I Spy a Naughty Game

me,” he said.

“Great — let’s go.” Now that the earth had stopped moving, she felt more than a little uneasy standing around in her birthday suit after having hot sex with a stranger in an enemy compound.

They dressed quickly, and he accompanied her back to the bedroom. Instead of bidding her good night and locking her in, however, he came in and closed the door behind him.

“What are you doing?”

“I wanted to say thank you for an amazing ride back there. It was fantastic, even if the rest of the company sucks.”

She sent him a shaky smile. “Thank you, too. I don’t know if I’m an exhibitionist or not, but I hardly think this was a fair test.”

“I think we all have a bit of it in us — it’s just that some of us never tap in to our sexual potential.”

“Someone I know has been trying to teach that to me, and I’m beginning to understand. Or I might, given the right situation.”

“This someone is the man you love.” It wasn’t a question. He was referring to her earlier admission.

“Yes.”

“Are you feeling guilty about tonight?”

“Some,” she admitted. “But… he’s a free spirit. And a powerful Dom, too. I guess I never really got how he could claim to want to be with me, yet still enjoy fucking other lovers, doing a ‘scene’ with them, and not see anything wrong with it.”

“You get it now.”

“Yes, or at least I’m getting there. I’m willing to try.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” he said, stalking forward with the grace of a panther. “Because I’m very willing to help you liberate your vanilla mind. Think of me as therapy.”

“Therapy?” She squeaked as he pushed her backward, onto the bed, and crawled on top of her.

“You bet. Get some rest, dear Emma,” he whispered in her ear. “Because the next time I fuck you, I’m going to do it slow and easy, for a good long while.”

Oh, my. Yes.

Well, Blaze had wanted her awakened to new possibilities, and it was safe to say she was coming out of a long sleep.

She just hoped he could handle his own creation.

Six

Three days. Three long-assed, sorry motherfucking days pacing, worried sick about Emma. He’d tried returning to work the day after she was kidnapped, but he’d gotten on Michael’s last nerve and had been sent straight home again.

“Dammit.” In his kitchen, he tossed the remains of his half-eaten sandwich and stared out the back window overlooking his yard. SHADO’s intelligence guys were doing their best to find her and Dietz. And they would find her. He knew that.

But it didn’t stop his brain from conjuring all sorts of horrible things Dietz might be doing to her, how frightened she must be. Unless…

No. She’s still alive. I’d know if she wasn’t.

The peal of his doorbell cut into his tumbling thoughts, and he strode out of the kitchen through the living room, dread building in the pit of his stomach. The knot grew when he looked out the peephole to see Bastian standing on the porch. He yanked open the door and let the other man inside, grabbing his arm.

“She’s not dead.” It came out more of a demand than a question.

“No. If that were the case, Michael would’ve come himself,” Bastian said in a soothing tone. “Actually, I have some good news and some bad.”

“As long as it involves us being able to take action, I can deal with whatever you tell me. Sit down?”

“Sure.” He sat in a wingback chair as Blaze perched on the arm of the sofa, waiting. “This won’t take long because it’s pretty simple. Our tech guys haven’t been able to unscramble the signal to track the stolen helicopter. However, Michael got an anonymous tip on his secure e-mail account giving a set of coordinates. Nothing else. We have a team checking it out now to see if it’s anything important or just a wild-goose chase.”

“I assume the computer geeks are trying to trace the e-mail.”

“As we speak. Not much luck there so far, though. I’m thinking if it’s related to Dietz, one of his own men turned or there’s someone on the inside, maybe FBI, who took a chance in feeding us their location.”

“And the weapon’s location, hopefully.”

Bastian snorted. “Wouldn’t that be nice? Nothing is ever that simple.”

“True. And the FBI will let us do the dirty work to keep the weapon’s theft from becoming public, and when the dust settles, they’ll take the credit if all ends well.”

“That’s the thankless shit job we took, which we knew going in.” Bastian shifted, suddenly looking uneasy. “There’s one other thing. If — when — we pin down where Emma is probably being held, Michael has ordered you to stay here.”

Blaze laughed, the sound humorless and more than a tad pissed. “Michael can suck my dick. No disrespect intended.”

“He’s the boss, Kelly.” The other man cocked a half smile that was devoid of humor. “And believe me, Michael wouldn’t stray anywhere close to your dick.”

Blaze filed the man’s words and the bitter tone away for future reference. Coupled with what Bastian had said in his new office a few days ago, Blaze wondered anew what the deal was between Michael and Bastian.

Bastian continued. “You’ll remain here out of the way. Otherwise, you’ll be a liability.”

“That’s bullshit, and you know it. Emma’s going on assignment with me, and this is no different. I have every right to go after my partner.”

“Michael won’t—”

“Yes, he will. Tell him that I go, or I resign. His choice.”

“You’re a tough SOB. He’s not going to like this.”

“So I’ve been told, and I don’t care whether he does.” Stalemate. Blaze wanted to change the subject and was reluctant to see the other man leave. He needed company to take his mind off the constant aching worry. “Want a beer?”

“I really should get going,” said Bastian, not sounding convinced. “I was supposed to go back and finish unpacking my office.”

“All work and no play…”

“Makes Bastian a dull boy. I know.” He sighed, suddenly looking forlorn.

“Have pity on me, at least. I’m about to go out of my mind sitting around here waiting on word about Emma.”

The other man hesitated. “Oh, why the hell not? It’s not as if anyone from the office gives a damn where I went.”

“I smell a story there. Tell it to me over the beer?” Blaze rose and started for the kitchen, the other man right behind him.

“Not much to tell. Well, there sort of is, but it can be condensed into a few pathetic words — the man I love doesn’t know I’m alive in the romantic sense.”

“We’ve all been there, friend,” he said in sympathy, pulling two bottles from the fridge. “Can I ask who you’re talking about?”

“I’d rather not say.” The other man took his beer and twisted off the top. “Here’s to unrequited love.”

“And crotch rot visited upon those who don’t appreciate us.”

Bastian laughed and they clinked bottles. Blaze studied the man, and his interest grew by the second. There