“What do you think the Devils and Russians will do now?” Brittany clasped her hands in front of her, doing what she could to hide the trembling. She didn’t know what had sparked the dry throat, shaking in her limbs, and sudden chill through her body. Or the sudden exhaustion.
Fuse heard the quiver in her voice, tearing his focus from the screens to look at her. Two seconds later, he stood, placing an arm over her shoulders.
“I’m going to escort Brit to her room. Gunner?”
“No worries. I’ve got the screens.” He planted himself in Fuse’s chair, watching until they turned down the hall.
“I should’ve had you leave before the shooting began.” Fuse opened the door of her room, taking her to the bed. “Sit down. Do you want some water?”
“No, I’m good. Just a little tired.”
“You aren’t good, Brit. It was stupid of me to let you stay.”
Pressing the palms of her hands into her eyes, she released a slow breath. “You couldn’t have stopped me, Scott. I wanted to watch every minute, and knew it could result in a firestorm.” She scooted back on the bed, patting the space next to her.
Fuse knew he should leave her alone, let her sleep.
“Please. I promise not to jump you.” Her joke fell as flat as the small smile she offered.
Sitting down, he placed a hand on her thigh. “What if I want you to?”
“Then I could be persuaded.” Her tired voice belied her words. Her energy had sapped away over the last few hours.
“I’m pretty tired. How about we talk for a while? You can change and get into bed. I’ll spread out on top of the covers.”
She covered his hand with hers. “Can we negotiate?”
A grin slanted across his face. “Hmmm. I’m pretty sure you’d be a tough negotiator.”
“Afraid?”
His grin widened. “I’d be a fool not to be.”
It was her turn to chuckle. “You’re the least likely person to be afraid of anything. I imagine you’ve never experienced fear in your life.”
Voice lowering, he stood. “Then you’d be wrong.”
Reaching out his hand, he helped her stand, pulling back the covers. Shaking out her pillow, he motioned to the bathroom.
“Why don’t you change?”
“Will you be here when I come out?”
Lifting his hand, he stroked fingers down her cheek. “I said I’d stay. At least for a while.”
She walked to the dresser, glancing over her shoulder. “Can we still talk?”
Fuse was sure she’d last maybe three minutes before falling asleep. “If that’s what you want.”
Clutching her sleep pants and tank to her chest, she nodded. “I do.” She disappeared into the bathroom.
Staring at the closed door, he gritted his teeth. It would be torture being in her room, on her bed, and not take her into his arms. Still, he’d given his word.
Toeing off his boots, Fuse removed his belt, tugging his shirt from his pants. The men knew where he was, certain they wouldn’t bother him until morning.
Shifting at the sound of the door opening, he drew in his breath. Brittany couldn’t have painted a prettier picture if she’d been in a sheer gown. She’d brushed out her long golden hair. Her face was free of makeup and freshly washed.
Walking to her, he took her hand, taking the few steps to the bed. “Get in and I’ll lay on top.”
“No. I want you in bed with me.”
“Brit, that’s not a good idea.”
“We’ll only do as much as you want, Scott.”
Throwing back his head, he laughed. “I believe that’s my line, sweetheart.”
Laying down, she held out her arms. “Stay with me tonight. We’ll worry about the rest tomorrow.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Fuse’s eyes cracked open at the tapping on Brittany’s door. The warm body next to him drew his attention from whoever stood in the hall.
Brittany was draped across his chest, their legs tangled together. His hand moved up to her bare back, causing his body to harden once more. He didn’t think it possible to be aroused a fourth time in as many hours.
They’d slipped under the covers at close to four in the morning. Turning his head, he was surprised to see eight blinking on the clock. He didn’t want to leave her, had no desire to break the fragile connection they’d built last night.
The tapping returned again, a little more insistent. Slipping out from under her, he pulled on his pants, not bothering to close the button as he padded to the door and opened it partway. Deke stood in the hall.
“Yeah?”
“Get your beauty sleep?”
“Bugger off, unless you have something important to say.” Fuse dragged fingers through his indigo black hair.
“Get dressed and join us in the office. We’ve got updated Intel.”
Fuse leaned his back against the closed door, staring at the bed, and the woman he hadn’t been able to resist. She’d known he wouldn’t refuse her.
“Witch,” he muttered, grabbing his shirt and boots. Dressing, he sat on the edge of the bed, carefully sliding strands of blonde hair from her face. He thought of the last few hours.
Brittany had again voiced her love for him in a drowsy voice before succumbing to sleep. Fuse wanted to say the word back, but couldn’t. After all this time, he still felt the pain of her rejection, the sting of her words.
Fuse couldn’t quite accept her apologies, or fervent assertions of love. He wanted to, but something held him back. Bending down, he pressed a kiss to her forehead before leaving.
Deke, Mitch, and Gunner were joined by Rock, Ghost, and Wrangler. He ignored their smirks as he passed by them to get a cup of life-affirming coffee. No one spoke until he took a couple sips, resting a hip against the counter.
Deke spoke first. “One of Mitch’s men, Dom Ferretti, speaks Russian. Ethan called, requesting Dom meet him at the hospital to interrogate one of the prisoners. It didn’t take long to get his name. Pavel Drozdov is one of Viktor’s top men. Beyond that, Drozdov had little more to say. Ethan’s going to run his name through the various agency databases.”
“Did he say anything else useful to us?” Rock crunched an empty bottle of water in his large hand, setting it aside.
“According to Dom, Drozdov was cocky and arrogant, believing he’s untouchable. Ethan will hold him for arraignment on a laundry list of charges. The sheriff doesn’t believe it will be hard to tie him to Viktor and the Butovo Bratva. The judge he’s likely to face is tough and unyielding. He doesn’t waver at the appearance of slick attorneys from the east coast.”
“Hell, the judge is from there.” Ghost tossed back the last of his coffee, crossing his arms. “He came here to retire, but was persuaded to deal only with the most difficult felony charges. The man sticks to the law, but has no sympathy for men such as Drozdov.”
“I believe Ethan will push the district attorney to charge him as a domestic terrorist.” Deke poured another cup of coffee. “None of this helps us determine if they’re continuing their search for Brittany.”
“Unless their goal has changed regarding the senator, there’s no reason for them to give up,” Ghost said.