She ducked back in, frustration pulling at her features. "You saved us. Now I'm saving us. You really do want all the glory, don't you?"
"For fuck's sake. Not everything is a competition."
"Sorry, can't hear you. Too busy being awesome." She eased back out the window, the stolen gun clutched in her competent hands as she took aim at the black sedan pursuing them. Trying to avoid the main roads, Brandon swung around Hyde Park Corner, keeping the yawning darkness of Hyde Park to his left and avoiding the bright beacon of Buckingham Palace. Cutting his gaze to Natasha, he watched as she squeezed off several shots, pumping her fist in victory when the sound of squealing tires and then crunching metal pierced the night.
He tightened his grip on the steering wheel, the leather creaking beneath his hands. "Did you just--"
"Shoot the tires out in almost complete darkness?" She sent him an adorably cocky smile. "Sure did."
Something tugged painfully in his chest, and he fought the urge to curse. God, he was so angry with himself. He should hate this woman for what she'd done to him, but he couldn't. She might drive him mental, but, idiot that he was, he liked it. Needed it. In the six years they'd been apart, he'd dated plenty of women, and not a single one of them had challenged him, frustrated him, impressed him, and turned him on the way Natasha did without even trying.
The simple truth was, there was no one else for him except Natasha Rowe. Never had been, and never would be.
"Hey, you okay? You look upset." She laid a hand on his thigh and his knuckles went white on the steering wheel.
Now wasn't the time to process the confusing jumble of emotions churning through him, so he simply nodded and focused on getting them safely to the American embassy in Grosvenor Square.
"IT'S FINE, C. D. I can get to my room on my own." Natasha shot Brandon a tired smile. After barely getting away from Silayev's men, they'd turned the briefcase in at the embassy and then headed over to MI5 headquarters for a lengthy debriefing. Brandon must've sensed her fatigue because he'd insisted on driving her to her hotel.
"I wasn't trying to be chivalrous. I need the loo."
"Oh. Okay."
The elevator doors slid open on the fourth floor, and she led him along the hallway, her limbs heavy. Her eyes stung and her throat thickened when she realized that the heaviness wasn't exhaustion, but sadness. Tomorrow, she was headed back to Langley. Home and out of Brandon's life.
He shut the door to the bathroom and, although she wanted nothing more than to flop on the bed, she paced to the window. She looked out onto the lights of Grosvenor Square, leaning her head against the cool glass as rain pattered softly against it.
Tired though she was, her brain spun at a hundred miles an hour as she wrestled with whether or not to say anything to Brandon. Whether or not to tell him how she felt about him, to tell him how sorry she was for leaving all those years ago. Would he even want to hear it, or was she simply looking to ease her own guilty conscience?
She turned as he stormed out of the bathroom, his chiseled features taut with a thrilling combination of anger and lust. "Why do you still have this?" His voice was a low growl.
With long strides, he ate up the distance between them, a slim gold ring clutched in his strong fingers.
"
Did you go through my stuff?" Her voice rose, sharp with incredulity.
"Of course I did."
She laced her fingers together and twisted them, anxiety shooting through her and mingling with hope.
"Natasha." His voice was low, the three syllables of her name a warning that his restraint was fraying like worn rope. Excuses tumbled against each other in her brain, but she knew she owed him honesty. Owed them honesty.
"Because I couldn't bear to get rid of it."
"Why?" Something wild and desperate shone in his blue eyes, and she broke, unable to stop herself from being selfish and telling him the last thing he wanted to hear.
"Because I never stopped loving you. Because I regret leaving you with every fiber of my being."
"I see."
"I hurt you, Brandon."
He closed his eyes briefly. "Yes."
She licked her lips, and then spoke the words she owed him. "I'm so sorry. It was so ..." She blew out a long breath. "It was so wrong for me to leave like that. I know that now. God, I'm so sorry for hurting you, C. D." Her heart pounded in her chest as she spoke.
He inhaled sharply and then extended the ring to her. "Put it on." It wasn't a request, but a command, and a hot thrill chased up her spine. With a trembling hand, she took the slim gold wedding band and slipped it onto her left ring finger. He took one final step toward her, backing her into the window. Her breasts pressed against his chest, and he looked at her, that wolfish smile she loved curving his lips.