Trap, Secure: Navy SEAL Security Page 11

  She finally found her tongue to answer him, but by the time she met his eyes with her own, it was too late. His nostrils flared as if sensing her visceral attraction to him. His muscles tensed as if he were ready to pounce.

  She spun around, breaking the electric current that buzzed between them. “I’m going to wash my face and hands so I don’t look like a complete slouch next to you and your clean shirt.”

  He expelled a breath behind her and she almost ran to the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. She braced her hands on the vanity and leaned in to take a good look at the dark-haired stranger in the mirror.

  Maybe her amnesia had caused this desire in her to cling on to Gage. Who was she kidding? She wanted more than to cling to him. She wanted him. Wanted to meld together with him. Wanted him inside her, all around her, filling her up.

  A psychiatrist could have a field day with her—a real psychiatrist, not that crazed Dr. Murdoch. She wanted Gage to fill her up precisely because she was empty.

  She had nothing. She had no one—except Gage.

  She filled her cheeks with air and then puffed it out. Shopping. Eating. Sleeping. Alone.

  She turned on the faucet and unwrapped the little bar of fragrant soap. She washed her face and her hands, scrubbing the last bits of glue from the tape on her arm, and dragged her fingers through her long hair to get the tangles out.

  Gage banged on the door. “You’re not taking another bath, are you?”

  “All done.” She pushed open the door, and he stumbled back.

  “You look better already.”

  If he’d stop flirting with her she could get a grip, but maybe that flirting was in his plans, in the Prospero plans. If she concentrated on his possible ulterior motives, it could very well douse the kindling in her belly that she felt every time he touched her.

  “Let’s go shopping.” He took her arm and guided her to the door.

  As the kindling crackled into a flame hot enough to warm her blood, she knew she had no control over her feelings for Gage Booker.

  She’d just have to trust that he could control his own.

  * * *

  HE LIKED TOUCHING HER.

  Gage paced the sidewalk in front of the clothing store where he’d sent Randi with a wad of cash. Jessup didn’t know Prospero if he thought hiding Randi in some lab was going to keep Gage out. Rescuing her had almost been child’s play compared to some of the situations he’d been in with Team Three.

  His phone buzzed and he checked the display.

  He stopped pacing and turned down an alley to take the call.

  “Jose?”

  “My friend. What brings you to this part of the world?”

  “Bad guys.”

  Jose’s laugh turned into a hack. “Figures. What do you need?”

  “You need to give up those cigarettes, Jose.”

  “I’m a man of simple pleasures. I’m not going to give up one of them, my friend. Something has to kill us, verdad?”

  “True, but this job won’t. I just need some fake IDs, something to get us out of this country and back into the U.S.”

  “And you’re coming to Jose for that? You bypassing your own people?”

  “In this case. You’re asking a lot of questions for a man in your line of work, Jose.”

  Jose coughed for several seconds. “Tell me what you need and I’ll tell you when it’s ready.”

  “That’s the Jose we all know and love.”

  Gage rattled off the documents he needed for himself and Randi and sent current pictures of the two of them that he’d taken with his phone. He had his own fake IDs, but the CIA might very well be privy to those IDs and he couldn’t chance it—not when he had Randi’s well-being in his hands.

  He and Jose had finished business before Randi finished shopping.

  Gage was parked outside the store by the time she came sauntering out in a new pair of jeans tucked into some half boots, and a blue shirt buttoned over a white, lacy thing.

  She didn’t look like a woman who’d been strapped to a table less than twenty-four hours ago, but she did look like a woman in need of some TLC. Not that he was the one to administer that, but if not him, who? She had nobody. She had nothing.

  Except that brilliant smile.

  She spread her arms, a shopping bag hanging from each wrist, and turned around. “Better?”

  By the time she did a three-sixty and was facing him again, he’d managed to drag his gaze from her perfectly round derriere and met her eyes with a smile of his own. Not that he hadn’t already seen all her assets when she’d been naked on top of that table, but he hadn’t looked too closely since that felt like creepy voyeurism.

  This didn’t feel like creepy voyeurism at all.

  “You look great. Still need that food, shower and nap, though.”

  “Yeah, I guess even new clothes can’t hide what I’ve been through.”

  “It doesn’t show at all, and I have inside knowledge.”

  She pressed some bills into his hand. “Here’s the change. I’ll pay you back once I discover where I do my banking.”

  “Let’s get some food. I’ve had plenty of time to case the neighborhood, and there’s a café serving breakfast down the street.”

  When they were seated across from each other over plates of huevos rancheros, Randi asked, “What are we doing here that’s going to get us out of the country?”

  “Already halfway there. We’re meeting my contact tonight. He’ll have everything we need to make our way to the U.S. undetected.”

  “You’ve done that already?”

  He sawed across his fried egg with a knife. “It’s my job.”

  “It’s your job to rescue people out of situations like mine, too, isn’t it? I’d been hoping you’d find me in that lab, but I really didn’t believe you would.”

  “I’m a man of infinite resources.”

  “How does Jessup know your father?”

  Gage’s hand froze halfway to his mouth, and his egg fell onto his plate. “What?”

  “Jessup said he knew your father. Is your father a spy, too?”

  “I guess that might be in his job description. My father’s a politician.”

  “Well, I know he’s not the president.”

  “You know who the president is?”

  “I know a lot of things that aren’t personal, Gage.”

  He stabbed his egg again. “That’s why we need to get you to a psychiatrist. We need someone to make sense of what’s going on in your head.”

  “How are we going to do that?”

  “It just so happens I know a top-notch doctor, but we’ll think about that once we get to the States.”

  They finished their meal and Randi didn’t ask about his father again, which was a good thing. Nothing could ruin his appetite faster.

  It was midmorning by the time they left the restaurant. As they strolled down the street, Gage pointed to a chemist’s shop. “We should pick up some toothpaste and toothbrushes at least.”

  They perused the narrow aisles and reached over each other to pluck items off the shelves.

  Gage’s gaze skimmed over the condoms. As tempted as he was, he walked on by. Then he stopped in front of a row of pink boxes. He snatched one from the shelf and held it up to his face as he translated the package. His translation skills didn’t need to be expert to figure it out.

  He joined Randi in the next aisle and held out the box for her inspection. “Do you want to get it?”

  “A home pregnancy kit?”

  “Just to ease your mind. I’m sure Dr. Murdoch didn’t have time to put her devious plan into action, but if it would make you feel better.”

  “Okay. I can’t use it for a few weeks, anyway. Might as well get some peace of mind and put that whole episode behind me.”

  They made their purchases and headed back to the hotel.

  “You first.” Gage pointed to the bathroom. “This time I won’t let anyone break into the room.”

&nbs
p; “That’s a relief.”

  “That’s one good thing that came out of our stop at the CIA compound. That man, Marco, who picked us up? I found out that he was a low-level drug courier.”

  Randi covered her mouth with her hand. “Just our luck. What about the guy in the motel with the knife?”

  “He was probably waiting for those drugs. When he saw two strangers saunter into town, he probably figured we’d had something to do with the disappearance of his delivery. Or Marco informed him earlier that he’d picked us up.”

  “I must have a black cloud hanging over my head.”

  “So go get rid of it.” He pointed to the bathroom.

  She hauled her bags of new clothes with her and shut herself in the bathroom. Gage busied himself with going through his duffel bag to shut out the image of Randi in the shower.

  She stepped out of the bathroom on a cloud of sweet-smelling steam with a floral nightgown floating around her body. Its modesty only inflamed his imagination more.

  “You’re up.”

  “What?” Heat coursed through his body, leaving his flesh prickling.

  “The shower—your turn.”

  “Did you leave me some hot water?”

  “Lots. Do you mind if I take the bed by the window.”

  “Not at all. The door is locked and chained, but I’d feel better leaving the bathroom door open while I shower. Is that okay?”

  “I’d like that. I mean, I’d feel safer with the door open.”

  Gage ran the shower and peeled off his clothes. He stepped under the warm water, letting it sluice off his body. Through the open door, he could see Randi’s long, slim legs on the bed, crossed at the ankles. She was tapping her feet together to some rhythm in her head.

  She must be in some strange, dark world. He couldn’t even imagine what it must be like to have no memory of who you were. Although there were a few things in his life he’d rather forget.

  He groaned and reduced the temperature of the water. If he had to resort to cold showers to get his mind off Randi, he was in trouble. He knew the one thing that would douse his desire—confirmation that she belonged to Zendaris.

  But would that do the trick? Wouldn’t the fact that he would feel compelled to rescue her from Zendaris make her more desirable to him? His father had pegged that quality in him years ago.

  He’d used it to try to entrap Gage in a marriage he believed would’ve been beneficial to the Booker family and Gage’s career in politics. And Gage had almost fallen for it—the woman, not the career in politics.

  On orders from his father, the woman, Kacey, had come across like a damsel in distress, pushing all of Gage’s buttons. He’d been young and stupid.

  He ended the shower and grabbed a towel from the rack. He dried off in the shower behind the plastic curtain, and then wrapped the towel around his waist, tucking a corner in the top.

  He poked his head out to check up on Randi. She’d rolled to her side and the floral shift had hiked up, exposing a length of mocha-tinted thigh. Her dark hair, wet from the shower, snaked across one cheek.

  Gage crept toward the bed and reached out to sweep the hair from her face.

  She jerked and thrashed out with her arms.

  Gage jumped back, clutching the towel that had come loose. “Randi?”

  Her eyes flew open. “Where am I?”

  Gage held his breath. Had she dreamed about her past? Did she remember her identity? “You’re in a hotel in Panama. You’re safe.”

  Pressing a palm to her forehead, she scootched up to a sitting position and wrapped her arms around her bent knees. “I was dreaming.”

  “And?”

  “Not that kind of dream. I was back at the little lab of horrors, and Dr. Murdoch was injecting me with something.” She dropped her hand and rubbed the inside of her arm, her gaze skittering across his body.

  He felt the heat of her inventory down to his toes. It propelled him toward the bed, toward her. He sat on the edge of the mattress and combed his fingers through her wet hair. “Sounds like a nightmare.”

  “You were hoping I’d had dreams of Zendaris, weren’t you?”

  Not exactly. He didn’t want her dreaming about that lowlife, but if she did and it led to his capture, wasn’t that what he needed?

  What he needed was stretched out in front of him. His for the taking. He saw it in her eyes. Felt it in her touch.

  She straightened one leg and wiggled her toes against his bare thigh. “Gage?”

  He cupped her heel and massaged the sole of her foot.

  She squirmed but didn’t pull away.

  Cinching her ankle with his fingers, he pulled her down the bed, until her hip met his. The nightgown had ridden up, and her pink, cotton panties were flush against the white terry cloth of his towel.

  Her lower lip quivered and he took it between his teeth. Her sigh warmed his lips. He curled a hand around the back of her neck and drew her closer, deepening the kiss, pressing his chest against the floral nightgown that covered her breasts.

  Her nipples hardened beneath the thin material. Her hands, which had been curled into fists at her sides, slipped beneath his towel, her nails digging into his thighs, clawing toward his buttocks.

  She rose to her knees and shifted one to the other side of his body to straddle him. She moved against his erection, and he thrust his hips forward in an instinctive response as old as the cavemen.

  Cavemen. They took what they wanted without restraint. Without consideration of the consequences.

  “Mmm. That feels nice.” Randi was trailing her fingernails up his back. Her tongue toyed with his, making him so damned hard he couldn’t think straight.

  This handful of sweet bottom he was kneading belonged to a government witness. Maybe the only connection to Zendaris Prospero would get in a very long time.

  Her hands scrambled for the hem of her nightgown as she bounced in his lap.

  If he allowed that nightgown to come off, he’d be done for. There would be no turning back.

  He gripped her wrists. “No.”

  The word came out stronger and louder than he’d intended. He must’ve known he had to send the command through his thick, lust-addled skull.

  Randi pulled back, her face crumpling with confusion. “I—I...”

  Gage disentangled her legs from around his waist and staggered from the bed, adjusting the towel around his body—loosely. “This is not a good idea, Randi. We don’t even know who you are. I can’t take advantage of you like that.”

  Her eyes narrowed as she yanked down the nightgown to cover her thighs. “Oh, you think you know who I am all right—Zendaris’s woman. Do you think you’re going to get his cooties by bedding me? Or did the thought of his hands on me turn your stomach so much your hands couldn’t follow?”

  Gage’s jaw dropped. The only feelings of disgust he had were for himself, for his lack of control, his lack of restraint.

  “That’s not even close.”

  “Yeah, okay. Whatever.” She flipped back the covers and burrowed inside. “Don’t worry about it. I’m going back to sleep. Maybe I will dream about Zendaris this time—making love to me. That should put the nail in the coffin of those inappropriate feelings you’re having toward me.”

  She pulled the covers over her head and Gage retreated to the bathroom.

  She was right about one thing—his feelings toward her were inappropriate. He’d given his Team Three team member, J.D., a hard time for falling for the woman he’d been assigned to follow and protect. But at least J.D. had known her identity. She’d had her full mental capacity.

  Randi had amnesia. He was the only person in the world she knew right now, and he had her life in his hands. How could he exploit that relationship? It was almost like the relationship between a psychiatrist and a patient.

  Of course Randi wanted him. He represented everything to her, her very world. Maybe subconsciously she felt she had to put out or he’d abandon her.

  That’s one thin
g he wouldn’t do. Even if it turned out that Randi had no connection at all to Zendaris, Gage would stay with her until she found her place in this world.

  Even if that place wasn’t with him.

  Chapter Nine

  If Gage didn’t want her, at least he could put on some clothes.

  Randi eyed his sleeping form sprawled on the other bed. His faded jeans sat low on his narrow hips, and one arm crossed his bare chest while the other hung off the too-small bed.

  Heat crawled across her flesh as she recalled her assault on him and his firm rejection. What kind of woman attacked a half-naked man without invitation?

  Her gaze meandered from his broad shoulders to his six-pack. Any woman with half a brain and a pulse.

  Sighing, she pulled her damp hair back from her face. And there had been an invitation. She’d read it in his eyes, and he’d delivered it with his touch, his kiss.

  Then he’d come to his senses. She could very well be his enemy, or at least the friend of his enemy.

  Maybe he wanted to entice her just enough to stay with him and bond with him so that when the time came to dish on Zendaris, she’d serve him a heaping plateful. But he could never forget who she was, or who he thought she was.

  The sooner she took possession of her past, the sooner they could clear up any issues between them. She’d prove her loyalty to Gage.

  Ugh, wasn’t that what he wanted? Wasn’t that why he wanted to keep her close—both physically and psychologically? He wanted her utter and complete fealty.

  Her stomach growled, reminding her why she’d ventured to this side of the room in the first place—and it wasn’t to ogle her captor, protector, whatever.

  “Gage?”

  He remained motionless, like the statue of a Greek god—Adonis, no, someone more heroic and manly. Achilles. How did she remember Greek mythology and not her own name?

  She placed a foot against the mattress and pushed. “Gage? Wake up.”

  Stepping closer, her hand hovered above his shoulder. She didn’t want to touch him, didn’t want him to think she was coming onto him again.

  “Gage!” She waved a hand over his face and his dark lashes stirred, but he rolled to his side, presenting his muscled back to her.

  She took a deep breath and poked him with her knuckle. “Gage. We need to eat before we meet Jose.”