What Are You Afraid Of? (The Agency #2)(75)

The sun was just cresting the horizon when she died.





December 27, California



Carmen rarely lazed in bed.

She was an early riser who liked to get as much accomplished as possible before lunch. Her grandparents had been firm believers in the early bird getting the worm, and their tradition had been passed on to her. Even after she’d left home and moved on campus.

Her roommate had bitterly complained at being stuck with a morning person, but Carmen had ignored her whining. She had goals to achieve. And she wasn’t going to do that by lying in bed.

This morning, however, she made no move to throw back the covers and dash toward the shower.

It could be because they’d spent hours in various airports trying to get to California. By the time they’d landed at LAX she’d made a firm promise to never, ever travel during the holiday season again.

Or it could be because she still wasn’t sure how she intended to search for the killers. It was one thing to fly to California. That was a straightforward goal. Now that she was here, she didn’t have a Plan B.

But more than likely, her reluctance to leave the bed was directly related to the man who was holding her tightly in his arms.

When they’d arrived last night, they’d stumbled up the stairs toward the bed. She’d had a brief glimpse of a large loft with rustic paneling and wooden beams on the ceiling. There were wide French doors that opened directly onto the balcony with stairs that led down to the garden. And an attached bathroom that was as large as some people’s apartments.

She’d barely had enough energy for a brief kiss before they were asleep.

Now she turned onto her side and pressed her face into Griff ’s chest. He was wearing nothing more than a pair of loose boxers, while she’d stolen one of his T-shirts to slip over her undies.

It felt good to have their naked limbs entwined, with his lips brushing lazy kisses over her face.

Warm. Safe. Unbearably erotic.

As if equally bemused by the tender moment, Griff released a deep sigh.

“Is this a dream?”

His chest rumbled as he spoke, his heart thudding with a steady assurance beneath her ear.

“You haven’t opened your eyes,” she pointed out. “It might be a nightmare.”

“Mmm.” His hands skimmed down the curve of her backside and beneath her thin T-shirt. “Nothing that feels this good could be a nightmare.”

She shivered in pleasure, even as her predictable fear of intimacy had her instinctively trying to push him away. Figuratively, if not literally.

“You have to admit your holidays would have been a lot more peaceful, not to mention safer, if I hadn’t forced you to help me.”

He abruptly rolled her onto her back, his heavy body covering her. Bracing his hands on the mattress, he gazed down at her with eyes that blazed with an unnerving intensity.

“First of all, no one forces me to do anything I don’t want to do,” he growled. “Just ask Rylan. He’s been moaning about my pigheadedness for years.”

Carmen blinked at his harsh tone. Had she touched a nerve?

She studied his lean, beautiful face. With his dark hair tousled and his jaw emphasized by the shadow of his morning beard, he looked far more primal than usual.

Her hands lifted to rest against his chest. She liked the feel of his heat beneath her palms. And the steel hardness of his chiseled muscles.

Of course, his muscles weren’t the only thing steel hard, she realized as he settled between her legs. Her breath caught with excitement as his arousal pressed against her.

With an effort, she tried to remember what she was saying.

“You didn’t want to get involved,” she finally managed to mutter.

“I didn’t want to admit just how much I wanted to help you,” he corrected, his dark gaze lowering to her lips. “Which was why I sent you away, only to use the first excuse I came across to follow you to Kansas City. I already knew that once I gave in to temptation there was no going back.”

He had followed her. Even though she’d tried to use him. And since then, he’d done nothing but try to protect her.

Another chunk of the wall surrounding her heart cracked and crumbled away.

“I suppose I should confess as well,” she said.

His eyes lifted to meet her gaze. “Confess what?”

Carmen blushed, feeling weirdly vulnerable. “That I didn’t try as hard as I could have to find a cop who would believe me,” she told him. “Instead, I decided you were the only one who could help me.”

He kissed the tip of her nose. “And you were right.”

“I might have been right, but I’ve put you in danger.”

He frowned at her low words. “Don’t.”

Her hands slid up his chest to grab his shoulders. “It’s the truth.”

His lips stroked over her cheek, pausing to nuzzle the corner of her mouth.

“We’re in this together.”

Together. She waited for the predictable surge of panic at the implication that they were a couple. But it didn’t happen. Maybe because she was already overwhelmed by a more tangible fear.

On some level she’d realized that she was putting Griff at risk by asking for his help. But they’d been constantly on the move, always one step behind the killer, so it’d been easy to minimize what she was asking of him.