Shadows and Silk Page 13

  Shane’s surprise was as obvious as his own if his indrawn breath was anything to go by.

  “Who the hell is this,” Shane whispered, looking at Dec for an answer.

  Brant could tell the woman was scared, but the way she tilted her chin in defiance reminded him a lot of Darcy, and he almost grinned as her black eyes spat fire in Shane’s direction. She was a tiny thing, barely more than five feet tall, but she wasn’t a kid. The loose black clothing she wore draped over womanly curves and her long black hair was pulled back severely from one of the most stunning faces he’d ever seen.

  “She has yet to tell me her name,” Dec answered, almost bored. “But I found her trying to sneak in past the guards before I disabled them and I found this,” he said, pulling out a black pistol, “hidden in her waistband. I’m a little curious to know who she is too.”

  “One of Ramos’s whores?” Shane asked, circling her, trying to throw her off balance.

  None of them missed the way she stiffened at Shane’s insult. It told them she understood English, and her silence wasn’t a lack of communication. All three of them spoke Spanish, but that wouldn’t tell them what they wanted to know.

  “What’s your name?” Shane asked her. “You might as well tell us. We’ll find out if you’re friend or enemy soon enough.” His grin was wolfish, and he raked his eyes over her body insultingly.

  Brant knew Shane would never do anything to hurt a woman or leave her if she was in trouble. It just wasn’t in his nature. He was a protector. And if it had been Shane who Vivian had gotten her claws into instead of Brant, Shane wouldn’t have been able to pull the trigger in the end and he’d have died. He didn’t know what it said about him that he had been able to pull the trigger. Nothing good, surely.

  “You are American soldiers, yes?” she asked. Her accent was slight, and there was no quiver of fear in her voice even though she held her hands together tightly in front of her.

  “Why would you ask that?” Declan asked in Spanish this time, throwing her off.

  “The way you move,” she answered back in kind. “The way you’re dressed. I need your help. My name is Elena Nayal. And Alexander Ramos has taken my father. Or his men did I should say. I’m afraid they’re going to kill him.”

  “Why would Ramos want your father?” Brant asked.

  “Ramos is always looking for those who speak and write Maya. My father is a descendent. As am I, though I cannot read the glyphs well. Everyone for miles knows of Ramos and that he’s always looking for those who can prove themselves useful to him.”

  “If your father is gone, why were you trying to get onto the hotel grounds?” Shane asked. He’d turned all business, crossing his arms over his chest and staring her down.

  She copied his gesture and stared right back. “Because Ramos’s men showed up at our home this morning. They just walked in and took my father from his breakfast. They struck my mother and left her crying on the floor. They didn’t see me in the back room, but I waited until they left and then I followed them.”

  The savage curse Shane let out said it all. She would have been killed if she’d been caught. It had been a brave, but stupid, chance to take.

  “They did not see me,” she said quickly. “But I followed them to the Palacio Concordia, and they took my father inside. I waited for what seemed like hours until they came out again, but my father was taken by two men in a car and I wasn’t able to follow. I thought I might be able to get a sense of where he was if I went onto the grounds. I know now that I had very little chance of finding him on my own. So I’m asking you for help.”

  “Shane,” Declan said. “Take her with you. Show her photographs of some of Ramos’s top men and see if she recognizes anyone. Then take her home, and I’ll put Huxley and Smith on watch just in case Ramos decides to make another visit to her house.”

  “Brady sent the pictures of the glyphs to your computer,” Shane said to Brant. “They’ll be waiting for you when you get back. You know the rendezvous point. My boys will take you back when you’re ready.”

  Brant and Shane fist bumped and he nodded to Declan before he walked out of the alley. He was ready to get home to Darcy. To see for himself that she’d spent the night safe and sound.

  ***

  It was almost dawn when the Zodiac brought him to shore. Brant swam the last fifty feet as the boat disappeared into the fog and back to the waiting helicopter. It would be gone before there was light in the sky.

  When Brant slipped inside the villa through the sliding glass doors, Jade met him much as he had her a few hours before—with a pistol pointed at his chest. He nodded to her and then looked for Darcy. His brow raised when he saw the empty wine bottle and Darcy sprawled out on the couch, snoring lightly.

  “Nice, Jade,” he said, bending down to pick up Darcy. She burrowed against his chest and let out a little hiccup.

  “Hey, I didn’t pour it in the glass,” Jade said, laughing. “Besides, she needed to get a few things off her chest. She’ll feel better for it and maybe won’t knee you in the balls as soon as she opens her eyes. Though from the things she told me, you probably deserve it.”

  “You can go now.”

  She laughed again and put her rifle over her shoulder as she headed toward the door. “Be thankful for what you have, my friend. You never know when it’s going to be taken away. It only comes once.” Her smile disappeared and he could see the sorrow in her eyes.

  “You really believe that?” he couldn’t help but ask.

  “Sure. What’s the point otherwise?” Jade saluted and disappeared, locking the door discretely behind her.

  He held Darcy closer and headed into the bedroom, placing her gently beneath the covers. He was too tired to take another shower, but he did anyway, getting the paint off his face and getting rid of the saltwater. When he came out again, exhaustion was pulling him under, and he had just enough sense to close the curtains and enshroud them in darkness before he fell into bed beside Darcy. He gathered her in his arms and inhaled her scent before sleep took him under.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The room was still dark when he woke sometime later, but his internal alarm clock told him it was at least mid-morning. Darcy wasn’t there, and panic set in before he remembered the team watching them from afar. If anything had gone wrong, they would have sent up a signal. But still, he was going to blister her behind for not waking him to tell him she was leaving. She’d probably just decided to go for a swim.

  He scraped his hands over his face and rolled out of bed. And then an idea began brewing in his head, and he was very anxious to meet Darcy out on the beach. The trouble would be finding a place to carry out his plan without all of SEAL team 2 being a witness.

  Brant pulled on a pair of swim trunks and realized Darcy had unpacked all their things and hung them neatly in the closet at some point. The sight of her clothes lined up next to his and her makeup on the counter next to his shaving supplies gave him a jolt, but it was one that filled him with warmth.

  The sudden need for her was like a drug, and he wondered if that feeling would ever dissipate. Maybe that’s what love was—an overwhelming need to just be with one person forever. It sounded possible to his way of thinking.

  He loaded one of the wicker baskets in the kitchen with supplies and a few extra goodies to sweeten the deal, and then headed out to the beach through the sliding glass door. The sun shone in a bright blue, cloudless sky, and there was just a hint of breeze carrying the smell of salt from the ocean.

  Eyes were trained on him from afar. He could practically feel the crosshairs on his head, and he gave the team a signal so they’d know he needed some privacy.

  It turned out Darcy had already thought of that when he reached the end of their stretch of the beach and her footsteps disappeared into the rocks. He set the basket on top of the nearest boulder and climbed on top, hefting the basket up and over to the little cove on the opposite side.

  What he saw there made his mouth water an
d his cock harden to painful proportions. The little cove would be covered with water at high tide, but for now it was smooth white sand, shaded by two palm trees that jutted out of the rocks to provide a small amount of shade. Small bits of driftwood and debris were gathered at the base of the rocks, but for the most part, it was pristine.

  And there Darcy lay in the middle of it—her large white towel spread beneath her and her body slicked with suntan oil. Her mostly naked body. Her white bikini top was draped across the rocks, and the matching bottom could hardly be called coverage. Brant scowled and looked out across the water, but the cove was pretty secluded, so the chance the SEALs had gotten a peek was minimal. At least she’d used some common sense for once.

  ***

  Darcy sighed and stretched under the heat of the sun, her limbs lethargic and her eyelids heavy. The breeze whispered across her skin like butterfly kisses, and she moaned as the kisses turned to heated licks across her breasts. Her eyelids fluttered open and she smiled, still thinking herself in a dream, as Brant’s heated gaze met hers.

  “Oh, it’s you,” she said softly.

  “Expecting someone else, were you?” he asked, rubbing his stubble across her sensitive skin and making her shiver.

  “A handsome pirate to steal me away on his ship and treat me like a princess as we traveled the seas.”

  “You get seasick.”

  She made a face. It just figured that her subconscious had to be the voice of reason during her fantasy. “Or maybe I was waiting for a dashing sultan to rescue me from murderous marauding mummies.”

  “Are we going to Egypt then?” he asked, the amusement in his voice obvious. “You’ve been reading romances again.”

  “I like that they live happily-ever-after,” she said on a sigh as his lips traced along her collarbone. “The hero always comes for her. In the end he can’t live without her.” Fingers trailed across her belly and up her ribs until they touched the undersides of her breasts. Just a skim of a calloused finger across her nipple had her gasping for air and her nipple beading in arousal.

  “What about me?” he asked. “Couldn’t I be your fantasy?” His voice was meant to seduce—to entice. “I would come for you. Always.”

  “But you wouldn’t stay,” she said sleepily, arching, searching for the hand that left her breast. “You used to be my fantasy. When I was a girl. I dreamed of you coming for me. Loving me. I like my new fantasies better. It hurts when you go away.”

  Darcy thought she heard her dream whisper something against her ear, and then those hot licks of flame trailed down her neck, suckling and nibbling until she was swollen and throbbing between her legs.

  “Tell me you love me again,” the fantasy voice whispered.

  The haze of the dream began to lift at his demand—as if he really needed to hear her say it. But there was no time to question or deny. His lips slanted across hers, his mouth fitting against her so perfectly that she trembled. It was a kiss different than the ones they’d shared before, but she didn’t know why or how. The heat of him overwhelmed her, and then his tongue rubbed against hers, devastating her senses, and when he broke away she was wide awake and realized her fantasy was reality.

  His eyes were wide and dazed, and she realized he was already naked against her—his body hot and hard—slicking across her skin as the tanning oil she’d applied rubbed onto him. Her body was floating in some weightless dream, but her limbs were so heavy she didn’t know if she had the strength to lift them.

  “More,” he said. “I need more.”

  She tried to shake her head. How much more could she give? He’d already taken everything from her. His mouth touched hers again and fireworks exploded behind her eyelids. His hands held her face tenderly, lovingly, as he savored the taste of her.

  When he broke away this time they were both panting for breath, and she could feel his erection thick and full against her thigh.

  “I want it all,” he said, kissing his way down her body, massaging her with his hands, and then moving between her thighs.

  His teeth scraped over her bikini bottoms, and he pulled them down, exposing her so the salty breeze kissed her netherlips. She wanted to squeeze her thighs together, to relieve the pressure building there, but he held her open, staring at her with hunger.

  “You’re so beautiful.” He traced his finger down the edge of one sensitive fold, and her hips came off the towel. “Close your eyes, love. I want you to do nothing but feel me in every way.”

  Darcy’s eyes fluttered closed and her other senses grew stronger—the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks, the scent of salt and coconut oil, and the heat of the sun warming her skin even as the breeze cooled it. A cloth came over her eyes and startled her, and she jumped even as Brant soothed her with gentle touches. He tied it behind her head, and now not even the smallest peak of light could be seen.

  “No cheating,” he said, kissing the tip of her nose. “Are you hungry?”

  “For you,” she said, her imagination going wild as she heard him moving around her, a rustling sound, followed by the distinct popping of a champagne cork.

  She gasped as cold liquid splashed across her breasts and belly, tickling trails running down the crease of her thighs and teasing her sensitized skin.

  “I never could get the hang of opening one of those,” he said. “Here, let me help you. You’re all wet.”

  Darcy moaned as he started at her breasts, licking and sucking the liquid from her skin, his tongue wrapping around each nipple, heating them, arousing them to tight buds that ached for something more. But he didn’t stay there long, and she gave a disgruntled huff when he continued down to her stomach and sipped away the rest of the champagne.

  “There. All cleaned up.”

  She shook her head in denial. She didn’t want to be cleaned up. And he’d missed the hidden trails of liquid that had slithered between her thighs. Her body shook with need as she heard more rustles, and then something cold and tart touched her lips. Her tongue darted out and tasted fresh pineapple, tangy and sweet, and she opened her mouth and took the fruit between her teeth.

  Brant’s lips followed, and he bit the other half of the fruit before taking her in kiss that left her head spinning and her heart racing. He repeated the process over and over again—with lush strawberries and juicy mango—drinking away the stickiness from her lips and chin before kissing her into oblivion.

  “I want you,” she said, her body so heavy with need she didn’t know how she’d be able to stand it a moment longer. “I need you inside of me.”

  “I’m going to take my time.” He gave her one more kiss and then said, “I’m going to touch and taste every inch of you. Now turn over. You’re looking a little tense.”

  That was an understatement. She was as taut as a tightrope, and her body felt so fragile she thought she might crack into a million pieces. He helped her roll over, and she waited, her body coiled, to feel what he planned to do next.

  “Relax, baby.” Something warm and thick drizzled across her back, and she moaned as his hands pressed into her muscles and he began a slow massage. He was true to his word—he touched her everywhere—not leaving out a single place on her body, so she felt like a limp noodle afterward.

  “Now lift your hips for me,” he said. And when she did, he slid his head beneath her so her pussy rested just above his lips. Warm breath blew against her—teased—and she knew he’d be able to see how wet she was for him. There was no hiding that kind of desire.

  The first lick into her was like an electric shock to the system. Her back bowed and she clamped her thighs around his head. And then his tongue became relentless, flicking and suckling, until she came to a blindingly fast orgasm that had her riding against his face.

  Her arms collapsed and her damp face lay against the soft terrycloth towel, and she realized the only thing she could hear was the rush of her blood running through her ears. Tears came to her eyes and she almost cried out in protest when the licks starte
d once more. She was too sensitive—too swollen to take much more.

  “You taste so sweet,” he said against her. “Like honey and rain.”

  His hands were still slick from the oil and he massaged her ass as he continued the long, slow strokes. And then his fingers grew closer and closer to her pussy until two fingers dipped inside while his tongue wrapped around her clit.

  “I can’t take anymore,” she pleaded. “It’s too much.”

  “You can take as much as I give you.”

  The tears fell faster and were soaked away by the cloth around her eyes, and she shook her head as the tingles started again low in her body. His fingers dipped inside her again, and then they pulled back to the small star of her anus, massaging the entrance with her own lubrication.

  A finger slipped inside and she caught her breath, unused to the sensations it caused. Nerve endings tingled and she rose up on her elbows so she could get better leverage. She pushed against him, trying to take more, and the sharp sting against her ass had her gasping in surprise. Her bottom was hot where he’d spanked her and she could imagine it turning a fiery red in the shape of his palm.

  “Ah, a greedy wench,” he said, adding a second finger to the first. “Don’t be impatient, love.”

  He stretched her, scissoring his fingers, and gaining a deeper entrance all the while his tongue played havoc with her clit and his other hand laid well placed slaps against her ass. She was so close to coming she could scream, but he was keeping her just on the edge.

  “Damn you, Brant. Finish it.”

  He chuckled against her swollen folds, and her eyes almost rolled back in her head at the new sensation. Her hips were thrusting against his face and fingers, and noises she didn’t even know she was capable of making escaped from her throat.

  The hand spanking her ass retreated, and then she felt more oil being dribbled over the tender area, his hand soothing where it had stung. And then he did it again, only this time the oil dripped between her buttocks and gathered where his fingers were piercing her, making it even easier for him to slide inside.