Page 29 of Kept By The Agents

"Your name."

"It's Andrew."

"Andrew Weaver." I mulled over the name. It was a nice one, as far as names went.

"The third," he said, one side of his mouth pulling upward in a small grin.

I smiled at him. "Your mother believes in tradition."

He shrugged. "Guess so." He seemed to be searching for something to ask me, but instead he turned back to his computer.

I was pleased to see that he was shutting down the program he'd been working on, as well as closing the documents from Boris's USB. He pulled up the security footage before standing and grabbing his own clothes and going into the bathroom.

Studying the street view and the downstairs of the house we were sleeping in, I tried to figure out these men. Suave, I used to know like the back of my hand. He'd changed so much over the years, and yet I still caught glimpses of the kid he used to be. I remember seeing him sit on the bed, rubbing a towel over his hair like it was yesterday. Watching him do that in the kitchen had caused a lump to form in my throat.

All the pain and grief I'd gone through had welled up within me. What had been so important that he'd walked away from me, the woman he claimed to love?

Before our time here in Russia was finished, I planned to find out. Sure, I could march next door and demand he tell me. Only… I wasn't sure I was ready. It was stupid. I'd had so many years to wonder what had happened. Now that I was faced with him again, I needed time to gather my courage.

What if it had been something legitimate? Some reason I was unaware of that once I found out, I'd be accepting of it? If that was the case, the anger that I'd used as a shield for so long would be gone. You wouldn't think that you'd want to hold onto such a negative emotion, but it had been such a constant in my life for so long, to lose it now was a little scary. It would create a chink in my armor. The only thing standing between me and the cruelness in this world. Without it, I was afraid I wouldn't be able to handle the things I saw on the job. And without my fledgling career… What else did I have?

And how sad was that? The only thing in this world I had to fight for was my job. It wasn't even like I'd been hired by one of the top media outlets like I wanted. I was fighting tooth and nail to climb my way to the top, and had been for years. To say I was getting tired of the climb didn't quite convey my exhaustion.

For years, I'd followed Suave's career, and his personal life, as much as I could. As much as it hurt to see him moving on from me, to hear about him dating and taking women home, I needed to know what he was up to. That deep urge faded about three years after he left. I got sick of hearing about the endless supply of women from different friends and sources I had in the city he lived in. There was only so much a woman could take. I'd gone through all the stages of grief and was finally at acceptance. Suave was single and he didn't owe me anything—well anything except that explanation.

The women didn't matter. I'd spent a long time pissed off at him before I finally came to that realization. All that was left was to know why he'd left me all those years ago. Whatever the outcome would be, even if I lost a piece of myself, I planned to confront him. Just…not now. I needed time to come to terms with everything. The bathroom door opened, cutting off my reverie.

Weaver stood still for a moment, studying me as closely as I was him. "You want me to take the floor?"

A few hours ago, I would have said yes. He'd watched me playing with myself when I hadn't given him permission. He deserved to be as uncomfortable as I was. Only, I wasn't ashamed anymore. I wished it hadn't happened, but there was no going back and fixing it.

"No, you can sleep here." I patted the bed next to me. "Just keep your hands to yourself," I cautioned. I couldn't quite suppress the sly smile that might have said please don't.

He nodded in agreement and pulled the covers back on his side. "Alright." He settled on his back, pillowing his head with his arm as he stared up at the ceiling.

I hadn't known him for very long, but it seemed like he was always thinking such deep thoughts. He was very different from the other two, but somehow they worked. Watching them at dinner had been eye opening. They laughed together and talked over everything from the mission to funny situations that had happened to them over the years.

Despite my best effort, I'd relaxed and laughed along with them. It wasn't easy to stay quiet when these three got going. They were charming and interesting, even Weaver.

Rolling onto my side, back to him, I closed my eyes. Brandon and Suave were going out tomorrow to see what they could learn. All I could hope for was that they received necessary intel quickly. I wanted to say that it was because I was desperate to find Elena, and that was a tiny piece of it. But if I was admitting the truth, I wasn't sure how long I could live with these three and not do something stupid…like give into the urges that were still storming my system. Even hours after the kiss and shower fiasco, my pussy was still throbbing and kept reminding me that I hadn't given myself any relief.

Groaning, I shifted enough to dig my elbow into the warm body curled up at my back. I didn't know how long I'd been asleep, but it wasn't long enough and the steady beeping was interrupting me. "Darro," I mumbled.

His sigh was heavy in my ear, but then his breathing went back to a deep rhythm. His arm tightened around my body, pulling me back into his chest more.

"Darro," I said a little louder, voice sounding groggy even to myself. "If you don't turn that alarm clock off I'm going to hit you with it."

He had a habit of setting thirty alarms before he had to get up in the morning. Drove me nuts. I'd asked him so many times to stop doing it, because I couldn't sleep through all the noise. He always complained that he couldn't get up on the first alarm, only insane people did that.

The beeping continued.

I rolled in his arms and let my lips trail up his neck. His groan of appreciation, even when he was half asleep, was a turn on. I loved when men were vocal in the bedroom. Their groans, grunts, and words made me wetter than Niagara Falls. Not that I'd slept with many. Darro had always been the one I remembered and it had ruined it with any other guys.

Wait a minute.

A nagging sensation woke my brain from its fog. Darro and I hadn't been together in forever. I wasn't with him, in our house in Maine. I was in Russia. Sleeping with… "Oops."

I shoved against Weaver's bare chest, resisting the urge to knead at his muscles the way a kitten might. All the movement, or maybe the wet kisses I'd been leaving on his neck had woken him up.

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