Page 70 of Duty Compromised
She was quiet for a long moment, her breathing starting to even out. Then, so softly I almost missed it, “I do.”
I held her tighter, feeling her relax completely against me. Outside, a semi rumbled past on the highway. The air conditioner wheezed and rattled. Somewhere in the parking lot, a door slammed. The world kept turning, danger still circling, but for this moment—this one stolen moment—we had found peace in each other.
Chapter 20
Ty
The cheap motel sheets stuck to my skin where Charlotte’s naked body pressed against mine. She’d finally fallen asleep, her breathing deep and even against my chest, still coming down from what we’d just shared. I held her close, one hand tangled in that long auburn hair, the other resting protectively on her hip where my fingers had gripped her as she’d come apart beneath me.
Jesus. The memory of her crying out my name, the way she’d met me thrust for thrust with that same fierce determination she brought to everything—it was burned into my brain. Too brief a time of losing ourselves in each other, of forgetting the danger closing in, of finding something real in the midst of danger and uncertainty. She’d asked me to make her feel human again, to make her feel, and God help me, I’d given her everything I had.
She needed the rest now. Hell, she’d pushed herself past every reasonable limit these last few days, and the physical release had finally let her body surrender to exhaustion. But I’d have to wake her soon. We couldn’t stay here.
I shifted carefully to check my watch. 4:47 a.m. Ben and Donovan should have called by now. They’d left for the safe house over three hours ago, promising to check in once they’d done their sweep. The silence made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
Charlotte stirred slightly, pressing closer. Even exhausted and scared, even after everything that had happened, she still trusted me enough to sleep in my arms. That trust felt heavier than any responsibility I’d carried in combat. At least in war zones, we went in prepared to meet an enemy. Here, the threat could be anyone—her colleagues, the FBI agents supposedly protecting her, any given stranger on the street.
I reached for the burner phone from my bugout bag, careful not to jostle Charlotte. George’s number went straight to voicemail again. Third time I’d tried. The George I knew would answer a burner at four in the morning if it meant helping with an operation. Either something had happened to him, or…
No. I wouldn’t go there yet. George had been solid in the Army. Solid when we’d worked together since. There had to be another explanation.
The phone on the nightstand buzzed, making me tense as I answered it.
“Ty, it’s Ben. We’re heading to your location. Be there in ten minutes.”
No update about the safe house. No all clear. Just that they were coming here. That meant nothing good.
“Got it,” I responded quietly. “See you soon.”
Charlotte’s eyes fluttered open at the sound, immediately alert despite the exhaustion written across her features. “What’s wrong?”
“Ben and Donovan are coming here.” I brushed a strand of hair from her face, letting my thumb linger on her cheek. She leaned into the touch for just a moment before reality kicked in.
“They are? Why?” She sat up, the sheet falling away from her bare shoulders.
“I don’t know. All I know is that it’s not good.”
Good news, they would’ve just relayed via a call. They would’ve told us it was okay to make our way to the safe house and would’ve met us there.
But they hadn’t.
Charlotte slid to the edge of the bed. I wanted nothing more than to pull her back down, to lose ourselves for a few more minutes in the heat we’d found together. That hadn’t been just sex. That had been something else entirely, something that had shifted everything between us. But it definitely hadn’t been nearly enough to sate the hunger that had been building since the moment I’d met her.
She was already sliding out of bed, reaching for her clothes scattered on the floor. “I should—they’ll be here soon, and I don’t want to be…” She gestured at her naked form, cheeks flushing.
“Here.” I grabbed one of my T-shirts from my bag and handed it to her. “It’s clean.”
She pulled it over her head, and it fell nearly to her knees, making her look even smaller, more vulnerable. The sight of her in my clothes did something primitive to my chest, made me want to stake a claim I had no right to make. Not yet. Not until she was safe. Maybe not even then.
Just because she wasn’t treating the sex between us as an experiment didn’t mean she was interested in anything long-term with me.
“We’ll get you proper clothes as soon as we can,” I promised, pulling on my jeans. “Among other things.”
She nodded, tugging her pants on under the shirt. “Ty, if something’s wrong?—”
A knock at the door cut her off. Three rapid taps, pause, two more. Ben and Donovan’s signal.
I checked the peephole anyway—paranoia had kept me alive more than once—then opened the door. Ben entered first, his Belgian Malinois Jolly padding silently beside him despite the dog’s barely contained energy. Donovan followed, shutting and locking the door behind them.
