Covert Vengeance Page 10

  The redacted file he’d been given on her told him a limited amount about her personal life. As far as he could tell, she didn’t have much of one, and any romantic relationships she’d been involved in were brief, nothing serious or long-lasting.

  He’d been the same way, but for the first time, he wanted more than just physical. More than he’d ever wanted from a woman before. And he wanted it with Amber.

  He’d never had so much in common with a woman. Had never imagined meeting one who could hope to understand him on the deepest level.

  But Amber could. And now that he’d gotten involved in this, he wasn’t letting her walk away.

  ****

  It wouldn’t be the first time she’d offered herself up as bait to kill a target. But then Amber had never offered herself up like a sacrificial lamb to the likes of Yury Stanislav, either.

  “I have to go check on Kiyomi,” she said, meeting Cordova’s stare as she turned for the door. He was like a magnet, silently drawing her to him whenever they were in the room together. If he stayed, something would have to be done about that. In the meantime, she needed to keep her distance whenever possible.

  She could feel him watching her as she left the room and headed for the stairs. It was as if he could somehow read her mind and knew she wanted him.

  It had been a long time since she’d been with anyone. More than a year at this point, and that had only been for one night. She wasn’t built for relationships. None of them were. The one time she’d tried, it hadn’t ended well. All she could offer Cordova was a night or two, no more.

  That was her rule.

  She couldn’t do what she did, live the way she did, and get emotionally involved with someone. Megan was the only exception she was willing to make, and while Amber had initially planned to slip out of the house before the sun came up, she could see the merit of the bait plan.

  Since she was integral to that plan being able to happen, she couldn’t leave yet. So she hoped Cordova would be the one leaving, sooner rather than later, because she couldn’t afford any distractions. And something told her that if he stayed longer than a day or two, she would become more than distracted. Maybe attached. Maybe even worse.

  To put him and the temptation he posed from her mind, she focused on what she would do to Stanislav instead. A man like him had an ego to match his massive reputation. She remembered Zoya constantly bragging about him. About how hot and rich and deadly he was. How powerful, how no one could touch him.

  Well, Amber would more than touch him. She would destroy him. Take all his money, kill him, then funnel his funds into the pool she intended to use to set up the Valkyrie WITSEC program. And she’d make him watch her do it before he died.

  Oh, yeah, she thought with a savage smile as she made her way down the second floor hallway. That plan sounded awesome.

  Soft purple shadows filled the Blue Room when she entered after knocking. Kiyomi was still sound asleep on her stomach, appearing not to have so much as shifted during Amber’s absence.

  Marcus had left a tray of food on the settee at the end of the queen-size, four-poster bed. Amber didn’t know him well, but he seemed like a decent man, and clearly he had a heart if he was concerned for her old friend.

  Gently waking Kiyomi, she forced some fruit, cheese and crackers into her, along with a glass of water. “Think it’s going to stay down?”

  “Pretty sure,” Kiyomi answered, shifting slightly.

  “I’ll hold your hair back if you need me to.”

  A rusty chuckle came from Kiyomi at the shared memory, then she grimaced and put a hand to her ribs. “I’m never gonna live that down, am I?”

  “Nope.” Kiyomi had come down with food poisoning right in the middle of an intense physical conditioning phase during their training. They’d been roommates at the time, before they had been shifted to different training streams within the program. “You were too sick to notice, but when the instructor came to get us he opened the door, took one look at me holding the bucket in one hand and your hair in the other, and left. That was the only time I ever got out of PT and I loved you for it.”

  “Well, I’m glad my suffering paid off.”

  “Me too.”

  They shared a grin, reminding Amber of the good times they’d had as roommates. Staying up late talking about anything and everything, enjoying each other’s company and focusing on the here and now to stave off the anxiety that came with the constant uncertainty. They’d known it was only a matter of time before they were split up and sent to different streams.

  Amber had missed her dearly when the day had come. She’d arrived back at their dorm to find Kiyomi’s bunk empty, the mattress stripped of the sheets and pillow, all her things gone. They hadn’t seen or heard from each other since, until that basement dungeon in Syria. “I put the garbage pail next to your bed, just in case. Now get some more sleep.”

  Just as she was covering Kiyomi up again, footsteps sounded in the hallway. The door to the next room opened and shut.

  Cordova. She’d seen him put his stuff in there earlier.

  Amber’s gaze shifted to the tube of ointment sitting on the nightstand. They’d put some on Kiyomi’s back and ribs earlier. It was supposed to be good for healing bruises and contusions, and Cordova was still sore from the motorcycle wreck she’d caused.

  Avoiding temptation was the smartest course of action, but she was tired of constantly being deprived of things, and this time she couldn’t help herself.

  Picking up the tube, she quietly exited the room and knocked on Cordova’s door.

  He startled her by pulling it open rather than answer verbally. Whatever she’d been about to say died in her throat because the man was standing there two feet away, backlit by a lamp in the corner, all his shirtless, muscular glory on display.

  Power. Sheer masculine power and grace, his ripped chest and abdomen a shade or two lighter than his face and forearms, a thin trail of dark hair arrowing down from below his indented navel to disappear beneath the waistband of his jeans.

  Damn. And when she managed to drag her gawking eyes up to his face, the stark desire in his gaze stole her breath.

  A wave of heat roared through her, a sexual awareness so intense it made her dizzy. Her nipples beaded tight, a hungry ache igniting between her thighs. Yeah, she was sick of denying her needs.

  “Need something?” he asked in an almost lazy tone, arching a dark eyebrow as he held her stare. Completely aware of what he was doing to her, and clearly enjoying it.

  “I brought you this,” she blurted, holding out the ointment. “Marcus gave it to me for Kiyomi, but I thought you could use some. If you’re still sore.” Of course he’s still sore, dumbass.

  He held her gaze for a long, breathless moment, then lowered his sculpted arm from the doorjamb and stepped back, granting her entry. She walked in, a gasp breaking from her when he turned to cross the room and she got her first look at the wide expanse of his back—and the damage she’d done.

  A mass of painful-looking bruises marked him from the base of his neck to the small of his back. Large, angry blotches of dark blue and purple, a few turning greenish-yellow around the edges. She winced in sympathy. They must hurt like hell, especially given how he’d carried Kiyomi out of that basement earlier.

  “I’m…sorry,” she said lamely. Sorry didn’t fix it or make the pain go away, but it was all she had.

  He stopped partway to the bed where he’d tossed his shirt, and looked over his shoulder at her. “You gonna put it on me, or what?”

  She blinked at him. “Me?”

  “I can’t reach back there myself, can I?”

  Okay, true. Yeah. “Sure.” It was the least she could do. And while touching him that intimately wasn’t smart, it also wouldn’t be a hardship.

  He stood there unmoving, watching her expectantly.

  Fine. “You want to sit down first?”

  “No.”

  Okay. She uncapped the tube and approached him
slowly, her heart beating faster with every step. It was like walking up to a hungry tiger, a sudden tension filling the air.

  Squeezing some ointment out onto her palms, she put the tube in her back pocket and raised her hands, pausing inches from his bare shoulder blades. “Ready?” Her voice sounded a little husky.

  “So ready.”

  His body heat radiated against her palms from inches away. When she finally touched him, lightly as she could to spare him more pain, she bit back a gasp at the tingles that shot up both arms.

  She spread the cream across the skin between his shoulder blades, keeping her touch gentle. “Too hard?” she murmured, trying and failing to ignore her physical response to touching his bare skin. Smooth and warm, with a honeyed undertone that spoke to his Hispanic heritage.

  “No, you’re good.”

  She kept going, easing the cream into his sore skin, being careful not to miss a single spot as she worked her way down toward the small of his back. The entire time he stood unmoving, allowing her to try and ease his pain.

  “There,” she finally said after a couple minutes, her voice barely above a whisper. “All done.”

  He turned to face her. “Now my shoulders.”

  She glanced at them, and the sculpted contours of his chest in between. “Both?”

  “Both.”

  She studiously avoided his gaze as she squeezed out more cream and stepped close, heart tripping all over itself at the way he watched her, this powerful, dangerous and sexy man mere inches away. Still, silent, and ready to pounce.

  A low groan smothered in her throat when she cupped her hands around the powerful curves of his hard shoulders, a melting heat slipping through her lower belly and between her legs. It was suddenly hard to breathe, and even harder to pull her hands away from all that hot, smooth skin.

  Strong fingers caught her chin. She jerked her gaze up to his, mouth going dry at the fire blazing in his eyes as he stared down at her.

  All the need she’d been suppressing suddenly exploded to life. She reached for his face at the same time he captured hers between his hands and brought his mouth down on hers.

  Heat and pleasure shot through her, every nerve ending in her body lighting up. She moaned into his mouth as she opened for him, her breasts pressed to the hard wall of his chest.

  He slid one hand around to plunge into the back of her hair, taking charge, holding her still while he kissed her like he’d been dreaming about it for months. His lips were warm and firm as they sucked at hers, savoring. He nipped the bottom one, then soothed the little sting with a velvet stroke of his tongue that made her come up onto her toes, chasing it.

  Their bodies were plastered together from chest to groin, the unmistakable hard length of his erection pressing into her abdomen. She moaned again, meeting the satin strokes of his tongue against hers as he locked a powerful arm around her ass and welded her to him, her hips pinned to the ridge of his erection.

  Amber pulled her mouth free to drag in a breath but he came back for more. Always more, nipping and licking and sucking at her lips, stroking the sensitive inside of her mouth with sensual strokes of his tongue.

  Her breasts ached, the nipples hard and needy, wetness gathering in her core. She rubbed against him, wanting more, gripped the back of his head with both hands to get as close as she could.

  Again and again he kissed her. Hungry, fervent kisses. Then tender, more sensual ones that left her straining to get even closer, desperate for more. All the while he kept her body tight to his, adding the light caress of his other fingers down the side of her face.

  He trailed the pads of his fingers over her cheek and jaw. Down the side of her neck to find a place that made her shiver. He zeroed in on it, dropping his head to suck at the sensitive spot, his tongue stroking for a moment, just long enough to make her gasp and arch, then back up to capture her mouth.

  Amber was drowning and she didn’t care.

  His free hand wandered over her collarbone. The outer curve of one tingling breast. Teasing her with the promise of what would happen next. And when she thought of what it would feel like to have his hands and talented mouth on her breasts and then between her thighs, she shuddered.

  Immersed in pleasure and need, she skimmed her hands down the front of his body to the button at the top of his jeans, dying to feel that hard length in her hand. Inside her.

  A strong hand closed around hers, denying her. “Uh-uh, belleza.”

  Confused, sure she’d heard him wrong, she jerked her gaze upward. His eyes blazed with molten desire and he was hard as steel against her belly, both things completely at odds with the set look on his face. “What?”

  The left side of his mouth kicked up in a sexy half-smile. He pulled her hand from his waistband and leaned in to kiss her again. A slow, liquid kiss that melted her insides, then he lifted his head and gently set her away from him.

  It was like having a glass of ice water thrown in her face, the shock startling. “What the hell?” she said, the sudden punch of anger sweeping away the daze of confusion. He was seriously stopping this now? When he’d just set her on fire, worked up higher than she’d ever been in her entire life, and now he was going to leave her hanging?

  His fiery stare made her over-aroused body whimper with unfulfilled need. “I’m not interested in being with you for only one night. So when you’re ready for more than just scratching that itch, let me know.” Then he nodded at the door behind her. “Thanks for the rubdown. Good night.”

  She gaped at him. Good night? He was freaking dismissing her?

  Outraged, Amber spun on her heel and took her aching, frustrated body down the hall to her own room. When she was ready for more than scratching an itch? What guy had ever said that, in the history of mankind when a willing woman was standing in front of him, dying for more?

  Fuck him and his games. “Scratching an itch,” as he put it, was all she was willing to give him.

  Except it would have been more than that to her. It would have been unforgettable, and he’d robbed her of it.

  She stripped and got into the bed, cursing him, then thought of the mass of bruises on his back.

  Good. At least he would suffer more than her tonight.

  Chapter Eleven

  Birdsong.

  Amber’s eyes sprang open and she jerked up onto her elbows in the bed, listening to the unfamiliar sound of it as she reoriented herself. The clock on the nightstand read five-nineteen. That meant she’d only gotten three hours of sleep. After being dismissed by Cordova, she hadn’t been able to sleep, so she’d spent most of the night working.

  Early morning sunlight streamed around the edges of the blinds covering the windows on the east side of the room. All around her, it was quiet. No traffic noise or muted voices, or even people moving around the house. Just the birds singing outside. Pretty. Cheerful. Peaceful.

  The quiet was damn near eerie, a jarring contrast to what she’d become used to after living on edge in various cities and in constant danger for the past few months. Her body was tired, her system drained after being on constant overload for so long.

  With a groan, she flopped back down on the bed. She was as safe here as she was going to get, yet she hadn’t slept well for the few hours she’d been in bed. It was hard for her to turn off that ever-present internal vigilance, and the situation with Cordova hadn’t helped any.

  She’d kept busy hacking Stanislav’s stuff and hunting down his money so she could send the intel to Trinity, in addition to widening her search net to find more Valkyries who might still be out there.

  Still wired after that, body frustrated and unsatisfied, she’d finally been forced to take care of business herself just so she could sleep, and it hadn’t been a tenth as good as it would have been with Cordova.

  She scowled up at the ceiling. What was he playing at? Did he expect a declaration of undying love before they slept together or something? Because that wasn’t happening. Freaking arrogant, sexy bastard.
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br />   Slipping from the bed, she walked to the window and pulled up the blind to see outside. A thin veil of mist covered the rolling green fields that spread out for as far as the eye could see beyond the main house. Apparently Marcus had two-hundred-acres or so here.

  She wouldn’t mind exploring some of it. It would be nice to recharge a little. Her nervous system had been on constant alert for such a long time, it deserved some time to unwind.

  She showered in the en suite, changed into jeans and a light sweater, then went down the hall to check on Kiyomi. Cordova’s door was open as she passed by, his room empty when she glanced in. It annoyed her that she even cared where he was after the stunt he’d pulled last night, but the man made it impossible to forget or stop craving him.

  Pausing in front of Kiyomi’s door, she tapped lightly before pushing it open. She found Megan there, sitting on the end of the bed. Kiyomi was sitting up against the headboard, a breakfast tray spread across her lap. The bruising on her face was worse but the swelling had gone down a bit—both her eyes were open now.

  “Hey, look who’s up. You look like you’re feeling a bit better,” Amber said.

  “A bit,” Kiyomi said with a tiny smile.

  “It’s good to see you eating. Did you wind up needing the bucket last night?”

  A faint smile lifted the edge of her mouth. “No.”

  “She’s polished off two bowls of oatmeal already. I wanted to give her toast and fruit, but Marcus insisted on oatmeal and made it for her himself. And since he’s master of this castle, oatmeal she got,” Megan explained.

  “It hit the spot,” Kiyomi said, setting her spoon beside the empty bowl. She winced slightly as she leaned back on the headboard and put a hand to her ribs. “Think I’ll attempt a shower, then sleep for a while more. I’m pretty tired.” Her gaze slid to Amber. “I never did thank you, you know. For getting me out of there the other day. Thanks.”

  Amber waved it away. “Are you kidding? No thanks needed.”

  “Can you thank Jesse for me? I’d tell him in person but I’m not up to coming down and dealing with all those people yet.”