Page 9 of Every Last Breath

Two men strode into his periphery, coming up on either side of him. Fit and lean, they carried themselves with self-assured, stealthy gaits. An edge radiated from them that had diddly to do with the big-ass guns in their shoulder rigs.

A white heat filled Cole’s chest, rising until he tasted his anger.

Ex-military, if he had to guess. Some brand of special forces, but they didn’t give off the overbearing fetor of mercenaries.

Both guys eyeballed him, sizing him up. Pure posturing. They’d already done the once-over while he was unconscious and had appraised him as a potential threat. Hence the restraints.

“You took down four armed, well-trained men in close quarters,” said the man with dark hair, wearing a ball cap. “We wanted to make sure you could tell the difference between friend and foe when you woke up disoriented and defensive.”

“From where I’m sitting,” Cole said, cutting his gaze to Maddox and ignoring her muscled motley crew, “Frick and Frack don’t look too friendly.”

“That’s Reece.” She nodded to the dark-haired guy. “Gideon.” She pointed to the pretty-boy blond.

Frick and Frack would do. Cole wasn’t in the market for bosom buddies who had a penchant for bondage.

“They helped me get you away from the Russians.” Her gaze was direct, assessing. Her stance tense like she balanced on a tightrope over an abyss. “Why are they after you?”

Better questions: How had she found him? Why did she have backup? Why was she questioning him while he was restrained?

Fate was playing a cruel joke on him today.

Cole shrugged. “I guess the Bratva in the Motherland heard I was alive and pulled strings to have the pleasure of my company. The Lazarus trick seems to have put me in high demand.”

“They heard all the way in Russia while I’ve been clueless right here in the Beltway.” Hurt glinted in her eyes, but her tone remained cool. “I guess the only thing worse than being the last to know is never knowing.”

The air stuck in his chest. They’d been as close as two people ever could be. He’d lived for her, killed for her, and, in a million ways, died for her.

He unlocked his lungs, drawing a breath, and shoved the cloying memories into his mental bunker. Needing to get a handle on this situation, he dropped his gaze and caught the gleam of his necklace on her wrist. The beads glimmered like a lifeline just out of reach.

“Would you mind returning my prayer beads? They have a calming effect. And how about freeing one of my hands so I can scratch an itch?”

“Tell me where you itch.” Her bedroom eyes held him, her butter-soft words tickling his underbelly. “I’ll scratch for you.”

His mind went tailspinning into the gutter, which was inevitable if he was near Maddox. Proof you could be attracted to someone you hated, but it didn’t take long for him to course-correct his thoughts with her armed sentries in the room and flex-cuffs chafing his wrists.

“And when did you become a monk?” She fingered the beads. “From what I recall, you had the most ferocious appetites.”

“I saw the light after the woman I was going to marry almost got me killed.” His tone was sharp enough to sever a carotid artery. “A near-death experience can make a man turn to prayer.”

An indefinable look settled on her face, not giving anything away. She watched him as one would an adversary. Her question had been loaded, and he’d taken the bait. She was poking around for something. But what?

Nine years, two weeks, and a heat wave since he’d last seen Maddox, and she was on a fishing expedition while failing to give him his due.

No apology. No explanation for why she’d ruined them. No tears of joy and I-missed-you kiss, although he’d have to be suicidal to let those lips touch his. Not one irrefutable iota she gave a damn he was alive, except for whatever she wanted from him.

Oh, he was way beyond ticked and was so pissed that he was shaking. Hell, he wanted to shake her, maybe even strangle her. His restraints might be necessary, or anger management. Anything but this fucktastic vacation.

“How did you find me?” He glanced at Frick, who tipped up the bill of his cap. Frack leaned against the doorjamb chewing gum, hands in his pockets, looking as if his body ran ten degrees lower than Maddox’s reptilian temperature. “What am I doing here, wherever ‘here’ is?”

“We have a situation,” she said. “Our employer needs your help with a problem.”

Here it comes—the shitstorm Cole needed to avoid. Aside from his job, he dodged involvement, had no attachments, and was resolved to serve his sentence in peace.

Getting ensnared in another soul-shattering Maddox mess was not on his wish list.

A bitter laugh bubbled out of him, and he leveled a glare at her. “Who’s your employer, and what’s the problem?”

He wanted the answer as much as he wanted a snakebite in the balls.