Maverick (Elite Ops 2)

She almost grinned. “I already knew I was going to go to bed with you. I decided before I ever arrived at that nightclub.”

He stilled against her. “You had already decided? You didn’t know me, Risa.” There was a warning edge to his voice that had the grin tugging at her lips.

“Emily told me you were completely handsome.” She looked up at him, her hand curling around the side of his neck as she took in his black eyes, his black hair. “She was right, Micah. You’re devastating to a woman’s senses.”

He grunted at that. “And you decided to sleep with me based on that?”

“Sorry.” She gave a small laugh. “I did. But when I saw you—” She swallowed tightly at the memory. “When I saw you, Micah, I knew I had to. I didn’t want to change my mind. I didn’t want to run from you. I just wanted you.”

She wanted him to hold her, to kiss away her fears, to show her what pleasure was, rather than pain.

“You terrify me with your courage, Risa,” he sighed as his lips whispered over hers.

“I don’t know about the courage part.” She looked outside; they were only minutes away from the downtown exit and then would be even closer to the hotel where the ball was being held. “I’m so scared, Micah.”

“There’s no reason for fear, sweet.” His fingers brushed back a few loose strands of hair that had slipped from the loose upswept style she had chosen. “Tonight, we’re going to mingle with our friends, we’re going to dance, and we’re going to people-watch. Nothing more.”

“Monster-watch,” she breathed out roughly.

She could feel it. She knew the truth. He would be there tonight. The man she fought not to remember. With his large, hurtful hands. His cold, precise voice. He would be there.

“We’ll monster-watch then.” He sounded unconcerned. “But it won’t touch you. He won’t touch you. We’ll identify him if he’s there; then you and I will leave him to the others. Agreed?”

She looked into his eyes. “You’re lying to me,” she accused him. “You won’t leave him to the others. You’ll kill him first.”

He stared down at her, his expression stilling before he nodded slowly. “I will kill him first,” he stated. “For daring to lay a hand on you, Risa. For that alone, even if there was nothing more, I will be the one to kill him.”

But there was more. There was the history he had with both Orion and the scientist. His friends who had died because of them. Or was it his friends? She watched him closely, saw the flicker of guilt and of pain in his eyes, and she knew the truth. She knew her lover. She knew he had once been Mossad. Mossad didn’t walk away from their culture or from their vision to work for an outside agency.

“They were your parents,” she whispered. “Weren’t they? And the son, he was your brother?”

He shook his head slowly as he watched her. “There was no brother. There was only a father, a mother, and a son. A man so bent on revenge that he accepted a life of the walking dead to draw the blood of his enemy.” He lowered his head, brushed her lips with his own. “And when this is over, he will be alone again, with more than the memories of the desert to sustain him. He’ll have the memory of a woman. A touch that burns with passion. A kiss that sustained his soul. He’ll have his memories of you, Risa. More than he ever believed he would or could have.”

She stared back at him in shock. He was David Abijah. The son who had supposedly died at Orion’s hands when he stalked him.

She felt her throat tighten in remorse, felt her heart ache for everything he had lost.

“You don’t.” She swallowed

tightly. “You don’t have to leave, Micah.”

He laid his finger against her lips. “I’m a dead man, Risa. I made a vow. A promise. And I forsook any dream I may have wanted at a later time. I made a vow that I can’t walk away from now. Even for the most beautiful, the most courageous woman I’ve ever known.”

She felt her lips tremble. At least he didn’t love her, she thought. As much as she loved him, if he had breathed those words to her, she would have shattered apart. She could love him and lose him, but the thought of Micah throwing away a chance at love would have broken her.

“I’ll always be here,” she told him. “You can visit.”

He could hold her whenever he wanted to. She would be there for him. She would await him.

But he was shaking his head. “You have a life awaiting you, baby. I signed mine away. Live your dreams. Breathe in the desert air. Build the home of your dreams and fill it with children. Be the woman you dream of being.”

But she dreamed of being his woman.

She looked out the window and watched as the limo turned off the interstate and headed into town. They were almost there. She wanted to scream at him to turn around now, to take her home. Because when the mission was over, there was nothing left to hold him with her.

Instead, she slid from his lap, gathered the tattered remains of the courage he thought she had, and forced herself to be silent. To be dignified.

Only children threw tantrums, she told herself. But she wanted to throw a tantrum. She wanted to scream and rage. She wanted to fight whatever fate had decided that she couldn’t have the man she dreamed of having.