms, keeping my distance by leaning against the end of the kitchen island.
“Why are you here, Alex?”
She glanced up at me as she pulled her underwear up. “I told you. I came to get my gun.”
“Nothing else? You sure?” One possible reason why she might have pushed us back into a physical relationship struck me—obviously about ten minutes too late but hey, better late than never. “My computer is right over there. Feel free to hack into it when I go to the bathroom. But I’m warning you there’s not much on there except work. Or are you here for my cell phone maybe? There’s nothing much in there either but go for it. I’ll even unlock it for you.”
“I don’t want to go through your computer or your phone.”
I didn’t believe her. Shaking my head at myself for even allowing the conversation to go this far I pushed off the counter.
“Get your gun and go. I’m taking a shower.” I walked across the room toward the hallway. Without looking back, I said, “I expect you gone by the time I get out.”
I headed into the bathroom intent on washing away the memories. Of her and of my own weakness. I knew what she was—a liar and a spy—and I’d given in anyway.
Yup, I could try to blame her but this one—this one was on me.