Hottest Mess (S.I.N. #2)(16)

Fuck him. And f*ck this facade. And f*ck the fact that he couldn’t have the woman he wanted at his side.

Slowly, he stepped backward, lessening the pressure of her touch. For an instant, her brow furrowed in confusion. Then he caught her hand and traced his fingertip slowly along her palm. “Soon enough,” he said. “Right now, there’s someone out there I need to talk to.”

“Does the someone have tits?” She lifted one finely plucked brow. “Because tonight I don’t want to share you.”

“Don’t worry,” he said, looking back toward Jane. “You won’t.”

She was looking back at him as well, her beautiful face completely unreadable. He wanted to run to her. To hold her.

But all he could do was look at her.

He couldn’t even touch this woman and pretend that it was Jane. He couldn’t tease them both by using another woman as a proxy the way they had before. They’d just talked about it, and he knew damn well that she didn’t want it. Hell, he didn’t want it, either.

Right then, all he wanted was Jane.

As if she could read his thoughts, she met his eyes defiantly.

And then, with equal moxie, she turned on her heel, and walked away, disappearing through the French doors and onto the pool deck.

A moment later, his phone buzzed, signaling a text. “Sorry,” he said to Fiona. “I need to check this.”

He pulled it from his pocket, careful to hide the screen from view.

I know you have to, but I can’t be here.

His gut twisted just from reading it, and all he wanted to do in that moment was go after her. He couldn’t let her go. A bone deep fear was rising in him, telling him that if she left—

Well, dammit, she just couldn’t leave.

He pressed his hand to Fiona’s waist, urging her toward the pool deck. He wasn’t sure what he intended to do, but at the very least he needed to see where Jane had gone.

Once on the flagstones, though, he didn’t see any sign of her. He did, however, see Henry Darcy.

“Dallas. Good to see you,” the older man said, extending his hand. “Appreciate the invitation.”

“Glad you could make it, Henry.” He gripped the man’s hand, knowing that he had a job to do. He needed to suggest they take a seat. Keep Fiona close for camouflage. Chat Darcy up, steering the conversation in practiced circles as he tried to find out what, if anything, Darcy knew about the details of Deliverance.

That’s what he was supposed to do. That’s why he’d organized this entire party.

Instead, he apologized for needing to duck inside and make a call. “I just got a text about a matter I can’t ignore. But, Fiona, maybe you and Henry could grab a table, and I’ll come back in a few minutes and join you?”

“Sure, baby,” she said, though she looked less than thrilled by the prospect. Henry, on the contrary, looked delighted by the plan. “Hurry back,” she added, then pulled him close and kissed him hard.

It took all his willpower to keep from wiping away her kiss until he was safely back inside the house.

He’d almost made it to the front door when Liam caught up to him.

“I don’t even want to hear it.”

“Hear what?” Liam countered, his arms crossed over his muscled chest. “I haven’t said a word. Not a single thing.”

“Whatever Darcy was going to tell WORR or the UN or the FBI, he has.” The World Organization for Rescue and Rehabilitation wasn’t a government agency, but it consulted closely with agencies all over the world, including the FBI, and its power and influence was significant. More than that, Bill Martin—Jane’s ex-husband—was one of the organization’s movers and shakers. “And since we haven’t been handed our asses recently, it’s a safe bet that they know nothing. That Darcy knows nothing.”

“A safe bet isn’t a certainty.”

For a moment, Dallas almost told Liam to back off. Deliverance was Dallas’s brainchild, his operation, and he’d run it however the hell he chose.

But that was idiotic. For one, Dallas may have started the group, but it was only as good as the team he put together. A team he respected, made up of men who were his closest friends.

“I can’t do it,” he said. “Not right now. And I know it’s a risk, but I think it’s a small one. I’ll still talk to Darcy—I’ll find out whatever is left to find out—but right now, I need to find Jane. So dammit, Liam, get the f*ck out of my way.”





A Hasty Retreat

I’m shifting my weight from foot to foot, trying not to be pissed off at the hired valet guys for stupidly parking the guests’ cars in front of the garage. I’d thrust my keys into his hands and told him to please just hurry.

But you can only move so fast when you have a dozen or so cars to rearrange, and that means that I’m stuck here until he manages to work out that little puzzle and bring me my car.

And, dammit, I really want to get the hell out of here.

I know Dallas has a role to play, I get it. For that matter, I even understand that it was only partially a role before. I mean, he wanted those women in his bed. Hell, he got off on it. Doing things with them. To them.

It was a release. A way to satisfy himself.

He didn’t literally f*ck them—I know that—but he sure as hell enjoyed them. And I don’t begrudge him that. I really don’t.