Taking Vengeance

“Are you planning to ignore me until this is all over?”

He stilled, setting his jaw as he reined in the sudden rise in his temper. Having a go at her now wouldn’t do anything but drive her away. Megan’s words played over and over in his head. She was right. He couldn’t live with more regrets. Not when they involved his wife. “I’m not ignoring you.”

A long sigh came from behind him. “Marcus. Will you look at me?”

He turned to face Kiyomi and raised an eyebrow, waiting. “Well? Why did you come out here?”

“To talk.”

“Fine, then talk.”

She gave him a curious look, as if she was trying to figure out what he was thinking and couldn’t quite read him. They rarely argued, so that wasn’t a surprise. “I know you don’t approve of any of this.”

“Not true. I approve of taking down the kidnapping ring, and Tarasov with it. But there are plenty of other ways to do that by tipping off the police and feeding them everything they need to know without any of you being directly involved.”

She watched him for a moment, eyes dark and mysterious as a midnight sky. “Why do you think I asked Eden to mix me those sedatives?”

“To make him talk. You said as much to the others.”

“No. It’s because I would be willing to capture him instead of killing him.”

Marcus stared at her, sure he had misheard. “Come again?”

“I’ll dose him, interrogate him to get what we need, then knock him out and hand him over.”

He frowned, suspicious. It was only a partial concession on her part, but she’d never backed down from something she wanted before, even if it endangered her life. “Why the change of heart?”

She lowered her gaze, staring at the ground. “You.”

“What about me?” He’d made his feelings on the matter plain enough before. Letting Tarasov live would take away the worry that Kiyomi would be caught and face a murder charge.

Her gaze lifted to his, and she started toward him again. Sensual, sinuous grace concealing the lethal weapon she was. “I know you’re worried.”

Of course, he was bloody worried. “You’re my wife.”

“Yes, but it’s not just because you’re afraid something would go wrong on my end.” She stopped within arm’s reach, her gaze delving deep into his. “It’s because you’re afraid you won’t be able to protect me if it does, because of your leg.”

His insides constricted, her instinct dead on. A sodding bull’s eye in the painful wound that would never heal.

He’d served in one of the most elite military units in the world. He had the training, discipline and experience to still be an operator. But the injuries he’d sustained in Syria meant he would never be that man again. The plain, brutal truth was, he could well be a liability to the team on an op. And it would kill him to be unable to protect her if something went wrong.

“What about you?” he countered, nodding at her left shoulder. “You’re not at a hundred percent this time either.”

“I know.” A little smile played about her lips as she edged forward and reached up to place her hands on his shoulders.

Her nearness threatened his control, her luscious scent intoxicating him. He grasped her hips through the trench coat, holding her away from him. “Then don’t do this. Don’t let your need for revenge cloud your judgment. Let someone else handle Tarasov.”

Her smile vanished, and a flare of anger flashed in her eyes. “No.” Her voice was calm. Her tone final. “He’s mine.”

“God dammit,” he exploded, releasing her and stepping back a pace to glare at her. “We’ve already been through this, once when you went after Rahman, and then again during the attack here. How can you be so selfish, to put me—us—through this again? Expect me to sit back and watch you risk your life again?”

“Marcus, stop,” she warned, shaking her head. “I don’t want to fight.”

“Then bloody listen to me!”

“I have listened. But I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

Holding his gaze, her hands moved to the top button on her coat. His whole body tensed, twin spears of arousal and anger hitting him as he realized what she was about to do.

He shook his head, jaw bunching. “Don’t.” His voice was low, rough.

Not like this. He wouldn’t touch her when he was like this, so close to losing control. Not after everything she’d suffered at the hands of men before him.

He backed up another step, his hip butting up against the wall.

She didn’t stop, her hungry stare magnifying the turmoil inside him. Testing him. Pushing him, when he was already riding the edge.

Yet for the life of him, he couldn’t tear his eyes away as her fingers slipped the first button free, then immediately moved to the next. And the next. Exposing a thin strip of golden-toned skin as she went. Until she reached the last one and the halves of the coat finally parted to reveal her naked body beneath.

Air hissed between his teeth in a painful rush, all his anger and frustration and fear colliding with a towering wave of desire. His body was pulled as tight as a tripwire, lust coiling low in his gut, blending with a dark possessiveness that made his heart pound.

He didn’t dare touch her. Didn’t dare unleash what was happening inside him.

She stepped closer, eyes on his, and deliberately pulled the edges of the coat back, thrusting her perfect breasts out.

Marcus sucked in a sharp breath, his already hard cock pulsing. Aching for her. She was so close he could smell her. A light, sensual blend of floral and spice. And that bold look in her liquid dark eyes.

Challenging him. No, daring him to take what he wanted.