Out of the Shadows Page 19

  “We’ll go back to the hotel tonight,” Devon said. “Get some rest.”

  “I’m coming with you,” Beau said. “We can’t afford to let her out of our sight.” He nodded toward Alexa. “And I have a feeling you’ll be otherwise occupied tonight.”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” Alexa said. “I don’t need you watching over me like a bloody babysitter.”

  “He may trust you,” Beau retorted. “But I certainly don’t. So you can just cope and deal, or I can take you back inside and stick you in that cell again.”

  Alexa looked pissed, but she stayed silent, her blue eyes shooting daggers at him.

  “Let’s go,” Devon interrupted. “In case you’ve forgotten, it’s our wedding night.”

  With that, he opened up the rear door and I climbed in, Alexa after me. Devon sat in front again with Beau.

  “How old are you?” I asked Alexa. “You look really young.”

  She glanced at me, then back toward the front. “Age is just a number.”

  “If it’s just a number, then what is yours?”

  She turned to me again, her expression one of irritation. “Why do you care? You’re barely into your twenties, no doubt as innocent and pure as the bloody snow. You don’t need to know anything about me.”

  “Well excuse me if I was curious,” I retorted, getting angry now. “There’s no need to be a total bitch about it. It was just a question.”

  “A rude question.”

  We glared at each other. So much for us being friends. And here I’d been planning a sleepover.

  “Ladies, please.” Devon’s tone was a little more patronizing than I would’ve liked and I sent him a glare.

  “What?” My tone should’ve warned him.

  “Let’s not get into a catfight, shall we?”

  My anger at Alexa suddenly found a new outlet.

  “Did you just compare us to felines?” I asked.

  “Because we’re women, so our disagreement and dislike must be silly and belittled,” Alexa chimed in, and it seemed she no more appreciated Devon’s comments than I had. Well. At least we agreed on one thing.

  “I meant no such thing,” Devon said, having the gall to sound affronted.

  “Bollocks,” Alexa said. “That’s exactly what you meant.”

  Devon turned back around, mumbling curses under his breath while Beau smothered a laugh.

  It was slightly less uncomfortable in the backseat after that, though Alexa and I didn’t talk.

  At the hotel, Beau let the valet take the car, and he and Alexa followed us in to the lobby. I could practically feel the tension radiating from them, but Devon seemed oblivious. Or else he just didn’t care, which was a very real possibility.

  “Shall I see if they have an adjacent room?” Devon asked Beau.

  “Just one?” Alexa cut in.

  “Don’t worry,” Beau said to her. “Your virtue is safe with me.”

  Even I winced at his sarcasm.

  “Yes, but aren’t you afraid I might slit your throat in your sleep?” Alexa sneered.

  “Oh, I’ll be fine. Don’t think for a minute that you won’t be tied up.”

  “Like hell I will!”

  “Enough!” Devon’s command shut them both up. “There will be one room and you will not kill each other. Am I understood?”

  Beau and Alexa looked like a couple of recalcitrant children taken to task, but they shut up.

  Devon booked the room next to ours, though they didn’t actually connect. We dropped them off and he gave them one last warning.

  “We do not want to be disturbed tonight,” he warned them. “I will not be pleased if I have to come in here to play referee.”

  I hid a grin at this.

  “We’ll meet you downstairs at 0700,” Beau said. “The boat will be ready by 0730.”

  I winced. That was really early. But I didn’t complain. At least I was getting to go along.

  “Done. Now, good evening, to both of you.”

  Devon took my elbow and led me into our room, closing and locking the door behind him.

  I was inexplicably nervous, which made no sense. Devon and I had made love many times—this was no different.

  And yet, it was. Because we were married now.

  The butterflies in my stomach increased tenfold.

  Devon walked to the phone on the desk and dialed. “Yes, I’d like to order some champagne, please. For two.” He listened for a moment. “Excellent. Thank you.” Then he hung up.

  He slid off his jacket, and his fingers began undoing the buttons of his shirt. I watched, mesmerized as his skin was revealed, inch by inch. It didn’t matter how many times I saw him—he never failed to take my breath away.

  The breadth of his shoulders and circumference of his arms made me weak in the knees. The scars on his back and chest only made him more appealing. A scattering of light hair covered his chest, thickening slightly into the line that went from his navel downward, disappearing underneath the band of his pants.

  The low light from the lamp danced across the muscles of his back as he moved to the closet to hang his shirt. I watched him unabashedly, wanting him, and still unable to believe he was mine.

  “You’re looking at me as though you’ve never seen me before,” he said, his back still to me.

  My face warmed. “Should I stop?”

  “No,” he said, turning around. “I like it.”

  “I’m sure you’ve had many women stare at you over the years,” I said. We’d rarely talked about the women he’d been with, but suddenly I was feeling insecure.

  “I can’t help if they stared,” he said, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms over his chest. My eyes were immediately drawn to how that pumped up his biceps. “But it’s not often that I noticed, or wanted them to.”

  I made my gaze return to his rather than drinking in the way he looked, so casually at ease in a body that was nothing less than perfection.

  “You’re talking in the past tense,” I said. “Women still stare at you. Want you.”

  “And men don’t stare at you?” he countered.

  “It’s not the same.”

  “Oh, it’s not,” he said with a small laugh. Now his hands were in his pockets. I may have made a slight sound at the view of his chest that afforded me. “Please explain that to me.”

  “I do notice—did notice,” I said. “And I’ve never liked it. Never liked feeling conspicuous.”

  “And you think I have?”

  I frowned at him. “Haven’t you?”

  “Darling, being conspicuous goes against my job description. Has it generally been a convenient thing that women find me attractive? Speaking generally as a bastard, absolutely. It’s not as though I’ve had to work hard at having female companionship. But you and I, together, are completely different than anything I’ve ever had before.”

  That made me feel better. He was just so beautiful. My insecurities melted away at the look in his eyes as he stared at me. There was a little smile playing about his lips, and his eyes took a slow path down my body and back up to my face.

  “How so?” I asked. Was it a shameless request for him to tell me how much he loved me and how special I was? Yes, indeed. But I didn’t think he’d mind.

  Devon pushed off the wall and sauntered toward me, hands still in his pockets. I couldn’t take my eyes off his, so blue it was as though I was looking into the summer sky.

  He stopped in front of me and I felt his hands settle on my hips, his fingers just brushing to touch my skin underneath the lace tank I wore.

  “You are,” he began, “my beautiful bride. A woman I’ve been entranced with since the moment I laid eyes on you.” His fingers moved to my stomach and edged upward. I felt my knees begin to tremble. “You’re the only woman I see now. The only woman I want in my bed. The only woman I’ll allow in my heart.”

  I couldn’t help the smile that seemed to come from deep inside me and spread across my face. Devon’s lip
s curved in turn as he bent toward me.

  Our lips met in a sweet kiss that made my bones melt. His hands went to my arms, sliding down to my wrists and lifting my arms to wrap them around his neck. The touch of my skin against his sent a shiver through me.

  Air hit my stomach as Devon lifted my shirt, dragging it over my head and tossing it aside. It broke our kiss for just a moment, but then we were devouring each other again. His kiss was familiar, the cadence and rhythm one that I knew and loved.

  Devon could take off my bra faster than even I could, and sure enough, it was undone in the blink of an eye. I smiled as he kissed me and he paused, lifting his face a bit so he could talk to me.

  “What’s so funny?” he murmured, his lips moving to my jaw.

  “You’re like the Bra Whisperer,” I said. “You just have to look at them and they fall off me.”

  He muffled a chuckle against my skin and my smile faded as his hands found my breasts. I became lost in a pool of sensation as he kissed my neck and his thumbs brushed my nipples.

  “I love how your skin tastes,” he said. “Just like I love how you taste between your legs.”

  His hands moved to the button on my shorts, undoing it and sliding down the zipper. I sucked in a breath as his fingers brushed my panties. He was teasing me, barely touching me. My fingers pushed into his hair as I kissed him. His hands slipped down inside my shorts to cup my ass, squeezing, and the garment fell to my ankles.

  In one smooth motion, he picked me up and carried me to the bed, laying me down on the cool sheets. I went for his pants, wanting them off, but he stepped back and did it himself. The lights were still on and I drank in the sight of him, naked.

  I didn’t get a whole lot of time to just look at him though, because he was already back on the bed, tugging down the sheets and bracing himself on his hands so he could kiss me.

  Just then, there was a knock on the door.

  “Shit,” Devon muttered. “That’s the champagne.”

  He vaulted off the bed and I grabbed the sheets, pulling them up to cover me as he headed for the door.

  “Put something on!” I couldn’t believe he was walking to the door naked. But he did as I asked, grabbing a towel from the bathroom to wrap around his hips. Of course that did nothing to hide the tent his erection made, but it was better than nothing.

  The hotel worker discreetly averted his eyes as he carried the tray of champagne and glasses to the table and set it down, though I thought I saw his ears turn red. Devon gave him a tip and he was gone within seconds.

  “Yeah, that wasn’t awkward or anything,” I grumbled.

  “Don’t be absurd,” Devon said, unwrapping the foil from the top of the champagne bottle. “I’m quite sure he’s seen worse.”

  “If that’s supposed to make me feel less embarrassed, it’s not working.”

  The champagne cork popped out with the distinctive cheerful sound that made me smile in spite of myself. Devon began pouring the sparkling golden liquid in the glasses.

  “Then let’s get tipsy, darling, and you’ll forget all about it.”

  “There are lots of ways you can make me forget all about it,” I teased.

  “And I plan on doing them all to you.” He handed me a glass. “To us, my darling.”

  “To us.”

  The glasses clinked and I drank the cold liquid, though my gaze was locked on Devon’s. Anticipation shivered in my veins, dispelling the butterflies. From our first kiss, Devon had known how to touch me, our bodies so in synch and perfectly matched. My imagination was already conjuring up memories of us together.

  And Devon was true to his word. He did all of them, and then some.

  Devon and I did finally get to sleep in the wee hours of the morning, but I was still exhausted when seven in the morning rolled around. Well, exhausted but satisfied.

  As usual, you couldn’t tell Devon had slept for a mere three hours, whereas I was piling concealer on the dark circles under my eyes.

  We met Beau and Alexa in the lobby and they didn’t seem worse for wear, though there was a strange tension between the two and they avoided looking directly at each other. Hmm . . . I wondered what exactly had happened last night in their room.

  We reached the harbor and parked, Beau leading us out to the very last slip where a boat was waiting. It was a pretty big boat, thank goodness, plenty big enough for all of us and then some. I knew it was only ninety miles to Cuba, but hadn’t wanted to make the trip in some little motorboat I’d been afraid to picture in my head.

  Once we were onboard, the captain and crew lost no time in heading out to sea. Beau was talking to them as Alexa drifted toward the bow. Devon took my elbow and followed her.

  “We have four hours to kill,” he said to her, leaning on the railing next to her. “Let’s hear your story.”

  “And why should I tell you that?” she countered.

  “I bargained for your freedom. You owe me all the information I ask for.”

  “I’ll tell you about Vega, but you don’t need to know my life story,” Alexa said. “I’m here because you need me to take her out. And she needs to be taken out.”

  “Fine.” Devon’s reply was curt. “Tell us about Vega.”

  “She was born Elizabeth Percy and grew up in the Scottish highlands. The only daughter of William and Annette Percy. Her mother died when she was three years old. Elizabeth—Vega—attended St. Mary’s Catholic School until the age of fifteen.”

  “Why just fifteen?” Devon asked.

  “She and her father left the area suddenly with no forwarding address,” Alexa replied. “No one saw or heard from her again. Until years later when she turned up as Vega working inside the Shadow, and worked her way up the chain of command.”

  “How did you find all this out?”

  “I followed the bread crumbs,” Alexa said with a shrug. “Everyone comes from somewhere. Everyone has a past.”

  “And Vega allowed you to find all this out about her?”

  “She tried to kill me,” Alexa corrected.

  “Only when you left her employment. And you haven’t mentioned the reason you did that. I don’t need your life story but that, I would think, seems pertinent.”

  Alexa considered Devon for a moment, the wind ruffling her hair such that she had to tuck it behind her ears. I eyed the blonde locks somewhat enviously. I missed my normal, blonde hair.

  “She sent me on a mission guaranteed to fail.”

  My brows rose at this, but I didn’t say anything, content to listen.

  “There’s never a certainty of success,” Devon replied.

  “I understand that,” Alexa said, her voice tight. “There’s a difference between something difficult and sending an operative on a suicide mission.”

  “And you’re saying that’s what she did.”

  “I was sent to assassinate the second-in-command of the Al Qaeda contingent in Islamabad.”

  There was a pause as Devon took that in, though it meant nothing to me. Al Qaeda was never exactly a good thing, though, was it?

  “You know what that means,” she said. Devon’s expression was grim.

  “Wait,” I interrupted. “I don’t know what that means. I mean, it sounds dangerous, but why do you say that it was a suicide mission?”

  “Because she’s a woman,” Devon replied.

  I looked at Devon, confused. “So? She certainly seems capable of killing someone.” I shot Alexa a glance. “No offense.”

  “None taken.”

  “It’s how they treat women that’s the problem, not Alexa’s capabilities,” Devon said. “The odds of her getting close enough to do the job were slim. Getting out afterward, nearly non-existent. And what they’d do to her if caught . . . let’s just say I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.”

  “So you can see why I decided to get out. I didn’t know why she wanted me dead or why she didn’t just kill me herself, but I wasn’t waiting around. I got out. Disappeared.”

  “And s
he’s been trying to kill you ever since,” Devon added.

  “Trying being the operative word. You got the closest, but only because I let you.”

  “What did you mean that night?” Devon asked. “You said Vega was hiding something from me. That I should get out while I could or she’d never let me go.”

  “You wouldn’t believe me.” Alexa leaned on the rail as she gazed out over the dark ocean.

  “Try me.”

  “You’ll figure it out on your own,” she said, “Once I take you there. You’ll have what you need, and I doubt she’ll try to kill me again. She and I called an uneasy truce.”

  “When did you do that?”

  Alexa looked at Devon. “When I sent you back alive.”

  Her words, so simply stated, sent a chill down my spine.

  A light off the port bow, low to the water and approaching fast, caught my attention.

  “What’s that?” I asked.

  Both Devon and Alexa turned just as an alarm sounded on the boat. Alexa ran for the bunkhouse while Devon grabbed me around the waist, hauling me in front of him as he rushed from the bow. Wood splintered near our feet and then I heard the report of the rifle. Devon shoved me through the door ahead of him.

  Beau and three members of the crew were donning bulletproof vests and holding rifles of their own. And they were moving fast.

  “What’s going on?” I asked. Who was shooting at us? Even now, I could hear the report of gunfire and the sharp smacks as bullets hit the hull.

  “Drug traffickers,” one of the men explained. “They patrol these waters to guard their routes. Shoot first, ask questions later.”

  “But you’re the CIA,” I said. “They’d have to be crazy to attack you.”

  “We’re not the Coast Guard,” one of the men said. “This boat isn’t marked.”

  “They’ll shoot us and dump us in the ocean, then take the boat,” the other said.

  “Not tonight, they’re not,” Devon said. He looked at Beau. “Give Alexa a weapon.”

  Beau glanced at Alexa, who was waiting expectantly. “You turn on us and you’ll regret it,” he said. “I’ll hunt you down.”

  “Don’t think so highly of yourself, cowboy,” she sneered. “As if you’re worth the effort.”