Protector Page 12

  “Jolynn, I work for the air force, not the mob.” He kept his voice calm in spite of his rising irritation with himself for botching his dealings with her. “I only did my job.”

  “The air force?” She blinked in surprise. “Okay, that’s a surprise.”

  “How so?”

  “I would have guessed army or marines because you’re so… uh… pumped.”

  After the surgeries he’d endured to repair his broken bones, he’d worked out nonstop, needing every bit of muscle strength to accommodate for bone and joint weakness. And yeah, maybe he’d needed to let off some steam, punch back at a world that had dealt a near knockout blow to him. “If you’re insinuating that the air force and navy guys can’t kick butt in a PT test, you’d better keep that to yourself around my pals. Especially Vapor. He’s this big-ass scary biker dude with a shaved bald head—”

  But she wouldn’t be meeting his friends. What the hell was he thinking? She stared back at him curiously, waiting.

  He shook off the urge to just talk to her, to be with her like they were an everyday couple getting away from it all in a sleepy little B and B. “It’s been… a long day. Try to get some sleep.”

  “Fat chance,” she mumbled, flicking the covers aside and easing under the cotton spread.

  He prayed she would drift off soon. He watched her shift as she tried to face away from him, obviously trying to avoid him. Too bad he couldn’t dodge the awareness of each breath she took. Flinching, she slid onto her back and stared at the ceiling.

  “Chuck.” Her voice eased across the room on a whispery breath. She turned her head on the pillow to look at him.

  “What?”

  Brow furrowed, she pressed a finger to her lips, then waved him toward her. Warily, Chuck stood. The rug over the hardwood floors cushioned his feet as he crossed to the bed, drawn almost against his will by this woman.

  God, he straight up enjoyed her quick temper and warm heart, her shifting moods that she wore on her sleeve for all to see. She was a spark of vitality in the life he’d plodded through for the last two years. She rejuvenated something inside him that he’d thought had died. A youth. A high-spiritedness. It was impossible to be around Jolynn and not feel.

  When she still didn’t speak, he eased down on one knee. Damp spirals of red hair trailed over the edge of the mattress only a simple stroke away. Desire kicked through him with its now predictable force.

  He leaned closer. Their cheeks almost touched. He couldn’t actually see her face, just the pillow striped with her hair.

  “What?” he whispered.

  “You hurt me.”

  He knew she didn’t mean the bruises.

  If he stared in her eyes, he would find pain. So he didn’t look, simply listened to her voice so soft only he could hear.

  “When you kissed me that first time, that was just my body, something superficial. This time you took my confidences, my trust. Something so much more important than my body.” Her chest rose and fell faster. “Chuck, how could you do that?”

  He didn’t move, didn’t speak, just let the accusations roll over him like the warmth of her breath caressing his neck.

  Chuck rocked back on his heels and returned her gaze, hoping she would see what he couldn’t say. Neither moved, just stared, until her eyes grew glassy. She twitched as sleep seemed to grab hold. Mesmerized, Chuck watched her lids flutter closed until her breathing regulated.

  He wasn’t aware of the passage of time as he watched her, and he really didn’t care. For so long he had tried to keep his guard in place around her, never allowing himself the unrestrained luxury of simply looking at her. With the room wired only for sound, he didn’t have to worry about anyone observing his hungry gaze.

  What was it about this woman that made her special? It wasn’t as if he’d stayed celibate since he’d been rescued in Turkey. He’d had a couple of flings and even a for-real relationship shortly after he’d gotten out of the hospital. Except Annette Santos, who’d survived an attack by a serial killer, had demons of her own to work out. They’d been drawn by their common experience. But ultimately as Annette put her life back together, she’d bailed on him, calling him an “emotional cripple.” Maybe she was right, because he truly hadn’t given a damn when she walked away.

  So here he was, still not so sure the past had cleared away but wanting Jolynn all the same. Why was he attracted to her in a way stronger than anything he’d ever experienced? Did the part of him that craved danger feel drawn to her?

  His mind traveled a treacherous path of “what if.” Of course, she wasn’t a party to her father’s dealings. Her relationship with Taylor was already strained. If pushed to the breaking point, she might even be freed of the old man’s influence. Could there be a path through this mess, any possibility she would forgive—

  Jolynn whimpered in her sleep, bringing all his protective instincts to the fore. She tossed, twisting in the sheets, restless, tiny moans escaping her lips as she frowned involuntarily, no doubt reliving the horrors of the day.

  Been there. Done that. Bought the T-shirt. He shuffled aside more memories.

  When her thrashing grew more fitful, he worried she might jar her ribs. Slowly, Chuck reached across and lifted the extra pillow, slipping it by her. She rolled onto her uninjured side, burrowing into the softness.

  He drew back, pulling his hand away until Jolynn grabbed his wrist. Seeing she still slept, he didn’t move for a moment. He tried to tug his arm free again, but she held tight.

  Resigned to the inevitable and in many ways grateful to have no choice, Chuck slipped onto the bed beside her. He reclined with his back pressed to the carved headboard.

  Jolynn abandoned the pillow and snuggled against him. Her arm curved around his leg. She sighed, her agitation ceasing.

  Lifting a tendril, he tested the feel of it between his fingers before he laid it aside, smoothing his hand across her brow. He cleared away the rest of her curls and wished he could give her the apology she needed. But he would see to her protection. He owed her, and Chuck always paid his debts. His hand cupped around the base of her skull as he kept watch over her through the night.

  TEN

  She dreamed of him.

  Jolynn held tightly to the dream, desperate to stay asleep where she could indulge herself. Where she could wrap her arms around Charles Tomas and pretend she didn’t know his name was Chuck Tanaka. She could slide her hands up his shirt along the hard plane of his stomach, higher still until his pecs twitched beneath her sensitive fingertips.

  The ache between her legs increased. She grazed her nails along his shoulders, down his back, hooking her leg over his to get closer. Hungrily, urgently, she rocked against the firm pressure of his thigh touching her moist core.

  Overheating by the second, she rolled her shoulder to dislodge her robe. Air brushed along her bared breasts, teasing her nipples to hardened peaks. She arched her back, desperate for contact with his hard, warm body.

  “Charles, I need more, now,” she whispered as the thick coarseness of his hair slid between her fingers.

  “Jolynn,” he growled against her ear. “You have to stop.”

  God, her dreams were every bit as good as reality. She slid her hand between them and palmed the rigid length in his pants. This dream was getting even better than any reality she could remember.

  Her hand worked the length of him, learning him, taking delight in the ragged groan that heated across her face. She kicked restlessly at the beddings, wanting to clear everything away so she would be all the more free to roll on the bed with him. Pleasure, release was so very close. Every nerve in her body tightened in anticipation as she rocked faster against the thick pressure of his thigh. Stroking him, stoking, she wanted him to come with her, in an explosive release they would repeat again more slowly the second time.

  “Stop.” His voice sliced through her dream, his fingers banding around her wrist.

  Ice-cold reality splashed over her, jolting her awake. S
he blinked fast, her eyes adjusting to the murky shadows of the darkened room. Slowly, she became aware of her surroundings. Of the stark little room. Of Chuck beside her in bed.

  Of her hand plastered against his crotch.

  She snatched her hand away. His eyes stared back at her, stormy with restrained desire. Her chest was heaving, her body still achy with want. She curled her fingers against the urge to grab him by the shirt and finish out her dream for real.

  “Chuck, I don’t know—”

  “Shhh…” He pressed a finger to her lips then pulled her robe back over her shoulders.

  Damn, she hadn’t even realized it had actually fallen aside and not just in her dreams. Heat flooded her as she thought of him seeing her, even in the shadowy darkness.

  How could she be so angry with him and want him so much at the same time? Her brain resented— hated— Chuck Tanaka for cruelly leading her on for the benefit of his investigation. But her body… Oh God, her body still wanted Charles Tomas, the enigmatic but tender student and everyday man.

  Her hands fisted in his shirt, cotton warmed from his skin or hers. She wasn’t sure. “I don’t want this.”

  “I know. God, I know. Neither do I, but here we are all the same.” He stared back at her with eyes as tortured as her insides.

  For the first time since they’d stood by the entrance to the catacombs, maybe for the first time since she’d met him, she felt like she was seeing into his soul.

  “What should we do?”

  Shaking his head, he stroked back her hair, his hand not all that steady. “Go to sleep. For both of our sakes.”

  She forced her eyes closed, her body all too aware of him beside her, still holding her. And as she drifted off to sleep, she wondered why neither of them had even thought about leaving the bed.

  * * *

  A light tap jolted Chuck from his half-sleep power nap. Morning sunlight streamed through the slim parts in the shutters, casting bars of light across their twined bodies.

  Their bodies. Jolynn, warm and soft curled against him. While he’d had his fair share of sex, he’d never slept with a woman before. Too intimate somehow, especially in light of how damn close he’d come to losing control with her last night.

  Jolynn’s whispered words echoed in his mind. You took my confidences, my trust. Something so much more important than my body.

  God, there hadn’t been any choice but to hold back, even when her hands and sweet body had been all over him during her dream. And yeah, he’d wanted to know more about that dream. He’d wanted more of her. But he couldn’t betray her trust. Not again.

  The knock sounded again, and he stiffened, already assessing his options for defense. He blinked to moisten his contacts, grateful for extended-wear lenses.

  “Hey, wake up. Are you there, Chuckles?”

  He heard Nuñez’s voice and relaxed.

  “I have your clothes. Open up, sleepy head.”

  “Hold on a minute.” Chuck untangled his hand from Jolynn’s hair and unwrapped her arm from his thigh. Inching away, he slipped the pillow into her embrace, waiting to move until she sighed and settled.

  Chuck crossed to the door and peered through the peephole. He looked at Nuñez through the fishbowl glass, shaking his head at the distorted sight of the agent dressed as a local fisherman, adding a good ten years to his age through that crazy way he adjusted his features and stance. The guy always had enjoyed his undercover getups.

  Chuck tugged the door open. “Nuñez, you’ve come up with some inventive disguises, but this makes the top ten.”

  Special Agent Mike Nuñez straightened his leather Greek fisherman’s cap. “I’m simply an eccentric New Englander visiting my grandpa’s roots. Sorry to interrupt.”

  He glanced at the hulking agent sitting in a chair against the corridor wall, then scowled at Nuñez. “You know as well as I, nothing happened here.”

  “No wonder you’re so cranky.” The guy was downright jovial since he’d tied the knot six months ago with a woman he met during the op in Turkey. Nuñez’s wife, Anya, was every bit as much a victim of that sadistic bitch who’d kidnapped him— even if the bitch was Anya’s mother. Now if they could just take care of the rest of the network. The hell spawn— Marta— had given up enough details when captured to keep herself alive but still they uncovered more layers to her dealings. She’d made a fortune kidnapping servicemen and stealing secrets from them. Those who agreed to cooperate were allowed to live and turned into spies. Those who didn’t?

  They were tortured until they died. Chuck was the only one to leave alive and with secrets intact— even if they’d had to carry him out on a stretcher.

  “Lighten up, Chuck. I’m just teasing.” He passed him one of the two sacks dangling from his wrist. “I brought you both some fresh clothes, some disguises I whipped up.”

  “Why do we need disguises, for God’s sake? Just get us out of here,” Chuck snapped.

  “In case we need to move you after all. Always best to plan for every contingency. Since you don’t speak fluent Italian, acting like tourists is your best bet.” He held up the bag again.

  Chuck stared at the sack as if it were a live snake.

  “Nothing too outlandish, I promise. Just a pair of shorts and a shirt, a few items to make you both look like an average newlywed couple on vacation.”

  “I’ll withhold comments until I see what’s in there.”

  Nuñez passed him the waist holster for his 9 mm. “I thought you could use this.”

  Chuck grasped the gun, its familiar weight comforting. “Thanks. I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. Put everything on the table if you don’t mind. I’ll change later.” Raking his fingers through his shaggy hair, Chuck glanced at his ruined shoes. “I, uh, need to make sure she’s safe.”

  “Take your shower. I’ll watch over her. You saw the mountain out in the hall who just took over the next shift.” Nuñez’s eyes burned with determination. “Jolynn will be fine.”

  Chuck snagged the bag on his way to the bathroom. “Her father’s going to jail. I don’t think she’s going to be ‘fine’ about that.”

  * * *

  Her father’s going to jail.

  The words pounded into Jolynn’s brain as she curled under the thin bedspread. Still recovering from heart surgery, her father wouldn’t be in any condition to withstand the stress of an arrest and trial. What would a stint in jail do to his health?

  She swallowed back the bilious taste. Her own innate sense of justice told her she would condemn anyone else for such crimes, but every inch of her cried out for her daddy to be innocent.

  Get real, Jolynn. You’ve known better for years.

  She was such a mess, inside and out. Sore and exhausted and still aching to be with the man who’d haunted her dreams. Had she imagined everything last night, or had he really stroked back her hair and told her he wanted her, too, even though he knew it was wrong?

  So very wrong.

  A part of her hated him all the more for being honorable last night. If he’d been a jerk, she could have slugged him and kicked his sorry ass out of her bed. Now, she was still stuck in the purgatory of resenting Chuck and wanting Charles.

  Jolynn pushed the pillow aside, groaning as every muscle in her body ached in protest.

  “Morning after stinks, doesn’t it?”

  She startled more fully awake and sat up, spread clutched to her chest. She blinked, but the middle-aged guy dressed to look like the local fishermen she’d seen selling their catch on the street yesterday was still…

  Wait. She narrowed her eyes. After a moment, she recognized the agent from the day before.

  “Good morning, Agent Nuñez.” Jolynn swung her legs over the side of the bed, unable to stifle the wince of discomfort. “Where’s Chuck?”

  She wondered why in spite of everything, she still sought the reassurance of his presence.

  “Call me Mike.” The agent nodded toward the bathroom, the shower hissing in the background. “H
e’s cleaning up.”

  Guess I’m on my own again.

  Mike shoved a hand in his pocket and withdrew a bottle of Extra Strength Tylenol with an American label. Snapping the cap, he selected two and extended his hand.

  Jolynn tossed back the pills without water and prayed for their speedy effect. “Are you Chuck’s partner?”

  “Not really. I’m NSA. He’s air force. We met on a job a couple of years ago. Situation called for us to work together again and here we are.”

  On the job. She shuddered.

  Her father’s going to jail. “I need to let my dad know I’m okay. He may be just another criminal to you people, but to me he’s an old man with a heart condition.”

  “Hold on. You don’t need to get defensive.” Mike set aside the camera around his neck— although Jolynn imagined it wasn’t a regular camera given all the toys around here. “I already figured that would worry you. One of our people will make sure your father believes you’re okay, just enjoying some time to yourself. He doesn’t know anything about Chuck, and we’d like to keep it that way. Chuck will just be calling into work sick.”

  “What if I want to go back to the ship?” She would never see Chuck again. God, she didn’t even know where he was really from.

  “Surely you realize things have moved beyond that now.”

  “I’m not so sure I do understand.” And she really didn’t understand the swell of relief over hearing she wouldn’t be saying good-bye to Chuck today. “For how long?”

  “However long it takes. We can’t let you endanger the safety of our other operatives. The best place for you is with Chuck. You would have died yesterday had you been with anyone else.” Nuñez spread his arms. “Well, anyone other than Chuck or me, of course.”

  “Nuñez…”

  Jolynn jerked toward Chuck’s voice.

  He stood in the open bathroom doorway, glaring. “This time you’ve gone too far.”

  Jolynn pivoted on the edge of the bed and gaped at Special Agent Chuck Tanaka wearing orange Bermuda shorts, a cabana shirt, and cheap flip-flops.