Page 30 of Liaising Kai

“Yes,” he growled, his blood heating.

“Good. We’ll be in touch.”

A shot rang out, the sound of it exploding in Kai’s brain. For a moment she was frozen, then she looked over to find Davis…alive. It was the leader who was on the ground writhing in pain. She reacted. Setting her hands on the ground, she twisted, pivoting to knock the legs out from under the Los Esmeraldas with the machete. He went down hard on his back, the wind knocked out of him. One of the two women who had materialized out of the trees covering him. The other woman strode forward, keeping her eyes on the two men still standing. One went to pull his weapon, and she shot him cleanly through the head.

“Want to go two for two?” she said to the other man. He shook his head and started to strip off his weapons, dropping them to the ground.

She looked at Kai. “Are you all right?” Her eyes flickered to Davis who was looking at the woman and back to Kai with a bemused look on his face.

“You knew they were there.” He looked at Kai, while the two women zip-tied the four men. Apparently, their leader was also still alive.

She nodded. “This is Strekoza. It means dragonfly in Russian.” She introduced the tall, willowy brunette with sharp features, then turned around to the petite blonde, who didn’t look old enough to be out of high school. “And this is Hummingbird. CIA Shadowguard.”

“We were sent to shadow you once Mrs. Cordero was murdered. Homeland is pissed, and Justice is pissed. That anger and outrage goes all the way to the White House. They weren’t going to take any more chances.”

“You couldn’t let us know that?”

“No, not our policy to do that. Once you know someone is backing you up, you tend to act differently and try and discover who it is. It’s a cop thing,” she said with a smile.

He turned his head at the sound of the chopper in the distance. “There are two DEA agents on the boat. I think they’re still alive. They were breathing when I left them.”

The blonde nodded and jogged toward the boat.

The brunette headed toward the chopper that was landing in a clearing.

Still on their knees, she looked at him. “Sorry, there wasn’t much time to talk. I had something else to say.” His features softened, and he looked away, gouging at his eyes, and blinking furiously.

She understood that relief, the knowledge that he could have died today. She’d experienced that in the woods when she’d seen them shoot the DEA agents and take Davis hostage. He turned back to her and held her gaze, his hair shining black in the sunlight, his high cheekbones accentuating the lines of strain around his mouth. He looked dark, dangerous, and complicated, and the look in his eyes made her heart pound and her knees go weak. She took his hand, her grip urgent and tense, almost desperate, swallowing hard. There was a flare of emotion in his eyes, and he tightened his grip on her hand and slowly, so slowly, stroked the palm with his thumb. It was too much, that look that said so much, that slow, sensual touch putting her in such sensory overload that the brightness from the light made her skin feel too tight. He laced his fingers through hers, and the only thing that kept her together was the tight grip Davis had on her hand.

And he kept that grip on her hand during all the activity around them, getting the Los Esmeraldas in the chopper, loading up the two wounded DEA agents, and finally them. Flying back to Guayaquil, checking into a hotel the Shadowguards’ said was safe.

He finally let go when they were led to their respective rooms. Inside, she found her belongings, everything she needed. She gathered up her toiletries and went into the bathroom, showered the sweat and blood off her, then slathered on lotion, and finally dried her hair, leaving it loose.

She came out of the bathroom in a gauzy wrap that left nothing to the imagination and found Davis was standing with his back to her at the balcony door in nothing but a towel. His bare back gleamed in the dim light, draping him in liquid silver. In the faint light, she couldn’t miss the awful tension in him.

Her vision blurring with the enormity of her feelings, Kai said his name and crossed the room.

Davis went still and she was sure she could feel the tension leaping between them. She didn’t have a plan, she hadn’t thought it out, she just had to get to him. Davis shifted and she got a good look at his face. Seeing the agony in his eyes, she simply reacted.

Her voice catching on a sob, she said his name softly, then rammed into him, as his arms came around her, his agony becoming hers.

She released a soft sound as Davis crushed her in a hard, fierce embrace, his hand roughly tangling in her loose hair.

Immobilized by the onslaught of need, Kai clung to him, certain she would collapse if he let her go. She had never experienced anything like him—the heavy, surging feeling of two halves coming together, the awesome power of two universes colliding, the stunning rush of wanting that never went away. It had only built and built into too much need, too much unsatisfied hunger, too much raw emotion.

Her breathing out of control, she locked her arms around him, pulling herself flush against him, needing him, needing it all.

Hoarsely whispering her name, Davis backed her into the shadows, her back hitting the wall, then spread his hand wide in her hair and turned her head. His heart pounding in tandem with hers, he brushed his mouth across hers, and the surge of raw sexual energy was like touching a live wire.

Her breathing paralyzed, she lifted herself higher and opened her mouth, needing the heat of him. Davis shuddered, grinding his mouth against hers as he crushed her even tighter. His hard heat against her yielding softness, her desire fired in reaction to his.

It was as if she’d died when Allison died and this was her resurrection, her second chance to live, to love, to find the power, not only in him, or them, but in herself as well. He incinerated her doubts and fears, turning her into ashes, until his hot, wet plundering kiss ignited her, and she rose from those ashes. Making a low sound of restraint, he tried to tear his mouth away, but she grasped his face, holding him to her, unable to bear a separation. She would splinter and break into jagged, frantic pieces if she didn’t have him.

Davis ripped his mouth away and clamped her head against his. “I fucking forgot about condoms,” he ground out, his voice so rough, it was as if he was speaking through some unmanageable pain.

“You don’t need them, Davis. I’m protected. I’m safe.”

He focused on her. “Are you sure?” he whispered brokenly, his breath hot against her ear. “I don’t want to take any risks with you.”

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