Page 87 of Until the End

The sight of them sucking face curdled Sanborn’s stomach. He swallowed the bile rising in his throat. A concern had turned into a disastrous reality.

The moment Castle had brought Katherine Westcott to the Gray Box, Sanborn had seen it. The way Castle reacted to her. How susceptible he was to her natural charms.

For starters, he’d kept touching her like he couldn’t help himself. His hand on her leg under the table. Gripping her shoulder as he’d escorted her from the conference room to the bathroom, where she’d insisted on being alone with him. Seated once more, his hand on her knee again. Discreet gestures. Everyone else had missed the elusive details. But Sanborn saw everything.

Like calling the POI Kit instead of by her surname.

Like Castle’s self-destructive instinct to safeguard her—the epitome of calamity.

Sanborn’s insides roiled as he changed cameras, toggling to a view of the living room where Alistair lay on the sofa, sleeping sound as a baby.

One job. The British operative had one flipping job. Run interference.

Sanborn was glad his people were safe, and it appeared as though Alistair would make a full recovery without incident, but a gunshot wound was the perfect excuse to require constant attention. Instead, he’d let Castle sedate him, for heaven’s sake.

A knock came at his door.

Sanborn switched off the feed. “Enter.”

Reaper came in. One of his best, beautiful and terrifying. “You needed to see me, Chief?”

“Castle and Alistair are in Boston. Alistair’s been shot. He’s in stable condition, but we need to bring him home as soon as possible. I’d like you to fly him back.”

“I was just going to head to Dulles to investigate the footage of Yosef Khan.”

Surveillance video of Khan had pinged a DoD alert. The FBI were all over it, but this lane of the war on terror intersected with the Gray Box. They had knowledge of an imminent attack, and Khan was here in DC. One plus one equaled two. The director of national intelligence—that weasel Lee—agreed the Gray Box had a dog in this fight.

“Who do you want to send in my stead?” Reaper asked.

“Reece.”

“I’ll let him know, then I’ll get airborne as soon as I can.” Reaper turned for the door.

Sanborn pushed away from his desk and stood. “On second thought, I think I’ll go with you.” He wanted to look Castle in the eyes when he handed over the data.

30

Boston, Massachusetts

10:55 a.m. EDT

Kit wanted to be skin to skin with Castle, to have him inside her.

He took her mouth in a lingering kiss that became more demanding. His embrace was tight and unrelenting. She wondered if he heard the pounding of her heart, beating loud as a drum against her rib cage.

“Kit,” he said huskily, putting one possessive hand on her hip. The other slid to her nape as his lips blazed kisses on her throat and collarbone. The rough scruff on his jaw scratched her skin, the sensation setting every nerve in her body on fire.

His hands worked frantically, stripping the jacket from her shoulders, throwing her shirt over her head, tugging down the front of her bra.

She gasped as the cool air hit her breasts, leaving her exposed.

Immediately, she was self-conscious, but she’d also never been more turned on in her life. “They’re small. Probably smaller than you’re used to.”

“They’re perfect.” Light danced in his eyes. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

He palmed her breast and took her nipple in his mouth, and she went boneless with anticipation. The arm he had wrapped around her back was the only thing keeping her from melting into a puddle of desire at his feet.

Castle drew his tongue over the tight peak of her breast in a wet, silken caress. He let it slip from his lips only to take the rosy tip greedily again, teasing with his teeth. He licked and sucked. Liquid heat pooled between her legs and she melted against him.