Kaily Hart Read online

“There.”

  She turned and looked at the tiny capsule balanced on the tip of his finger. Her stomach clenched, then roiled. And not just because of the small amount of her blood smeared on his fingers.

  Oh God.

  It was enough to know that thing had been inside her, under her skin, but to think they’d always been able to track her, had always known exactly where she was and she’d had no clue. The idea that she’d had at least some semblance of privacy had been a façade. Like everything else in her life.

  “How did you know?”

  “I didn’t. Not for sure, but it was the only single piece of specific intelligence I had for this mission.”

  Mission. She was a mission. His mission. And what did that mean exactly? She had questions, a lot of them, but they’d have to wait. She was pragmatic enough to know that much because now she knew the stark truth. She’d had no real chance of escape. None. He’d been right about that too.

  “What happens now?” she asked as he placed the tiny device on the flat surface of a rock.

  “It’s not going to be long before they figure out it’s stationary and become suspicious.”

  She swallowed at the “they,” knowing her bodyguards wouldn’t be too far away. “So what do we do?”

  His dark eyes lifted and locked onto hers.

  “We run.”

  Chapter Two

  When they finally stopped, Devon tried to draw air into her lungs, but she couldn’t seem to get enough, and not as fast as she’d like. She was fit, she’d made sure of it. She’d spent hours conditioning her body daily in preparation for the hike, for just such a race through the forest, but her body wasn’t used to the pace he’d set. Or the terrain they’d covered. She’d intended to make her way down and out to the nearest road, not go onto higher ground. He’d probably moved slower to accommodate her smaller stride, but it had still pushed her body to the limit.

  She froze when a man appeared on the other side of the clearing. He didn’t make a sound as he moved toward them with a sure, smooth stride that reminded Devon of the man she’d struggled to keep up with, the man who didn’t even seem to be breathing that hard.

  She felt the hardness of that body at her back, the warmth of his presence along her entire length, and realized she’d stepped back into him. She gasped at the contact because every nerve ending blazed to blinding life where she’d brushed against him.

  “Seth,” the stranger said, yet his bizarre, light eyes never left her.

  Seth. She swallowed. The one with the marks like her was called Seth.

  The stranger stopped in front of her. “Well,” he drawled. “This explains some things.”

  “Like?” Seth snapped.

  “You don’t see it?”

  “See what?”

  The stranger flicked him a glance, raised an eyebrow and then held out his hand to her. “I’m Micah.”

  Devon stared at the large, rough-looking hand. She’d never shaken hands with anyone before. Ever. At first they’d told her it was to protect her from germs, that she had a very delicate immune system. She’d once asked a nanny—one of many—as a young girl why no one touched her, why she wasn’t supposed to let anyone touch her, why it was forbidden she touch them. The staff had all been ordered not to. Anyone who did would be severely punished. She’d come to wonder if it was to protect her or them from something. What, she’d never been able to figure out.

  She reached out tentatively, but before she could make contact, Seth had knocked the other man’s hand away. He was frowning. Oh God, did he know something about her? He’d touched her himself, so it couldn’t be that bad. Could it?

  “Where’s Christian?” Seth demanded, scanning the rocky area, the edge of the clearing, down the slope.

  “He’s… They’re around. Watching.” Micah angled his chin toward her. “How much does she know?”

  “What’s it to you?”

  “Secretive, paranoid son of a bitch,” Micah muttered.

  “Ditto, man.” Seth’s tone said he wasn’t in any mood to be goaded. Or challenged. They stood chest to chest, eye to eye, two males in their prime. The animosity swirling around them was almost tangible, although it seemed to be more from Seth’s side. The other man, Micah, simply looked amused.

  “Oh please,” she murmured. She was pretty sure they couldn’t afford this macho nonsense, whatever its cause.

  And then it didn’t matter. The air filled with a whirring sound and a dark, ominous shadow dropped down in front of them. Leaves and dust exploded into the air. The helicopter was so close she could make out the pilot and a passenger as they stared right at her. She gasped as a man leaned out an opening on the side, aiming a rifle at them.

  “Micah, no, not yet,” Seth yelled. She was aware of Micah cursing and a blur of movement as he dove for cover.

  Devon looked to Seth. He’d moved to stand in front of her, motionless, his gaze fixed on the helicopter, almost as if he was frozen. The man in the machine lifted his weapon and her heartbeat jumped, her stomach clenched. Still Seth didn’t move.

  Before she was even aware of what she was doing, Devon flung herself in front of him. She heard him curse, felt hard hands grabbing her, pushing her down behind a boulder, his big body shielding hers.

  She fought to catch her breath, to control the rapid thundering of her heartbeat, but his weight made it impossible.

  Oh God.

  Devon had known her running wouldn’t be taken lightly, but it had been her risk and hers alone. She’d registered on some level they weren’t going to let her go so easily, but all this? The implant? The helicopter? And…the gun? Well, she’d be damned if she’d be responsible for someone being hurt.

  She gasped when Micah stood, his own rifle trained on the cockpit. As quickly as it had appeared, the helicopter veered off and was gone.

  Seth grabbed her by the shoulders, yanked her to her feet.

  “Why the fuck did you do that?”

  She flinched. As much from the savage expression on his face as from the fact that he yelled at her. She licked dry lips and forced words from her constricted throat. “He—he was going to shoot you. You just stood there, you—”

  * * *

  “Goddammit.”

  Seth ran his hands through his hair, his heart hammering in his chest. He’d only been a few more seconds off “reading” the man in the chopper. He’d known they wouldn’t have chanced a shot, they might have hit Devon. He doubted she realized that, yet she’d stepped in front of him, right in fucking front of him. Shielding him, protecting him, without thought to her own safety. And the mere thought of it scared the hell out of him like nothing ever had before.

  He leaned down, put his face directly in front of hers and her eyes went wide.

  “Never, ever do anything like that again. Do you understand me?”

  She flinched. Again.

  Damn, he’d yelled.

  Again.

  He was always cold, calm and fuck, he used to be collected. Since he’d come into contact with Devon everything had gone to hell, including his precious control.

  He realized he was holding her almost off her feet and let her go, watching as she sagged. He clenched his fists at his side to stop from… hell, he didn’t know what. He wanted to grab something, pound into it, fucking destroy it beyond recognition, except he had bigger issues.

  He glanced back to the sky. The chopper had zeroed right in on their position, hadn’t been merely searching, had known their exact location.

  Micah turned to him, an eyebrow raised, and Seth knew he’d come to the same conclusion.

  “Strip. Everything. Now.”

  Seth barked the orders at Devon as he grabbed her backpack and tossed it to Micah.

  She held out a hand. “Wait.”
r />   He frowned. “For?”

  “Be—be careful with that. It’s not much, but it’s everything I have. Please,” she pleaded.

  And then she stood there, watching Micah systematically take things from her bag, her gaze fixed. She was likely in shock and that wasn’t going to do any of them any good. He needed her attention and he needed it now.

  Seth grabbed at her shirt, tearing at the knot she’d tied at the front. Her hands came up to cover his.

  “What are—”

  “Everything off.” He shook her hands off and scanned her slowly, head to foot. “Jewelry. Hair stuff. Shoes. Everything. Hurry.”

  Someone should kick his ass. Christ, why hadn’t he thought of the possibility? The probability? It was standard procedure. He’d known she had an implant, but why wouldn’t they have put something in her gear? Perhaps everything she had on her, everything she carried with her, was tagged. It’s what he’d do if he didn’t want to risk losing a high-value target. Stupid. Stupid.

  He knew he was facing a sophisticated adversary, should have expected a rapid response. Their only saving grace was that the rendezvous point he’d picked had nowhere close for the helicopter to land and it was too exposed to drop men into. It was why he’d chosen this spot, but it wouldn’t take them long to figure out a way to move in on the location. With reinforcements.

  “But—”

  “You must have another tracking device somewhere. We need to locate it and get rid of it. Fast.”

  It made no sense for them to make their way to the safe house unless they could find and verify the device, whatever it was, be sure they couldn’t be traced.

  Her trembling fingers began to tug off her clothes but it wasn’t fast enough, not by a long shot. He stepped in, the backs of his fingers brushing against the skin of her abdomen as he yanked at the button of her hiking pants, tugged them down.

  “Hurry.”

  As she removed each item, he tossed it to Micah. He swallowed when she got down to plain white bra and panties. She glanced at Micah, at him, and he felt a twinge of something he couldn’t name. He was conscious of Micah behind him, searching through her stuff. It was irrational, he knew it, but it wasn’t anything he wanted to examine too closely, even if he’d had the time. Her safety, their safety, overrode the overwhelming urge he had to shield her from the other man.

  “Everything,” he bit out.

  “Do you really think—”

  “We can’t afford to take any chances.”

  As she shrugged out of the bra, he tried to keep his eyes averted and wasn’t exactly proud of how difficult it was. He took the bra from her trembling fingers, running his hands over the silky, smooth fabric, looking for anything, no matter how small. He swallowed when she passed him the tiny bikini panties—still warm from her body. He ran his hands along the seams, over the piece that would have hugged between her legs, and took a deep breath. The scent from her body teased his senses and he hardened in a rush. Christ, he’d never felt more like a fucking pervert standing there with a boner while he rubbed her panties between his fingers.

  Nothing.

  He tossed them on the ground before he succumbed to the almost overpowering need to raise them to his nose and inhale her scent. And then he had to deal with the sight of her. She stood with one hand across her breasts, the other shielding herself between her legs. He couldn’t help but notice the marks, appreciate them, savor their stark beauty, but she looked vulnerable, scared, and there was a wrenching feeling in his chest. He glanced over to Micah who seemed as mesmerized by her as he was.

  “Keep your fucking eyes to yourself,” he snarled.

  Micah held up his hands. “Hey, no harm. Noah made it clear she belongs to you, man. Just some healthy curiosity, you know?”

  Seth frowned. “He what?”

  “Warned us all off. Said she was yours and not to aggravate you over it.”

  Yeah, look how that was working out. Micah seemed to live to aggravate him, took any opportunity he could to needle him. He should have been better at handling it by now.

  Seth grabbed his T-shirt at the back of his neck and took it off in a single yank. He balled it up and threw it at Devon, averting his eyes before she could catch it.

  “Put it on.” His voice was a lot harsher than he intended, but there wasn’t much he could do about it.

  Micah frowned. “I didn’t find anything in her stuff.”

  Seth held himself back with an effort from asking “Are you sure?” Noah’s men were the best, all of them, all highly skilled. If Micah said there was nothing in her gear or her clothes, it could mean only one thing.

  “It could be that it’s too small,” Micah added. “Maybe it’s something I wouldn’t recognize, but I don’t think so. If it were me? I wouldn’t risk something so easily removed.”

  Yeah.

  They both turned to her. She should have looked ridiculous in the way-too-big shirt, not sexy, anything but that. But seeing her wearing his shirt, knowing she was naked under it, sent a shaft of heat arrowing down his abdomen and straight into his cock. He gritted his teeth. Damn. His self control was better than that. Or it should have been.

  “What?” she asked, her gaze flitting between them.

  “I need to search you,” Seth ground out.

  “You’ve searched everything.”

  “Not everything.” He kept his eyes on hers and knew the instant she got what he meant.

  “There has to be another implant,” he added, his voice low.

  The first had probably been a decoy and he knew—he just knew—that this one wasn’t going to be as easy to find. He had no idea where to even start.

  “Any ideas?” Seth asked. Already he was steeling himself for what he needed to do.

  She frowned. “No, I—no.”

  Great. Fucking great.

  “I need to find it.”

  She swallowed, but nodded, her eyes wide. He moved to her, knelt in front of her and tried to center himself. He’d hired out his services and his skills for longer than he cared to remember. Had been in dangerous situation after dangerous situation. Had even faced death a time or two. But this? This was going to be one of the hardest things he’d ever done. He put his hands on her ankles and clenched his jaw at the sensation of her warm, smooth skin against his.

  Yeah, “hard” didn’t even begin to come close.

  He ran his hands up her legs, probing her skin, trying to make sure he didn’t miss anything. He couldn’t afford to fuck up just because he couldn’t get his dick or his errant dirty mind under control.

  When he got to the tops of her thighs, he stood up. He did her arms next, sliding his fingers along the supple muscles of her forearms, all the way up to her shoulders, ignoring her short, shallow breaths.

  Shit.

  He looked over at Micah, but he’d already turned his back.

  “Turn around.”

  He lifted the shirt, did his best to ignore the sweet curves of her ass, and spread his hands out over her lower back, probing, pushing until he reached her shoulders, the back of her neck.

  “Anything?” she asked.

  Her voice was thick, husky and his balls tightened in a rush because he could all too easily imagine what she’d sound like during sex. When she came. And all at once he knew she wasn’t unaffected either. By this. By any of it.

  “Turn back around.”

  He’d hoped he’d have found it by now. Before he had to do this.

  He lifted the shirt at the front, kept his eyes on hers and gritted his teeth because there wasn’t much he could do about his peripheral vision.

  He probed her shoulders, gritted his teeth as he ran his fingers down the outside curves of her breasts, between them, and then spread his hands down, over her midriff and further still,
over her abdomen.

  Nothing. He couldn’t feel a damn thing. Anywhere.

  His palm lingered over the marks that proclaimed her the same as him, that were the mirror image of his and he couldn’t prevent the tremble in his fingers, the lick of heat that seared him from head to toe. Before he realized it, he’d dropped to one knee in front of her. The shadowed cleft between her legs teased him, her feminine scent overtook his senses. But the marks were like a beacon to him, he couldn’t take his eyes off them. He shoved back the words that pounded through him, the urges that rose up inside him and demanded he do…what he didn’t know.

  He closed his eyes briefly, hoping to center himself, get his mind back on the job. He saw it when he opened them again. His gaze went right to it, an anomaly that shouldn’t be there. The blemish was next to one of her markings, right up against the edge of a delicate curl. He’d almost missed it but the small circle was slightly paler than the surrounding skin. He rubbed his thumb over her gently. It was flat, but definitely some kind of scar.

  “What’s this?”

  He glanced up at her, which was a bad move because it gave him a spectacular view up her body. She’d pulled the shirt down to cover her breasts, but it didn’t matter. The image of her was burned on his brain. Her face was flushed, her mouth slightly open, and when she wet her lips, his stomach jolted. “I—I had a mole removed.”

  “How long ago?”

  “About three years.”

  He dragged his gaze from hers and pushed against her with his thumb, digging deep and ignoring her cringe when he felt something small, hard. Something that shouldn’t be there.

  Bingo.

  “It’s deeper than the other one,” he ground out.

  A hell of a lot deeper. Christ. It had to be cut out, without the benefit of any anesthesia. And they needed to do it fast.

  He dropped the shirt and stepped back from her, felt her sigh. He wasn’t the queasy type, far from it, except this was different. It was her and he would have given anything not to have to do what he was about to. He looked to Micah as the other man came to stand next to him. As much as he hated the thought of it, Micah was going to have to hold her down.