Eventually Nicole grabbed their cups and dumped the untouched coffee in the sink. When she came back out, she sighed. “How do you do this? How are you so patient?”

  Michael almost smiled at that. He didn’t feel patient, sitting there on the couch, staring at their phones, laid out side-by-side on the coffee table. “Training. You’d be surprised how much of every mission is simply waiting. For the target to become available. For the right moment to strike. It doesn’t get easier,” he told her, “but you get better at it.”

  “I sincerely hope I never have to get better at it,” Nicole said. “No offense, but this one time is enough for me.”

  Michael barely kept himself from telling her that was what he wanted, too. That if he had his way, she’d never have to go through anything like this again. But he had no business talking about her future like he had any say in it, so a confession like that seemed inadvisable, particularly after that moment a few days ago. He could still feel her in his arms. It had been everything that he remembered, from all those years ago, and he deeply wished it hadn’t. So he kept silent, and Nicole went back to pacing.

  Grant came in briefly for lunch, talking excitedly about the tricks he was teaching Destroyer. “He’s really good at fetch and he can sit and lie down, and I almost got him to give me his paw. I can show you after lunch, if you want.”

  “That sounds great,” Nicole said brightly, but Michael could hear the strain in her voice. “I think maybe you should stay inside the rest of today, though.”

  “Why? Is everything okay?” Grant asked.

  “Everything’s fine, baby,” Nicole said. “But remember that Michael doesn’t want either of us going outside alone without a phone, and we both need to hold onto our phones right now. We're just waiting to hear from a friend.”

  Grant glanced at Michael and nodded. “Okay. Can I play on the tablet? I promise I’ll do some reading, too, after.”

  “Sure,” Nicole said, and Grant grinned, rushing upstairs as soon as lunch was finished.

  “You know, you don’t have to stay inside like this,” Michael said as they cleared the dishes. “Take Grant out, get some fresh air. Whatever’s going to happen, we probably still have some time.”

  “Maybe in a bit.” Nicole started scrubbing the dishes with a vengeance. “But you could go for a run, if you wanted.” When Michael hesitated, she tossed a smile over her shoulder. For a moment the tension in her eased. “Yeah, I didn’t think so.” She finished the dishes, and dried her hands on a dish towel. “Okay, then. Cards?”

  Michael smiled. “I think I have a deck somewhere.”

  He found a pack of cards in the desk, and Nicole brought over a bag of walnuts from the pantry, and they played poker for nuts as they both pretended not to watch their phones.

  “Grant’s right, you know,” Michael remarked, after winning his third hand in a row. “Your nose does do this kind of scrunchy thing when you’re bluffing.”

  “It does not,” Nicole insisted, and reached over to grab some of the nuts from his pile, which made him laugh. She paused, and asked, “Do you trust Dt. Kayode?”

  Michael folded his cards in his hand. “Yes. She has a reputation for being honest and reliable, and based on the brief background check we did on her, she’s got a hell of a track record. She knows what she’s doing. I’d still prefer to have one of my own there,” Michael admitted. “Not to interfere, but...anyway, it’s a non-issue because we’re all on assignment.”

  “Sounds like you need a bigger staff,” Nicole remarked.

  Michael thought of Jed Maloney, and then forcefully pushed the thought away. “We’re fine the way we are. We can handle it.”

  It wasn’t until well after dinner, when Grant had gone upstairs to change into his pj’s, that Michael’s phone finally rang.

  He snatched it up. “Rinaldi.”

  “We got him,” Kayode said. “Quick and easy, and no one got hurt. Not even our new friend. The good news is that he’s got a number of outstanding warrants for drug trafficking, which means we have something to lean on—incentive for him to make a deal with whatever information he might have. We’re taking him to the station now, see if can get anything out of him about Bryant’s murder. Just sit tight.”

  Relief raced through him. “We will. Thank you, Detective.”

  “It’s my job,” Kayode said and hung up.

  Nicole was watching him. He let himself smile. “They got him.”

  Her hands were clenched tightly. “And everyone’s—”

  “Everyone’s safe,” he assured her. “You don’t have to worry about that. The detective said they're going to question him. See what he knows.”

  “Yes!” Nicole threw her arms up in the air, excitement radiating out of her as she spun around—and then threw her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. His arms wound around her instinctively. “Yes, thank you, thank—”

  She seemed to realize it at the same time he did—that he was holding her close, that she was wrapped around him. Her face was inches from his, and the relief and excitement made her eyes sparkle. He realized, distantly, that he was on the edge of something, that he should be cautious—but it had been too long, and he wasn’t strong enough to pull away. He couldn’t be, not when she was in his arms and looking at him like that. And then he was kissing her. Or she was kissing him. He wasn’t sure who moved first. Only that his mouth was on hers and her kisses were just as hot and sweet as he remembered. His hand fisted in her dark hair, holding her close. His other arm hooked underneath her, hitched her up. Nicole fastened her legs around him, arching against him, and it had been so damn long. Since he’d felt this close to anyone. Since any woman had felt this good in his arms. Since anyone had made him feel this much, this passionately and uncontrollably. He stumbled back, slamming against the desk, and turned to prop Nicole on it. Nicole made that sound low in her throat, the one that made him want to rip off everything she was wearing, and he ground himself against her. He was so hard it was painful.

  “Mom!”

  Ice raced through his veins as they broke apart, breathing hard.

  “Mom!” Grant called again. “I’m ready for bed!”

  “Coming—I’m coming!” Nicole called back. She pushed Michael aside and hurried up the stairs. Leaving him alone, and aching.

  10

  Grant was asleep moments after she finished tucking him in, thankfully. Nicole knew she had to seem distracted—she wasn’t entirely confident what she’d been saying for the past few minutes—but mercifully, Grant had been too tired to ask any awkward questions. She smoothed the blanket over her son, but her thoughts were still downstairs with Michael, and that kiss. Every fiber in her body was still thrumming with it. She could still feel his lips against hers.

  She’d really, really hoped that Michael would’ve turned into a terrible kisser. That it would turn out that over the years she’d obsessed over him and built up their time together so much that reality would pale in comparison to her memories. No such luck. He still had the power to melt her brain.

  Nicole turned out the light in Grant’s room, pausing for a moment to take in the sight of her little boy, blissfully asleep, and the sweet mutt sprawled across him and most of the bed. Then she shut the door.

  And went down the hall to Michael’s room.

  There was a pause before he answered her brief knock. He was stripped to the waist, only in blue jeans and bare feet; she’d clearly caught him changing for bed. Nicole’s mouth went dry at the sight of him, the corded muscles, the faded scars. A set of dog tags dangled around his neck.

  “Can we talk?” Nicole managed.

  “Talk?” There was an edge to the word, something dangerous that made her skin tingle. If she was smart, she would turn around now and head back to her room.

  Instead, Nicole summoned all of her courage…and nodded.

  Michael looked at her for a long moment, then stepped back and held open the door. She stepped inside, heart pounding, as Michael stayed where he was, keeping the distance between them. “You’re still wearing your dog tags.”

  It came out in a rush. It wasn’t what she wanted to say, but she wasn’t ready for that. Not yet. She needed a moment, maybe a bit of small talk to ease the way.

  “Yes.” His reply was terse. Clearly, he wasn’t on board the “let me ease into this” train.

  “Why?”

  Michael hesitated. For a second, Nicole thought he wasn’t going to answer, or that he would demand that they focus on the issue that really mattered. “I don’t know. Wouldn't feel right without them. Wouldn’t feel real.”

  “What wouldn’t?” she asked.

  He shrugged. “Any of it. Being here. Being...”

  “Home,” Nicole finished for him.

  A charged moment passed between them. She saw his muscles straining as he kept himself in check. “What are you really here for?”

  “I…” She tried to steady her breath, gather her thoughts, to stop staring at the collection of scars scattered along his skin, a deadly but still beautiful constellation. She hated that he’d been in danger, but she was proud that he’d managed to survive, despite everything he’d faced. When Nicole finally managed to pull her gaze away, he was watching her. She felt heat rising in her chest, knowing that he’d caught her staring. “Those are new.”

  Michael glanced down. “Not really.”

  Nicole licked her lips, trying to find the words she came here to say, and saw his gaze drop to her mouth. “How—”

  “Classified,” he said shortly.

  She nodded. “Looks bad.” He didn’t respond. “That was always what frightened me the most, you know. Knowing you were out there, getting scars like that. Wondering what sort of scars you’d come back with. If you came back.”

  Michael arched one dark brow, skeptical. “You were never scared.”

  “I was scared every single day,” Nicole told him. “Even after we broke up, I was so scared for you. I would hear on the news about something going wrong, someone getting hurt overseas, in the chaos of another war zone, and I wouldn’t be able to focus the rest of the day, afraid that it might be you. I’d call your grandma—just randomly. I’d pretend that I just wanted to chat, to catch up—but I think she knew I was calling just to have her tell me that you were okay. I only did it when I couldn't bear not knowing anymore if you were all right.” Her voice broke as the memories rushed back in and left her shaken, and Nicole blinked hard, pushing back the tears.

  But he saw them. Michael saw everything. “It’s okay.” He moved towards her, a little slowly. “We’re okay. I’m here, I made it; we’re both safe. We're both here. Together.”

  Together. The word broke her. The tears welled up, and she was shaking now, trying to hold them back. Yes, they were both here—both alive, both safe—and she was grateful for that. But they weren’t together. They never would be again.

  And then he was there, his warm hands cupping her face, tilting it up so he could kiss her. Still murmuring in that deep voice she loved. “It’s okay, we’re safe, we’re here.” For a moment, it was just like it had been. She gave herself up to it, kissing him with everything she had.

  His mouth became hot and demanding on hers, insisting, taking. Nicole met it, and gave more, tired of fighting. She wanted just one night.

  Then Michael wrenched away, his breathing a desperate rasp. “This is a bad idea.”

  She nodded. “Tell me to go, and I will.”

  “Like hell,” Michael growled, and kissed her.

  11

  This was a terrible idea. A mistake. Michael knew that, and still he couldn’t stop himself as he pressed Nicole up against the door, kissing her. Hard enough to leave a mark. Hard enough that next time, when she went away, she’d never be able to forget.

  He wanted to take his time, to savor this, but he couldn’t. There was no patience left in him, only need. It had been so damn long, and he needed this. Needed Nicole, her mouth, needed her naked and underneath him. He wanted to brand himself on her, heart and soul, the way she’d branded herself on him. Her mouth moved against his, hot and demanding. Damned if it didn’t still feel like coming home.

  Michael pulled back, just enough to look at her. Her face was flushed, that luscious mouth swollen from kissing him, but her eyes were steady. Trusting.

  Together they clawed off her shirt, her bra, as they edged back towards the bed, her magnificent breasts bobbing as they tumbled back onto the mattress. They fumbled for the clasp on her jeans as Nicole scrambled to kick them off. Michael’s hand trailed down the smooth skin of her belly, slipping past the thin fabric of her panties to find her hot, slick center. She cried out at his touch, arching against his hand, and Michael grinned ferociously. He’d always loved fucking her with his hand. And his mouth. He just loved fucking her—loved how wet she was, how responsive. And this—hearing her throaty, desperate gasps as his fingers found a steady, unrelenting rhythm—this was a homecoming. Nicole strained against him, wanting to take charge, but he had her pinned fast down on the bed, his mouth finding one of her breasts to suckle as he stroked her. Her breath was ragged now as her hands found the waistband of his jeans, and plunged inside, wrapping around the painfully hard length of him. Michael gasped as her fingers closed around his cock, stroking him as he was stroking her. He ground against her hand, upping the pace with his fingers, until Nicole was very nearly sobbing as she choked back cries.

  He could feel the edge coming, and Michael pulled back, his breath rasping in his chest and every fiber in his body screaming for release. “Wait.”

  Nicole stopped immediately, blinking up at him. He could see she was trying to focus through the haze of sensation. “What is it? You okay?”

  He nodded, grim, determined, and let go of her long enough to shift back and shuck his jeans. “I plan on coming inside you.”

  A familiar wicked smile slid across Nicole’s face as she relaxed, dimples winking in her cheeks as she realized it wasn’t second thoughts that had caused him to stop. “Sounds like a good plan.”

  “I thought so,” he murmured, easing her jeans the last of the way down and shoving them aside. He took a moment to look down at her, stretched out on his bed. Nicole Zito. Here. His. Again. At least for now.

  Michael wasn’t going to waste a second of it. He stretched over her, plucking a condom out of a drawer by the nightstand, and sheathed himself. Then slowly, control straining, he lowered himself down. Even in the dark, he notched himself perfectly against her. He kissed her again, long and hard. “Say my name.”

  He could feel her smile against his mouth. “Did you forget what it is? Am I that good?”

  “Say it,” he growled.

  “Michael—” And then she let out a shuddering gasp as he surged into her in one smooth movement, her head tilting back as those beautiful eyes squeezed closed. “Michael.”

  He hesitated, wanting nothing more than to give into the ferocious, pounding need to drive into her, again and again. But he mustered every ounce of restraint, forcing himself to stay in control. “Look at me, Nicole,” he said, easing back and slowly filling her again, inch by inch, an aching cry catching in the back of her throat. “Look at me.”

  She nodded, breathing so hard her breasts heaved against his chest. There were tears in her eyes as she looked at him.

  “Keep your eyes on me. Don’t look away,” he ordered as he drew back and thrust into her. Warm, slick, tight—it had never been like this with anyone else. No one else had even come close. His control finally snapped and he drove into her, desperate. She kept her eyes on him, that dark gaze that always saw straight through him, as she rocked against him frantically, meeting each thrust. He caught a hand under her hips, yanking them up so he could drive deeper. He felt the silken grasp of her tighten around his cock, and knew she was close, and shifted, freeing one hand to slip down to her clit. Nicole arched up into him, tight as a bowstring, and released a hoarse, desperate barely-muffled cry as she came. Michael felt a pleasure fierce enough to nearly register as pain. Damn right. He’d done that. She was his. His, he thought, as she wrapped around him, kissing him, as his orgasm swept over him like the tide, and he collapsed against her, spent.

  Afterwards, they lay next to each other in the dark, Nicole curved against him as he trailed his fingers along her arm, her side. He wasn’t used to being this needy, but he couldn’t resist giving in to the temptation to feel her warmth. Couldn’t even remember why he’d want to resist. She was here, with him, and he couldn't stop touching her. It took Michael a minute to realize what he was feeling. Peace. It had been so long since he’d felt like this. Not since he’d last been with her.

  Being with her, here, like this. It was even better than he’d remembered. This was what he’d been missing.

  “Why did you end things?” Michael was surprised to hear his own voice. He hadn’t meant to say that. He’d been thinking it, but…

  He’d been angry for so long. At how things ended, at the fact that she wouldn’t tell him why. Maybe it’d be better to know. Maybe if he knew, they could deal with it, whatever it was, and move forward again. Together.

  Stretched along his side, Michael felt her take a deep breath, and then she shifted in bed, turning to face him. In the darkness, he could only see the dim outline of her face.

  “I was pregnant.”

  It was barely a whisper, but it ran through him like electricity. “What?”

  “And then I lost the baby,” she continued in that same broken whisper. “I was still very early on—I had only just found out—and I lost our baby. I had been so excited to tell you—that was why I had us schedule that call for Father’s Day, remember that?” He nodded, unable to speak. “I miscarried the day before. And what you were doing was so important and so dangerous, and I knew you needed all your strength and concentration to do your job safely, so I didn’t feel I could tell you. I didn’t want to burden you or distract you. But I couldn’t handle it alone. I couldn’t ask you to handle that because it wouldn’t be fair, and I couldn’t keep talking to you and being with you when it was so hard for me to pretend that everything was okay.”