Dying Commitment (Lucky Thirteen) Read online

  I walked outside, and found Dylan sitting on a park bench. His gaze was watchful, careful. He might have looked like he was relaxed, but I could see the tenseness in his shoulders. I sat down beside him.

  “You’ve talked to him.” Well, that wasn’t exactly what I’d expected him to say. I hadn’t even thought about how he didn’t know about that night Jack had found me on the game. “You’ve been in contact with Jack Allen.”

  “He found me. Private messaged me.”

  “And said what?”

  “Not to come after him.”

  “So you did anyway.”

  “Yes.”

  “Did it never occur to you that this is what he wanted? I thought… it seemed like you were just being obsessive, and that was understandable, considering what had happened between y’all. But it’s not just that.” He frowned. “He’s obsessive about you.”

  “Doubtful. He shot me. Twice. In the chest.”

  “Yes. But he could have killed you any time. Think about it, Cady. He paid off Afonso to kill you instead of doing it himself. Then Afonso takes the laptop, once again paid by Jack. But we both know that Afonso isn’t good enough to actually achieve that objective. That leads us here, to Jacques, who is dead and pinned with a note taunting you, yet no one is here to come after you.”

  “I don’t understand what you’re getting at.”

  “He wants you dead, but he can’t do it. Or maybe he doesn’t want to yet.”

  “He’s already killed me once,” I reminded Dylan. “He has no qualms about doing it again.”

  “I think he does. But mostly, I think he’s playing with you, screwing with your head. Maybe…” he trailed off.

  “What?”

  “Maybe you should give this up.”

  I stared at him. Was he seriously telling me this?

  “Just hear me out.” He put his hands up in a surrender position, heading off my profanity-laded protest. “There’s something else at work here. If he’s boasting that he’s one step ahead of you, why hadn’t he killed you? He could have done it any time. Which means he wants more than just your life but we don’t know what it is.”

  I didn’t say anything. I glanced out the window as the train clacked along the tracks. Dylan made sense and that made me want to punch him. I didn’t want him to make sense. I hated the idea, actually, because that meant I had to listen to him. But what was Jack after if it wasn’t me? Or was it me? He’d definitely made me into a target, but I’d assumed that was because of me coming after him. But what if Dylan was right and there was more to it?

  “Do you want me to give this whole thing up?” I asked him quietly. I didn’t want to. I wanted to scream and cry foul and tell him if he made me do it I’d never forgive him. But the truth was, Dylan had somehow snuck under my skin. I didn’t want to do things that would tear us apart.

  Dylan frowned at me, but didn’t reply immediately. He looked thoughtful, or at least like he was considering all angles. Finally, he sighed. “All I’m asking is that you talk to me, and let me know what you’re going to do. I’m your backup. You can trust me.”

  Trust. There was that word again. Hurt and betrayal lurked behind that word, but also something else. I just wasn’t sure what that something else was.

  Trust isn’t easy,” I told him.

  He nodded. “I know.”

  I wasn’t sure if we settled anything with that conversation. I felt better having Dylan close to me and knowing that he had promised to be there. But at the same time, I wanted to protect my little Bambi. There was something naive about him, innocent in a way that I’d lost years ago.

  I took Dylan’s hand in mine, resting it on his thigh. For just a few minutes, I wanted to feel like I was normal, that there wasn’t an ex-NSA agent out to kill me for hunting him, and that the All-American Boy across the table from me wasn’t a SEAL-trained warrior. We were just a guy and a girl touring Valonia. It was almost believable.

  “Wanna go out tonight?” Dylan asked.

  I eyed Dylan, my eyebrow raising in question. “Out?”

  “What? I’m just realizing that we’ve never been on a date before.”

  “Because we aren’t dating. We’re on a mission.”

  “Pfft. Details.” He released my hand so he could put it behind me and turn his body toward mine. He leaned in, smelling of spice and a little bit of sweat, though it wasn’t overpowering. “Go on a date with me.”

  “Are you crazy? What about Jack?”

  “Listen, he knows we’re here. He’s going to expect you to head straight for him.”

  “If I knew where exactly he was. I can’t do that without my laptop.” Never mind I had the program on the hard drive. It still needed a computer to run it and he’d stolen mine.

  “So, let’s take a day and do something for us.”

  “You’re off your noggin. We have a job to do.”

  “Which we need a laptop for. Do you have enough money to buy a laptop, Cady?” I scowled, because he knew I didn’t. At least, not if I didn’t get reimbursed by the government for it. “Yeah, didn’t think so.”

  “You’re kind of a jerk when you’re right.”

  “Look, he wants us to be hard charging. So, let’s take a night and do something for us.”

  “He could come after us.”

  “He could. Do you think he will?”

  I frowned. For years after my shooting, I’d tracked Jack. I’d learned his habits, his preferences. Some I knew from working with him, some I learned along the way. I shook my head. “No. Public isn’t his style. Never has been. And I’m a personal kill for him. A personal fail, because I didn’t die the first time. He’ll do it himself, and he’ll do it face to face. But it could draw him out, and I could ask him why he’s trying to get my attention.”

  “So date?”

  He leaned in, the masculine scent of his skin wrapping around my senses and his lips touched my neck. I groaned as he dropped kisses along the column of my neck. “Cheater.”

  “I like to win,” he murmured against me.

  “Fine.”

  He lifted his head and grinned, and then his lips crashed on mine. I gasped for breath as he released me. “You won’t regret it!”

  I wasn’t sure I didn’t already.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Dylan

  Cadence was a nervous wreck, so much so that I began to wonder if she’d ever actually been on a real date before. I knew she was young when the NSA recruited her, younger than I was when I went into the Navy. So she had been equally as young when she and Jack had gotten involved. But surely she’d dated in high school?

  I was downstairs having a quick drink with our host while she was getting dressed. When she appeared at the top of the stairs, I almost died. She still had her leather jacket on, which meant she had a gun on her somewhere. But she had a nice pair of jeans on and a teal blouse that sloped in front like a V, accentuating her breasts in a way that made me want to drag her back up the stairs, but it didn’t go far enough down that you could see the scars on her chest. Her hair was down, strawberry blonde strands falling over her shoulders. I hadn’t realized how long her hair really was, but she usually wore it up in a ponytail.

  It wasn’t an elaborate way to dress. It was casual, but dressy, and she was gorgeous. I stopped talking to our host, and stood, making my way over to the stairs. She smiled at me, a blush creeping over her pale cheeks. “Hey.”

  “Hey, yourself, gorgeous,” I told her. “You look amazing.”

  “This old thing?” She swept her hand down her body. “It was just laying around.”

  I held out my hand to her and tentatively, she took it. “I’m going to spoil you rotten tonight.”

  “George, are they not beautiful together?” Our hostess clasped her hands over her heart.

  “Yes, Elise. Beautiful.” The old man grumbled. “Can we go to bed and let the young ones enjoy their evening out? This is their honeymoon after all.”

  They dissolved into
a small argument, which I ignored in favor of taking Cadence’s hand and leading her toward the door. She hesitated in the doorway. “Are you ready?”

  “Absolutely, cupcake.”

  She frowned at me and held up her index finger. “No. Just no.”

  “Pumpkin?”

  “Keep on trying,” she said, walking out the door. I chuckled and followed after her, shutting the door behind me. I chuckled and followed after her, shutting the door behind me. It amused me to keep calling her these nicknames. She said she hated it but I didn't think she did.

  I took her hand soon as we walked out the door. The nighttime air in Valonia was sweet. We strolled along the shopping district area. Boudin County probably was one of the most beautiful spots in Valonia. It was probably one of the most frequented tourist locations, minus Valonian capital itself.

  I wasn't sure how long we walked along the path without talking, without speaking. It wasn't uncomfortable silence. It was more contentment, and a willingness to just be. By taking the op out of the equation, I’d left only the girl behind. And Cadence, as much as she didn’t want to be, was very much a girl, one I couldn’t stop thinking about.

  Around us, the scene didn’t change. At night, there were far less people around, but there wasn’t that vibe that someone was going to jump out and murder us. The park we were walking through was protected by palace police for the most part. The Boudin manor wasn’t too far off, its large lawn protected by an iron gate. The park surrounded the manor, and was open to the public. There was even a small water garden, man built, of course.

  I was determined to show her that she could have fun, even if we were in the middle of an op. She needed to lighten up a bit. She’d been so go-go-go since Jack shot her, so ready to jump into op after op, that she hadn’t ever really given herself the time to just relax. Even when we had sex at home, she was always quick to leave. I wanted her to know that there was more to life than work.

  “So what’s the plan tonight?” Cadence asked. “Where are we going? What are we doing?” From anyone else, the questions would have sounded excited and puppy-like, but from her, they were anxiety-driven. She needed to know what was happening at all times.

  I silenced her with a kiss, a full on lip lock that even though I initiated it, it left me breathless. When we finally separated, I grinned at her. “No more thinking tonight. You’re not on any timetable. You’re not hunting anything or anyone. It’s just you and me and one of the most beautiful countries in the world.”

  She stared up at me, full of wonder and curiosity. “You don’t ask a lot, do you?”

  “Not at all,” I replied.

  “So, what are we doing?”

  “First,” I grinned, “we’re going to dinner. We’re going to sit and talk, like real life grownups on an actual date.”

  “How strange.” Her eyebrow rose, and a smirk crossed her face. She was toying with me. That was a good sign.

  “I know, right? We’re even going to indulge in dessert.”

  She stepped in front, and pressed her chest against mine. “And what kind of dessert did you have in mind?” Her gaze strayed to my mouth, and when that little pink tongue slid along her lips I almost lost control over myself and tackled her to the ground right then. Fuck everyone else. They could watch.

  But I didn’t. Instead, I cleared my throat and straightened my back. “I think you’ll find that I am not so easy, sweetheart. I never put out on the first date.”

  “Liar,” she giggled. “You propositioned me the first time we met.”

  “Yes, but I didn’t sleep with you that night.”

  “I was in meetings all night.”

  “Still, there was no sex.”

  “But the next night…”

  “I rocked your world.”

  “You have a high opinion of your sexual prowess.”

  “It’s well earned.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You are ten kinds of ridiculous.”

  “Maybe, but that’s why you like me.” She shook her head, but no denial crossed her lips. I took that as a good sign. Then I spied a nice little spot near the water gardens, secluded, almost out of sight from the rest of the world. “Trust me?” I asked her.

  She frowned. “Why?”

  “Just come on,” I said, grabbing her hand and running for the water gardens. She squeaked out a protest but let me drag her along until we almost reached the water gardens, and then I pressed her up against a nearby tree. “I like to eat my dessert before dinner.”

  I kissed her again, my hands roaming from her hips to just under her breasts. I loved how much soft flesh she had, such a contrast from hanging out with the guys all the time, and yet, she could keep up with any one of us. Her arms slid around my neck, a soft almost inaudible moan escaping her.

  I dug my fingers into her hips, pressing my body against hers, her back against the tree. One of her shapely legs slid up mine and hooked behind it, like she was trying to get me even closer than I was.

  She broke the kiss a moment later. “What happened to not putting out on the first date?”

  “This is not putting out. This is just a little warm up. You know, to make sure the muscles are loose before the work out.”

  “Mmm…” was her response, but that was because I’d started kissing along that spot on her neck she liked. Her hand slipped between us, and cupped my crotch. I shuddered. The feel of her hand over my dick created instant hardness. I never did have any kind of self-control when it came to her. I needed her. I craved tasting her.

  But we did have reservations for dinner in like, fifteen minutes. Slowly, I pulled out of the embrace and stepped away to catch my breath. She looked wrecked, with her kiss-swollen lips jutted out in a disappointed pout, leaning against the tree like she didn’t have the strength to stand on her own.

  “Dinner?” I asked, hoping my voice didn’t crack. She nodded, and I held out my hand to her. She stared at it for a moment and then slowly took it.

  “So, that’s a warm-up, huh?” she asked.

  “Yep.”

  “I need to work out more,” she replied.

  “I’m sorry… Did you just make a joke?” I blinked at her, filling my expression with mock surprise.

  She punched my arm. “Shut up and feed me.”

  “Yes, ma’am!” I let her straighten herself out, and then we started walking toward the restaurant.

  ~*~*~

  Cadence

  I was still breathless from that kiss by the time we reached the restaurant. We were seated quickly, and in the corner of the place so we had a full view and a wall at our backs. I imagined that Dylan had arranged that, knowing my personal paranoia about having my back to the door. Hell, I thought maybe he had that same paranoia.

  Dylan started talking about something, but I couldn’t concentrate on his words. All I could see was the short spikes of his dark hair, the gorgeous deep set of his eyes, surrounded by laugh lines he had no business having yet. High cheekbones accentuated beautiful, full lips that I just wanted to kiss forever.

  “You know what I mean?”

  I blinked, Dylan’s voice permeating the thoughts I’d lost myself in. “What?”

  “You weren’t even listening, were you?” He grinned and leaned across the table to whisper, “Were you picturing me naked?”

  “What? No!” I protested.

  He laughed. “I think you were.” He stretched out, puffing out his chest. He was wearing a dark grey button down shirt that looked like silk. Had he already had that shirt or was it one he bought this afternoon?

  “You’re impossible.”

  “No, I’m very possible,” he replied. Most women I knew would have been put off by Dylan’s ego. But the thing with him was that you had to figure out when he was serious and when he was just blowing hot air. Because most of the time, it was hot air, a simple defense mechanism to keep people from knowing the real Dylan Urban.

  “What are you hiding under there?” I asked him, surprising mysel
f.

  “What do you mean?”

  The waiter arrived with our food and set it all out for us. I waited until he left again to ask my question again. “I mean, you always joke around and act like this big tough guy. But you’re not always that guy. Sometimes, you’re nothing like him. I told you my secrets. Tell me yours.”

  He looked uncomfortable for a moment, but in true Dylan fashion, it vanished quickly. He shrugged. “I’m an open book.”

  “Yes, but sometimes, I think some of your pages are stuck together.”

  “Do you really want to know?”

  “I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t.” He took that in, growing silent. His smile faded, and a haunted look came over him. I didn’t like that look on him. It was so un-Dylan-like. I squirmed a little in discomfort. “You don’t have to…”

  “Jokes are easy.” He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “It’s a way to make sure that no one takes you seriously, that they never expect anything from you.” He sighed. “When I was a kid, my parents used to fight a lot. Hell, they still do. All the damn time, every time I’m home. It’s obnoxious.”

  “And they’re still together?”

  “Yeah. They’ve been married twenty-five years. My mom has always been the trophy wife. Role model mom. To everyone else.”

  “But not around you.”

  Dylan shook his head, the pain in his eyes making me want to take him in my arms that second. But I didn’t. I let him keep talking, because this was by far the most serious I’d ever seen him. I was seeing the real deal for the first time. “Don’t get me wrong. I didn’t get beaten or nothing. But I learned that jokes diffused tension really quickly, kept people from asking the uncomfortable questions. I’ve never looked back from that.”

  “Can I tell you something secret, that if you leak to the guys, I will rip out your spleen and shove it back down your throat?”

  “You’re so violent,” he said. “It’s kinda hot.”

  “Promise me.”

  “I won’t tell the guys.” He leaned forward, like a small boy waiting for a cookie. “Come on. Spill.”