Sweet Revenge

Chapter 18

“No. You go to bed.” God, he wanted her. Matt gestured Laney toward the bedroom. Her natural vanilla scent was killing him, and if she didn’t get away, he was going to tackle her into the couch. “Sleep well. I’m going to call my brother and see if he’s hacked into the FBI files yet.”

Her bottom lip trembled, and she turned to head into the bedroom. Her shoulders dropped to a dejected slant. Did she not want to be alone?

It took all of his formidable will not to call her back… or follow her inside. He’d almost lost it in the forest, almost let down his guard again. But lines had been drawn, and sleeping with her would screw things up more. He’d slept with her, and that meant something even to a fucked-up guy like him. It meant he’d make sure she lived through this and could start over afterward.

That’s all he had to give.

So he sat on the sofa and booted up the laptop until Shane came into view. A shadow covered his brother’s jaw, and dark circles lined under his eyes.

“When was the last time you slept?” Matt growled, not in the mood to see his brother disintegrate.

“You sound like my wife.” Shane shoved unruly hair away from his face. “We only have six weeks. Sleep is a luxury I can’t afford.” Anger and determination glowed strong in Shane’s gray eyes… along with fear.

Matt had never seen Shane truly afraid until he’d married Josie. Now he had something to lose. “I know. Stop worrying poor Josie—she deserves peace for now. I mean, just in case.”

Shane flashed twin dimples. “Josie is worried about you. She thinks you’re in over your head and need backup. In fact, she packed a bag.”

God, Matt loved his sister-in-law. “Tell her I’ll call the second I need help.”

“I will.”

Right. There was no way in hell Shane would allow Josie to leave the safety of the ranch in Montana, but the feisty blonde probably didn’t know that. Her security meant everything—to all of them. “Is she asleep?”

“Yes.” Shane sighed. “Nate has fallen off the grid again. He’s obsessed with finding out if Jory is dead or not. I wish I hadn’t shared the memory of the video where Jory might have moved. What if he was dead, and I imagined him moving because that’s what I needed?”

That’s probably exactly what had happened. “Where was Nate’s last location?”

“Philly.”

Shit. “When?”

“Yesterday. I’ve called several times, and he hasn’t called back in. I’ve left messages about what’s going on with you… and he hasn’t called in.” Worry lowered Shane’s voice. “He’s on the edge, Mattie. We need to pull him back.”

“I will. You worry about Josie and our next step.” Shane had followed the money that funded the commander’s organization, Matt had followed the doctor, Jory had infiltrated the scientific agencies, and Nate was supposed to infiltrate the military organizations that conspired with the commander. Their jobs were clear. “Maybe Nate dropped under cover.”

“I hope so. If not, the jackass had better check in.” Shane typed in keys on his computer. “I’m sending you the rest of Laney’s file—her history after she purchased the new identity in Philly. I haven’t been able to find her records from when she worked for the commander.”

“Don’t.” Heat filtered down Matt’s gullet. “Don’t look for them right now. We’d make them aware we have her, and we don’t want him to realize we’re getting close.”

“I understand.” Shane nodded. “I also finished a perfunctory search into Dr. Tasha Friedan’s background and found a file containing medical records where she’d been harmed.”

“Beaten?”

“I think so. She had a different name… and I can go deeper.”

“No need.” Matt eyed the quiet bedroom. Laney’s heartbeat hadn’t slowed enough for her to be sleeping. “I know enough there. Concentrate on finding Nate, and on finding out what happened to Jory.”

“What about you?” Shane asked quietly. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. This is business—always has been.” He kept his face stoic as he tried to convince himself.

“Okay.” Shane frowned. “If you say so. I’m also sending you the files I stole from the FBI. The case is legitimate… There’s a serial killer targeting women in sweet-sounding towns. A total freak.”

“You’re kidding. I mean, you’re kidding.” Matt shoved an impatient hand through his thick hair. “I swear to God, if we get a break, it’s usually a compound fucking fracture.”

Shane grinned. “Yeah, I know. Maybe that’s what happens when man instead of God creates you.”

Matt rolled his eyes. “Shut up. God created us, too.” He’d tried to give his brothers that sense of comfort from the beginning, but sometimes, when nobody else was watching, he wondered. Did they have souls?

Had the things they’d done stained their souls, if they had them? Without doubt, letting Jory die alone had destroyed Matt, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted a soul any longer. Emotions were weak, and he was now broken. A soul would only get in the way of finishing out what he needed to do.

Shane nodded. “Okay. Call me if you need me. I’d be there in hours.”

“Thanks.” He forced a smile and said the words that would help Shane deal with the upcoming fight, even though each syllable was now a knife to Matt’s gut. “Never alone, right?”

“Never alone.” Shane repeated the mantra that had helped them to survive their childhood. “Night, Mattie.” He clicked off.

“Night.” Matt closed the laptop and dialed Nate’s cell phone.

He reached a recorded message. “Nate? It’s Matt. Fucking check in, or I’m coming to find you.” Disengaging the phone call, he eyed the bedroom. Why wasn’t she asleep?

Movement sounded, and the air shimmered before she appeared in the doorway. She’d donned a white tank top and pink pajama bottoms, her hair was up in a ponytail, and she’d removed all her makeup.

She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

His dick stretched awake while his heart thumped. “Why are you up at two in the morning?”

She shoved an errant curl off her face and steeled her shoulders but kept huddling by the bedroom door. “I’ve been thinking.”

He tilted his head to the other end of the couch and shoved down irritation. “Stop cringing over there like I’m going to hurt you. You know I’m not.”

Her head snapped up, and a light pink rose began to cover her face. “I’m not afraid of you.” That dainty nose in the air, she flounced over to sit.

No, but something was making her cautious. “Thinking about what?” He closed his laptop and pushed it onto the coffee table.

“The truth,” she said softly.

He stilled. “Which is?”

“You’re going to need me when you find the right computer and code to deactivate the chips in your spines.”

“No.” The response came naturally. The mission would be a suicide one, and he couldn’t guarantee her safety. Even though she’d lied to him, he’d allowed her in, and he’d allowed himself to care about her. There was no turning that off, and there was no being somebody other than whom he’d become so many years ago. He protected the people he cared about, and although it tore him in two, he couldn’t sacrifice her to save his brothers. They wouldn’t want him to, either. But he’d figure out a way to save them… maybe with her help so long as she remained safe.

“You don’t have a choice.” She met his gaze head-on, which couldn’t be easy. “The medical computer system is calculated to accept voice command from very few people, and I’m one of those accepted.” She shrugged. “There’s also a fingerprint scanner and an iris reader involved.”

“I know, but we’re trying to duplicate the system, so all we need is the code for the chips.”

She shook her head. “They wrote an entire program for the chips. You trying to deactivate them, even with the code, would be like trying to open a Word document in PowerPoint. It wouldn’t work.”

The woman was damn smart. “Yes, but we’re trying to duplicate the actual program.”

“Duplication is impossible. You’ll need the exact program. In fact, there’s a chance I’m not cleared for use with the chips, since I never implanted any. But I’m the best you’ve got.”

The reminder that she’d held a position of trust at the facility contrasted with her honest eyes and fragile body in a way that confused the shit out of him. He wanted to hate her, and yet every instinct he had was pushing him to draw her near and offer shelter. Protection from the world. “The best I’ve got?” he asked.

She nodded. “Maybe I can find some redemption. I definitely worked for the people who hurt you, and I knew the risks of what we were doing. At that time, the good outweighed the risks. Now I’m not sure. But I did refuse to implant chips.”

For the first time, he could hear the analytical education in her tone. Her statement came out as more of a challenge, and the primal being at his core reared up to accept it as such. So he tamped down on all emotion. “What’s your point?”

“My point?” Haughty was the only way to describe the tilt of her chin. “You want my help? Then I want yours first.”

Is she fucking kidding? “I already told you I’d protect you from whoever has been sending you notes. If we figure out how to deactivate the chips, I’ll go after the guy immediately.”

“I know, but that’s not what I want.”

He kept still to refrain from grabbing her. “Do tell.”

She shifted her weight, her gaze finally dropping. “You’re probably the best-trained soldier I’ve ever met.”

“True.” Did she want him to take somebody else out? The thought settled hard in his gut that she’d send him into a fight. Who was this woman?

“I want to survive this, Matt.” She leaned toward him and clutched his knee. “So I’ll help you deal with the security when we find the right computer, if you’ll train me to survive.”

His temper smoldered. “You’ll help me deal with the security regardless, baby.”

“Will I?” That quickly, she went arctic cold, her expression hard as slate. But those eyes. Dark, green, and teeming with emotion. Oh, she wanted to be tough. She wanted to bluff to get her way.

He appreciated her effort, and even more, the fact that she couldn’t quite pull off mean and frosty warmed him in places he needed to protect. Her very failure in trying to be uncaring unfurled something wound tight inside him.

Intrigue and desire began to warm his blood, slowly this time. Taking the moment and gaining depth. “Blackmailing me won’t get you what you want, Laney. I could gain your cooperation easily, and you know it.” She wants to play, does she? Fine. He let his gaze wander down her thin shirt, appeased when her nipples hardened. “You have better ways to gain my help.”

She sniffed, fire flashing in her eyes. “I think I’ll stick to blackmail, thanks.”

The woman had thrown him, and he didn’t like it. Not one bit. So he studied her, trying to get inside her head. She stared back, her face pale, darkening circles under her eyes.

“What’s your game, little one?” he asked, finally giving in to curiosity and giving up pretext.

“No game. You’re trained, I’m not, and I want to learn some self-defense for next time I run.” She rubbed her eyes. “I have something you want, and you have something I want… so we make a deal.”

Relief finished calming him when he realized she just wanted help. Even so, fairness dictated he provide warning to the sexy little bartender. “I’m an asshole when I train somebody.”

She appraised him, biting her lip from the obvious opening he’d just given her.

Yeah, he could be an asshole anytime. He admired her restraint in not stating the obvious. But she should learn some self-defense. Realization finally dawned on him. If the idea of making a deal helped her to feel more in control with the crazy situation they’d found themselves in, how could he refuse? He chose not to question why he wanted her to feel better. “All right.”

Her shoulders relaxed. “Good. Let’s get started.”

He shook his head and fought a grin at her eagerness. His hands clenched with the thought of tossing her down in a move and covering her, but the circles under her eyes worried him. “You need sleep. We’ll begin tomorrow.”

“I’m not tired.” Her lids were half-dropped, and her words had begun to slur.

“Go to bed, Laney.”

“No,” she said, looking so small and vulnerable his gut hurt.

He frowned. “Are you afraid of another nightmare?”

“No.” Her pupils dilated as she lied.

He could handle her stubborn or righteous, but fragile and feminine? He didn’t stand a chance. So he stood and lifted her.

She gasped. “What are you doing?”

“I’m tired, and the couch isn’t big enough for me. We’re sharing the bed.” He strode through the apartment and into the darkened bedroom. The scent of vanilla and woman hit him right between the eyes, and the feel of her in his arms quieted the rioting thoughts in his head. Finally.

“No,” she said, her cheek resting against his chest, her palm sliding over his shoulder.

He settled her under the bedcovers, scooching her over until he could get in behind her. “I won’t touch you, but we’re going to get some good sleep. There’s too much danger around us right now to be at half strength.”

She slid her cold feet along his calf.

“Jesus. Your feet are freezing,” he grumbled, smashing the pillow behind his neck into a better configuration.

She chuckled. Her entire body moved when she sighed. Then she turned around, snuggled close, her hand on his abs, her knee pressing his thigh. “I was scared to go to sleep. Thank you.”

Unguarded and sweet, she ripped out his heart. God, he needed to touch her. But they really did require sleep. He contented himself with placing his hand over hers.

Seconds later, she was breathing deep against his skin. His woman sure could fall asleep quickly.

The thought jerked his eyes open. His woman? No. What the hell was wrong with him? She muttered something in her sleep and flipped around, wiggling her butt against him.

He swallowed and tried to control his raging hormones. Turning, he wrapped around her, his arm at her waist, his nose buried in her hair.

She sighed and relaxed right into him.

A fierce wave of protectiveness surged through him. He tucked her even closer and decided to worry about it later. For now, his eyes closed, and he found peace.