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  He didn't need to be asked again, words or no. He jerked her blouse free of her jeans and shoved it up, hand questing beneath fabric for her breast. He hooked his finger over the lace edge of her bra and tugged the cup down.

  Warm flesh filled his hand. He groaned again and found her nipple, plucking at it until it tightened and she arched her back. He fumbled buttons open, peeling her blouse away so he could fasten his mouth around the nub and tease it with his teeth.

  Both of her hands were in his hair, tugging in pulses that matched the motion of her hips as she rocked them forward against his erection. Faint sounds of encouragement surged out of her with every breath. Tyler skimmed his hand down the soft plain of her stomach, popped the button on her jeans and slid his hand inside.

  She jerked the first time he touched her clit. Her head thumped softly against the wall but she didn't make him stop. She stared at him, eyes gone nearly midnight, but she didn't push him away. He circled once, a testing touch, then did it again harder. She closed her eyes. He moved his fingers faster and her hips rolled again. She bit her bottom lip bloodless and swallowed hard.

  God, he loved her. Still loved her. Nothing in the world felt as good as watching her pulse throb beneath pale, silken skin. Nothing tasted as good as the hollow that he traced with his tongue. No one sounded as sweet trying to bite back whimpers for more.

  He slicked his fingers with her wetness and pushed deeper, following the curve of her body to her entrance. He lingered there, hesitated before pushing two braided fingers in. His reward was a soft cry and another desperate tug. She wanted him. She clenched around his fingers in need. Heaven!

  "What the hell's going on, Sela?"

  Tyler hadn't heard him. He hadn't heard anything but the pounding of his heart and the sounds Sela made. He didn't think Marcus lumbered like an elephant, shaking the ground when he walked, but a man that size should have made some sort of warning noise.

  They jerked apart. Sudden distance stretched between them as Tyler tried to rein himself in and Sela clutched at the edges of her blouse, pulling them together as she hugged herself. Her jeans gapped open, damning proof of what exactly had happened.

  Marcus missed none of it. His dark gaze bounced between them and his jaw set like granite. His hands balled into fists, opened and closed again. Every line of his body screamed restraint and Tyler sent up a whisper of brief thanks.

  "I can explain," Tyler said when he found his voice.

  Marcus stabbed a finger toward him. "Not you." His gaze swung back to Sela and his hand fell. "Let her tell me."

  Sela's cheeks blazed, but she didn't look away, save a brief glance down to start fitting buttons back into place. "I didn't mean for this to happen. I didn't know it would. I came to talk to him and ... things got out of control."

  "Out of control." Marcus shook his head. "Talk to him? That's what you call talking? Dammit, Reeves, you know better. We don't do the job this way."

  Something unspoken passed between them, a look that said things had gone too far. Sela paled instead of blushing. Marcus cursed under his breath and whirled to throw a vicious punch at a two-by-four. The horse two stalls down whinnied in alarm.

  And Tyler stood between them, trying to catch up, his heart pounding so hard and fast that his fingers throbbed. At least Marcus’s arrival had taken care of his erection. He wasn't sure he'd ever get it up again. "I'm missing something," he dared. When neither of them answered or silenced him, he pressed on. "What job? Why did he call you Reeves? What's going on, Sela? Marcus? Someone say something."

  Marcus kept his back turned. Sela sighed and rubbed her face.

  "I need your word," she said quietly when she lowered her hands. "I need you to be honest with me. And I need you to understand that if you're not, what we had won't matter. I will put you away and I will toss the key if you're involved at all."

  Tyler frowned, looking between the two of them again. "English, maybe?" His gaze settled on Marcus when he turned around. "You're not mad?"

  "Oh yeah, I'm pissed," the big man promised, but his attention rested mostly on Sela.

  Who cocked an eyebrow and stole Tyler's attention back. "Tyler. Do we have a deal?"

  "Yeah, sure." He pushed a hand through his hair. "If I'm involved in whatever it is, lock me up."

  "Don't do this, Reeves." Marcus all but growled.

  "I told you I wanted someone local," Sela answered and gestured toward Tyler. "Now we have him, for better or worse."

  "Untested, untrained. You don't even know if you can trust him."

  She laughed. "I think I can tell who's worth trusting."

  "Trusting or fucking?"

  "Hey!" Tyler understood the urge to make fists now. He stepped forward, putting himself between them, though none of them were close enough to touch. "How about we stop talking about Tyler like he's not here and tell him what the hell's going on?"

  It went against everything Sela'd been taught to bring a civilian in like this. Not now, not before they knew for certain what they were dealing with. She took another breath, stole a glance at Marcus’s shoulders, and swallowed guilt. "We're not married."

  Tyler smirked. "That'd explain why I still have a face."

  "Not really," Marcus threatened. "You still have a face because I'm waiting for an explanation, too."

  She'd made a true mess of things this time. She had the man she wanted or so she thought. She'd lured Marcus into bed for the first time in years, then turned around and ruined it by letting old feelings override common sense.

  They should have been dead and gone, buried and forgotten in the past. She'd come looking for Tyler legitimately, to ask questions and find out what he knew about the case. She wasn't looking for a second chance with an old flame, but when she kissed him, when he touched her, memories took over and she realized that she'd missed him even more than she knew.

  And now she had to deal with the fallout.

  "Look. What happened isn't the issue right now. We'll deal with it, I promise, but that's not why I came out." She stared hard at Marcus, willing his shoulders out of their high, defensive set. When he took a breath and his fists relaxed, Sela felt as though she'd been given permission to breathe too.

  Which meant she could concentrate on Tyler. "We're not married," she told him again. "That's just a cover story to keep people in the dark about why we're really here." She reached for the badge holder in her pocket and flashed it open. His eyes widened and she tucked it away. "We work for the Agency. We're partners, Tyler. We're here on a case."

  "What case?" His gaze bounced between them again. "There's nothing going on out here."

  "Nothing you know about, anyway." Marcus turned to put his shoulder against the open stall doorway. "Or nothing you want to confess."

  Tyler's expression darkened and his jaw set. "I'm not doing anything illegal. You might not believe me, but that's the truth."

  "Right, of course. I'm such a fool," Marcus mocked. "People committing crime never say things like that."

  "You think you two could put your dicks away?" Sela scowled at them both. "I'm not impressed and it's not getting us closer to answers. Guns," she went on, giving neither man time to speak. "We have information that someone here is accepting shipments from Mexico, warehousing them, and arranging deliveries to other locations. There are no records of the weapons in an American database. Essentially we've got well-armed people with no way to track them down and no accountability."

  Tyler stared a while, then laughed. "Gunrunning. Through the Lone Tree? This is a family resort, people bring their kids through here. There're no guns."

  "Pretty good cover for a shady operation," Marcus offered. "Exactly the last place anyone would think to look."

  "Which is why it's high priority on our list. I know, it seems like a reach," Sela said when Tyler shook his head, "but we need you to think. Go through a mental check of everyone you know around here and tell us if you remember anything weird, anyone acting sketchy. Some behavior that's
changed."

  He backed up. "You want me to turn someone on the staff in?"

  "Or," Marcus said, eyebrows climbing casually, "we can charge you with conspiracy and take you instead."

  "Marcus." Sela silenced him with an eyebrow quirk of her own. He smirked in answer, but didn't apologize.

  Tyler paced a tight circle, rubbed the back of his neck and heaved a sigh. "I'm gonna have to think about it. Off the top of my head, I've got nothing."

  Sela nodded, watching him closely. "We're not expecting answers right away. But soon," she prompted. "We've only three days."

  Tyler flinched. "Are you kidding me?"

  She shook her head. "I wish. We booked the cabin for a week, but the timeline's changed and we need answers now."

  It was for the best anyway. Staying here longer would test the limits of Sela's resolve. She didn't want to be stuck between two men she'd had a taste of when she wanted more from both of them. They were now off-limits as far as she was concerned.

  The hard part would be following her own rules. No touching, no kissing, definitely no sex. Marcus had it right. They had to job to do. Everything else counted as the sort of distraction she couldn't afford.

  "So." Tyler squared his shoulders. "If I think of something, I know where you'll be." He looked at them both, hesitated, then added, "I've got to get back to work."

  Sela straightened. "Right. We'll let you get to it." She didn't have to look at Marcus to get him moving. The big man simply turned and left the stall as silently as he'd come in.

  She made it to the door herself before Tyler stopped her.

  "You're really not married?"

  She summoned up as much of a smile as she could manage. A faint shake of her head and she repeated, "We're really not married, but I do care about him." She paused, then shrugged. "Don't worry. I'll be on my best behavior until we're gone." No matter how much she wanted to misbehave. "I'll see you around, Tyler." And with nothing more to say, she walked out.

  Chapter Five

  Twenty-four hours passed in a tight-jawed, red tinged haze. Marcus lost himself in his work as much as he could. He did his performing duty, eating meals with Sela and being seen out and about, but it ended there. The minute they were in private, he put space between them.

  Not because he wanted to be rid of her. Not because he'd resolved to ask for a change of partner the moment he got back. That would have made the rest of the assignment easy. If he'd been angry enough to write her off, he could have put her out of his mind.

  She lingered, though. Haunted him. Even when she murmured something and excused herself for a walk, her scent stayed in the room. Her travel case sat on the bathroom counter, reminding him that she'd be back.

  He wanted her in his arms. Maybe he was the fool he'd been played. She'd proven that she wouldn't be faithful, but did he want that? They'd avoided getting serious. Just sex, she'd said. It happened and life moved on. Did he really want to claim her?

  His body answered with an undeniable yes, fists clenched and heartbeat thundering in his chest. He'd been happy, feeling her shift and writhe at his touch. She slept in his arms and he felt at peace. He wanted her. He needed her.

  He hated himself for that.

  A knock on the door startled him from his thoughts. He stared at it, debating whether to answer or not. A second, more insistent pounding got him on his feet. Squinting through the peep hole nearly sent him back to his chair.

  He opened the door and glared down at Tyler instead. "Something wrong?"

  Tyler looked as surprised to see Marcus as he was to be seen. His brow furrowed. "I'm looking for Sela."

  Marcus folded his arms. "She's not here. Just me." He smirked. "You want me to give her a message?"

  Tyler scratched his forehead. "Does she need to be here for me to talk to you? About your ... business," he clarified. "The conversation in the barn. I might have something."

  No matter what he thought about the man, Marcus had come here with a job to do and a case to solve. That had to come before personal grudges or arguments, so he pulled the door wider and backed out of the way. "Come in."

  Tyler took a breath and held it, then summoned up a wry smile. "I'd rather not, if it's all the same to you. No offense," he added quickly. "Just. In there belongs to you. I'm not interested in arguing territory."

  "We can't talk out here."

  "So we won't talk." Tyler shrugged easily and backed up a step. "I'll show you what I've got. You can decide what to do from there."

  Hardly an ideal, controlled situation, but the man had a point. Marcus didn't particularly want his rival -- his competition -- taking up space in their room. The Lone Tree stood in the middle of open land. It wasn't like a city where there were prying ears and eyes on every corner. He could afford to let the usual precautions slide a little in a place like this.

  So he said, "Give me a second," and ducked back inside. He slid his pistol into his pants at the small of his back and grabbed a jacket light enough not to look out of place. He'd take a stroll with the resort's handy man. If they happened across something interesting, he'd be prepared.

  Tyler looked ready to run a marathon by the time Marcus stepped out to join him. His weight rested on the balls of his feet and his eyes were too bright. Marcus gripped his shoulder and used the advantage of height to press him down, out of flight posture.

  He knew in less than a second that he'd underestimated the shorter man's build. His lack of bulk didn't mean a lack of strength, as evidenced by the shift of muscle beneath his palm. Tyler was compact, efficient, and just now, a coiled spring. "Easy, killer. We're just out for a walk. You're showing me the sights. Try taking some deep breaths."

  Marcus expected him to protest and fight the suggestion. Instead, Tyler's chest heaved once and tension bled out of his body. "Yeah," he murmured. "Just a friendly tour." He shifted out from beneath Marcus’s hand, not roughly. "C'mon, it's in the shed."

  They crossed the courtyard between rented cottages in step. Tyler tucked his hands into his pockets. Marcus let his arms swing with his stride. Deliberately casual, completely controlled. "So what are we going to look at?"

  "A box. A crate," Tyler amended. "Came in last night with our usual deliveries. Grocery stuff for the week, you know? Every Wednesday, like clockwork. Bunch of us sit up waiting for the truck to show. We play some poker, shoot the shit, knock back a few beers."

  "But something different went down last night."

  Tyler nodded. "Alex. Guy's been here since before I came back. He's older than me. Us. Acts like everybody's dad. He's usually the first one to spot the truck. Never thought about it before, but after you guys showed up." He shook his head. "Everything looks funny. He got up to hit the john, like usual. He'll be gone half an hour, like always. So I stand up ten minutes later, say I have to take a leak, and I step outside."

  Tyler led them toward a metal shed tucked behind the last cottage. When they got within a few paces, he slowed then stopped, the back of one hand against Marcus’s chest. "I followed him out here." He paused a second as if the words should mean something. When Marcus shook his head, he explained, "We don't keep bathrooms in this shed. We don't keep kitchen supplies out here, either. He shouldn't have been here that late at night." Tyler opened the door.

  The shed was stacked with boxes. “Surplus,” Tyler said. Extra napkins, toilet paper, packaged sheets to be worked into the laundry rotation when the old ones wore thin. "So I'm asking myself," Tyler went on, his voice pitched low as though someone might overhear, "what does a guy who doesn't clean need in a housekeeping shed?"

  He didn't linger by the overburdened shelves at the door, arrowing for the back instead. Marcus followed until he dropped to his knees and crawled beneath a hanging cloth that draped from another rack.

  "I spent the whole morning in here," Tyler reported, voice muffled. "Looking for something out of place. I found this."

  The sound of a boot impacting wood jerked Marcus’s attention toward the groun
d. A wooden crate skidded out from under the drape. It stopped when it met Marcus’s shoes. Whatever lay inside rattled to a halt.

  Tyler reappeared a second later. He didn't speak. He glanced up briefly, expression grim, then pried the top of the crate up and let it swivel open on a well-greased hinge.

  Four semi-automatic weapons, the gun-metal gleaming dully in the shed's half light. Tyler reached for one of them and Marcus dropped into an abrupt crouch, catching his wrist before he could touch anything.

  "Don't," he warned. "This is evidence now. It'll all go to court." He felt himself start to smile and gave in, sharing it with Tyler. "You did good. You did better than I expected."

  Tyler's grin looked faintly wry. "All in a day's work for the Agency, right?"

  Marcus had been wrestling with himself over the mess this assignment had become. He told himself he should have known better than to let his guard down. Old relationships didn't belong anywhere near a working case.

  He liked Tyler, though. He had after their talk. He could see why Sela had fallen for him in college. He understood, though he didn't like it, why Tyler still appealed to her. Under other circumstances, they might have been friends.

  They were partners now. Temporary, short-term, the words didn't matter as much as getting the job done. "All in a day's work," he agreed.

  Neither man heard the new set of footfalls until the door on the shed swung open and another man stepped inside.

  Marcus moved without thinking. "Down," he insisted, grabbing a fistful of Tyler's shirt. "Stay down." He mouthed the words. The longer they went unnoticed, the better for everyone. Tyler glanced down at Marcus’s fist, then up again and arched an eyebrow. Marcus shook his head.

  The newcomer whistled between his teeth. The notes wandered, not resolving into a recognizable tune, but it made enough noise to cover the sound of Marcus rocking forward to one knee so he could peer around the boxes that hid them and get a glimpse of the man.