Designated Target Read online

  “Wow,” she said, her voice soft and husky.

  Then she took his mouth this time, but she slowed it down, gentled the assault, which perversely turned him on even more. She teased; he taunted; they slipped their tongues more sinuously along the other, tasting, touching. Soft sighs filled the warm room. His, hers, he’d lost track. He was drowning, and he didn’t want to be saved. Reality would intrude soon enough. It always did. He wasn’t going to hurry it along any faster.

  This time he rolled her to her side and reached for a condom. Ripping the foil open, he rolled it on one-handed, and then his head bent down to her breast. He covered her nipple with his mouth, laving it with his tongue. He sucked on her, and she buried her hands in his hair, holding him to her.

  “That feels so good,” she breathed.

  “You taste so good,” he growled, moving to her other breast and her sweet, hard nipple.

  “Vin,” she moaned. “Oh, God, Vin!”

  He shifted them both to their sides, paused there for a moment to absorb the pain in his shoulder, kissed her, then moved the rest of the way, sinking deeply into her as she lifted up and wrapped her leg around his hip.

  He held her gaze in between long, slow kisses, moving inside of her, feeling her match his steady rhythm as easily as if they’d done this forever. He finally slid his arm around her hips and tilted them just slightly, instinctively searching for the sweet spot that every woman had. She gasped and tightened around him almost convulsively. The one he knew would take them both over the edge. But he held her there, for that one moment out of time, and looked into her eyes. “Sky...”

  And her eyes glazed over at her name whispered with that hoarse cast to his voice. He shuddered at the connection and the trust. There wouldn’t be anything he wouldn’t do for her to keep her safe. He thrust into her, the pain in his shoulder mingling with the pleasure and making it bearable. His hips sped up, and she met each hard push with one of her own until they were both groaning raggedly as they dropped off the edge together.

  Exhausted, they fell asleep as the fire crackled and the snow thickened outside the window.

  His throbbing shoulder woke him. Extricating himself from her, he went to the med kit in the bathroom and took some painkillers. He turned sideways and looked in the mirror. There was no blood on the bandages. That was at least something. He rubbed his face. The day had slipped into night, and he really should check in, but he decided that he’d do that tomorrow.

  “Vin?”

  He turned to find her standing in the bathroom doorway, the ambient light from the fireplace illuminating her. She was dressed in one of his black NCIS T-shirts. Her long hair was a dark tousled mess. He’d never seen a sexier woman; his heart twisted at the sight of her.

  She came into the small space, and he liked feeling crowded by her. “Are you all right?”

  He turned toward her, and she reached up to feel his forehead, then fluffed his bangs.

  “Shoulder is hurting like a bitch.”

  “Come back and lie down. You should get more sleep. Exhaustion and stress aren’t going to help heal that wound. I’ll play one of my CDs. Great for relaxation.”

  “If you try to get me to start chanting om, it’s not going to happen, honey.”

  “Om is not just a sound or vibration. It is not just a symbol. It’s a communion and a way to connect to your own being and the universe, whatever we can see, touch, hear and feel. It is a phonemic representation bridging to our spirituality.”

  “You are quite serious about om.”

  “Oh, I see. You were teasing me?”

  He walked the short distance between them. “Yes, I was teasing you, but I’m intrigued. How does a hard-fact scientist buy into the cosmos through spiritualism?”

  “You forget my culture. One of our most fundamental mental challenges is to reconcile our scientific understanding of the world with our spiritual experiences and beliefs. There must be a unity at a higher level of reality, despite the outer appearances to the contrary.”

  “Ah, that’s what led you to your master’s degree in sound and then to the yoga stuff.”

  She blinked and didn’t say anything for a moment. “Yes. You are certainly good at observation and a very clever man. You have a sexy brain.” She reached up and curled her hand against his nape. “Yes, exactly. How are you with the Theory of Everything?”

  “The Theory of Everything is all about combining the idea that there are many parts to the universe and there is one thing that links them all.”

  “Smarty pants. So this links to om. It’s not exactly a tangible thing. Not like hard science but the idea that it’s just as powerful.”

  “I like it, sweetheart.”

  “I have really underestimated your intelligence, Vin.” She moved closer to him. “Great in bed and can keep up with metaphysical conversations. I’m getting hot.”

  “Okay, who’s teasing who now?” he said, sending his hand through the tangled strands of her hair. “I like focusing on the material universe, especially your material universe. It’s my...big Baang theory?”

  She laughed and settled her head against his chest, wrapping her arms around his waist and squeezing. “I can almost forget we’re not in terrible danger.”

  She tensed, and it tugged at his heart. She did that a lot, that heart-tugging thing, mostly without even trying. He didn’t want to intensify her worries, especially when it was his job to worry. This was a much-needed break from the running-for-their-lives thing. The balance to the bad stuff.

  “So what now?” she said, sounding contemplative. With her brilliance, glossing over their predicament didn’t have a chance of fooling her.

  “What do you mean?”

  “What are we going to do now that we’re hidden and relatively safe?”

  “Lie low until I have a chance to figure this out and get healed,” he murmured, squeezing her tighter.

  “Mmm,” she hummed, kissing his chin, then rubbing her cheek on his stubble. “You hung up on your boss.” She sighed a little, then gave him a worried, solemn look. “Are you going to lose your job because of me?”

  He held her gaze for a long minute, then sighed a little himself. “I don’t know. I don’t care at this point. What I told him is sound. They found us, and I want to know how before I’ll feel confident in taking you back to NCIS or anywhere near D.C. Your life is more important.”

  Her eyes widened. “You really mean that, don’t you?”

  “I say what I mean, Sky.”

  She rose up on her tiptoes. Her face softened, and his gut twisted at the look there. She cupped his face and ran her thumb over his cheekbone. “I’m so scared. It would really help if I could get my laptop. I need to work.”

  “I know you’re scared and you want to work to keep your mind off it, but we need to stay off the radar for a bit. I’d like to know what they want you for. This guessing game is getting old. I wish I could have interrogated one of those bastards.”

  “But you were forced to kill them all.”

  He drew her to the bed, and they settled under the blankets, snuggling up against each other. “I’m sorry you had to see that...brutality.” He’d been trained as a warrior, had seen more than his share of combat and had carried the scars of all those battles on his body in one place or another. He was honed, and, after the military, it just was natural for him to continue to keep that edge. NCIS was not just about chasing down murderers. He’d had run-ins with rogue CIA assassins, terrorists and had been in Afghanistan and other parts of the Middle East that were extremely dangerous. All his combat experience had been a factor in each of those assignments. He knew how to conduct himself out in the field. Did he still think of himself as Uncle Sam’s weapon, even though he was in a civil organization? Maybe that was how he’d kept his edge, and with this woman, this beautif
ul woman in his arms safe from harm, he was grateful he had.

  She rose on her elbow. She was looking him over pretty good, her blue-eyed gaze focused on his, taking his measure, which was damned unnerving. What did she see when she remembered how vicious he’d been? “You said you were in the marines. Is that where you learned...?”

  “How to kill so efficiently?” He hesitated, not sure he wanted her to know anything about this. “Yes. They trained me as a scout sniper. It’s all about stealth, and a knife makes no noise. I made damn sure I was good with a knife.”

  “What is a ‘scout sniper’?”

  She distracted him as she ran her fingers into his hair at his temple. He closed his eyes, trying to concentrate. “Shooter and spotter in teams of two. One scouts. One takes the shots. Both of us are trained.”

  When he opened his eyes, she was looking down at him with a thoughtful expression on her face. “What are you thinking so hard about?”

  “What? Oh, nothing. Go on.”

  “What did you want to know?”

  “Everything. All of it.”

  “After boot camp and service, becoming a sniper is elite training.”

  “What was that like, boot camp?”

  “Hot, sweaty, intense, exhausting. A lot of running, physical conditioning, martial arts and classes. Thirteen weeks of intensity and almost zero personal time. Every moment you’re expected to do something. The cliché, I’m afraid. The marines did make a man out of me. I had no idea what exactly I was made of until I went to Parris Island, South Carolina.”

  She was quiet for a moment. Then her hand slipped down to his chest for more distracting caressing. He loved the feel of her hand on him. He raised himself up on his elbow, and she took a breath watching him.

  “What? Why do you keep looking at me like that? Tell me I didn’t scare you. That seeing me...that...savage...”

  Her eyes widened, and she covered his mouth. “No, Vin. Seeing you in combat didn’t scare me. The total opposite. I’m awed by the lengths you went to protect me. I feel like you have lived, and I have just...well, existed.”

  He leaned forward and nuzzled her neck. She smelled like heaven. “Why is that? Why the isolation?”

  “The work. It’s consuming....” She trailed off, lifted a shoulder.

  They both collapsed to the mattress, settling against each other. He grazed her jaw with his teeth, and she trembled. A shuddering sigh left her, and her hips rose against him, the smallest movement. “Ah, now you’re ducking my question.”

  She let out a shaky breath when he reached her ear.

  When she didn’t say anything, he stayed silent and let it go. They were both tired. The air was almost still, and the smell from the fireplace lent a cozy sense of safety Vin knew was a lie.

  There was something special about Sky, something inherently innocent in this woman. He could only wish she had a little more defense against him. He still wasn’t convinced they were compatible. Her comment about him wasting his time had been shunted aside by his desire and their passion, but it was still there. He and Brittany hadn’t worked because she couldn’t accept who he was. He couldn’t remember her asking anything about the marines. Maybe it was his failing that he couldn’t get past that disappointment in her. It was much too familiar.

  Right now was about getting through each day. If there was one thing that he was sure about, it was that problems had a way of showing themselves eventually.

  He always had to be true to himself.

  Always.

  That was what drove him.

  He tightened his arms around her.

  He wasn’t sure where this would all lead.

  But what he was sure about was that he was her shield.

  They would have to go through him to get to her.

  Chapter 9

  Alexander Andreyev bit into the chicken, pulling the meat violently off the bone, seething. It was probably not good for his digestion. It was late afternoon of the next day after he’d lost the navy scientist. His name was shit with his employer after having lost her once and missing her this time. They were adamant. She needed to be in their hands in two days or everything they had done would be all for nothing. They assured him that meant he would not get paid.

  He hated not getting paid.

  He turned to look at Dmitry, who approached cautiously. He had a terrible temper, and his men knew it. They often gave him a wide berth when things didn’t go his way.

  “Alex,” Dmitry said, crouching down so that Alex didn’t have to look up.

  “What is it?”

  “I have information on the agent as you instructed.”

  “Talk,” he said, taking another bite of the succulent meat.

  “Special Agent Vincent Fitzgerald has been with NCIS for three years.”

  “He doesn’t conduct himself like a wet-behind-the-ears recruit.”

  “He isn’t. He was a marine before he joined NCIS.”

  Alex swore softly under his breath. “What kind of marine?”

  “Scout sniper.”

  He swore again. “That is how he was able to take our guy on the roof so easily. He is obviously a very good marksman. Dangerous. Anything we can use?”

  “Nothing that I could find out from the information I was able to get. He doesn’t own any property, rents an apartment. I could not find anything about his family. That was wrapped up tight. We’ve already been to the apartment. He and the woman are not there. He didn’t return to NCIS in D.C. I believe he is off the grid.”

  “He’s gone dark.”

  “Looks like it.”

  “Can you hack his email account?”

  “I can try, but the security at NCIS is formidable. It might not be possible.”

  “No, not his work account. His personal account. See if he’s got any friends he corresponds with or family. I need to find out where he’s gone to ground.”

  “But we have the microdot....”

  “That is not an ace in the hole, Dmitry. I want the advantage to be solely on our side.” He grabbed the younger man behind the back of the neck and squeezed. “Don’t let me down. Earn that high cut I give you.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  * * *

  She couldn’t seem to help watching him out the window as he hiked around the cabin. He studied the area, storing information, looking for the best escape route, she was sure, looking for a weakness in their defense.

  When she’d awakened, he was already up and dressed, stocking wood, saying that his shoulder was better, but she wasn’t so sure he wasn’t just enduring the pain.

  By midafternoon, he’d gone outside and started to walk around the perimeter, doing what she could only call reconnaissance. She suspected that was ingrained in him from his military training.

  She’d slept with him. Had sex with him, and she couldn’t regret a moment of it. Still the guilt was there, buried beneath the surface. She should be open and clear with him. This was a time out of time. She wasn’t looking for a long-term relationship. She had her work. That was enough. Would have to be enough.

  Now it was getting dark as he disappeared from view, she craned her neck as she started dinner. He was dressed in jeans that hugged his lower body, a white turtleneck and a red sweater with a zipper at the throat. On his feet were sturdy work boots that traversed through the mud and snow. She could see the river from the window and a dock with a boathouse attached to it. The water flowed past, not yet to the freezing point in Pennsylvania.

  He came in through the back door, stamping the snow and mud onto the rug. “I’m going to run into town and pick up some supplies. Did you make a list?”

  She nodded and walked across the kitchen to where he was standing and handed him the list. Her skin tingled as she got closer to him. />
  “Dinner should be ready by the time you get back.”

  “Lock the door and don’t let anyone in while I’m gone. I’ll be quick.” He left, and she went back to the preparation.

  Fifteen minutes later, it was getting dark. She heard the car before seeing the headlights. Holding her breath, ready to move like he’d instructed, she kept her eyes on the driveway. When she saw the car and him behind the wheel, she let her breath go slowly.

  She forced herself to glance at him with nothing more than a quick smile from the pot of chili she was stirring. “Hey. Get everything?”

  His eyes never left hers as he shrugged out of the leather coat that had been hanging on the hook by the door. She wondered if it belonged to his buddy. It looked good on him.

  Her whole body thrummed in reaction to him coming toward her. Not that it was any surprise. He’d done some pretty wonderful things to her body earlier; of course it was going to react a little. Okay, a lot. But she should be worried about more important things than where she would sleep tonight. Was it bad that it was all she could think about while she made dinner?

  She’d have to chastise herself later; she was more intent on how he fitted himself against her backside as if they had been doing this wonderful interaction for months instead of one night, his breath fanning the back of her neck, fitting into her personal space as easily as breathing. Her instant response was to rest her back against him.

  “Did you find everything on the list?”

  He leaned in and brushed his lips just below her ear, inhaling deeply. “You smell good.”

  “Probably dinner.”

  He sniffed again. “Nope. That’s all you, sweetheart.”

  She couldn’t help it; she was impossibly charmed with the way he so effortlessly made her light up inside. Dipping her chin to hide her besotted expression, she continued to stir the blend of beans and hamburger meat. “I’m sure you’re hungry.”

  “Mmm,” he murmured. “Starving.”