“No.” Roman sighed. “I’ll go with her. I’ll take care of her.”
He sounded resigned, but he’d clenched his jaw so hard it looked ready to break. That vein over his brow was thumping double-time.
She needed to calm him down. “I’ll text and let you know when we’re done. Then we’ll debrief when we get back to London.”
“I’ll be on Kemp’s trail, but you can fill me in later,” Connor replied. “And Gus, you carrying?”
“Of course.” She had a small pistol in her purse.
“Don’t be afraid to use it.”
The phone clicked, and Roman stared at her.
“What are you carrying? Please tell me it’s a rape whistle.”
The poor man had no idea how to deal with her. Luckily, she was catching on quickly how to handle him. It all came down to bending a little. He was arrogant, but he did care about her. He was scared to care too much, of course. But he was here beside her. No, it likely wouldn’t be forever…but how would she know for certain if she never tried? She’d never told him in the past how she’d felt, just lashed out in hurt when he hadn’t felt the same. As he’d pointed out, they were older, wiser. More tempered. Maybe with honesty and communication, they had a better shot.
She set the phone down and took his hand. “A rape whistle would only annoy the man. My Ruger, on the other hand, will take care of him. I have a license to carry. I’m trained and everything. My dad started taking Dax and me to the shooting range when we were tall enough to see over the counter. I got it into the country by having the Secret Service carry it for me.”
“Damn it, Gus. It’s illegal for you to carry that here. England is serious about their gun laws,” he insisted.
He was right, but he’d also forgotten a few things. She smoothed her hands up his shirt, all the way to his broad shoulders. Telling him about the midnight meeting hadn’t gone as bad as she’d feared. With some maneuvering and help from his friends, he’d agreed to go with her, and he’d only had a little fit. “That’s why I travel with a super-hot lawyer. He’ll get me out of whatever mess I land in.”
“That is not how it works, Augustine,” he argued. But he wasn’t putting distance between them.
“Are you saying you won’t save me?” She softened, looking up at him. She’d kicked off her shoes and was well aware that now he stood a few inches above her.
“You don’t need me to save you.” His hands encircled her waist. “You never have.”
“Everyone needs a little help now and then. I wasn’t going to sneak out on you. I admit, I considered it, but I’d rather have you with me.” She smoothed her thumb over that angry vein popping along in his forehead. “Stop worrying. Everything will be okay because we’ll be together. Besides, I would rather have you watching my back than Connor. He’s too sneaky for my taste.”
He took a deep breath and pressed his forehead to hers. “I know what you’re doing. You’re placating me.”
That wasn’t all she was doing. She was seducing him, too.
Gus raised her hands to his hair, running her fingers through the normally coiffed strands, and breathed him in. She loved how he smelled. He still wore the same aftershave he had in college. She knew if he didn’t pay someone to buy his suits, he likely wouldn’t have changed those either. He was a rock…and she’d been a hard place. What if they could manage the feat they hadn’t been able to all those years before? What if they could actually stay together and make them work?
“I’m calming you down so we don’t have to fight and you don’t have to have a stress-induced heart attack. Sit down for me.”
His hands tightened on her waist. “I don’t want you to go out there.”
Because he cared. Maybe more than a little?
“I’ll be fine. You’ll be fine. We’ll get whatever information Deep Throat has and we’ll be one step closer to untangling this mess.” Not to mention discovering who had killed her loved ones.
“You have to promise me something.”
She groaned inwardly. Was he really going to ask her to step back after tonight? Yes, he probably would insist she give him all the information she collected, so he could take it to Zack. Then he’d cajole or bully her into keeping her pretty nose out of the rest. She was doing her best to understand and accommodate him. Couldn’t he at least try to reciprocate?
He wasn’t there yet, and she had to accept that getting Roman to change his mind about anything wasn’t a quick process. So if he asked her to back off, she would give in. It would hurt, but this was likely all Roman could give her now if she wanted a tomorrow with him.
“What is it?”
“Promise me when we find out who did this to our friends that you won’t do anything rash. You won’t go after them by yourself. You’ll let me hire someone to make them die terribly and painfully while we sit back and watch.”
Gus smiled. That was more concession than she’d expected from him. It told her that he really was trying. “I will let you arrange the appropriate violence. But I get a front row seat.”
“How long before we have to leave for this crazy clandestine meeting we really shouldn’t take?” Roman asked, his lips touching her forehead, skimming down her nose.
“Long enough,” she murmured in a husky voice. “Why don’t you sit down?”
“I don’t want to talk anymore. I want to kiss you and touch you, forget we’re doing something reckless that may end badly.”
At least he no longer considered kissing and touching her in the reckless category. Another mark in the win column. “If you’ll sit down, I promise there will be very little talking, babe. I can’t talk with your cock in my mouth.”
He fell to the cushion below in an instant, spreading his legs wide with a groan. “Do you have any idea how many times I’ve fantasized about this in the last thirteen years?”
Her body hummed with energy, brimmed with desire. They didn’t have to be angry with each other to feel burning passion. That realization eased something deep inside her. She’d always been afraid they’d brought out the worst in each other, but this…this was different. They were different. She’d given him some trust, and he was repaying her with his own.
“Really?” she drawled. “Tell me exactly what your fantasy is. Do you want some hot secretary to come in and take care of your needs?”
She could role-play. It
might be fun.
He shook his head, his stare focused and serious. “My fantasies aren’t about some random woman. They’re about you, Augustine. They’re always about you.”
His words melted her, and she banished the tears that threatened. She didn’t remember him being so sweet, so open. Then again, they hadn’t talked much back then. If she’d challenged him by suggesting a midnight stroll with a potentially dangerous informant years ago, they would have moved immediately into the screaming-match portion of the evening. Now, they were able to have a non-confrontational negotiation. Maybe they were more equipped to deal with each other—and have a future together—after all.
“Tell me your fantasy about me, Roman.”
She started to unbutton her blouse, slowly, one button at a time, watching as his eyes flared, turned hot. They’d had so much fast and furious sex, so much raging passion without a lot of thoughtfulness or ease. Going slow and easy now seemed almost forbidden.
He reached for the Scotch, his body relaxed—with the single exception of his erect cock. It tented his slacks and made him look so masculine. Money and power and sex rolled off him, all directed her way.
“I’ll sit in my office and watch you walk by,” he confessed. “Sometimes, I leave my door open because I know what time you’ll pass. Every morning you grab a latte and walk to the press office at a quarter after nine, and every morning I think about calling out and asking you to come inside and shut the door.”
When she freed the last of her buttons, she shrugged her blouse from her shoulders and let it drop to the ground, gratified when his stare clung to her breasts. “And what do you intend to talk to me about, Mr. Calder?”
“Who said anything about talking? I’ll have you lock the door, and even though you’re a little surprised, you know that some of the work we do is important and requires secrecy. You are a bit surprised when I insist you strip naked for me.”
Now they were getting somewhere. She felt her lips curl up. “Do I comply? Do I strip for you, Mr. Calder?”
“You’re hesitant at first, but I explain how stressed I am and the only thing that can possibly fix my problems so I can help the president is for you to take off your clothes and get on your knees. I inform you this is a new part of your duties.”