Hot for His Hostage (17 page)

As she nodded, the stark room lighting picked up the prisms in her new tears. “Sure.
And the most heart-wrenching ‘innocents’ are pretty young dancers, right?” A mirthless
laugh spilled. “We make for damn good ‘Breaking News.’ So he released everyone else,
and kept us.” Her shoulders stiffened, and she lifted a glittering glower. “And you
helped him.”

Shay tensed, too. Battling her glare with his. Fighting himself with the rest of his
body. Fuck, how he wanted to just lean over and kiss her, win her over with the power
of his passion as a John Williams symphony swelled and the credits rolled over their
happy-ever-after.

But this wasn’t the goddamn movies. Things couldn’t be fixed by a lip-lock, some fireworks,
and a Hollywood plot wrap-up. He had to settle for at least trying to make her understand—before
he got her out of this mess and back to her life, safe and sound, without him to fuck
it up anymore.

That meant he had to start with the truth.

“You helped him,” she repeated. “With all of it. Didn’t you?” In spite of her tears,
every word she spoke was a harsh bite.

“I did.” His response came out with firm calm. Some CO in his past had once yelled,
during the last mile of a long PT run, that the end of an ordeal was often when one
gained the most clarity. Since he’d always kind of enjoyed those runs, he’d never
understood the truth of it—until now.  

“And you knew what flight it was the night before, didn’t you? That was what your
text messages in the bar were about.”

“As stated, you’re a very smart woman.”

She returned his attempt at a smile with a disgusted glower. “So our time together,
was that some kind of a perverted fun time for you? An extra twist to the Dom game,
sexing up a woman before terrorizing her at thirty thousand feet?”

He was tempted to pin her down again with nothing more than a growl of warning. With
a clamp of his jaw, he harnessed his frustration. Her conclusion was understandable.
And now, if he had anything to say about it, erasable. “I had no idea you’d be on
that flight until you mentioned it in the hotel room, after our fireworks finally
faded.”
And I could still barely feel my toes after the magnificence of it
.

She snorted softly. “That
was
about the time you decided to bolt.”

“And tried to talk you into catching a later flight.”

Pain flared anew in her gaze. “You didn’t try that hard. You going to blame the fading
fireworks for that, too?”

He took the risk of releasing one of her feet in order to guide her hand across to
his chest. “To be honest, baby girl, you left behind a lot of live embers.”

She huffed so hard, it almost became a laugh. “For a guy who’s so good between the
sheets, your timing really sucks elsewhere.”

“No shit.”

Her expression softened. She was an insightful woman, and obviously honed in on his
gritted undertone. “You’re conflicted about being involved with him, aren’t you?”

He took a deep breath. Here went nothing. Or perhaps everything. But knowing the nursing
station had only a video surveillance monitor, which Justine had been using for the
latest episode of
Dance Moms
the last time he checked, this could be his only chance for full disclosure with
Zoe.

“He’s a monster, a murderer, and a world-class cocksucker on several other levels,”
he professed. “And as long as I’m dropping your jaw, I know exactly how
you
know that. I know about how Stock played the boys in the First Special Forces Group
as a double agent, setting the trap for them that included Ethan Archer and Ava Chestain—your
sister. And I know how the bastard and his buddies bribed Archer to dance to their
tune by almost unleashing a thousand bees on your sister, making certain her epi pen
for her allergy to them was nowhere nearby.”

“
Mierda
.” The word quivered as much as her fingers, still pressed between his hand and his
chest. Shay tightened his hold, hoping she felt how she made his heart hammer.

“I understand now why you clocked him,” he murmured. “Though I’ve been wanting to
do the same thing for months, so now I’m jealous as fuck.”

She drew her hand back. He let her, not giving her a dispute. The bafflement on her
face explained a lot. He’d just thrown some wild revelations at her, and the biggest
was yet to come.

“Why?” she blurted at last. “Why do you know all this?
How
do you know all this?”

Shay paused to make sure he regulated every note of his reply. “Read it while you
were sleeping. In the final mission report.”

She arched sarcastic brows. “‘Final mission report,’ huh? Which you—what—conveniently
pulled off the internet between checking your Facebook and watching videos of masturbating
cats?”

He couldn’t help quirking his lips. “As intriguing as the cats sound, I used a simpler
firewall.”

Her brows descended. “Firewall? How? Why?”

“Well, everyone needs a good cover story, especially reading detailed shit off a classified
mission report.”

She nodded with mock understanding. “Sure. The one you obtained with your magical,
ultra-high security clearance, right?”

He took another long breath. Her suspicion pegged right at the center of his expectations,
justifying his decision to come clean now. He desperately hoped she saw enough of
his honesty—as well as the connection, compassion, and care he still had for her—to
know he was being real with her. “I know it sounds crazy. But I don’t have to worry
about clearance, Zoe.”

She straightened a little. Cocked her head to regard him carefully again, her eyes
glinting as if she’d already crayoned the outlines for this picture and now waited
for help on coloring in the shapes. “How?”

“Because I’m Special Forces, too.”

Fuck, it felt good to say it again.
Yeah. I
am
one of the good guys
. Part of him even wondered if she’d been clever enough to piece it all together,
though that possibility worried him. Zoe was one of the most perceptive people he’d
met, but if she could sniff out his cover, there was a chance one of Cameron’s guys
would, too.

Needless to say, her shocked blinks came as reassuring signs. And more than sexy triggers.
“What? Are you joking?”

He leaned more closely over her. At the same time, he kicked his voice down a couple
of decibels. It was a decent price to pay for the gift of speaking the truth about
himself for the first time in six months.

“My name isn’t Shane Burnett. I’m not really a random businessman who uses LAX as
my second home, and I usually don’t get to sit around the bar there—or the bar anywhere—waiting
for my dream woman to appear.” He warmed his tone and stared deeper into her eyes,
ensuring she didn’t harbor a single doubt about the subject of his assertion. “My
real name is Sergeant Shay Bommer. I proudly serve with the US Army’s Seventh Special
Forces Group—except for the last six months, in which I’ve been deep undercover with
Stock and his shitheads, on voluntary ‘loan’ to the CIA.”

“The CIA!”

He flattened a finger over her lips to quash her blurt. Nevertheless, she repeated
it in a harsh whisper.

He answered her with a short nod. “In reality, the spooks actually have exclusive
SFG battalions assigned for their use on missions that require our soldiers’ training
in things like unconventional warfare and negotiation tactics,” he explained. “But
this inroad to Stock happened as a result of intel
I
brought to
them
, based on digging I’d been doing on my own.”

Her features pursed with skepticism again. He really wished it didn’t make her so
damn beguiling. “Digging?” she quipped. “What, in your ‘secret spare time’ on a few
missions?”

He laughed on top of a grunt. “There’s more of it than you think. And this particular
search…was important to me.”

It shouldn’t have surprised him that she picked up on the subtle emotion that snuck
into his voice, causing her to press her hand over his. Shouldn’t have but it did—pleasantly
so. “Why?” she followed up.

Shay lifted her hand and twined his fingers through hers. She’d insisted on the truth
from him. He’d vowed she’d always get it now, no matter how difficult the information.
But in this instance, he was damn glad he’d made that promise—and finally had someone
he no longer had to hide the words from.

“Because, after eighteen years, I think I’ve finally found where Cameron Stock has
been hiding my mother.”

Zoe didn’t say anything for a long moment. She couldn’t.

Every word he spoke was true. She saw it in every tormented facet of his gaze, felt
it in every inch of pressure from his touch.

Which opened the floodgates on a new skirmish in her own soul.
Mierda
. She’d barely learned the man’s name—which she’d learned
wasn’t
his name—before stripping and sleeping with him last night! No. That was no ordinary
we’re-stuck-here-so-let’s-fuck-here little appointment. She’d opened herself to him,
exposed something she’d sworn never to show anyone again. Her submissive soul and
all the vulnerability that went with it.

But who the hell had she entrusted herself to? Shane or Shay? Who the hell had shown
up in that hotel room last night to rule her body with such knowing dominance, to
capture her soul with such perfect care? Had she given herself to a man that never
truly existed? And what did her instant confidence in him last night reflect about
her now? Had she become the blind-trust idiot she’d always cautioned Ava from turning
into?

Unbelievably, the chaos of her heart yielded an answer.

Perhaps the man’s name hadn’t been real last night. Perhaps the clothes on his muscled
back weren’t his own, and the ID in his pocket was forged. But none of those things
could cancel out what
was
the truth: the connection her senses had twined with his. The bridge of energy between
their gazes. The electricity, sweet yet sizzling, in every touch they shared. The
flawless fulfillment of welcoming his body into hers. The exquisite knowledge of surrendering
everything to him.

Bridges. Sparks. Fulfillment. Surrender.

Everything she’d sought for months with Bryce—and found in an hour with Shay.

So yeah, she believed him.

And right away, knew it was one of the best decisions she’d made in a very long while.

But believing him and comprehending him were two different things, actions much farther
apart than she thought.

He hadn’t seen his mom for
eighteen
years. That was only two more than her, but knowing one’s mother was really dead,
as opposed to knowing she still lived yet never getting to be with her…

To her confusion, tears sprang again. Because of him.
For
him.

Damn him.

Connection or not, he’d deceived her on a bunch of levels. And while she recognized
his reasons for it, that didn’t justify letting him back down the mine shaft of her
soul now. The man’s life was a mess. He’d helped turn hers into one, too. But she
had to believe this ordeal would be over soon—and once life was back to a semblance
of normal, she didn’t need any extra illusions about him hanging out, mucking her
judgment. It was best to let him clear the air now, since he was clearly so willing.
It would be good for them both. Surely hearing every one of his dirty details would
help her mental pickax about him, breaking free some much-needed chunks of clarity.

“Tell me.” She repeated her command of five minutes ago, gazing up to emphasize the
follow-up hadn’t changed.
And spare the damn sugar.

Shane—
Shay
—curled his other hand around hers. In the fervency of his hold, she comprehended
so much. She felt the miles and months of sacrifice he’d endured before this moment,
so much more than the single-day ordeal she’d been through.

In that wonderful second, they were connected again.

“It’s probably best to start at the beginning.” He uttered it like an apology. She
smiled back.

“I don’t scare that easily, Sergeant Shay Bommer.” She lifted her arm, dragging her
IV and monitor lines, too. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

“Okay, then. Ready or not…” He drew in a deep, hard breath. “It begins with my mom
and dad. They met when she was conducting some cutting-edge projects at the Naval
Research Lab in DC. He was a base guard, assigned to walk her home every night. They
both liked classic movies, going to the zoo, and wishing for a simpler life. Over
the course of her year assignment there, they fell in love. I always knew that, always
felt that soul connection they had, but as the years went by, it was clear that Mom’s
brain
needed a lot more feeding than what my dad, my brother, and I could provide, in the
middle of a tiny town in Idaho. She started going into Boise on Saturdays, taking
long trips to the library, attending scientific lectures at the university…” He pressed
his fingers a little tighter around hers. “It made Dad tense. Maybe a little more
than tense. Saturdays started to be his drinking days.”

Zoe sighed and pulled his hands closer to her heart. “That doesn’t sound like a fun
weekend.”

He attempted a shrug. “He always sobered up before she got back home but after a while,
Tait and I started making excuses to be gone on Saturdays.”

Damn. She got weepy again. After quickly palming her cheeks, she rasped, “
Dios.
Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He quirked up one side of his mouth while thumbing away the tears at the
corner of hers.

“Go on before I decide to really like the way you said that, and end up mauling you
instead of listening to you.”

He let the other side curl up, distinctly wicked this time. “Don’t you mean letting
me
maul
you
?”

“I stand corrected.” She tried to filter out her creamy undertone but the feat was
impossible when his eyes warmed like buttered rum. That magic thickened as they held
each other’s gaze, letting their eyes communicate what they yearned their bodies to
be doing. She forced the fantasy away before finally prodding, “Move on, Sergeant,
before Justine comes tearing back in here because my monitors are going Gagnam on
her.”

He groaned. “Right. On to the relevant shit, as my brother would say.”

She brushed away a bunch of hair that had fallen into his eyes. “How long did the
awkward Saturdays go on for?”

“Little over a year.” Painful shadows appeared in his gaze but he blinked them away.
“By that time, I was just past eight years old and Tait was waiting to turn ten. That
was when things got interesting.”

She frowned. “They weren’t already?”

“I’m just getting started, remember? One day, Mom received a call—a summons, really—to
go to Washington. The Pentagon, to be exact.”

“Whoa.”

“Right?” He grinned wider. “Tait and I thought it was hot shit, at least.”

She couldn’t help tossing in half a giggle. “How long was she there?”

“A long time. Well, at least to us. About two weeks. But man, when she got home, we
wondered if she hadn’t gone to some miracle spa, instead. Our mother was a different
woman.”

She liked the little tug at one side of his mouth, and felt herself emulating it.
“How so?”

“She had this new…light. I know it sounds corny, but it’s true. She was excited all
the time. Really happy.” His grin softened into a wistful half-smile. “Things changed
fast after that.
Really
fast.”

“How so?”

“By the following week, there were workmen all over our backyard. They converted the
old tool barn into a bio-lab for Mom’s use.”

“You’re right.” Zoe blinked a couple of times. “That’s fast.”

“No shit.” A soft laugh touched his lips now. She didn’t complain about having to
watch it. She’d never get tired of gazing at his mouth, just as she’d never forget
what it felt like when taking over hers… “Of course, Tait and I thought it was the
hugest adventure ever, and—what?”

His question came as she gave in to a careful frown. “Tait,” she repeated. “Tait…Bommer.”
Amazement zinged through her. “
Caramba
. Your brother’s in the same battalion with Ethan Archer, my sister’s fiancé.”

“Bingo,” he replied, “at least until last July. Tait’s taken an assignment with a
new team.”

“You don’t look like a proud little brother about that.” Even a blind person would’ve
noticed the about-face of his demeanor.

“Oh, I’m proud as hell. He’s damn good at his job. Just wish that detail didn’t include
hunting
me
.”

“So he doesn’t know you’re undercover.”

“Nobody does outside the CIA assets I’ve been working with—and now you.”

Zoe forced down a long breath to calm her careening pulse. Even without the purposeful
regard he gave her, the meaning of his statement wouldn’t have been lost. And the
honor. He was entrusting her with his most valuable secrets. The keys to his kingdom.

His life.

“So I take it that he believes what a lot of the world does now? That you’ve pulled
a Judas and taken up with the enemy?”

“Worse,” he returned. “The enemy who helped kill the woman he loved. But T’s always
had a weak spot for drama. The week the G-boys took over our tool shed, Tait was convinced
they were enlisting Mom to design a new bomb inside.”

“Was she?” After the insane twists her life had taken in the last twenty-four hours,
Zoe would believe just about anything short of aliens from cheese planets. And perhaps
even that, given the setting for this stolen moment.

“Wrong field. Mom was a bio-scientist, not a chemical or explosive engineer. Didn’t
matter to Tait, no matter how many times she told him. Even after she punished him
for trying to float the story at Sunday School, he kept it alive on the regular school
playground, turning us both into mini celebrities for a while.” He attempted another
laugh but didn’t get very far. “It helped a little, I guess. Distracted us from the
tension that was really going down at home.”

Zoe sighed in empathy. “Sounds like things weren’t going great.”

“They weren’t,” he replied. “The lab was the beginning of the end. To get even more
cliché, it was the best of times and the worst of times. On one hand, we’d never had
it so good financially. Whatever Mom was doing, the feds considered it worthy. We
had two new cars, repairs to the house, a new in-ground pool, all the video game shit
we could ever want or ask for…not that we went home to enjoy it much, after Dad decided
every
day was Saturday.”

“Shit,” Zoe mumbled. “Really?”

His affirming nod was tight. “At least he could buy the good stuff, right? Pickling
one’s liver on a daily basis is so much easier with high-end hooch.”

“But it wasn’t like your mom could tell the feds to take a flying leap, either. They
clearly needed her help, and it was important.”

Shay stunned her by suddenly pulling his focus. His gaze lost its reminiscent haze
and beamed into her like a golden laser. “You really
are
all about being a good girl, aren’t you?”

She straightened against the pillows, arching her brows. “There’s nothing wrong with
that.”

“Not a goddamn thing, beautiful.”

So much for indignation. Getting hit by a head-to-toe blush wasn’t the turn Zoe envisioned
for the conversation but it was difficult not to enjoy the heat of his stare. Except
for
Papi
, nobody had ever acknowledged her “responsibility fetish” as a good thing. It felt
nice. Better than nice.

“So what happened then?” she prompted. “Things were good but not so good. Your mom
was building a bomb in the garage—”

“Yeah.” He laughed it out, though his mouth was the only thing carrying the ball on
the sentiment. “Damn. She was a lot like you, Zoe, at least what I can remember of
her. She was smart, funny…she always smelled good, too, like Juicy Fruit and sunshine…and
she was so, so beautiful.” The misty overlay returned to his eyes. “Dad never stopped
telling her that, either. Even when things got weird, he told her how beautiful she
was.”

The middle of her chest burst into butterflies as his smile finally climbed to his
eyes. “
Amor mágico
,” she murmured. “
Sí
?”

Shay gave the stud in her nose a gentle tap. “
Sí
.”

“What did she call him?”

“Her handsome stud.” He shrugged as she giggled. “Yeah, it was the corniest of the
corn fests. T and I gave them shit for it once we understood the mush, but they didn’t
stop. He loved her despite the work demands, and she loved him despite the booze.”
His lips contorted for a second. “That was why so much didn’t make sense to me, when
I looked back and tried to put it all together. I mean, after Homer started hanging
out with us, and—”

“Whoa. Pause button. Ummm…Homer?”

“Sorry,” he muttered. “Sprinting ahead of the pack, huh?”

“A little.” She squeezed his hand in reassurance. “Who was Homer? A ‘friend’ from
DC?”

“You could say that.” A discomfited air began to roll off of him. “The suits were
always sending specialists, a new round every week. It was a revolving door of government
geeks. But one of them stayed longer than just a week.”

“Homer.”

“Right.”

“So he was a ‘special’ specialist?”

“Hell, no. He was another government tool, like the rest. Standard-issue haircut,
standard-issue personality. His name was Homer, for fuck’s sake. He ate Bacon Bits
on everything, including his cereal. But when he and Mom hit the lab together, I guess
something pretty cool happened.”