His hips bucked and he moaned at the hot contact, at the tingling, sleek strokes of her tongue as she pulled at him.
It was difficult not to be restless, not to move his body, shift his limbs, in an effort to ease the ache that her expert mouth created in his every muscle and pore. He twisted on the chaise, his hips thrusting uncontrollably. Breaking her contact, he yanked her up against him and pushed into her so hard she cried out and climaxed. He grunted as she took him, held him, moved over him, matching him stroke for stroke as she continued to pulsate and shudder around him. He had no recourse, no way to stop the climax rushing to overtake him, and didn’t even try. She grasped his biceps, arching back as he came with a long, jerking groan. It was as if he couldn’t get deep enough, couldn’t pour enough of himself into her. It was beyond seeking physical pleasure. It was as if his soul recognized her and only her.
They clasped each other when it was over, and his voice was hoarse when he said, “How am I going to let you go?”
She pressed her face against his neck and said softly, “Don’t let me go right now. Don’t let go.”
He held on tightly to her, shifting them to the bed, where they curled into each other.
He didn’t want to sleep. He wanted to hold her for as long as he could. But when sleep came, his arms didn’t loosen around her.
THE COOL BREEZE on her skin woke her as she shifted on the mattress to glance at the clock. Still early. She snuggled up to Jammer, then felt her stomach lurch. Today would be the day she arrested him for crimes against the U.S. It was going to hurt very badly.
She rolled away from him and got up to take a shower. Under the spray, she hardened herself; she could have no mercy. She would have to treat him like any other criminal. Detaching herself wasn’t going to be easy, but she had to do it. Powerful emotions twisted in her chest but she shoved them down. The time had come for her to fulfill her mission.
When she came out of the bathroom, Jammer smiled at her and went in. When he was done, they went for breakfast.
Fuentes was in the dining room and it wasn’t long before they were served eggs, bacon and fruit. Someone brought Callie coffee and juice. She ate, keeping her eyes on her plate and away from what she was sure were lecherous looks from the drug lord.
Jammer conversed with him in a monotone voice. When breakfast was done, Fuentes pushed back from the table. The sound of trucks filtered through the open windows. Fuentes checked his watch and smiled. “Ah, our guests are arriving. It’s time to seal the deal with the Libertad.”
“Gina, I was wondering if I could talk to you for a moment up in the room?” Jammer said.
Callie looked at him, then at Fuentes. The smug smile that crawled across the man’s face made her skin crawl. “Sure,” she said with a smile of her own, as if she wasn’t aware that Fuentes intended to make her his. Not damned likely.
She followed Jammer back to the bedroom. He closed the door behind her, took her hand and brought her over to a chair in the corner. It had heavy metal sides and weighed a ton, but was very comfortable.
“Have a seat,” he said. When she did, she was too slow to stop the slide and click of the handcuffs that encircled her wrist. When she pulled, she found herself shackled to the chair.
“What the…” she said, looking down at the cuffs, then up at Jammer.
He backed away and grabbed the bag he’d brought with him to Colombia.
“I’m sorry, Callie.”
She jerked her head upright at the sound of her name-her real name-on his lips. Fear twisted through her, that she might finally be at the mercy of Jammer. This time he knew she had every intention of betraying him.
“You know who I am?”
“I always have. From the very beginning, I knew everything.”
“How is that possible?”
He turned around and slipped a gun into his waistband at the small of his back.
“You have someone on the inside,” she said.
“You could say that.”
Suddenly she realized who he was-the undercover DEA agent! “All this time I’ve been chasing you and you’ve been on our side all along. Three years of my life have just been rendered meaningless.”
“No, they haven’t, Callie. You and the other agencies protected my every step.”
“How do you figure that?”
“You built my cover by making me notorious. It brought me to the attention of Fuentes-my ultimate goal. So nothing you did was meaningless. Every action was a stepping-stone to justice.”
She couldn’t argue with his logic, and it did give her satisfaction that she had helped to keep this man safe. “Gillian’s going to be so pissed.”
“I’m sure a lot of government agencies will.” He came back over to the chair. “It has to be this way. I can’t be distracted. Do you understand?”
“No. I’m a black ops government agent. I can help you. Now uncuff me!” Relief gave way to anger that Jammer would leave her here in the room while he went out into serious danger.
He shook his head and headed for the door. Callie called to him in the only name she knew. “Jammer!”
He spun around and came back to the chair. He knelt in front of her, his face twisted with emotion. “For once, just this once, I want you to call me by my real name.”
Her heart pounded in her chest. “What is your real name?”
She watched him blink quickly, as if he was afraid to take his eyes off her for even a fraction of a second. “It’s Shane, Callie. Shane McMasters.”
“Shane McMasters is dead,” she said bluntly, as if he was playing her. But then she saw the truth in his eyes. He drifted away from her in body and mind, losing himself in a past that haunted his eyes, even now.
“I was. I was a ghost until you opened that hotel room door in Paris. Then I started to live again. I became whole again.”
All the emotion she’d contained in her burst free. “Let me go. Don’t go out there by yourself. Shane, please don’t do this.”
“I have to! For my fellow agents who were ambushed by that butcher. He left us for dead. Now he’s going to answer for those murders and all his other crimes.”
Callie just stared at him, at the wild gleam of pain in his eyes, the muscles and tendons that stood out in his neck, the heavy rise and fall of his chest as he breathed.
He took a badge out of the bag and rubbed the DEA letters with his thumb. When he looked up at her, tears glistened in his eyes. They slipped down his cheeks. She reached out and cupped his jaw. He pressed his forehead to hers. The tears she’d been holding back for so long spilled over and down her own cheeks, mingling with his.
His hand closed around her wrist, as if she was his only anchor. “I love you, Callie.”
A sob caught in her throat, his admission slamming into her with actual force. “Oh God, Shane. I love you, too. So don’t do this to me. Don’t make me wait here not knowing, not being able to help the man I love. I’ll never forgive you for this.”
Through her tears she watched him struggle with her words.
“I know, but you’ll be alive,” he said.
He pulled out of her embrace, even as she tried to hold on, to get through to him.
“I’ve got to go.”
“You’ll come back to get me. Say that you will.”
“I won’t. Someone will come to release you. I promise that. But we can’t be together.”
“Why not?”
“During the trial I’ll be in protective custody. After that, I have to disappear. Fuentes won’t rest until he finds me, kills me and everyone I love.”
“I’ll come with you.”