A Covert Affair Page 15

  He didn’t care what his boss said. Not after a day like today.

  He needed to see Amelia. Part of him wanted to hash things out with her, but mainly he just wanted to hold her.

  Chapter 12

  Rack time: common term used by military personnel, refers to sleeping.

  Wesley steered into the driveway of the average-looking two-story home in a quiet Coral Gables neighborhood. Hanging flowerpots were along the porch, and two oversize ones were on either side of the front door.

  Lights immediately illuminated the driveway and the porch. Either Matias had sensors or he’d heard him. Probably both. Wesley hated coming by with only pieces of information, but Matias was the one who’d turned them onto this case. It wasn’t as if the former spy would tell anyone, so that wasn’t an issue. Wesley just hated bringing his old friend shitty news.

  When he got out of his SUV, the driveway lights flicked off. Just as quickly, so did the front porch ones. The door opened before he’d made it halfway up the walkway.

  Matias, wearing long plaid lounge pants and a blue T-shirt, stood to the side, holding the front door open for him. “Is she dead?” he asked, his voice tight as Wesley stepped into his house.

  “Not that I know of.” The door shut behind him with a snick.

  Matias’s expression didn’t change as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Should I offer you coffee, or is it not that kind of visit?”

  “I could go for some coffee.” He didn’t need it, but he could tell his friend was wound too tight.

  Matias tilted his head to the left, indicating he should follow him down a short hallway. “You look exhausted.”

  “Been a long day.” That was an understatement. There was no way they could keep this from the media much longer. Too many people had been on-site, and while Nieto might trust his guys, there was no way he could control them all. Wesley didn’t want to keep it from the media anyway. If he could use them, he would. Right now the media could be a benefit in getting names and pictures out to the public. The women taken hadn’t had roots, but they’d have had some ties or daily habits. Maybe someone would remember something. At this point they’d take any lead they could get.

  “Hope you don’t mind instant.” Matias got to work, prepping mugs for both of them as Wesley sat at the center island.

  “Don’t mind at all. I know I don’t need to tell you that what I’m about to say is confidential, but I’m doing it anyway. This conversation is off the record.”

  Matias just grunted as if to say, “No shit.”

  “I can’t give you all the details, but this morning we got a call about a potential body dump. The body is one of the missing girls.”

  Matias paused for just a moment before putting the mugs in his microwave, but didn’t comment.

  Wesley continued. “We’ve still got too many angles to cover, but it’s been confirmed that the woman wasn’t abused sexually or physically, had been taking prenatal vitamins, and had recently given birth. Cause of death was poisoning.”

  “Can you tell me if she’s from the list I gave you?”

  He nodded. “Yeah, Ester Panjari.”

  Matias’s expression turned grimmer, if that was possible. “What else are you holding back?”

  “After the initial find, we’ve since discovered thirty-five more remains. We’re not done searching in that area, so there could be more.” He couldn’t tell him where it was, but he could give Matias this much. It was possible the location could leak to the media, but they were going to keep as much information quiet as they could.

  “So you don’t know that she’s not there?”

  “No, but my gut says she’s not.” She hadn’t been gone nearly long enough.

  The microwave beeped, but they both ignored it. “The woman you pulled up, she’d been on prenatal vitamins?”

  Wesley nodded.

  Matias sighed. “When will you know more about the rest of the women?”

  “It’ll be a tedious process, but I’ve got a team and so does the Miami PD, working around the clock. They can tell a lot from bones. If there are any similarities between Panjari and the others, we’ll know soon enough.” Wesley loathed the idea that these women had been taken for any reason, but his gut told him they were close to finding out why. Ortiz had been on the right track, thinking about black market babies. It could be big money if organized. But Wesley wasn’t jumping to any conclusions until he had more information.

  Matias started to speak when Wesley’s phone buzzed in his pocket.

  No IDs, blood, or DNA work yet, but it’s clear that at least 3 victims have given birth. Dr. Nguyen’s text was short and to the point.

  And the news was exactly what he’d feared.

  As he knocked on Amelia’s front door, Nathan knew he should have called or at least texted her before just showing up. He’d already been in contact with one of the team members who was watching Mercado’s place. The guy was currently at his home, and it didn’t appear that Mercado had anyone watching Amelia. Nathan had still parked in another neighborhood and walked here, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

  He desperately needed to see her. He wanted to hold her in his arms tonight and simply not think about anything else. Sure, he still had a shitload of questions for her, but he didn’t want to talk, didn’t want to think about what he’d seen today. Not that he could tell her anything anyway.

  Relief slid through him at the beeping sound of her alarm being deactivated. When she opened the door he was surprised to see her wide-awake and wearing an apron over jeans and a T-shirt.

  She smiled warmly, her expression immediately shifting to concern as she tugged him inside the foyer, shutting the door behind him. “What’s wrong?” she murmured, her soft hand cupping his cheek.

  He should hate that she read him so well, but he was grateful she did. Closing his eyes, he leaned into her hold for just a moment. Getting lost in her would be so easy.

  “Nathan?” Her other hand landed on his waist as she pressed herself against him.

  He opened his eyes, looked down into her bright blue ones. The concern there brought up too many damn emotions. And he didn’t want to fucking talk. He just wanted to get rid of the anger buzzing through him. After all he’d seen in the world, it still killed him how people treated each other. “Can’t talk about it,” he rasped out.

  Without thought, he backed her up against the front door. What they’d shared last night—how had it only been last night?—was so fresh and raw in his mind. He wanted that again, the release and the connection. He needed her as he needed air. He wanted to taste her, devour her—

  Amelia held a firm hand against his chest. “Whatever you’re thinking, we’re not doing that now.”

  He frowned, the lust humming through him wild and demanding. “Why not?”

  Ducking out from under his hold, she moved quickly down the hall. He watched the sweet sway of her ass, mesmerized for a moment before his legs listened to his brain. But first, he set her alarm before following her. He simply couldn’t take chances with her safety.

  When he stepped into the kitchen, she was already at the island, laying out soft tortillas onto a plate. A spicy aroma filled the air, probably from the small pan simmering on the stove top.

  “Sit,” she ordered without looking at him. “And what do you want to drink? I bought beer earlier in case you came by.”

  “Thanks. I’ll get it,” he said, moving to the stainless steel refrigerator. “You always cook this late?” He slid onto a chair across the island from her.

  She looked up at him and cocked an eyebrow. “No. This is for you, though I didn’t expect you this late. I’d planned to put it in the fridge or freeze it.” Before he could respond, she continued. “Is your phone not working?”

  He blinked in surprise at the question. She hadn’t contacted him, so why was . . . It took all of a second for him to realize she was calling him out for not getting in touch. “Yeah. It’s been a long day. I should h
ave called on my way here, though. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay. It must be hard not being able to talk about your work.” Her voice was filled with such compassion as she dipped the tortillas into the simmering pan, one by one.

  “It sucks.” He’d never thought about it until now. Before, there had never been anyone to share with anyway. He’d always been able to blow off steam about shit with his teammates. But a woman? He’d never even been with anyone long enough to call it a relationship.

  “You want to hear about my day, then?” she asked.

  “Yes.” God, did he ever. He took a sip of his beer, savored the crisp taste as he listened to her talk and watched her move around the kitchen effortlessly. She was very much at home here.

  He realized that she could have had someone she worked for cook something for him. She could have brought it home and he’d have never known. Instead she was making something for him with her own hands. Maybe it shouldn’t touch him so much, but the sweetness of the act did.

  In another pan she was browning beef and adding all sorts of spices, including something that looked like a green chili sauce. His mouth watered at the scents. When she started pulling out the tortillas and piling them with meat and cheese before rolling them tightly, he realized she was making enchiladas. One of his favorites. She remembered.

  “You need any help?” he asked when there was a lull in their conversation.

  She laughed lightly. “No. You evidently haven’t looked in the mirror, because you look as if a harsh wind could knock you over. Sit and let me do this for you.”

  Her words warmed him inside. “Is it weird that I think it’s hot when you boss me around?”

  Her gaze snapped up to his, her blue eyes darkening with unmistakable hunger. He was hungry too and not for food. This whole domestic scene should throw him off balance, but he liked being here with Amelia, in the quiet of her kitchen.

  “I can take bossing you around to a whole other level if you’d like,” she murmured as she rolled the tortillas tightly. She did so with practiced moves, laying them seam down in a greased glass pan.

  Heat flared inside him at the unexpected, sexy statement. “Yeah?” He’d never given up control in the bedroom before. The thought of doing so was a little intriguing. But only with her. Maybe not even then.

  “Oh yeah.” Her voice was full-on sex kitten now. His cock ached at the sound. “Mow my lawn, Nathan,” she purred in a seductive voice. “Vacuum my floors, dust my house. Make everything shine. Faster, harder, you missed a spot.” Her mouth pulled up into a wide, mischievous grin as she sprinkled cheese and sauce over the top of the tortillas. “Is that the kind of bossiness you were thinking about?” she asked as she slid the pan into the oven.

  To his surprise a laugh erupted from his chest. It loosened something inside him, something he hadn’t even realized was trapped. After the day he’d had, coming to see Amelia had been the best decision.

  He still wanted to know what the hell had gone wrong between them, but sitting here with her felt so damn right it scared him. She had the power to rip him apart. He should just walk away, but he was already in too deep and like an addict, he couldn’t seem to get enough of her.

  “Or I could just order you to strip naked so I can have my wicked way with you.” There was no humor in her voice as she washed her hands. When she was done she took off her apron, dropped it to the counter, and rounded the island. He couldn’t take his eyes off her.

  His dick was at full alert as he watched her move. Everything about her was sensual and seductive. She’d pulled her dark hair back into a ponytail. He wanted to tug it free, shove his hands through her hair as he claimed her mouth.

  He briefly entertained the idea of letting her take control, but . . . When she was in arm’s reach, he grabbed her hips and lifted her up onto the countertop.

  She let out a squeak of surprise, her hands splaying over his shoulders even as her legs automatically fell open for him. He stepped between them.

  “Take off your top,” he commanded in a low voice, wanting to see more of her. He practically vibrated with the need, had to restrain himself from stripping her and taking her. She deserved foreplay.

  “You first.” Her words were a whisper, and if she’d intended them to come out as an order, she’d failed.

  Wordlessly he peeled his shirt off. By the time he was tossing it to the side, she’d pulled hers over her head. Her bra was simple black lace with a tiny pink heart in the middle. The perfect swell of her breasts spilling out of the cups was enough to make him forget the ability to speak for a moment.

  It didn’t matter that he’d seen her naked countless times years ago or again last night, that he’d tasted every inch of her; he needed her again. Desperately.

  Even though he’d ordered himself to give her foreplay, to go down on her until she came against his tongue again, he crushed his mouth to hers, demanding everything from her.

  The sweet way she moaned against his lips and the way her legs wrapped around his waist, pulling him tighter, undid him. He could feel her hunger was as strong as his own. That was what killed him. The attraction between them was incendiary, yet somehow twelve years ago she’d walked away from him as if he meant nothing.

  The thought made something dark inside him surface. He shoved it down. He’d get his fucking answer, but now he needed to be inside her.

  Her greedy hands swept over his chest, stroking softly until she reached the button of his pants. Though he wanted to let her free his erection, to feel her fingers wrap around his cock, he grasped her by the wrists.

  She made a protesting sound as he held her wrists behind her back. He tugged them once, groaned when she arched her back. Her breasts pushed up like an offering.

  He dipped his head, zeroing in on one of her breasts. Through the material of her bra, he sucked on her nipple, hard.

  “Nathan,” she moaned, her voice a mix of frustration and need. She squirmed against the counter.

  Good, he wanted her hot and begging for more.

  He gently bit down on her taut nipple, and her legs tightened around him. Wanting nothing between them, he freed her bra, pulled it away from her body. “Hold on to the counter.” Another order, one he was glad she listened to.

  There was something insanely hot about caressing her while she wasn’t touching him with her hands.

  He continued flicking his tongue over her nipples, alternating between her breasts, only pulling back when her breathing increased too much. She made a whimpering sound as he pulled away again, releasing her hands.

  This time she slid her fingers through his hair and held his head tight before tugging him back to look at her. “Stop teasing.”

  He was vaguely aware of a timer going off. Shit, the food. But she shook her head. “It automatically shuts off after the timer goes off. Now stop teasing me.”

  He cupped her breasts, holding them gently in his hands. Slowly and with his gaze pinned to hers, he began teasing her tight nipples by just grazing his thumbs over them. Stimulating her, but not enough. Her lips parted, her breathing increased, and he could see the tiny pulse point on her neck going crazy.

  His dick ached with need, but he held himself back. Barely. Keeping his clothes on was the only way he was holding on to what little restraint he had.

  She rolled her hips against him. “Payback will suck,” she rasped out.

  His hips jerked again. Taking mercy on her—and himself—he skimmed his hands down her waist, stopping at the button of her jeans. “Lift up.”

  She let out a shudder of definite relief as he made quick work of her jeans. The sight of the tiny lacy triangle covering the small thatch of hair on her mound tore another groan from him. “You wear this for me?”

  She smoothed her hands over his biceps, squeezed once. “I was hopeful you’d come by.”

  In his haste he practically ripped them off, but she didn’t seem to care. Feeling frenzied, he tugged her off the counter. She wrapped her legs ar
ound his waist, but he tightened his fingers on her hips.

  She must have read on his face what he wanted, because she just grinned in that wicked way of hers and let her legs drop. Her feet had barely touched the floor before he turned her around to face away from him, pinned her against the granite countertop. Her dark hair fell over her back in a silky waterfall. “Are we going to christen every room in this house?”

  He couldn’t answer. His balls were pulled up too tight as he finished stripping and ripped open a condom. Though he wanted to feel her delicate fingers sliding it on, he rolled it over his erection.

  When she wiggled her ass at him, he lightly bit her shoulder. She shuddered, pushing back into him. “Hurry up.”

  If he could have forced the muscles to work, he’d have smiled at her impatient tone. Instead he reached between her legs from behind.

  She was petite, but the height and angle of the counter worked. She spread her legs for him, giving him complete access to her heat. When he slid a finger along her lips and found her soaked, he nuzzled her shoulder, nipping at her again. She’d always liked when he did that in the past, and it seemed now was no different.

  He dipped a finger inside her and savored the way she clenched around him. If he’d had more patience, he’d have teased her longer, but he was barely hanging on. He grasped her hips and thrust deep inside her. She let out a sharp cry as he filled her.

  “So tight.” The two words tore from him. He stayed buried deep, his breathing as erratic as his heartbeat. “Cup your breasts, tease yourself.” He needed her to come.

  When she did as he said, he slid his hand down her flat stomach and stroked her clit. Once, twice, he continued teasing as she cried out his name. He loved the sound of it, wasn’t sure he’d ever get enough of hearing it.

  She shuddered against him, her inner walls tightening faster and faster as he stroked. Finally she dropped her hands to the counter with a slap. Her fingers clenched against the flat surface as if she needed something to hold on to.