chapter 16
When four short knocks sounded on the motel room door an hour later, Nick hastily walked over to let his father in.
“Were you followed?” was the first question out of his mouth.
The secretary’s answering laugh resonated with genuine mirth. “Son, what do you take me for, an amateur? I was avoiding tails before you were even born.”
Nick rolled his eyes. “Right. I keep forgetting what an old fogy you are.”
“Not old. Distinguished.” Barrett’s shrewd eyes examined the room. “Where is he?”
Without a word, Nick marched over to the narrow closet and turned the doorknob.
The door opened to reveal an unconscious McAvoy with a gag stuffed in his mouth, and his hands and feet bound.
Secretary Barrett released an unhappy breath. “I’m damn disappointed in you.”
It took a second for Nick to realize his father wasn’t talking to him; Kirk’s brown eyes had been focused on his colleague when he’d voiced that bitter remark.
“How long has he been out?”
“About an hour,” Nick replied as he shut the closet door. “He should be coming to soon.”
Rebecca rose from the edge of the twin bed she’d been sitting on. “He gave us a name,” she told Barrett. “The person responsible for authorizing Project Aries.”
“I’m afraid to ask.”
Nick shot his father a grim look. “Vice President Ferguson.”
The secretary looked startled. “Troy? That’s ridiculous. Fred must have been lying. I’ll get the truth out of him when he wakes up.”
“I think he was telling the truth,” Nick disagreed.
“No. It’s simply preposterous. Troy has never offered any support for the defense platform. Trust me, I’ve had to fight him tooth and nail on every decision these past six years. Remember the rebuttal he gave on the issue during the reelection debate?”
“Apparently he’s a secret defense nut,” Rebecca explained. “Which kind of makes sense, seeing how crazy Howard is about social reform. The president might have chosen a different running mate if Ferguson had revealed his fervent support on the matter of national defense. If I was Ferguson and I had my eye on that VP office, I’d second every last idea and endorse every last plan the president proposed.”
“Yes, that’s a good point, but...” The secretary appeared stricken. “But allowing a virus to be tested on innocent people? I can’t imagine Troy initiating that.” With a sigh, Nick’s father glanced at the closet door. “Then again, I never would have imagined Fred would be embroiled in something like it either, and yet here he is.”
“So how do we want to handle this?” Nick asked.
“Clearly Ferguson’s role in this needs to be exposed,” Rebecca said firmly.
Barrett’s gaze sharpened. “You can’t be planning on putting this on the air without talking to Ferguson first.”
“Of course not. But with all due respect, Mr. Secretary, if the VP is guilty, I won’t be persuaded to cover it up.”
His expression grew strained. “We’re getting ahead of ourselves. First we need to determine if there’s anything to cover up.”
Nick’s jaw hardened in fortitude. “I’ll talk to Ferguson.”
“No,” his father said briskly. “This time it’s my turn.”
“Dad—”
“Don’t challenge me on this, son. Everything needs to be handled delicately from this point on. I can’t just accuse my vice president of engineering a virus that killed a thousand Americans after it wound up in the hands of terrorists. Troy deserves the chance to defend himself, to tell his side of the story before we jump to conclusions or make any allegations.”
“You really want to be the one to confront him?” Nick asked his father, who nodded in response. “Then you’re not doing it alone. I’m coming with you.”
“I’ll agree to that only if you agree to follow my lead.”
“Fine. And it has to be somewhere public,” Nick added in a stern voice he’d learned from his father. “If he’s guilty, he might panic and try to take you out right then and there. I don’t want you becoming another casualty in this mess, Dad.”
“How do you plan on getting Ferguson to meet in public?” Rebecca asked. “The man is surrounded by Secret Service agents 24/7 and whenever he leaves his residence, a thorough security plan is enforced. He can’t just meet you in a park or go for a stroll on the street.”
“The Veterans Gala,” the secretary said suddenly.
Nick wrinkled his forehead. “Come again?”
“Oh, right,” Rebecca spoke up, sounding excited. “I RSVP’d for that months ago.”
“There’s a dinner and gala at the White House tomorrow evening to honor our Vietnam vets,” the Secretary informed his son. “President Howard won’t be in attendance, not unless his itinerary has changed, but Ferguson is supposed to attend. As am I.”
Nick thought it over for a moment. “It’ll be at the White House, so the VP won’t risk making a scene. Which makes me feel a helluva lot more comfortable about exposing myself like that.” He paused, then nodded. “I like it. We’ll attend the event together and find a way to speak to Ferguson in private.”
“What about Fred? He was scheduled to attend, as well.”
“Tell everyone he’s sick. And in the meantime, we’ll leave him here in the motel with Rebecca.”
“Excuse me?”
Rebecca’s voice was laced with shock, and when he met her green eyes, he saw the anger glittering in them. Knowing he was about to get another argument, he stifled a sigh and said, “Dad and I can handle it. I need you here to keep an eye on McAvoy.”
“I’ll arrange for one of my guards to keep watch,” the secretary offered. “In fact, I think I’ll do that regardless. Connor can be trusted, and I don’t like the idea of you two staying here without protection.”
“Hear that?” Rebecca said with a bite to her tone. “Connor will watch McAvoy.”
The sigh slipped out. “There’s no reason for you to tag along, Red.”
“You mean other than the fact that I was invited and already RSVP’d?” Sarcasm dripped from each word.
“Then call and cancel. We don’t know what might be waiting for us there. What if there’s another hit squad lurking around, waiting for another shot at us?”
She opened her mouth to argue, but Nick cut her off again. “I’m serious, Rebecca. You’re staying here. I can’t split my focus, okay? If you come, I’ll be too busy worrying about your safety.” At her dark scowl, he softened his tone. “You promised to follow orders, remember?”
Her mouth set in a tight line. “Fine. I’ll stay behind, then.”
As relief fluttered through him, he shifted his attention back to his father. “You should probably go now. People might start wondering about your late-night excursions.”
Barrett nodded. “I’ll send that guard to keep watch on McAvoy. I’d recommend renting out the room next door and—”
“Already done,” Nick said with a crooked grin. “What do you take me for, an amateur?”
His dad’s eyes twinkled with humor. “Walk me out, son. And good night, Ms. Parker,” he told Rebecca.
“Night,” she murmured, her green eyes conveying a whole lot of displeasure.
Nick followed his father outside to where a Lincoln Town Car with heavily tinted windows was parked.
“She’s a feisty one, isn’t she?” the secretary remarked with a soft chuckle.
“Yep. Not to mention headstrong, argumentative, infuriating...”
Barrett clicked a remote to unlock the car. “So,” he said casually, “is it serious?”
Nick shifted in discomfort. “Nah, not really.”
“You sure about that, son?”
His dad’s piercing look was too shrewd, too knowing, and Nick found himself averting his eyes. “You know how it is in extreme situations, the whole adrenaline rush, the sense of urgency. Sometimes people get caught up in all those intense emotions.” He shrugged awkwardly and repeated himself. “You know how it is.”
“Actually, I don’t. Your mother and I were quite boring.”
Nick smiled. “The good kind of boring, though. You two were so in sync.”
“We were. She was a good woman, your mother.”
A lump rose in the back of his throat and he struggled to swallow it down. “I still miss her. Do you?”
“Every damn day.” The secretary reached for the door handle, then halted. “Son...Ms. Parker seems like a good woman, too, you know.”
Nick gulped again. “She is,” he agreed. “But...” He gave a helpless shrug. “She’s just not the right woman.”
He could have sworn he glimpsed a flash of disappointment in his father’s eyes, but then the older man offered a shrug of his own and opened the car door. “If you say so, Nicky. If you say so.”
* * *
Rebecca went to bed early that night, miraculously finding the strength to resist Nick’s advances even as her body begged her to indulge. But she couldn’t. She was too upset. Too hurt. And even though she was a woman who usually met challenges and confrontations head-on, she couldn’t bring herself to talk to Nick about what she’d heard him say.
She’s just not the right woman.
He probably hadn’t realized she’d been standing near the window. Or remembered that they’d left that window slightly open to air out the odor of mildew in the motel room.
God, when she’d heard him say that, it had been like a knife to the heart. The deep ache in her chest had ensured a night of tossing and turning, and that agonizing throb had been there when she’d opened her eyes this morning.
Nick seemed oblivious to her turbulent mood, or maybe he was just too distracted to notice. He’d been ducking next door a lot this morning to question McAvoy and get as many details as he could about Ferguson and any other potential players in this mess, and each time she watched his back disappear through the door, she imagined that it was for the last time.
Because soon it would be.
Because he didn’t want to be with her.
He thought she was headstrong and argumentative and—what was the last one? Oh right, infuriating.
Sometimes people get caught up in all those intense emotions.
Those words had stung, too, and still did as they floated back into her head. Was that what he thought this was about? She was so jacked up on adrenaline and danger that she’d jumped into his bed without thinking it through?
Rebecca was so troubled she didn’t realize Nick had returned to the room until his arms wrapped around her from behind.
She jerked in surprise. “Hey. I didn’t hear you come in.”
“You okay?” He planted a soft kiss on her shoulder, which was bare thanks to her spaghetti-strap tank top.
His lips were warm, firm, and that teeny little kiss sent a shiver of pleasure through her.
“I’m fine,” she said absently.
Nick’s breath tickled her ear. “No, you’re not. You’re still pissed off at me.”
When she turned to look at him, the guilty cloud in his eyes was hard to miss. “I’m not pissed off. I’m just...tired, I guess.”
“Tired of what?”
“Trying to convince you that I can take care of myself.”
“I know you can. And maybe it makes me an alpha Neanderthal, but it’s in my nature to want to take care of people. I...” Something oddly vulnerable flashed on his face. “I can’t stand the thought of something happening to you.”
Despite herself, her heart soared. He cared about her. Darn it, she knew he cared.
So why was he so against a future with her?
It can’t work, Becks. Deal with it.
That painfully blunt voice sent another shooting pain to her heart. But it was true—it couldn’t work.
Nick’s protectiveness was cute, and sure, maybe it made her melt just a little, but she would never be that sweet, docile housewife who’d sit around waiting for her husband to come home from work. That wasn’t a role she could ever play, a role that would ever suit her. Nick’s vaguely disapproving response to her admission that she wouldn’t quit her job after she had kids spoke volumes about the kind of partner he wanted, and no matter how much she wanted to be with him, she couldn’t give him what he wanted.
Story of her life, huh? Her parents had tried to pigeonhole her, mold her into what they wanted her to be, but Rebecca had always been that square peg that didn’t fit into the round hole. Even if she’d tried, she wouldn’t have been able to change her personality to please her parents.
And she couldn’t do it now to please Nick.
She had to end it.
She needed to end it.
But as she stood there in front of him, while he stroked her cheeks with his rough-skinned fingertips, she couldn’t bring herself to say the words.
One more time. She wanted him just one last time. Was that too selfish of her?
Heck, if it was, she didn’t care.
Blinking to control the tears stinging her eyelids, she slid her fingers into his dark hair and pulled his head down for a kiss.
* * *
Nick could taste the desperation on Rebecca’s tongue. Something had upset her, he knew that, but she didn’t seem interested in talking anymore. Her mouth was eagerly devouring his, and he didn’t have the strength to break that passionate connection.
As he kissed her back, his hands explored those delectable curves he was becoming addicted to. He skimmed his fingers up her bare arms, then let them travel down her body—over the sides of her breasts, the curve of her hips, the perfect roundness of her buttocks.
“I want you,” Rebecca murmured.
She led him toward the bed even as she continued to kiss him with an urgency that sent his pulse careening.
They stumbled onto the mattress, with Rebecca straddling his body and bending over to kiss him again. Her long hair fell like a curtain around their heads, tickling his neck and getting stuck between their mouths. With a frustrated moan, Rebecca pushed her hair aside and moved her mouth to his neck.
When she sucked on his flesh, Nick groaned and thrust upward to rub his throbbing erection into her core.
She straightened up, her breathing heavy, her cheeks flushed with desire. As their gazes locked, she slowly peeled off her tank top, then unsnapped her bra so that her breasts came free. Her nipples were already hard, two tight buds of arousal pleading for his attention.
As his pulse thudded in his chest, Nick reached up to play with those mouthwatering breasts, knowing how sensitive she was there, how much she loved it. Sure enough, she moaned and pressed those firm mounds deeper into his palms, and he gave them a squeeze that made her squeak with pleasure.
“C’mere,” he rasped.
He leaned forward on his elbows so he could capture one nipple with his mouth. The moment his lips closed over that rigid bud, she made a sexy little purring sound that sent a bolt of excitement straight to his groin. He kissed and tasted and nipped and teased, his stubble leaving red splotches on her perfect skin and bringing a rush of male satisfaction he probably should have been more ashamed of. He knew he shouldn’t be getting so turned on seeing his mark on her skin, and yet he was harder than he had ever been.
Rebecca reached for his shirt and shoved it off him, and once his bare chest was exposed, she kissed him right between the pecs. The sweet brush of her lips sent a shiver rolling through him. That shiver became a full-body shudder when she moved her mouth to one flat nipple and her tongue darted out for a taste.
“Do you like that?” she asked in a breathy voice.
“Darling, I like everything you do to me.”
“Good.”
Nick went mindless with need under her sweet exploration. Every kiss, every teasing flick of her tongue evoked a new rush of heat and a new jolt of impatience. Anticipation built deep inside him as that sexy mouth started to move lower and lower.
“Off,” she ordered when she reached the barrier of his pants.
Nick didn’t need to be asked twice. He unbuttoned, unzipped and undressed like the good soldier he was.
Rebecca laughed at his eagerness, then wiggled out of her own pants and underwear and tossed them on the other bed.
As usual, the sight of her naked body got him so hot he could barely breathe. He drew her back into his arms, so she was draped over his chest, and proceeded to explore her curvy body. She explored right back, running her hands over his face, his chest, his abs. Christ, her touch drove him wild. Actually, everything about her produced that result.
Apparently he had the same effect on her, because when he slipped one hand between her legs, he found her drenched with desire.
Nick choked out a groan. “How are you always so ready for me?”
She wrapped her hand around his rock-hard shaft and said, “I can ask you the same question.”
Then she brought him to her entrance and seated herself fully.
Nick shuddered with pleasure. Crap. He was so close to exploding and Rebecca hadn’t even started to move yet.
Breathing through his nose, he willed away the oncoming climax and dug his fingers into her waist.
“Take us over the edge,” he murmured. “Do it, darling.”
Something tender and vulnerable passed over her face.
And then she nodded and began to move.
Nick watched her face the entire time. Her heavy-lidded eyes, flushed cheeks, parted lips. Tiny sounds of pleasure left her mouth as she rode him, slow, sweet, gentle. When her movements grew erratic, her body squirming in agitation, Nick knew she was close. He promptly moved his hand to the place where they were joined and began to stroke her, and soon she was crying out and sagging forward, trembling wildly as she toppled right over the edge.
His own release swept him away to a plane of body-numbing bliss, tightening his muscles and fogging his brain. When he finally crashed down to earth, he felt something wet on his shoulder. Alarmed, he tipped Rebecca’s head back and saw the tears sparkling in her eyes.
“Did I hurt you?” he burst out.
“No. No, of course not.”
She broke the intimate connection by sliding off his lap, then reached for the box of tissues on the nightstand and hurriedly started cleaning up.
Nick studied her with growing apprehension. “Why are you crying, then?”
She didn’t say a word.
“Talk to me, Rebecca. Are you okay?”
“Not really,” she said in a small voice.
He was off the bed in a nanosecond, cupping her cheeks and wiping her tears with his thumbs.
“What can I do? Tell me what’s going on, damn it.”
Rebecca let out an audibly unsteady breath. “It’s over, Nick. I’m done.”
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