Duty At What Cost?

Now, there was the million-dollar question. ‘I was jealous.’

Her eyebrows shot up. ‘Of Baden?’

‘I thought you were talking to Lorenzo.’

Her eyes softened and Wolfe felt more vulnerable than he ever had, even as a kid walking up to the front door of his house after school and wondering if his mother would be home.

Her throat worked and he was sure she was about to say something soft and mushy. He wanted to hear it so badly he ducked his head and kissed her breathless. He wasn’t sure if she had been about to tell him that she loved him but he couldn’t have coped if she had.

Because it wouldn’t be real. They had grown closer through forced proximity and sex, but that wasn’t love. And he couldn’t bear to hear her say it when she didn’t mean it.

A memory of his mother tucking him into bed and kissing his forehead when he was about five punched him in the head. Her warmth...her soft touch...

He felt a yearning open up inside him and doused it by slipping his hands beneath Ava’s baggy T-shirt and appeasing a much more basic need. He stroked her breasts until she arched into him.

This.

This was something he knew he could trust in.

He lifted her onto the bench and yanked the shorts down her long legs, shifting her forward so that his erection was cradled in the notch between her thighs.

‘That feels so good,’ she groaned, wrapping her arms around his neck.

Wolfe kissed her like a starving man and carried her back to his bedroom.

* * *

‘After the bomb?’

‘Mmm?’ Ava felt Wolfe shift to his side and let her body collapse against him.

‘Ava, baby, wake up. I need to ask you something.’

‘Mmm? Do I have to?’

‘Yes, come on, baby. Back to the land of the living.’ She sighed, enjoying the way his hand stroked her hair from her face.

‘Okay, I’m back, General. What it is you want to know?’

‘You said before that Baden was checking on you after the bomb?’

Ava frowned. The urgency in his voice was more than clear. ‘Yes.’

‘Did you tell him about it?’

‘No.’

‘You’re sure? Now, think, baby. I need you to be certain.’

‘I’m not a child, Wolfe.’

‘Don’t go getting surly on me again.’

She arched a brow. ‘Me? Get surly?’

‘Okay, okay.’ He cupped her face in his hands. ‘This is important. I need you to be one hundred percent certain.’

‘Why would I tell Baden when he already knew about it?’

Wolfe closed his eyes briefly, as if he was in pain. Which he might be considering his bruises and their recent lovemaking. ‘He shouldn’t know.’

Ava pushed his hands aside, the nape of her neck tingling. ‘I don’t see how he couldn’t. It must be all over the media, and my father would have told him.’

Before she’d even finished speaking Wolfe was off the bed, shucking into his boxers and jeans. ‘Dammit, where’s my phone?’

‘I saw it in the kitchen. Wolfe...?’

‘Stay here.’

Ava stared after his departing figure and only paused to sweep up the T-shirt he hadn’t bothered to put on before racing after him.

He was on the phone but speaking too quietly for her to take in more than, “Yeah...” and, “Get back to me.”

‘Want to tell me what’s going on?’

Wolfe had his soldier’s face on when he turned to her. ‘You might want to sit down.’

Ava did, but only because his intensity was starting to make her legs feel rubbery. ‘You think it’s Baden.’

Wolfe pulled a chair in front of hers and sat down, his hands gentle as he held hers. ‘I know you don’t want to believe this, but your father just confirmed that Baden hadn’t been told about the explosion.’

‘But it must be all over the internet by now at the very least.’

He shook his head. ‘No. I had it suppressed. As far as anyone knows a car ran into the front of your gallery.’

Ava stared at Wolfe’s hands, absently noting how beautiful they were. Then her eyes rose to his. ‘Baden would never have hurt Frédéric.’

Wolfe sighed. ‘I’m sorry, Ava. I know you won’t want to hear this but my team have been closing in on him for a few days now. He’s mentally unstable. Did you know that?’

Mentally unstable? Ava shook her head.

‘He’s been diagnosed with schizophrenia. And his psychological transcripts reveal that he blames your father for the death of his.’