Page 85 of Afraid to Hope

He jumped, again sinking deeply into his landing; it was a longer jump on this side of the wall. He unhooked himself and began gathering the cord. “Jump. I’ve got you.”

Alarmed voices could be heard inside the building. Multiple men.

Natasha jumped, Bane cushioning her landing, unhooking her, and simultaneously gathering her cord. She freed the cord from the tree, and they took off at a dead run, staying against the buildings.

Behind them, the back door banged against the exterior wall and men yelled loudly. More banging. Car engines revving. Bane ran to the palm grove and down to the river, Natasha on his heels. The sound of the vehicles faded, and they slowed, heading toward where they had left their clothes and Natasha’s tote earlier.

After making sure they were alone, Natasha fished around inside the backpack, sweating until her fingers found the USB and transferred it into the more secure compartment in her tote. They changed their clothes and secured the guns and knives and ammo in the tote, then placed her backpack in Bane’s.

They kept to the river. Bane carried everything until they were a block from their bed-and-breakfast. The streets were quiet.

Natasha reached for her tote.

He pulled it away from her. “It’s kind heavy with guns, knives, and extra ammo in it.”

“Only because you’ve been carrying it for fifteen minutes.” She put her hands on her hips and asked, her eyebrows raised, “Am I weak?”

“You’re fucking fierce,” he said with admiration, handing the bag to her.

“They’re definitely connected,” Natasha said, looking over Bane’s shoulder. “Same cataloging system.” She squeezed his powerful shoulders, then leaned over him, inhaling his clean, intoxicating scent, wanting to fall into bed with him and lose herself in all the sensations and emotions that he made her feel. Natasha exhaled and refocused, then traced her finger over the ledger pages displayed on the tablet. “Looks like a late-evening flight out of Ouarzazate tomorrow. And these numbers must be items that will be on the flight. Going where, I wonder?” She stood back up and stretched. Midnight had come and gone. Her earlier quick shower had not done much to address her aches.

“Switch places with me, Nat. I’ll scroll through the camera, give you items with their tag info. You see if there’s any corresponding info in this flight list and write it down.” He sat on the bed.

Natasha got her notebook and a pen and placed them next to the computer. “Let’s see if we have anything.”

Within thirty minutes it was clear that the majority, if not all, of the items in the warehouse were shipping out on the Ouarzazate flight. Transporting the items to the airport was going to take a number of trucks, trips, or a combination of both. The Ouarzazate airport was the largest in the area and was about two and a half hours away.

Natasha scrolled through the ledger. The final pages of entries were different, noting buyers, sometimes by name, usually by a number, and on occasion both. Locations as well as dates for shipping, payment, and receipts of items filled the corresponding columns to the right of the notations. “I have a number of entries here with the shipping date of two days out. Let’s cross-check.”

They were able to come up with over two dozen buyers.

“Are these buyers the collectors or more middlemen? All this information could be people like Amastan and warehouses like this. Where the fuck does this end?” Bane growled.

“Jesus! It’s worse than a hydra. It’s like a goddamned tangle of yarn.” Natasha’s fatigue and aching body were getting the best of her. She pivoted in the chair, stretching her stiffening body, which was beginning to throb in areas. It was two in the morning. She was tired and frustrated. “I need a break,” she said, twisting her still-damp hair into a messy bun and fixing it with a clip while rising, accidentally moving the cursor to another page.

“Uh, sweetheart,” Bane said, rising from the bed, his eyes fixed on the screen.

She frowned and turned back to the screen, falling back onto the chair, unable to tear her eyes from the blinking curser.Le fantôme. The ghost. Six six six.An item had been delivered days ago. To Italy. “This can’t be! He’s alive,” Natasha said with disbelief. “The person who killed my grandfather is alive.” Her breath came in big gulps.

Bane knelt next to her. His brow furrowed as he studied the entry. He stood and pulled Natasha into his arms, rubbing her back until her breathing returned to normal. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s call it a night. Tackle this after some shut-eye and with fresh heads.”

She leaned into his strength. Once again, Bane was calming her, supporting her as she dealt with a flash of emotions. Natasha gazed up at him and was drawn into his hazel eyes, the level of intensity making her heart race.

His hands moved from her back to her bare arms, his fingers skimming her skin like soft feathers, sending electricity coursing through her. Her belly tightened when his hands slid over her ass and cupped her cheeks, pressing her core firmly against his thick, hard heat. A moan escaped her, and Bane applied more pressure, grinding her against him again. He felt so damned good.

“I feel how wet you are for me,” he murmured before capturing her bottom lip and biting it gently.

“I want you,” she whispered against his lips, then dipped her tongue into his mouth, deepening the kiss, running her hands over his back and ass, urgently stroking his raging erection with her core. She was so wet, so hungry. She was ready to explode.

Panting, Bane broke off the kiss and grabbed her hips, pushing her away from him. He pulled off his tee. “Slow down, sweetheart,” he said gently, running his thumb over her swollen bottom lip. “You’re going to make us both blow. I want you slow and deep.” He pulled the clip from her hair. “Arms up.”

Natasha lifted her sore arms, her nipples tightening in anticipation as Bane slid the silky camisole off her.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he said, voice cracking, watching his fingers whispering over her full breasts, teasing her senseless. His thumbs brushed over her hard nipples, making her moan. Bane lowered his head and drew her into his mouth, sucking long and hard. He gave equal attention to her other breast, then dropped one hand, his fingers tracing barely there serpentines over the contour of her belly, teasing her to madness.

She was on fire. Her body thrummed with need and her core ached to the point of pain. She tried to grind against him, but Bane caught her hips and held them apart from his. Natasha pressed her thighs together to staunch the leaking wetness.

Of course he had noticed. “I’m sorry I’ve made you so fucking wet.” He smirked, pulling down her silky pajama shorts. “Get them off,” he said, sliding his fingers deep within her and pumping slowly.

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