PJ’s voice butted in. “Trent, what are you thinking?”
Before he could speak, Talib said, “I will get the photos and send them to you immediately. I believe they are to have a luncheon with the Sheikh tomorrow.”
Trent leaned forward. “Find a reason for that not to happen. From the looks of things, there’s an element in this organization that’s being paid to do bad things. Until we know if it’s just a few or the whole crew, I recommend you keep Kamal and Khalil, and their wives, away from that delegation.”
PJ’s voice came back on, sharp and certain. “I’ll get with Brock and we’ll figure something out.”
“Good. We’ll keep Slade informed on this end.”
PJ’s voice dropped. “What’s this I hear about you having a contact on the inside? A close contact? I think Travis may have mentioned Brazil?”
Trent swore. Travis just had to go and open his mouth. “She is a contact—a way for me to get information on the people causing you so much havoc overseas. You got a problem with that?”
“No problem. I’m checking up on you to make sure you don’t have a problem with that.”
“Why is everyone suddenly worried about me?”
“Because, Trent, you start by wrapping a girl around your finger and end up wrapped around hers. One of these days you’re going to meet the girl who doesn’t unwrap—who gets so far under your skin you can’t let go. I want to be there to see that day. You’re going to fall harder than Slade did.”
Trent frowned. “How is it you’re half-way around the world and you know about Slade and Bethany?”
He could hear the grin in PJ’s voice. “Contacts, sweet stuff. It pays to have contacts. Watch yourself, Trent. If these guys are fine with blowing stuff up, they may be fine, too, with taking that next step to blowing up people.”
“That I can handle.”
PJ gave a laugh. “Got it—it’s the girl who’s giving you trouble. Hope she leads you up the garden path and back down it again. Give Travis a big kiss from me.”
“You’ll have to wait until the next time you see him.” He broke the connection and sat at the table, drinking his water, and thinking about what PJ had said.
Was Chloe getting under his skin? He didn’t think so—they’d barely met, after all. Sure, she was a good kid. Different. Funny. Kind. He liked her—and the sex was great. You couldn’t beat that kind of chemistry.
Itchy now, he wandered around his place, trying to think about the numbers they’d seen on that document when they’d gone into the Guardian’s network. He yawned and rubbed the back of his neck. It was late—or early. He needed coffee, too. Or sleep. He went into his bedroom and stared at his bed. It looked empty without Chloe there.
Muttering a curse, he headed for Chloe’s place – who cared what Mrs. W. had said or thought. He let himself in, shucked off his shoes, T-shirt, and shorts, and lowered himself into the bed, taking up more than half of the space. He didn’t mind it in the least when Chloe turned, and snuggled up close like she belonged there.
Chapter 11
She was dying.
Water filled her nose. Water pressed down on her head, pressed on her chest, sat like a weight. A blinding pain behind her eyes told her she couldn’t keep holding her breath. She could see the shadows moving on the ice above her. Arms heavy, legs leaden, she willed them to break through and save her.
She watched the ice begin to crack, but it was too late. Her lungs burned as she resisted the need to take a breath—a breath that would be filled with ice cold water instead of air. She finally quit struggling, let her arms go limp, her body sag. She parted her lips. The inevitable could happen. She screamed.
The noise had her sitting up in the bed, gasping, trying to locate the source of the tortured sound. An arm settled around her, warm and strong—the comforting scent of salt and sea sank into her.
“Chloe? Hey, shush. It’s only a dream.” She blinked several times before she realized she was sitting up in bed. A very naked Trent sat beside her, holding her. “You were having a nightmare. Can you remember what it was about?”
Not going there! She shook her head, wincing as pain stirred. She touched her temple, feeling groggy and disoriented—the aftermath of a migraine.
“Stay here and I’ll get you some water.” Trent slipped from the bed. He didn’t bother to cover himself up, and if he wasn’t going to bother, she wasn’t going to avoid looking.
He came back with water. Sitting beside her, he handed her the glass. He turned her so that her back was to him and began to massage her shoulders.
Her muscles loosened and she almost dropped the water glass. “That feels amazing.” She let her head loll to the side. He placed his lips on her skin, licking her skin before sucking it gently into his mouth.
Leaning close, he said, his voice rough, “You taste amazing. I read in a study somewhere that headaches were the worst reason to avoid having sex.”
Chloe moaned as he reached a tender spot just beneath her left shoulder blade. “How’s that?”