Secure Target (Elite Operators) (12 page)

His smile was conspiratorial, and without uttering a word he moved to sit on the bed beside her, hauling her up to straddle his lap as his lips found hers with an urgency that set her heart racing. The press of his mouth was at once tender and insistent, and Lacey responded hungrily, relishing the contrast between the soft push of his tongue and the hard, straight edges of his teeth.

Her hands were at his waist, and the firm muscles of his stomach shifted deliciously at her touch. She slid her fingers under the hem of his cotton T-shirt and ran her fingertips across his smooth, warm skin, interrupted by a thin line of hair that bisected his abdomen.

As she let her fingers drift just below the waistband of his jeans he pulled her in tighter, tangling one hand in her hair at her nape. He began to brush his lips across her jawline with tantalizing, featherlight touches that sent shivers through her. The pressure of his mouth increased as he made his way down her neck, lingering at her collarbone and the hollow at the base of her throat. When he moved lower, his lips caressing the skin exposed by her scoop-necked dress, Lacey let her face drop into his thick blond hair and breathed deeply, drinking in his fresh, summery smell.

He brought his mouth back to hers as his hand found her breast, cupping it through the fabric of her dress. Her nipples hardened to taut peaks and she ran her hands up his rib cage with a new urgency, spurred by the burgeoning ache at the apex of her thighs.

Bronnik leaned back and pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it to the floor. Lacey stared at the perfection of him, the broad shoulders, the golden skin, the lean, trim muscles of his torso.

“My God, you’re gorgeous,” she breathed, but his eyes were clouded with desire. He reached out to pluck at her dress.

“If you want to keep this,” he said hoarsely, his voice almost a growl, “you need to take it off before I rip it in half.”

Although that had its own appeal, she stood up and drew the dress over her head. She moved to return to the bed but Bronnik put his hands on her hips to stop her.

“Let me look at you,” he said from his seat on the edge of the bed, his gaze sweeping her up and down in a way that made her feel more beautiful than she could’ve imagined. After a minute she reached behind her back and unclasped her bra, letting it drop down her arms and then onto the floor.

She opened her mouth to make her usual self-deprecating comment about how they weren’t much more than a handful, but his slack-jawed, worshipful stare stopped her short.

Suddenly he grabbed her by the waist and pulled her onto the bed. He pushed her onto her back as he crawled on top of her, his lips closing over her breast. The sweep of his tongue on her nipple sent such intense pulses of heat down her thighs that Lacey cried out, arching her back, pushing herself farther into his mouth. Bronnik moved to her other breast, and she knotted her fist in his hair, writhing beneath his attentions.

He raised his face to pull her into another kiss, brushing his knuckles across the side of her breast. Feverish with desire, she reached between them and opened the fly on his jeans, and thrust her hand inside to grip his hot, hard erection. His responding groan was low and primal. He shuddered in her arms.

He slipped his fingers between her legs, cupping her through her thin, satiny underwear. A whimper escaped her lips as she pressed herself wantonly into his palm, desperate for his touch, for the fulfillment of her throbbing, scorching need.

He reared up, sat back on his heels. “I have protection,” he said, breathless, his eyes asking her permission. “If you want to?”

“Please,” she responded, her tone more pleading than she’d intended.

His smile was warm and broad, and he dropped onto his side next to her, running a finger down her neck and between her breasts.

“You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Lacey scooted against his chest, draping her hand over his hip. “And you’re the best man I’ve ever known. I’m not afraid of anything when I’m with you.”

Suddenly his face changed. His brow furrowed, his jaw tightened. He dropped her gaze and looked away, staring at nothing.

Abruptly he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood up, buttoning his jeans. “We can’t do this. I’m sorry, Lacey, I never should have let it get this far.”

A fierce, nauseating chill passed over every inch of her skin. “What are you talking about? Bronnik, what are you doing?” she asked, annoyed at how plaintive her voice sounded to her own ears. She yanked the bedspread free from the mattress and pulled it over her breasts, suddenly feeling very exposed.

He snatched his shirt up from the floor and balled it in his fist, his other hand raking through his hair. “I just can’t, I’m sorry. I can’t.” He turned and stalked back into his room, the door snapping shut behind him.

Lacey remained where she was, frozen. She felt like she’d been slapped across the face, hard, and her vision was reeling on the way to the ground. The hotel room suddenly seemed large and alien. She thought of her bedroom at home, only a few minutes’ drive away, and a clenching pain settled into the center of her chest.

It occurred to her that she might never see that bedroom again.

For the first time since the police had burst into Dr. Woodward’s office, Lacey was deeply, unutterably afraid.

Bronnik paced the room like a caged animal, grinding the knuckles of one hand into the palm of the other. Every muscle in his body twitched with unspent energy, and his pulse throbbed in his temples.

Lacey was exquisite. He thought of her slim, confident fingers wrapping around his rigid flesh and had to stifle a growl of longing. He wanted her so badly it hurt.

But her mention of his virtue, her belief in him, had shot an arrow of guilt and panic straight through his heart. What if she was wrong? What if, for all his sophisticated training and slick skills, tomorrow he couldn’t protect her?

He hadn’t been able to save Hardy’s last victim. Why should this time be any different?

Thando was right. Detective Harris, Agent Carver, they were all right. He never should have gotten so personally invested. It was incredibly unprofessional, it bordered on taking advantage of Lacey’s vulnerability, and it compromised his ability to do his job. The stakes were too high now.

He scrubbed at his eyes, but he felt numb. He needed to feel something, needed to snap himself out of this emotional haze. He was facing his greatest enemy tomorrow, and he needed to get his mind back on track. He dropped to the floor and started doing push-ups, forcing himself to focus on the count.

It wasn’t enough. He looked around the room, pulled over a chair, propped his feet on the seat and started again.

Still not good enough. He needed to feel pain, needed it to hurt, needed to shock himself back to the present and away from the terrifying thought that kept pushing insistently at the edge of his mind.

He put his forefingers and thumbs together to form a diamond, did a set that way. He put one arm behind his back, then after a set he switched and repeated it on the other side. He was clapping in between each push-up, both hands leaving the floor, when his denim-clad leg slipped on the silky upholstery of the chair and it tilted away, causing his knees to hit the carpet with a dull thud.

Bronnik sat up, breathing hard, and put his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands. The realization was still there, getting louder and clearer by the second, like the siren on a patrol car that was careening ever closer.

The stakes were too high now—because he was falling faster and harder than any parachute jump.

Chapter Nine

Bronnik was awake before sunrise the next morning after a restless night alternating between startling out of brutal, grisly nightmares and lying in bed, staring at the ceiling. He glanced out the window at the still icy, snow-dotted sidewalk and decided to make his way to the hotel’s fitness center for what he hoped would be a calming, mind-clearing run.

His heart sank when he arrived to find Thando posted outside the door.

“She in there?”

“Good morning to you too, sunshine,” his partner grumbled. “Yes, she is. She knocked on my door about half an hour ago, asking if I would escort her. Which I suppose is an encouraging change from the pretty cavalier attitude to personal security she’s shown thus far, but I did wonder why she came to me instead of you.” His dark eyes searched Bronnik’s face. “What’s going on with you, Mason? You look like
kak
,” he said, playfully throwing in one of his partner’s favorite Afrikaans swear words.

He managed a weak smile as he sank back against the wall. “I feel like
kak
. I’ve screwed this one up badly, Thando. I should’ve listened to you.”

“A good rule for life,” the older man replied, and Bronnik was grateful that he was keeping this light. “But please don’t tell me you slept with her.”

“I didn’t.” Thando exhaled with relief. “Although it came close.” At his partner’s concerned expression, he continued, “It’s over now, and I’m getting my head back in the game. A little mistake, that’s all it was.”

Thando nodded, but his gaze was evaluative and thoughtful. “I have to say, I’ve known you for five years and I’ve never seen you lose focus like this. What is it about this one, huh?”

He opened his mouth to reply, then hesitated. It was no use dwelling on the myriad ways Lacey was different from any girl he’d ever met. He couldn’t let that matter now.

“Nothing,” he said finally. “Nothing at all. Just thinking with my
piel
instead of my brain.” He offered what he hoped was a rakish, reassuring smile.

“Right,” Thando murmured, obviously unconvinced. “Try to use the latter today. I don’t think you’re Hardy’s type, pretty boy.” His partner gave him a hearty slap on the back. “Now get out of here and let the lady work out in peace. There’s a pool downstairs. Go swim off whatever it is you’re dragging around with you this morning.”

Bronnik raised his hand in farewell and started back toward his room. He was lucky to have such an intuitive, amiable partner, and over the last few months they’d become a great team. He was uneasy about concealing the extent of his feelings for Lacey from Thando but knew it couldn’t possibly help the situation to tell him. The only thing to do was to get over it, and quickly.

Although he suspected he might need more than a swim to accomplish that.

The water felt great. Bronnik pushed through the laps, finding a welcome release from the jumble of his thoughts in the methodical, rhythmic motion of swimming. He focused on his flip turns, pushing off hard from the wall, idly wondering if he’d have time to train for the Durbanville Triathlon this year. The more his body worked, the more his mind relaxed, and when he put his feet on the first rung of the ladder on the side of the pool, some of the tension that had been tightening his shoulders had dissipated.

He ran a towel over his face and then draped it over his shoulders while he sat on one of the reclining chairs beside the pool, digging in the front pocket of his hooded sweatshirt for his room key. Someone cleared their throat, and he looked up.

Lacey stood before him, flushed and glowing in her running gear, her arms crossed over her chest.

He forced himself to focus on the security issue of her appearance rather than the low sizzle it sparked in his gut. He felt his brain shift like a rusty gear, heaving and clunking into professional mode.

“You shouldn’t be in here on your own. I’m unarmed. What happened to Thando?”

“He’s just outside the door,” she said, her tone chilly and unyielding. “I told him I needed to speak to you.”

“So speak.” He scrubbed the towel over his hair.

She glared down at him, fury written all over her face. Guilt tugged at his ribs but he kept his expression carefully neutral, steadily returning her gaze.

“Never mind,” she muttered through clenched teeth. “I just realized I have nothing to say to you. Nothing.”

He shrugged, and Thando chose that moment to open the door to the pool and lean in.

“Carver wants everyone upstairs for the briefing now. Let’s not keep him waiting.”

Lacey turned on her heel and stalked out to the corridor. Bronnik paused on the edge of the chair, his elbows on his knees, and sighed. Whatever peace he’d found in the water was already a distant memory.

Lacey sat cross-legged on the bed in Agent Carver’s room. The small space was full of uniformed police officers and plainclothes FBI agents, most of whom were wearing suits. Bronnik sprawled in a chair across from her in Hawaiian-print board shorts, flip-flops, and a maroon Stellenbosch University sweatshirt. He looked like a displaced beach bum, and she had to reach deep into her store of anger at him in order to quell her impulse for an affectionate smile.

Luckily she had plenty of anger in supply.

She’d replayed the previous evening in her mind to the point where she could no longer be sure she wasn’t fabricating innuendos and implications, fictionalizing the encounter so it might make some sense. Ultimately she gave up trying to extract logic from Bronnik’s actions, dismissing him instead as just another one of the selfish, rude, insensitive men she was all too familiar with.