“My father was an alcoholic and Clint basically raised me. He joined the Marines when I was seventeen. I think he wanted to hold off another year, but by then I was pretty self-sufficient and had already landed a bunch of scholarships. We grew up pretty poor.” She’d been considered white trash but didn’t tell Tucker that because it still shamed her. Intellectually she knew that was stupid, but some things ran deep. Being from a small town where everyone knew everyone else’s business made it hard to escape the scorn or, worse, pity of others. She could deal with scorn, but people feeling sorry for her was somehow worse. It was why she’d been so determined to get out of the town she’d grown up in and put miles and miles between her and everyone in her past. “My dad was a dick, but he wasn’t abusive. Just a freaking waste of space.”
She waited a moment, to see if he’d judge her, but he kept rubbing her back. She hadn’t even realized she’d tensed up. When he didn’t respond she relaxed and continued. “When girls my age were going on dates and excited about the prom or whatever school function, I was studying my ass off.” And she’d worked two jobs but didn’t say that. “Nothing was more important to me than getting out of that town. Clint saved what money he could for me. Said he didn’t need it while he was deployed anyway. All that combat and hazard-duty pay added up.” Her throat tightened and it took a moment for her to gather herself. She wasn’t even sure why she was telling Tucker all this. For some reason she wanted him to know something real about her.
“Anyway, thanks to scholarships and my brother’s help I was able to get a good education. He wasn’t that much older than me, but he was always more like a father to me. I didn’t think about it until I was older, but a kid that age shouldn’t have had so much responsibility thrust onto him. He did and never complained about it, never made me feel guilty or like a burden.” Her throat tightened again and despite her best effort, a few tears escaped.
“Shit, don’t cry, honey,” Tucker murmured, swiping at her cheek with one of his thumbs.
She didn’t look up at him, though. If she did she was afraid she’d kiss him or do something else equally stupid. She let out a watery laugh. “I’m fine, I swear. I just don’t talk about him much.”
“I’m sorry you lost him,” he murmured, his grip tightening just a fraction.
“Thanks.” He’d been in the Corps, so it was easier telling him this.
They were silent for a few minutes, but it didn’t feel awkward. The rumble of his voice actually surprised her when he spoke again. “About four years ago I almost died on an op. I can’t give specifics, but you might have seen a note about it in my file.”
She’d read his file thoroughly, and though good portions had been redacted she’d been able to glean enough information. “In California, right?” The file hadn’t said anything about him almost getting killed, though, just that someone else had died. A female agent.
“Yeah. I’d been on the op for about six months with my . . . partner, I guess you could say.” There was an odd note in his voice. Almost like muted anger. “We were more than just that, though. At first it’d been part of our cover, being lovers, but eventually it became real. For me anyway. I ignored things I shouldn’t have ignored, didn’t want to see that she was dirty.” He let out a sigh, the sound resigned, as he continued. “She betrayed me, thought she’d gotten me killed. It’s how I got this.” He tapped the scar on his throat. “We let her believe it because it was easier for me to extract myself from the op that way.”
“What happened to her?”
“Got killed a week later. Her own fault too, got greedy.” He let out a bitter laugh, the tension in him mounting.
Karen could feel his muscles pull tight under her fingertips. Against her better judgment, she smoothed a hand down his stomach. She wasn’t quite brave enough to wrap her arm around him. “Why’d you tell me?”
He shuddered under her touch but didn’t seem to mind. “You told me something personal and . . . I wanted you to know something personal about me. Something you couldn’t get from a file. Just so you know, I’m not fucking sorry she’s dead either.” There was a bite to his words.
“I don’t blame you.” From his tone she felt as if he expected that admission to revolt her or something.
He stilled for a moment. “Really?”
“Why would I? She betrayed you and her country. And for what? Fuck her. If it hadn’t been you, it would have been someone else she stabbed in the back.” That kind of betrayal was the worst. When you worked in certain fields, the men and women literally depended on you to have their back, to keep them alive. To turn on people you worked with day in and day out was so many kinds of wrong.
“I’m not a good man, Karen. I . . . I know you’ve read my Grisha file. Not all of it’s fake.” The words came out almost stilted. As if he didn’t want to tell her but was doing it anyway.
“I figured.” Did he think she wouldn’t understand that he’d done violent things to create his cover? It took a moment for it to register why he was telling her. Did he want to warn her off . . . him?
Silence descended on the room again, but this time it wasn’t calm. It wasn’t awkward either, but there was a palpable tension lingering in the air. It could be her imagination, but she didn’t think so.
Even with the faint light from the night-light and a few streams of illumination from the streetlights outside peeking through the windows, she couldn’t tell if he was aroused. The covers were bunched too much by his waist and she wasn’t completely draped over him.
She wished she was, though. Which was probably insane, considering the circumstances, but this man affected her in a way she didn’t completely understand.
Taking a chance, she shifted her body, moving her leg and hip so that she was cuddled closer to him. The second her leg brushed against his erection, he let out a quiet hiss.
“Sorry,” he muttered.
“You shouldn’t be,” she whispered, then cringed at herself. She risked a look at him. Being so close to him was wreaking havoc with all her good sense. Her nipples were already hard and she couldn’t help wondering what it would feel like to have those callused hands and hot mouth on her. She wondered if he’d be gentle or rough and realized it didn’t matter. Both options were arousing.
When she looked up into his eyes, only inches separated them. Despite the dimness, it was easy to make out the harsh planes of his face. It was clear he was turned on even without the physical indicator.
She shifted against him, moving up, ready to kiss him, but froze when he pulled back, his message clear. Oh God, she’d read the situation entirely wrong. Her face heated up and she was thankful for the dark as she pulled away and rolled over. How absolutely embarrassing.
“Karen, I . . .” His fingers skated over her spine. “You’ve been through a lot the past twenty-four hours. I don’t want you to do anything you’ll regret later. I . . . can’t take advantage of you,” he muttered. His voice was tight and raspy and he let out a low curse before she felt the bed dip as he got up.
Surprised, she turned over to find him striding from the room in quick, hurried movements.
She told herself to go back to sleep, to forget what had just happened. Of course that was impossible now. Flopping onto her back, she let out a groan. Why had she done that?
When she heard the shower in the guest bathroom start, she cringed again—until his words registered. Words that had been in direct contrast to the signals she’d read in his face and body. He didn’t want to take advantage of her? Fine, she’d take advantage of him.
Chapter 12
Safe house: a house in a secret location, used by spies or criminals in hiding.
Tucker let the steaming water rush over him and inwardly cursed himself. What the hell was wrong with him?
The sexiest, smartest woman I’ve ever met makes a move to kiss me, and I pull back like a fucking pussy? He should seriously be committed. He had more important shit to worry about right now, but thoughts of Karen consumed him. When she’d been practically draped across him, all he wanted to do was devour her mouth, to taste and tease every inch of her. His cock ached as he thought of her.
Groaning, he scrubbed a hand over his face, then paused at a slight shuffling sound. He’d brought his weapon with him, but it was on the back of the toilet tank. The shower curtain had some kind of Parisian theme on it and was too opaque to see through. Moving quietly, he started to reach for it but stopped at Karen’s voice.