Midnight Renegade (Men of Midnight Book 7) Page 8

Her skin had a rose undertone — smooth and perfect and healthy. He remembered all too well that gray skim milk color she’d had when he fished her out of the river. She’d looked dead.

  Her head swiveled back to him, shiny red-brown hair shifting on her shoulders.

  “So.” Matt tried to judge her dispassionately. The whites of her eyes were clear, her hand in his was soft but above all warm. “How are you feeling?”

  “Mm. Let me see.” She cricked her neck, stretched arms and legs. Felt her own pulse. “I’m feeling angry. I want to find the people who did this to me and turn them into the police after beating them up.”

  Huh. That was good news. Alarming, but good. But any beating up should be done by him and the other ASI guys. Not her. Her hands looked way too delicate to be beating bad guys up. Not to mention that she saved lives with those hands.

  “Well, you’re right to be angry. But you have a lot of people on your side now and we’ll find them.”

  “Yeah.” She slipped her hand out of his, using both palms to sit up in bed. He missed her hand immediately. His palm felt cold. But she sat up easily and naturally, something she couldn’t do before. “How many people do you think are involved? I don’t think two people could have pulled it off.”

  “I don’t think so, either. Abducting you, transporting you to wherever it was you were kept, keeping you drugged but fed and hydrated — that takes some organizing.”

  “Yeah.” She placed a hand over her eyebrows to shield her from the light. which would have worked if it had been sunlight, overhead. As it was, it didn’t help her at all. Matt reached for another button and dialed it down. She smiled. “Thanks. I think my eyes are adjusting still.”

  He nodded.

  “Neat trick, though,” she said. “This whole place feels pretty cool.”

  She had no idea. “How about I show off our food stocks again? You must be hungry.”

  She stopped, looked down as if consulting her stomach. “Yes, actually, I am. Ravenous, in fact.”

  “Good sign.” He stood. “I’ll bring you a tray.”

  She shook her head and threw back the covers. “I’m not used to being a patient. I think I’d rather eat at a table.” She stood, wobbled slightly.

  Matt shot out a hand, held her elbow with one hand, put his other hand on her back. They were embracing, chest to chest. She was looking up at him, pale gray eyes huge.

  The world … disappeared. It had never done that. Matt paid attention to everything around him, always. In combat it had saved his life more than once. And even as a civilian he’d never been able to turn off that cool, detached observation mode.

  Well, it was gone now. He had no sense of where he was, he barely had a sense of who he was. Every sense he had was concentrated on her, on this amazing woman. She was watching him so carefully, as if he were about to explode, which wasn’t too much off the mark.

  Because of all the times for his libido to wake up, now was the worst. She’d just escaped abductors, had nearly died. She was traumatized, shaken, stressed.

  His dick did not care. It was not a gentle, understanding organ. He was hard as a rock and he wanted her now. He hadn’t had sex in — he couldn’t remember. But it wasn’t sex after a long period of abstinence that he wanted, it was this specific woman, and he wanted her right now with a boner that was painful.

  His heart hammered, his skin felt hot and too tight, as if he were about ready to break out of it.

  His arms were around her, she was clutching two handfuls of his shirt, those pale eyes locked onto his face.

  Please don’t let her look down, he prayed to a God he didn’t believe in anymore.

  Her mouth opened and she gasped, as if there weren’t enough oxygen in the room. As if the air had been chased from her lungs.

  She needed air? Man, he could give it to her, from his mouth. He bent his head and felt her lift a little on her toes. She was barefoot and he had on his combat boots. What tiny little spark of rationality he had left knocked on his head and reminded him not to crush her feet.

  His head lowered, he touched her mouth with his and felt a jolt. He lifted his mouth slightly then kissed her again, opening her mouth with his.

  She tasted like wine. The good stuff. How that could be when she hadn’t drunk any wine was beyond him. More or less everything was beyond him except holding her and kissing her. He went slowly, because maybe she didn’t want this. But her arms went around his neck and her mouth opened wider under his and yes, she wanted this. Maybe a millionth as much as he wanted it, but still.

  There was welcome in her. Her mouth slowly opening under his, her arms around him in a warm embrace, her tongue meeting his. It was almost electric, that moment, a crackle of energy passing between them. So intense he lifted his head. She looked surprised and aroused. Matt had to work to keep breathing normally, to not crush her to him.

  What he really wanted was to push her back on the bed, climb on top of her and taste every inch of her, touch everywhere. Strip her fast, open his jeans and Jesus, just slide right into her.

  But he couldn’t do that. Take it slow, he told himself. It was hard. Every muscle was tense with desire, his hands wanting to hold her so tightly he was afraid he’d hurt her. Against her back, he opened his hands so he wouldn’t clutch her.

  Suddenly, everything had to be coordinated. He had to remember to breathe, to not grab her, to not throw her on the bed.

  But another kiss, yeah.

  His eyes were closing and so were hers, when they both heard a loud noise, like metal imploding, followed by a rat-tat-tat sound. Which could almost have been gunfire, but wasn’t.

  Honor’s eyes blinked and she fell back down on her heels, looking lost. “What was that? Are people firing guns?” she whispered. Stepping back, she loosened her grip on his shirt. Matt missed her body heat immediately.

  On instinct, he took her hand and kissed the palm. He’d wanted to kiss her again and had missed his chance. This would have to do.

  But first, he had to reassure her. He didn’t often smile, and particularly these past few months there’d been nothing to smile about. He felt like his cheeks would crack when he tried on a smile for her. “No, it’s not gunfire. If it had been, I’d have rushed you to our safe room. There was … an accident a few weeks back and we’re rebuilding.”

  An accident was one way to put it. A drone missile attack was another way. His good buddy Nick Mancino and his woman, Dr. Kay Hudson, had nearly been killed by a drone. But in combat, unlike in horseshoes, close didn’t count.

  And they’d killed the bastard in the end.

  Always a good thing.

  She was looking up at him silently. He stared back. She was an eye magnet. Every time he looked at her he noticed something new. Like her eyes. That pale luminous gray with a rim of darker color. They were like spotlights, or tractor beams in old sci-fi movies. And her hair. It wasn’t just red. Auburn, a chick would call it. In the bright light of the wall screen, there were a thousand colors in her hair, from pale blonde to dark brown. Her hair was completely natural because there wasn’t a hairdresser in the world who could create that color .

  There were intelligence and character in that face. She looked young and was. Thirty one was young nowadays, but she also looked seasoned, like she’d seen a lot. He knew what that felt like.

  He couldn’t tear his eyes from hers.

  Whoa.

  He’d been staring for a long time. Not cool. And she’d said she was hungry, and here he was, keeping her from food.

  Matt stepped back a step because it was either step back or step forward.

  “I brought you some clothes to change into .” He waved at the foot of the bed where he’d put some folded clothes. She was about the same size as Summer Delvaux, Jack Delvaux’s wife. He’d just blindly pulled out a bunch of stuff so Honor could choose. Thank God Summer was a neat freak, everything was clean and folded and actually arranged according to color. Matt had never seen that before and had se
nt up a silent blessing to his friend’s wife because that color coordination meant he wasn’t going to fuck up his choices. He’d picked up things in green which seemed like a color that might suit Honor.

  Right on the head because she fingered the pile approvingly. There were several soft pants, tops and a couple of jackets. Socks and underwear. He’d winced picking that stuff out, intending on apologizing to Summer later, though knowing her, helping a woman in distress would absolutely meet with her approval.

  Honor stood with the pile of clothes in her hands.

  “You’re hungry,” Matt reminded her.

  She nodded.

  “So — ” he gestured awkwardly. “I’ll let you get to it. Do you think you can find your way to the breakfast nook? It’s across the great hall, next to a willow tree in a big blue vase.”

  She nodded again, eyes huge.

  “Right.” Matt backed away, really really glad that she was watching his eyes and not his groin, because he had a boner that wouldn’t quit. He turned and exited the door with a sigh of relief, trying to think of sad things to get his boner down.

  He’d seen a lot of bad and sad things in the ’Stan. By the time he crossed the Great Hall, his wood was under control. Usually his dick was obedient. It did what he told it to do. But Dr Honor Thomas was testing the limits.

  The outfit was pretty and comfortable. Honor had lucked out in being rescued by someone who took her to a place where so many women kept spare clothes. She took a long, leisurely shower, donned sweat pants and a tank top and then a zippered hoodie in soft pure cotton, all in a flattering shade of green, found a pair of ballerinas in her size and was ready to go.

  Honor moved slowly. In her normal life, she zipped through things. Her morning shower was really fast and breakfast was fast and she was fast. Moving slowly wasn’t her style. But moving at all right now was a miracle, though she was getting better.

  Right now, she didn’t feel that bone-deep sensation of weakness she had the past few days, as if her muscles couldn’t hold her up. She was getting stronger by the day. It was the washout of the drugs but it was also the rest and good food and lack of fear.

  And being looked after by Matt Walker.

  He was by her side constantly and it was impossible to feel fear when he was near. But it wasn’t just a lack of something she felt in his presence. There was something else now — hot sexual desire. That kiss had sparked her back into life, her entire body coming alive in an electrifying shock to the system. Honor had had boyfriends, lovers, but nothing had ever made her feel like that — like coming into contact with life itself, a primal force, magnetic in its hold.

  And addictive. Right now she needed to be in Matt Walker’s presence like she needed food and water and air.

  Funny how that was. Honor prided herself on not needing anyone. It was even a bone of contention with her dad, who wanted her to need him, who’d desperately wanted her to work with and for him. But that wasn’t her, wasn’t her nature. You couldn’t become an ER doctor if you weren’t independent and self-sufficient by nature.

  When Matt rescued her from the river, she’d been at the lowest point of her life. She remembered with a sick feeling how weak she’d been, how close to death. How her light had almost been snuffed out. She’d have drowned if he hadn’t rescued her and afterward, she’d been so frail and sickeningly disoriented, her life force almost gone.

  In his presence, she borrowed some of his strength and determination. When he left the room, it flicked an off switch in her.

  This wasn’t her, though it was her right now. Right now, she needed Matt Walker and wasn’t afraid to admit it to herself, shameful though it was.

  His instructions were clear. The room door closed behind her, sliding shut automatically with a silvery whooshing sound. He’d said there was a Great Hall and there it was, right in front of her. Amazing.

  A huge plaza full of glossy plants, flowering bushes, even trees. The air smelled fresh and clean and lightly perfumed, like a secret exotic garden. Pave-stoned paths criss- crossed the plaza among the plants and the way across was clear. She headed toward the other side, forcing herself to keep walking straight ahead. The place begged for a person to linger. Perspex benches lined the walkways. One was right under an amazing magnolia tree, white fleshy flowers in full bloom, smelling like heaven.

  Walking past that required real discipline.

  But soon the smell of muffins and freshly baked bread overwhelmed the delicate fragrance of flowers as she exited from the Great Hall and, just as Matt had said, two arches to the right after the huge willow tree was a meal nook.

  He was placing two plates on an ash table but looked up as she approached.

  His dark gaze was like a punch to the stomach. It took her breath away and stopped her in her tracks. She had to force her feet forward. His eyes followed her as she made her way to the table and she felt almost touched. When he looked away it was as if someone holding her tightly had let her go. She nearly stumbled.

  “Here.” He slid a plate in front of her and she looked down. Breakfast in her house was usually a Danish held in her teeth while she put on her jacket, on her way out the door. No time even for coffee, which she got from the hospital vending machine.

  This was almost sinfully elaborate and more than she ate in a day. When she hesitated, he put a fork in her hand. “Eat up. You don’t have to be a doctor to see that you need to regain your strength.”

  The plate was more a platter than a plate and it had a full serving of scrambled eggs, six pieces of crisp bacon and hash browns. His steaming plate was heaped even higher with food.

  A smaller plate held two bran muffins and a lemon bar. That was more like it. Matt placed a mug of piping hot coffee in front of her and she slid it toward herself with both hands, pulling in the fragrance.

  “This smells delicious. About as far from hospital coffee as you can get.”

  He pushed a milk pitcher and sugar bowl over too. “My company solved a big problem for a gourmet coffee importer. Stock was disappearing from warehouses. We solved it and we have the most amazing coffee in perpetuity. I think this is Colombian. Some kind of rare variety.”

  She knew how it worked. “The beans gathered by virgins under the full moon?”

  “Exactly. Now eat —”

  A loud noise came from far away. His eyes met hers. That was the exact sound that had interrupted what would have been an epic second kiss.

  “Sorry about that. They want to finish the work fast. They might actually finish today.”

  “No problem.” Honor sipped the coffee, feeling the fragrant warmth all the way down to her stomach. It was truly sterling coffee. For coffee like this, they could have a drum concerto in the Great Hall for all she cared.

  She was startled by the opening bars of Born to Run. Matt pulled out a super sleek, super thin phone. Unlike any brand she’d ever seen. “Sorry again.” He thumbed the screen. “My colleague who is helping oversee the rebuilding. He’s coming with some news.”

  Matt stood up, got another mug and filled a platter with enough bacon and scrambled eggs to choke a horse, plus four muffins.

  “Walker,” a basso profundo voice said right behind her. She jumped, a little coffee sloshing over onto the table. She hadn’t heard anything at all.

  “Goddammit, Jacko.” Matt wiped the table. “Make some noise when you walk, man. Gets fu—freaking creepy.”

  Honor turned around and stared. If Matt hadn’t been there she’d have panicked and run. Standing at the table was the scariest looking man she’d ever seen and she’d grown up around stevedores. He wasn’t as tall as Matt but was definitely as broad, with massive bulging biceps. He was wearing a gray sweatshirt with the sleeves ripped off and his arms looked like they’d been stuffed with basketballs.

  But it wasn’t the oversized and freaky muscles. It was the man’s expression. He was dark, with flat expressionless eyes. He looked like he could kill you without a moment’s qualm, hostility and col
dness coming off him in waves.

  Matt sighed. “Honor, meet my teammate in the military and now one of my co-workers, Jacko Jackman. Jacko, meet Honor Thomas. Doctor Honor Thomas.”

  “Ma’am,” he said, his voice so deep it echoed in her diaphragm. She knew all about vocal cords and it seemed impossible that that sound emanated from a human throat.

  Thank God he seemed to show no signs of wanting to shake hands. Honor needed her hands for delicate surgery, she didn’t want one of them crushed. Matt’s hands were large and broad and strong but this guy’s hands looked like they could crush steel.

  They stood awkwardly for a moment, though this Jacko showed no sign of feeling awkward. He was impossible to read. He simply stood at what she recognized as parade rest — legs braced shoulder width apart, hands folded neatly in front of his crotch.

  “Sit,” Matt ordered. “I fixed breakfast for you, too.” He slid the platter stacked with food in front of Jacko. “Nick told me you have some things to report?”

  Jacko nodded.

  “And Dante’s coming up?”

  He nodded again. Clearly, speaking actual words hurt him.

  Matt turned to her. “Dante is Jacko’s father. He’s ex DEA and a really good investigator. We called him in to get his input.”

  Honor barely heard him, having tripped in her head over the idea of Jacko having a father and not being hatched.

  But something had to be said. “Ahm. Cool.”

  Matt nodded and Jacko picked up a fork and demolished all the food in the wink of an eye. It was astonishing to watch. Honor dropped her eyes to her plate to split up her huge bran muffin into four parts and when she looked up again, the muffins on his plate had disappeared. Not even crumbs around his mouth. He was staring fiercely at her as if she’d done something wrong. And then switched his cold gaze to Matt, as if he’d done something wrong. So this Jacko was an equal opportunity grouch.

  Meeting his dark cold gaze was uncomfortable so she glanced around the room rather than looking at him. They were in what was clearly a breakfast nook — small, efficient kitchenette, ash table and ash chairs — open to the Great Hall.