Heat. A spark. Desire kindled.
He opened his mouth to her, let her shape the kiss, her lips never leaving his, even when her clever hand slid inside his briefs and stroked him to life. Then she hitched her nightgown up to her hips, climbed onto his lap, and settled herself over him, her gaze holding his as she took him inside her.
Mingled moans. Whiskey and pheromone. Burning need.
Zach’s heart pounded, not from the horror of his nightmares this time, but from desire, life surging hot and strong through his veins, his breathing hard and fast, every nerve ending in his body alive.
His tripping pulse. Her cries. A quicksilver rush of bliss.
And Zach was reborn inside her.
She sank against him, out of breath, boneless, and he held her, kissing her hair, stroking the silk of her skin, breathing her scent. Then he lifted her into his arms, carried her upstairs to her bed, lay down beside her—and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
“ WE’VE GOT THEM, sir.”
Arturo’s head came up from the porn video he was watching on his laptop.
One of Wulfe’s men came in, carrying a file, which he set down on the coffee table in front of Wulfe. “Here are the schematics of the building. It will take some time for us to learn which loft they’re in. We’re already working on it, checking to see which units were available last week that are no longer available today.”
Wulfe set down his newspaper, picked up the file, and scanned its pages, his head tilted back to allow him to see through his bifocals. His hair was mostly gray now. He was getting old. They were all getting old. “Excellent work.”
“The building has top-flight security—twenty-four-hour guards, video surveillance, biometric scanners encoded with thumbprints.”
“Figure out who is helping McBride on this case, who besides McBride has access to the building. Then all we’ll need to do is collect a thumb.” Wulfe set the file down, his gaze meeting Arturo’s. “You see the difficulty you’ve caused, Arturo? Now some poor idiot is going to lose his thumb—and his life—because you couldn’t get the job done in Mexico.”
Arturo felt his face burn.
CHAPTER 29
ZACH WOKE THE next morning to find Natalie curled up against him, her head resting on his chest, one of her legs tucked between his. The sheets were tangled around their legs, leaving the creamy curve of her hip bare. He watched her sleep, his body relaxed, his mind blissfully empty.
A part of him hated himself for breaking down like that in front of her again. This time he’d fallen completely the hell apart. He’d cried, for God’s sake, shed actual freaking tears. What kind of man acted like that?
But Natalie hadn’t turned away from him in disgust. She hadn’t been repulsed by him. Just as she’d done in Altar, she’d caught the pieces of him, held them in her arms, then helped him put himself back together.
I love you, Zach McBride. You’re not alone in this anymore. You fought for me. I’m going to fight for you—even if the one I have to fight is you.
He didn’t know what he’d done to deserve that, to deserve love from a woman like Natalie. She was right when she’d called him a chicken. He was afraid of so many things. Losing himself to nightmares and alcohol. Failing at his mission and letting Cárdenas kill again. Being unworthy of the trust his country had placed in him.
But what frightened him most at this moment was the very real possibility that he’d fallen in love with Natalie.
He stroked her hair, made room for her when she snuggled deeper into his chest, cherishing the feel of her soft body against his. And for a moment he let himself imagine that this was how every day of his life began—with her sleeping naked beside him, the scent of sex still lingering on their skin, a feeling of contentment inside him. They’d get up, make love in the shower, have breakfast together, kiss each other good-bye, the promise of home getting them through the day.
And then that night, or one just like it, you’d come home in a body bag—or a pizza box. Great idea, McBride.
God knew he didn’t want to do that to her. She’d already lost everyone she loved. And yet most of the DUSMs he knew had families. Was it so wrong to work a dangerous job and to have a family, too?
Being a deputy U.S. marshal shouldn’t mean you don’t get to have a life.
Isn’t that what Natalie had said to him in Altar?
He tried to imagine himself as a husband, a father. It didn’t seem as impossible as it had even a week ago. Of course, the only condom he’d worn had broken, which meant that he might already be on his way from here to paternity, whether he could imagine being a father or not.
What are you going to do if you’ve gotten her pregnant, buddy?
He wasn’t going to worry about that now.
He looked down at her beautiful face, a tangled knot of emotions swelling inside his chest—longing, protectiveness, doubt, possessiveness, hope. He held her tighter, the feel of her precious. And for a time, he lay there, listening to her breathe, inhaling the stillness, wishing he could stay like this forever.