“Did he say why he did it?” Cody asked. He was lying in Miranda’s bed, his energy sapped after a very vigorous romp in the sheets. She was in his arms, gloriously naked, her body still flushed and damp from exertion.

They’d eaten the pizza while watching TV. He’d been happy to sit there with his arm around her and just enjoy being together. In fact, he’d fallen asleep on her couch with her tucked in beside him. She’d shaken him awake an hour or so later and told him he could stay the night if he wanted.

And he did want, but he didn’t want to sleep. He’d stripped her slowly, kissing every inch of her as he went. And then he’d pushed her back on the bed and spread her legs, touched his tongue to the heart of her, and didn’t stop until she was quivering and crying out.

When he’d finally entered her body, he’d shuddered with the force of the emotion he felt. It was different to be inside her and know he loved her, that her happiness and her pleasure were all he wanted. It heightened the sensations for him—and he’d come much faster than he’d wanted to. But that’s okay, because he was already thinking about round two.

Miranda stirred against him. “He’s a bitter, deluded man who thinks America has gotten too wrapped up in political correctness. We’re soft on terrorism, immigration, and we allow sexual deviants to get married—his words, not mine. According to him, Conti had the money and the connections to get things done—eliminate the people who needed eliminating—Americans in government or on the bench who would then be replaced with the kind of people who wouldn’t hesitate to take the fight to ISIS or the Freedom Force. Not to mention abolishing gay marriage and everything else he considers wrong with this country.”

“Damn,” Cody said. “I can understand having a strong political view, but advocating subversion and violence to achieve your objectives is definitely not the right thing to do. It’s not what this country stands for—or what we fight for.”

“Exactly. Badger—Jeff—knew Victor Conti from an old mission twenty years ago in which the agency actually worked with Conti instead of against him. He admired him—and he talked Mark into working with him to undermine the case against Conti. That’s all it was supposed to be, but then Conti decided he wanted Mark to play a bigger role in his operations. So they faked his death, against Jeff’s wishes, and then Jeff was put into a more subordinate role than he liked. Not to mention I don’t think that Conti ever really shared his views—for him, it was about the inside connection in the CIA.”

“And when you wanted to be the one to go after Conti, Badger encouraged it. Knowing you would have to be killed if you got too close.”

He felt her stiffen for just a second, and he hated that someone’d had the power to hurt her like that.

“I’m not sure he thought I’d stay in it until the bitter end,” she said. “I think he expected I’d lose heart—but support for the mission grew inside the agency, and I didn’t quit. He thought he could control me, but he couldn’t.”

She tucked her hair behind her ears. It was still red, but she wasn’t wearing the green contacts anymore. He’d asked her about the hair and she’d teased him at first, saying she was planning to keep it. He’d said that was fine, because what else could he say? It was her hair.

But she’d slapped him playfully and told him she had an appointment at the salon to return it to her natural color. Now she looked at him with those whiskey eyes, and his heart thumped a bit faster.

“They let you get close.”

“They had to. If they’d sabotaged it any other way, they might have tipped their hand.”

“I’m sorry, Miranda.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“They hurt you. And I only killed one of them. If I could get the other, I’d gladly do it.”

She laughed softly. “Just knowing you want to is enough, believe me.”

He skimmed his fingers up and down her spine. He didn’t miss the way she shivered or the way her eyes dilated with need.

“I was worried you blamed me for killing Mark. I know he meant something to you.”

She sighed. “You had no choice. I know that. I don’t blame you—and I’d have done the same damn thing if he’d been threatening you.” She heaved herself up and planted a kiss on his mouth. It wasn’t meant to be a sexy kiss, he didn’t think, but of course it got out of control and ended up that way.

He rolled her to her back, their tongues gliding together as he kissed her deeply. She moaned and he pressed kisses to her jaw, her neck, as her arms twined around his back.

“I was also going to say,” she gasped out, “that whatever he meant to me was a lie.”

Cody worked his way to her breasts, sucked a beautiful nipple in his mouth, and tugged on it while her fingers curled into his shoulders.

“This isn’t a lie,” he told her, moving to the other breast. “This is real.”

“Yes,” she moaned as he took her nipple between his lips. “Yes…”

He loved her with everything he had, taking her to the peak again and again, her moans fueling him.

And then he was deep inside her again, his cock buried to the hilt, his entire body on fire with need and hope and belonging. They moved together like they were made for each other, bodies rising and falling and taking and giving.

Miranda shattered around him, his name a hoarse cry on her lips. He followed her over the edge, his body pouring itself into hers the same as he’d poured all his emotion into loving her.

“This is forever,” he told her as he gazed down into her eyes. Beautiful, whiskey eyes.

She smiled and his heart swelled. “Yes,” she whispered. “It is.”

* * *

One month later…

The crowd at Matt and Evie Girard’s place was having a good time that night. Cash sat in one of the comfortable lawn chairs situated near the pool as his teammates played a wicked game of water polo. He’d been in the pool for a while, but now he wanted to kick back, observe the others, and catch up on some reading. He picked up his phone and scrolled through the newsfeed. Predictably depressing.

He let his gaze slide over the gathering. Matt and Evie’s twin baby boys were kicking up a storm in their little bouncy chairs. Evie was busy feeding them some sort of pureed mush while she chatted with some of the other women gathered around. Cash didn’t know them all, not yet, but he knew they were wives or girlfriends of Alpha Squad.

And then there were the women with the SEALs. Ivy Erikson and Christina Marchand sat together, chatting about God knows what. Babies probably, though Cash didn’t know what made babies so interesting. They cried and crapped and threw up a lot—and they didn’t let you sleep. Not his kind of thing at all.

There were also a couple of dates present—Camel had brought a woman with fake tits and bleached-blond hair. Not that those things were bad, because Cash loved that combination himself, but the frosted pink lipstick did her no favors, nor did the perpetually turned-down frown she sported.

The other woman was with Blade. She was a brunette with long legs and a great laugh who, upon being dunked in the pool, retaliated by doling out surprise wedgies. A much better addition to the group than Miss Sour Lips.

A cheer went up from the crowd just then, and Cash slewed his gaze toward the patio doors. Cowboy stood there with his hand entwined with his sexy CIA agent’s. Miranda Lockwood was a gorgeous woman, that was for sure. He’d thought she was beautiful as a redhead—but with blond hair and golden eyes, she was a stunner.

Lucky fucking Cowboy. He’d come back to work a few weeks ago and announced that he was in love with Miranda and they were in a relationship. Could have blown Cash over with a puff of air. He’d known that Cowboy was hung up on her when they’d gone on the mission to grab Conti, but he hadn’t known it was that serious.

Jesus. Love. How did a guy even know when that’s what it was? Cowboy had only been fucking Miranda for a few days when he’d decided she was the one for him. How the hell did that happen?

Cash shook his head. No way that was happening to him. He loved women—and pussy—too much to ever limit himself to one for life. The world was a buffet, and he was happy sampling from it.

Cowboy stood there with his woman until she stood on tiptoe to kiss him and then went over to sit with Ivy and Christina. Cash watched his teammate watching her and shook his head.

Dude’s fucking balls were in her purse. He didn’t move until she looked up and gave him a little wave. Then he strolled over to where Cash was and flopped back in a lounger.

“You look smug,” Cash said, and Cowboy snorted before turning his gaze on him.

“Not smug. Happy. Content.”

Cash snorted and took a sip of the Jack Daniel’s Single Barrel he’d poured for himself. “Pussy whipped.”

Cowboy merely grinned at him. “You can’t piss me off, Money. I’ve got the woman of my dreams and life is good. Tease me all you want, but tonight when this shindig is over, I’m leaving here with the most gorgeous woman you’ve ever seen in your life. And she’s mine, man. All mine.”

Cash lifted his glass, feeling a little jealous even while he told himself that no way in fucking hell did he want to be as whipped as Cowboy.

“To you then.”

Cowboy picked up the can of soda he’d carried over. “And to you. May you find the woman of your dreams and be as happy as I am.”

“Not happening, dude. The woman of my dreams is all of them. How can I eat prime rib for the rest of my life when there’s a delicious lobster waiting? Or a juicy hamburger?” He shook his head. “Nope, not me.”

Cowboy laughed. “I’m going to remind you of this conversation someday. And I’m going to laugh my ass off when I do.”

Cash shrugged. “It’s a losing proposition, but whatever makes you happy.”

Cowboy turned his head to gaze over at Miranda. She sent him a private smile, and Cash looked away, feeling like he was intruding on something.

“Miranda does,” Cowboy said softly.

For the first time he could ever remember, Cash felt something very like jealousy blossom deep inside his soul. He took a sip of his drink, then lay back and closed his eyes. The feeling would pass, certainly. But for now, it made him feel hollow inside.

And that was a feeling he didn’t like at all.

* * *

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