Page 88 of Nothing to Fear

She swallowed hard. “No.” Enjoy what you can while you can.

He slid deep, rolling his hips, taking her higher. Excruciating pleasure had her spinning tighter and tighter, scattering in a burst of fireworks.

“Oh fuck.” Gideon growled, jerking into her roughly.

It was all too much, too overwhelming. Tears leaked from her eyes.

“Willow?” Gideon eased out of her and brought her into his arms. “At first, sex made you happy. Now it only seems to make you sad. Are you okay?”

She didn’t know how to lie, and she didn’t dare tell him the truth. That after being touched by him and experiencing such fullness and heat, she would never again be okay with emptiness.

He gripped her chin, angling her face to him, and locked their mouths in an all-consuming kiss. Deep and long as if he wanted to taste her soul.

No denying it, she was in love, fallen hard and fast for this incredible man.

Earlier, she would’ve sworn he would’ve told her what she longed to hear. I’m yours and you’re mine and we belong together.

But he hadn’t.

“Tired?” He played in her hair, his arm banded around her. “Want to sleep?”

Tomorrow loomed too close. Everything hung in the balance with the greatest stakes of all at risk. Tonight, she wanted to savor this time with him.

She curled her hand to her chest, where her heart was breaking. “No, I don’t want to sleep.”

35

Gray Box Headquarters, Northern Virginia

Sunday, July 7, 11:58 p.m. EDT

The prospect of shut-eye was nowhere on the horizon for Sanborn, but he normally functioned on four hours and could power through a week with none.

“Sir, wait!” Maddox came running down the hall as he was about to enter the conference room. “The apartment in Springfield that’s been on the news, the one over a doughnut shop, belonged to a passport forger. Reece and I followed a hunch and checked it out. The place was hit with heavy artillery.”

Sanborn didn’t believe in coincidence. Willow needed a passport, and a forger’s place was hit the same day Gideon would’ve tried to procure one.

“How heavy was the artillery?”

“MP5A3 submachine guns. Armor-piercing rounds punched holes through the walls. Traces of C-4, concussion and incendiary grenades.”

He hoped those two weren’t bleeding out somewhere. No. Gideon was too talented to let that happen.

“This reeks of bounty killers.” Making the situation far more dangerous for Gideon and Willow. “Could you track the assailants from nearby CCTV footage?”

“No. They were very careful.”

Or very good. Hopefully, not as good as Gideon. “Find out who contracted those hitmen. Ballistics might lead somewhere.”

She nodded.

He pushed into the conference room, ignoring Sybil, and sat at the head of the table, meeting the weary gaze of the DNI now flicking onto the live video feed.

Thanks to Sybil, updates had been endless, muddying the water, but Sanborn had managed to stop her from delivering any behind his back. With access to every network and system, she was finecombing through everything. No question in his head about what new information she intended to serve on a gilded platter to the DNI. If only his people would stop digging in places he said to leave alone. At least he’d beat her to the punch and color it with some common sense.

“Where do we stand, Bruce?” The DNI shielded a yawn with a hand.

“One of my analysts”—he refrained from saying the incorrigible Daniel Cutter—“found a villa in Deux-Sèvres, France, with the deed in Harper’s name.”