Elisabeth Naughton - Extreme Measures

“Holy hell, Eve. You might just kill me yet, beautiful.”

Slowly, her eyes opened, and she stared across the dimly lit room while she tried to steady her racing heart.

But it was reality, not his words, that sent a shiver down her spine, and not even his tightening arms, pulling her closer against him, helped. Because thanks to her ever-loving weakness, there was no way she’d be able to walk away from him cleanly now. And that meant not only was his life still on the line; her heart now was too.

He pressed his lips to her nape and reached around to unlace the belt from her wrists. She’d forgotten it was still there. When she was free, he dropped the belt over the side of the bed, then reached down and dragged the covers over both of them. His arms tightened around her once more, dragging her back and into him. The heat of his body seeped into hers, slowly warming her from the outside in. “Promise me you won’t run when I fall asleep.”

Chest tight, Eve gripped his forearms. And even though pain lanced her heart, she said, “That wouldn’t be fair. I lost the game, now didn’t I?”

He smiled against her ear. “You didn’t lose, beautiful. We both won. Just like I’ve dreamed more times than I can count. Sleep, baby. We have a big day tomorrow.”

The icy walls she’d built around her heart started to crack. She closed her eyes tight. Pinched her lips together. Tried to breathe through the pain. Because in that moment she knew nothing—not the government chasing her, not even the biggest terrorist cell—could hurt her more than the broken heart she was doomed to have when this was finally over.

And it didn’t even come close to comparing to how much she’d miss him when she ultimately left him for good.

The gritty intro to Nickelback’s “This Means War” roused Zane in the early morning hours. Blinking into the dim light, he rolled to his side and eyed the illuminated cell phone screen sitting on the nightstand.

Fuck. Aegis.

He rubbed at his left eye and pushed up onto his elbow. Muscles in his back and shoulders ached, and for a moment he couldn’t remember why. Then his mind flashed to a steamy shower, to Eve’s wrists bound above her head, to the sexiest sounds he’d ever heard.

The music died off. He whipped around and looked at the empty bed beside him. Heart pounding, he shot a glance toward the open bathroom door, the room beyond dark and quiet.

Double fuck.

“Eve?”

No answer. No sound or movement from anywhere in the small, dark motel room. When “This Means War” fired up his cell phone again, he grabbed it on reflex. “What?”

“Good morning to you too, grouchy.”

Marley. Shit. He should have expected this call. Sitting up, he rubbed a hand over his face and worked for calm when he felt anything but. “Sorry. Long night. Ryder tell you to call?”

“As a matter of fact, he did. He’s still a little too worked up to talk to you just yet. But he’s worried about you, Zane.”

Zane scoffed and looked around the room. Sometime in the night he’d peeled off those wet jeans, and they now lay in a pile on the floor. Eve’s ripped skirt and filthy blouse were tossed over a chair, but the clothes he’d picked up for her yesterday were nowhere to be found.

Anger simmered under his skin, followed by a nasty shot of stupidity. Dammit, he should have expected she’d turn tail and run, but he’d thought—no, he’d hoped—in some way he’d gotten through to her last night. Apparently, he’d thought wrong, but then, when it came to Eve, he was always wrong.

He slouched back into the pillows and pulled his knees up under the blanket, planting his feet on the mattress. A dull ache started in his thigh, one he knew all too well. “I seriously doubt that.”

“He’s just ticked you went out on your own on this one,” Marley said. “He’d have helped you if you’d asked.”

Zane fought from scoffing again. “No, he wouldn’t have. And he’d have been right to say no.” Shit. He rubbed another hand down his face. He should have listened to Ryder. He never should have gone after Evelyn Wolfe. At least then, instead of being alone and wanted for a major crime, he’d simply be alone. “Listen, Wolfe’s sister is still missing—”

“Miller’s on it. We’ve been in contact. As soon as we have news about Olivia Wolfe, someone will contact you. But that’s not the reason I’m calling. The reason I’m calling is because I need you to talk to Wolfe and find out if she knows about something called Project Thirteen.”

Zane’s brow lowered. “Why?”

“Because somehow, it’s linked to everything that’s happening.” Marley filled him in on her discovery at the State Department, the link to the Guatemala raid, and Humbolt’s connection to ADD Roberts in the counterintelligence division.

Slowly, Zane sat upright. “Are you telling me the Guatemala raid was a cover-up?”

“It could have been. Or it could have been coincidental. Whether Aegis or Humbolt was the target, we may never know. For now, we need to know if Wolfe has any intel on Project Thirteen.”

Shit. Zane rubbed his suddenly aching forehead. “Well, I would ask her if she was here, but she’s not, so I can’t.”

“What do you mean?”

Zane sighed and dropped his hand. Man, he was so fucking gullible when it came to that woman. “What I mean is, she’s go—”

The door to the motel room pushed open, and a breath of cool Pacific Northwest air swept into the room, followed by Eve, wearing slim jeans, a fitted black button-down blouse, and black ankle boots. In her hands she carried a drink holder and several paper cups.

Relief spread through him like fog rolling across the ocean, and warmth seeped into his chest, dousing the ache that had started to grow there from her absence.

“Archer?”

Realizing Marley was still talking to him, he blinked and looked down at the sheet over his legs. “Yeah.”

“Where is Wolfe?”

“She just walked in. Listen, Marley, I’ll call you back after I talk to her.”

“You do know how to keep things exciting, Archer. I will say that for you.”

He smiled, feeling better by the second. “So do you.”

He hit End on his phone and looked across the room. Eve’s back was turned toward him, and she was taking steaming paper cups out of the drink holder and setting them on the round, scarred table. “Who was on the phone?” she asked, not looking his way.

Slowly, he unfolded himself from the bed, snagging the sheet around his waist as he moved. “Aegis.”

“Worried about you?”

“Something like that.”

He tied the sheet together at his hip, stopped behind her, and drew in a whiff of her familiar scent. Her dark hair was tousled and messy, just begging his fingers to weave through it, and the way her ass filled out those jeans . . .

The blood stirred in his groin all over again.

She turned and handed him a steaming paper cup, then stepped past him, careful, he noticed, not to look him in the eye or touch him. “I couldn’t remember how you liked your coffee, so I just left it black.”

“Thanks.” She was nervous. An odd sort of thrill rushed through him as he took the cup and turned to look after her. “I didn’t hear you get up.”

She crossed the floor, sat on the end of the second bed, and tugged off her boots. “I couldn’t sleep. Look, we’re meeting my CSIS contact in a few hours and need to get going. I’m gonna finish getting ready. I got some food in case you’re hungry.”

She pushed off the bed and moved for the bathroom. Surprise rippled through him when he looked over the selection. “You got me M&M’s?”

“I got you oatmeal,” she called from the bathroom. “It’s called breakfast.”

Bullshit. She’d gotten M&M’s too. Excitement slithered through his veins. He snagged the little brown bag and followed her into the cramped bathroom.

She was bent over the counter, splashing water on her face, when he leaned against the doorjamb. Water slid down her creamy skin as she straightened, eyed him in the mirror, and reached for the towel. “What?”

A one-sided grin curled his mouth. He ripped the bag open. “Nothing. It’s just . . . you got me M&M’s.”

She rolled her eyes and swiped the towel over her face. “Maybe the M&M’s were for me, smart guy. Ever think about that?”

He tossed a handful of the chocolate candies in his mouth, chewed, and moved in behind her. Swallowing, he dropped the open bag on the counter and wrapped his arms around her slim waist. “Mm, they taste good. But not as good as you.”

A surprised gasp slipped from her lips. She tensed against him, pressing her hands over his forearms. “Archer—”

He nuzzled her neck, loving the way she felt against him, loving the soft tickle of her hair against this face, loving the silly lift to his spirits just knowing she’d come back. “You have a photographic memory, Eve. You don’t forget anything. God, you smell good. Remember what we did with those M&M’s in Beirut?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Oh yeah, she did. He saw it in her eyes when he glanced into the mirror. “ ‘Melt in your mouth, not in your hand.’ We tested that theory, didn’t we? All over your body. I wouldn’t be averse to trying that experiment again.”

“Archer.” Her stomach tightened beneath his arms, and when she gripped his forearms and squirmed, her sweet ass ground against his growing erection. “We have things to do today. We don’t have time for this.”

He breathed hotly over the skin behind her ear, then pressed his lips to the supersensitive spot. A shudder ran through her. Releasing one arm from her waist, he slid his hand down her lower belly and over her jeans to cup her sex. “There’s always time, Evie.”