Spy Snow Leopard (Protection, Inc. Book 6) Read online

  “Justin, I’m sure everyone’s like that. Do you really think you’re the only person to be afraid for a few seconds before you risk your life?”

  “Nobody says so.”

  “You didn’t say so,” Fiona replied. “Look, being afraid doesn’t make you less brave. It makes you more brave. There’s nothing special about doing something you’re not afraid to do.”

  “Yeah, well, that’s the problem. There’s something I’m scared of, and I’d actually rather not do it.”

  “What is it?”

  “I know we agreed to keep our hands off each other.” His muscles began to tense again as he went on, “But I’m scared that if you stop touching me, and if I fall asleep like that, I’ll... I’ll...”

  He didn’t need to finish. She knew what he was thinking. He’d be right back there on the cold metal table.

  Tightening her grip around him, she said, “I’m not letting go of you, Justin. I...”

  She wanted to say, I’ll never let you go.

  But he didn’t want that. He didn’t want her. Not as a mate, anyway.

  “You’re my friend,” she said instead, trying to keep her voice steady. She didn’t want him to know that she was holding back tears. “Go to sleep. I’ll hold on to you.”

  Justin let out a long, fluttering sigh. Then she felt him relax. When he spoke, his voice was calmer than it had been since he’d woken up. “Thanks. I’ll get your box of chocolates later.”

  “With a red ribbon?”

  He shook his head. “Green. To match your eyes.”

  Justin settled himself against her, and she felt him yawn. Then, with his head on her chest and his soft hair caressing her throat, he lay still. Within minutes, his deep breathing told her that he was fast asleep.

  Fiona lay awake longer, holding him close. She knew it made no difference whether she slept or not—it wasn’t as if she could scare nightmares away—but she felt like she needed to stay awake to guard his sleep.

  His words came back to her as vividly as if he was whispering in her ear: They strapped me to the table. I fought and fought.

  She shuddered. Justin stirred in his sleep, his fingers flexing against her back.

  “I’m here,” she murmured, stroking his hair. “I won’t let you go.”

  He gave a soft sigh and turned his head into her touch. Now his lips were pressed against her throat. Fiona shivered, though not from cold. Then weariness overcame her, and she too slept.

  She awoke to golden morning light.

  Justin lay nestled into her side, with one arm thrown over her waist. He was fast asleep. A bar of sunlight fell across his face, turning his eyelashes to tiny fans of flame.

  Fiona eased herself up, bracing herself on her right hand, to get a better look at him. She expected him to wake up the instant she moved, ready for danger, but he slept on.

  When she’d watched over him at the Ritz, he’d looked pale and worn down, his bones sharp beneath the skin and his body tense, as if even sleep brought him no true rest. But the sun of Venice had given him a warm tan, and the meals he’d cooked had filled out his body. He was no longer painfully thin, but as lithely muscled as the leopard he could become.

  Normally, even when he seemed happy, there was an underlying wariness to him, as if he was forever waiting for the other shoe to drop. It clung to him even in sleep. But now, for the first time since she’d known him, he looked at peace.

  Fiona felt a tremendous rush of tenderness toward him. She wanted to protect him and heal his wounds, fight by his side and hold him all night.

  I love him.

  The realization was terrifying, but undeniable. She loved him like she’d never loved any man before. Like she’d never love any other man. And though he was right there with her, even touching her, she could never have him the way she wanted to have him. He was willing to be her friend, but nothing more.

  Her eyes burned as she thought, This is what happens when you lose control of your feelings. If I can be content with being Justin’s buddy, then I’ll be happy that I’ve gained a friend. If I keep wishing I could be his mate, then I’ll be frustrated and lonely and feel like I’ve lost out on something I never had to begin with.

  Her snow leopard gave an annoyed hiss. You are his mate.

  Tell him that, Fiona retorted.

  The big cat gave a feline shrug. Our mate has been badly wounded. He is in too much pain to see clearly. Once he feels better, he will come to his senses.

  Fiona doubted that very much. Sure, once he recovered more, he’d be ready for a relationship with someone. But no amount of emotional healing on his part could change who Fiona was, any more than everything she’d done since she’d joined Protection, Inc. could erase her past.

  But there was no point dwelling on what couldn’t be changed. She’d made her choices, and now she had to live with the consequences. That was all there was to it.

  The burning in her eyes increased until a tear overflowed. It fell to Justin’s cheek with a tiny splash.

  Fiona jerked back, horrified, as he opened his eyes. The movement jarred her shoulder, and she winced.

  Justin sat up, his eyes widening with alarm as he took in the tears that ran down her face. “You should’ve woken me up! Let me get my kit, I’ll give you—”

  “No, no,” she said hurriedly. “My shoulder’s fine. It aches a bit, that’s all. I don’t need anything for it.”

  Justin, who had already swung his legs over the edge of the bed, stopped still, frowning. “You’re crying. If it’s not your shoulder, what is it? Did you have a nightmare?”

  She could give him that excuse, and save herself the hideous embarrassment of confessing her unrequited love. It would be so easy to convince him. He’d already half-convinced himself. “Yes,” she could say. “I had a terrible nightmare. I dreamed I was bleeding to death. I feel all shaken up, just like you said.” He’d hold her and comfort her and tell her it was normal after being wounded in combat. And that would be it.

  It was incredibly tempting. She knew he’d believe her. And if she told the truth, it would make their relationship much more awkward, and make her seem pathetic. And needy.

  No, hissed her snow leopard. Do not lie to your mate!

  Fiona gritted her teeth. The idea of telling Justin the truth was so much scarier than facing armed terrorists had been.

  “Fiona?” Justin laid his hand over hers. “If you don’t want to talk about it...”

  And there he went, giving her an easy out. She wouldn’t even need to lie. She could honestly say, “I don’t want to talk about it.” He’d make the wrong assumption, of course, but wasn’t that really on him?

  No! Fiona told herself. It’s too late for me, but I’m not going to lie to him now. Justin deserves better.

  “I didn’t have a nightmare.” To her horror, she once again dissolved into tears as she went on, “I was crying because—because I’m in love with you—and you’re not in love with me.”

  For a moment, Justin simply stared at her in utter astonishment. Then a brilliant smile broke over his face, bright as the rising sun. “But I am.”

  He leaned in and kissed away her tears. His lips were warm against her skin, his touch gentle. He stroked her back as if she was a cat, and like a cat, she arched her back into his hand. And then his lips met hers, and his passion proved his feelings better than words ever could. A part of her that had been frozen for years melted like frost under a summer sun.

  He does love me, she thought, almost too dazed to respond. Maybe I don’t deserve it. Maybe I’ll lose it once I he knows my secret. But right here, right now, Justin loves me.

  “Should I stop?” Justin asked suddenly.

  “What? Why?”

  “Your shoulder.”

  She had completely forgotten about it. Now that he’d brought it to her attention, she noticed that it did ache. But she had absolutely no wish to stop.

  “Just don’t throw me up against the wall,” she said.

&
nbsp; “I’ll save that for later,” Justin said with a grin. “And speaking of safety...”

  “You don’t need to run out for condoms. I have an IUD.”

  “Just as well,” he remarked. “No idea how to ask for them in Italian. I’d probably come back with an eggplant. Or—”

  She interrupted him with a kiss. Their tongues met with equal passion, sending delicious tingles of pleasure up and down her spine. His strong arms closed around her back, making her feel safe and protected. His hands slipped under the short hem of her nightgown, stealing their way up her thighs until she gasped into his mouth. His attention was on her, for her, and burning with desire.

  Justin carefully lifted off her nightgown, slowly working it over her injured shoulder. He set it aside, then sat back and looked at her naked body. The heat in his eyes was like black fire. She felt herself get wetter just from watching him watch her, as if she was the most desirable woman in the world. As if he’d die of longing if he couldn’t have her, right now.

  “You’re so gorgeous.” His voice was husky. “I’ve got the most beautiful thing in the most beautiful city in the world, right here in this room.”

  “What about the Grand Canal?”

  Justin shook his head, smiling. “Not even close. It isn’t warm. It doesn’t breathe.”

  Fiona reached up and tugged at his boxers. They slipped off, leaving him naked. Then she too got to feast her eyes. He was perfectly proportioned, tall and leanly muscled, with long legs and broad shoulders. She found herself fascinated by different parts of his body in turn, now that she finally had permission to look her fill. His fingers were long and graceful, his collarbones and the hollows of his pelvis beautifully sculptured, his nipples pink nubs that she couldn’t wait to tease with her fingers and mouth.

  His rock-hard erection showed her just how much he wanted her, not just with his heart and mind but with his body. A glistening drop of liquid beaded at the tip. She sat up and licked at it, enjoying its slippery sweetness. Justin groaned at the touch of her tongue, his body stiffening and his fists clenching at his sides.

  Then he moved back. “Better save that for later. I haven’t made love in three years. At least. And I only get one shot.”

  “Oh, I’m sure you can go more than once.” Teasingly, she added, “Maybe you’re no spring chicken anymore, but you’re not that old.”

  He looked at her with such tenderness that it made her heart ache. “But there’s only one first time with you.”

  And so when he started to crouch down on the bed, she pulled him back up. “You’re right. For me too. So let’s be face-to-face. I’m ready now.”

  He lowered her down until she was reclining with her back propped up by the pillows. “I think this’ll be the least jarring position for you. But stop me if it hurts.”

  She couldn’t imagine that she’d notice if it did, but she nodded. Her anticipation was so intense that she was trembling with it, her breath shuddering in her throat, her heart pounding. Justin too was breathing hard, his hands shaking. She had the sense that he was barely holding himself in check.

  He knelt over her thighs. Even that contact was enough to make her gasp. His steel-hard erection touched her mound, sending a shock of pleasure through her body. She instinctively thrust up at him, making him whisper, “Easy. Let me do the work.”

  He bent to kiss her. Eagerly, she kissed him back. Their lips locked together as she stroked his fine hair, his rough stubble, the smooth muscles of his back. He slowly pushed through her slick folds until they were fully joined, then began to gently rock inside her rather than thrust. She’d never felt anything like it. Every movement sent waves of pleasure through her entire body, building and building until she could hardly bear it.

  She forced herself to open her eyes, which had fallen closed. She wanted to see Justin’s face. His eyes were open, gazing at her with so much love that she felt like her heart would break. Or maybe it had already been broken, and what she felt now was the ache of healing.

  The waves crested and broke over her in a crescendo of ecstasy. For a brief but eternal moment, she didn’t know where she started and Justin left off. They were one being, joined together in a timeless joy.

  As she lay contented in his arms, toying with his silky hair, Justin suddenly chuckled, his chest vibrating against hers.

  “What’s so funny?” she asked.

  “You,” he said. “You slept in a bathtub for an entire week, when we could’ve been doing this instead.”

  “People who sleep on the floor shouldn’t throw stones,” she retorted. Then, curious, she asked, “Why did you?”

  “I’m guessing the same reason you were in the tub. I thought you weren’t in love with me. Well, and also I figured I’d be dead in six months, max. And even if I wasn’t, I thought you deserved someone who wasn’t so damaged. I didn’t want to tie you down.”

  “You don’t.” Her fingers interlaced with his, then closed tight. “You lift me up.”

  But she couldn’t help thinking of her other reason for denying their bond. What would happen if Justin learned the truth about her past—the truth about her?

  Nothing, purred her snow leopard. Except bring you closer together.

  Fiona doubted that very much. The thought of telling him felt like running naked into a snowstorm. But as she’d told him, there was nothing brave about doing something that didn’t scare you.

  “I’ve been keeping something from you,” she admitted. “But I don’t want there to be any more secrets between us.”

  Justin clasped her hand, running his thumb in little circles over the back of it. “You don’t have to tell me anything until you’re ready.”

  She swallowed. Her heart was beating quick as a rabbit’s. “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be. Let me just get it over with. And then you can think... whatever you’ll think.”

  He didn’t so much as blink. His dark eyes, that could look so cold and hard, now seemed soft as velvet. “It’s not exactly shocking that some bad things happened to you. You never talk about your past. It’s like you sprang full-grown from the Protection, Inc. office. So I already know something happened. I just don’t know what. But whatever it is, it won’t make me think less of you. And—”

  “You can’t know that!” Fiona burst out.

  As if she hadn’t spoken, he went steadily on, “And it won’t make me love you any less. Because nothing could.”

  Chapter Eight

  Fiona’s Story

  I loved my father.

  My mother died having me, so Dad raised me. He was a mechanic. When I was a little kid, I used to hang around his shop. At first I’d just pass him his tools. It was our game. He’d hold out his hand and say, “Torque wrench,” and I’d hand it to him, like he was a surgeon and I was a nurse. The people who brought in their cars thought it was hilarious. By the time I was seven, he was teaching me how to do basic repairs. For my ninth birthday, he bought me my own tool kit, with tools small enough to fit my hands. I wish I still had it...

  That was the year he died. A drunk driver hit his car while I was in school. Dad was killed instantly. The driver was barely scratched. He was a rich guy and could afford a good lawyer, and he used it to get probation. Never served a day in jail.

  Mom and Dad didn’t have any family. We were it. So I was placed with a foster family. I said I didn’t want them, but they told me it wasn’t about what I wanted, it was about what I needed. I said I didn’t need anyone. They didn’t listen, of course. So every time they took their eyes off me, I smashed everything in sight. They finally couldn’t take it any more, and sent me back to the social workers.

  Right away, another couple wanted me. I guess I was a cute kid. But the man made the mistake of telling me I could call him Daddy. Two sets of replaced china later, I was sent to a group home. And I stayed there.

  It wasn’t a terrible life. I definitely liked it better than foster parents trying to get me to love them. The food was institutional and my clothe
s were cheap and I didn’t get any luxuries, but luckily it was near a public school with a good science and technology program. It had an electronics lab where I could tinker to my heart’s content. It also had a computer lab, and a teacher who used to work for Google. I ended up getting a scholarship to study computer science.

  College was fine. I did well. My professors liked me. I didn’t make any friends, but I hadn’t in school or the group home, either. It didn’t bother me. I told myself I didn’t need anyone. I wanted to learn everything I could. Not just about computers, but finance, too. I had a goal in mind, and it wasn’t to be the top of my class.

  When I was nine, I’d made a promise to myself. It was to get revenge on the man who killed my father.

  So I kept tabs on him. For thirteen years. It was easy; I was still in the same city, and he was all over the internet. His name was Jared Kelly, and he owned a pharmaceuticals company that was infamous for jacking up the price of medications that people needed to live. He’d killed my father and gotten away with it, and people were dying when they could’ve lived if he hadn’t decided to charge them seven hundred dollars per pill.

  By the time I graduated from college, I’d come up with a plan and learned enough that I thought I could do it. I bought myself a few outfits that looked pricier than they really were, plus a cell phone that I made a couple little adjustments to. And I went to a club where Kelly liked to get drunk and hit on pretty blonde women who were young enough to be his daughter.

  It was so easy. That was what amazed me. I’d spent years planning contingincies for everything that could possibly go wrong, but nothing did.

  I let Kelly get a look down my shirt, and next thing I knew, he was driving me to his home. I told him how famous and brilliant and rich and handsome he was, and he ate it up. When we got to his house, I told him how great that was, and he showed me the entire place, bragging all the way. He had a laptop lying right there on the living room table.

  He asked if he could get me a drink, and I said I just loved fancy cocktails and I bet he knew how to make some really special ones. He said he could make me the best cocktail I’d ever had, but it would take a couple minutes. I said to go right ahead, and I’d wait in the living room so I could be surprised by it. I’d read about his super-special cocktail in an interview with him in some online magazine for wealthy creeps, and I knew it took about fifteen minutes to make.