Page 52 of Poison Evidence

Knowing Parker—Dimitri—didn’t kill Annie made it possible to breathe again. But the man was still an assassin.

“Why did he send you a card? What does he want from you?” Undine asked.

He’d been asking himself the same thing. He could think of only two possibilities. “Either he’s luring me to Palau because I’m his next assignment, or he wants my help.”

“There’s no reason for Russia to want you dead at this point.”

She had no idea about some of the ops he’d been on when he was a SEAL, but those had been years ago.

“I think…” Undine’s chest rose as she took a long, deep breath. “I think he wants your help. He knows Curt would bring you in the loop. He knows my connection to Ivy. He knows you trusted him.”

“He sent the cardbeforethe party. Does that mean he was behind the attack?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “But one thing we know about Parker is he can read people, and he knows how to plan. Maybe he saw the storm brewing and sent that card simply because he wanted you alert when the typhoon hit.”

“Ivy’s in the eye of the storm now.”

“She is.” Undine pulled back and gripped his shirt. “I think—God, I hate saying this because it’s thelastthing I want you to do—but I think you should go to Palau.”

Relief flooded him as she suggested the thing he’d feared they’d fight over. He’d known he was going to Palau from the moment Curt had said the wordassassin.

Chapter Eighteen

Dimitri should have known the way to seduce Ivy would be with maps. He wished he’d forgone the solar-powered lights, because candlelight would only make the scene more beautiful. She’d draped herself over the plastic table as she studied the notes he’d written on the chart. A long tress had slipped from her hairclip and fell over her cheek, draping down to sweep the chart spread across the table.

He could swear he heard her coo when she saw the underwater cave he’d located to the southeast. The soft noise made him wonder about the sounds she’d make if he took her from behind as she bent over the table.

He turned to the supplies he’d placed here over the last several weeks, and found a bottle of red wine and two stemless metal wine cups, purchased on a whim after reading an article she’d written on the infrared signatures of grapevines in drought conditions, and the possibility of using aerial mapping to ensure water was distributed in the right amount to the neediest crops. An offhand remark had given her favorite vintage.

She might find the purchase stalkerish, and yet she already knew he’d studied her like she was the final exam that would decide his fate.

Because, in truth, she was.

He pulled the cork and poured the wine. She smiled when he offered her the cup, then purred after her first sip. “I’ve always loved this wine, and right now, I think it’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted.”

He couldn’t help but smile. “Second best for me.”

She returned her gaze to the map, still caught in its thrall. “What was the best?” she asked, distracted as she traced a triangle he’d drawn where he’d noted Peleliu wreckage on the seafloor.

“You.”

Her finger paused on the shape, but her body didn’t stiffen. She straightened, lifted her cup, and took a slow sip. “Tell me more.”

He stepped up behind her but didn’t touch her, much as he wanted to. “I could describe you like a fine wine, smooth and tangy with an erotic bouquet, the way your flavor bursts on the tongue. But none of it would capture how sensual you are, how you intoxicate me, or explain my addiction to you.”

She leaned against him, pressing her ass to his erection. He groaned at the contact. He wanted to cup her breasts and grind against her, but he set his fists on the tabletop, trapping her. He wanted to lick the dried salt on her neck; instead, he breathed in the fresh ocean scent that infused her skin.

“I want to bury myself inside you, but not for a hot, fast fuck. I want slow, sensual, and intense. Methodical. Fucking you was glorious, but I’m thirsty for more than that. Ineedmore.” He couldn’t stop the flow of words, his mouth having been hijacked by an organ far more powerful than his brain. These were his last days on this earth, and if he could have one thing, it would be something real with Ivy to take to the grave. “The next time I’m inside you, I want it to be making love.”

He pressed his lips to the side of her neck and trailed downward. “Believe in me, Ivy. Know that I’m protecting you. First, last, and always.”

She let out a small whimper at the back of her throat, and his erection strained to escape his boxer briefs. Home was so close. The place he wanted to be more than any other.

“Do you trust me, Ivy?”

She lifted her cup and drained it in one long swallow.

“Do you trust me, Ivy?”

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