Ultimate Weapon (McClouds & Friends #6)(73)

“We take care of Stengl first,” she said.

She saw the no in his eyes, and shook her head. “This point is not negotiable, Janos. We do Stengl first, or you can try hauling me in to Novak to do the trade directly. I promise I’ll put up a good fight.”

He shook his head grimly. “No. We can hunt down Stengl at any time, but the timing is crucial for Imre. I am already desperate. Novak established a schedule for when he cuts off—”

“I’m very sorry for Imre, and for you, but that is not my problem.” Tam cut through him. Her voice was not loud, but crystal sharp. “My chances of dying in your crazy scheme are too high. I can face that if Stengl is dead. But I do not intend to leave this world before he does. No f*cking way, and that is final. Understand?”

A muscle twitched in his jaw. His nostrils flared as he let out a long, audible sigh. He muttered what sounded like an obscenity, in a language she didn’t know, and nodded. “Done.”

She turned and stared into the mirror, into his eyes. It was easier to meet their reflection than look into them directly. One tiny level of removal from his charisma. Just enough so she could breathe.

She thought of what had happened in the kitchen. The searing pleasure. He was powerful enough, intense enough to anchor her in the here and now, at least while he was f*cking her. She could lose herself in him. She wouldn’t see that decaying hotel room, the shabby red chemise. Or Stengl leering down at her. Licking his lips.

Her stomach did a nasty, squirming roll. She squeezed her eyes shut, leaned on the sink. Splashed her face with icy water.

When she came up for air, her face numb with cold, he held out one of the fluffy hand towels for her. She patted her face dry, still leaving smears of mascara, despite how often she’d wiped the stuff off.

She looked at herself in the mirror. Her face was ashen but for that hot blush branded across both cheekbones. He loomed behind her, unsmiling. Anger, frustration, desire pulsing off him in great waves.

He wanted her. The intensity of his dark gaze scorched her skin. She could feel the heat, the burn, the pull. That part, at least, was not feigned, no matter what else he wanted from her. The lust was real.

She was used to that vibe from men, but not from a man so completely in command of himself—and so unafraid of her.

His inner power was vast, unfathomable. It pulled, lured her.

He had abandoned the seductive, teasing charm. It was irrelevant. The time for banter was past. She dragged in a shaky breath, listening to the thudding of her own heart in her ears and her own shrill internal monologue. You can’t afford it. You couldn’t before. You still can’t, idiot.

But something hungry and jazzed inside her wanted to just grab him. Shove him around. Provoke him, fight with him, kick him, hit him. Engage with him in a very specific, heated way.

The sex in the air between them had gotten so heavy and hot, she could feel it pressing against her skin, like a palpable force. She felt breathless, panicky at its inexorable rise.

“Don’t get any ideas,” she flung at him. “The drug’s worn off.”

“Of course,” he said. “I am glad.”

“Are you? But I imagine you had the duration of its effects calculated down to a fraction of a second,” she said.

“No, not that precisely,” he admitted. “There were too many variables. I had more like a fifteen-minute window. But you ate more food than I expected. That flattened out the effect.”

“That’s probably why it took me so long to figure it out,” she said.

“Probably.”

His easy agreement pissed her off. Was he trying to make her feel better about having been so easily managed? Condescending bastard.

She looked down at her fisted hands. “You’re here because you want some more, right? You think you’ve won? You’ve found my weak point, and that entitles you to f*ck me into submission?”

His expression did not change. “I’m here because you want me here,” he said. “Even though you hate yourself for it. Otherwise you would never let me near you.”

That blunt, uninflected statement said both too much and too little. Her face heated with humiliation. “You flatter yourself.”

“No,” he said. “I do not need to.”

“You think you can make my fantasies come true even without the benefit of drugs? Good luck, buddy boy. I’m on to your dirty tricks.”

“I did it at the club,” he reminded her. “The circumstances were difficult. You were flat on the ground, you had just held a poisoned knife to my throat. You had bodyguards outside the door poised to kill for you. And I never even got your clothes off.”

She sniffed. “Listen to you congratulating yourself. Bastard.”

He shrugged. “If you say so.”

His laconic refusal to be baited was driving her mad. She had to shut up. Pride dictated that she not drop her gaze, and maintaining that much contact was challenge enough.

His dark eyes saw so much. She felt transparent.

“You cannot bear the way you feel right now,” he said very softly. “I could make you forget. For a little while, at least.”

“With what?” she demanded. “Do you have some other pharmaceutical nightstick in your pocket?”

“You know with what.”

Her jaw dropped, at the hugeness of his vanity. “Oh! Here comes Janos, and his wonder dick! You mean to grant me a moment of blessed oblivion as a reward for helping with your crazy plan? How generous of you. A mercy f*ck. Wow, what a prince. I am overwhelmed.”