Buried and Shadowed (Branded Packs #3)(45)

Donaldson jerked at the unmistakable warning. No one wanted to be on the wrong side of the SAU’s founder. Not unless they wanted to end up in an unmarked grave.

“Bastard,” the military man hissed.

****

Mira was doing her best to ignore Sinclair’s brooding gaze. This wasn’t the first time they’d been in a small motel room together.

This wasn’t even the worst motel room. In an effort to avoid detection, Sinclair had often set up meetings in places that were barely fit for bedbugs. This room was at least clean with comfortable furniture.

Including a soft, inviting bed.

She gave a sharp shake of her head. Nothing has changed, she fiercely reminded herself.

Okay, Sinclair had actually gone to the effort of tracking her down. And he’d been possessively protective as he’d carried her away from the air base.

But she would be a fool to let herself think this was anything more than a desire to guard a valuable asset.

“So now you understand why I need to get to the Great Plains Home of Tranquility.”

His expression was guarded. “I understand that someone needs to go. But not you.”

She stiffened. “You don’t trust me?”

Some ephemeral emotion flared through the ice-blue of his eyes. “With my life.”

The words rasped against the wound he’d inflicted when he’d believed she could have betrayed him.

“You were quick enough to accuse me of working with the enemy.”

He grimaced. “I’m sorry, Mira. More sorry than you could possibly imagine,” he breathed.

Mira abruptly turned away. There was something unnerving about the raw regret that softened his features.

“It doesn’t matter,” she said.

“It does.” He moved until he was standing in front of her. Then, when she kept her gaze lowered, he gently cupped her chin in his hand and tilted back her head. “Look at me, sweetheart.” He patiently waited until she grudgingly lifted her eyes to meet his steady gaze. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I would never.”

Her lips twisted. “I know what you meant to do.”

He arched a dark brow. “Really?”

“Of course. I might be naive, but I’m not stupid,” she assured him. “I always knew that you were using me.”

His thumb lightly traced the curve of her lower lip. “Then you know more than I do,” he said.

Sparks of excitement raced through Mira, his mere touch enough to make her heart race and her palms sweat.

He was just so freaking gorgeous. And sexy.

And male.

Ruthlessly, deliciously male.

With an effort, she forced herself to not to melt into a willing puddle at his feet.

“Are you trying to say that you didn’t seek me out because of my position with the CDC?”

He paused, no doubt carefully considering his words. Although she didn’t know why he would bother. She sensed their relationship—no, it’d never been a relationship—or whatever it was, was about to come to an end.

There was no need to treat her as if he cared about her feelings.

“That was my initial reason, but we both know that my interest became far more personal.”

“Don’t,” she rasped. “Please, don’t lie.”

He scowled. “I’m not.”

“You’ve never seen me as anything more than a tool in your plans for revenge.”

He shook his head in denial of her accusation.

“Mira, if you were just a tool, then why did I meet with you so often?” he demanded. “I could have asked for your help and waited for you to contact me.”

Anger sizzled through her. Why couldn’t he just admit the truth?

“You were well aware the reason I was assisting you was because I was half in love with you,” she snapped. “You had to keep me infatuated, or you took the chance of me deciding it wasn’t worth the risk to help you.”

His fingers brushed along the tight line of her jaw. “Only half in love?” he teased.

She jerked back her head. Dammit. It wasn’t fair that his mere touch was enough to make her body clench with an aching hunger.

“This isn’t funny,” she said between gritted teeth.

He released a deep sigh, slowly lowering his hand. “No. It’s ironic.”

She tilted her chin. “What’s ironic about it?”

“I thought I was fooling you, when I was really fooling myself.”

Mira frowned, studying him with a wary gaze. “Is that supposed to make sense?”

“Not really.” He scrubbed his hands over his face before he nodded toward the nearby bed. “Can we sit?” He waited for her to move. When she stubbornly refused to budge, he at last pulled out the P word. “Please, Mira.”

“Fine,” she said, spinning on her heel to cross the short distance so she could perch on the edge of the mattress.

He was swiftly moving to settle next to her, the heat of his leg pressing against her thigh.

“Thank you,” he said, reaching to grab her hand.

“Sinclair,” she protested, making a half-hearted attempt to free herself from his grip.

Not surprisingly, he tightened his hold. Stubborn wolf.

“You’re right. I did seek you out because of your computer skills, and because you worked for the CDC,” he said, his voice low and husky.