Seduced by the Storm (13 page)

But
that didn’t explain why it was Sean whose hands were all over Wyatt. No,
something wasn’t right here.

Including
her jealousy over the way Sean was touching Wyatt, because as insane as it was,
she thought of Wyatt as hers.

I
want to see you, Faith. I want to keep seeing you once we get off this
platform.

At
his softly spoken words on the deck, excitement had curled in her stomach. Her
heart had raced at the tenderness in his gaze. The men in her past and present
saw her as a challenge, a powerful operative who could hold her own in a fight
and in bed. For the first time ever, a man was looking at her as if he could
offer her a safe haven, arms to hold her when she could no longer be strong.
Arms to protect her so she could rest, could truly relax instead of always
keeping a trained eye on everything and everyone around her.

Now
those arms were around Sean.

Snapping
shut the phone, she darted out of her room and made a beeline for Sean’s
office. The guards, who had been ordered to allow her in at any time, stood
aside as she opened the door.

The
situation had gone further in the time it had taken her to get from her room to
the office, and now Wyatt was sitting on the desk, legs spread and his jeans
undone. Sean’s hand was down the front, working the other man with hard, firm
strokes.

The
moment she closed the door behind her, a blast of lust hit her, so powerful and
sudden that she could barely gasp out, "Someone want to tell me what the
fuck is going on?"

Not
that it mattered, because now she felt the fierce urge to join them. To sink to
her knees in front of Wyatt and take him into her mouth while Sean…well, Sean
didn’t even need to be there, because she wanted Wyatt, and she wanted him
now
.

The
next moment was a blur of motion as Sean leaped away from Wyatt, drew a weapon
from his desk, and smashed his hand down on the security button.

"Get
in here!" Sean shouted.

Wyatt
rolled off the desk, hit the floor in a fighting stance.

Faith
stood there, too stunned to move. Her heart pounded and her breath came too
rapidly and her aching body still hadn’t gotten the message that it wasn’t
going to have sex.

She
rubbed her face with a trembling hand, needing a moment to think. To clear her
head, because God help her, she had no idea where the uncontrollable desire to
have sex had come from. Sean seemed to be wondering the same thing. His eyes
were still glazed and he looked as confused as he was pissed, and all the while
holding a Tokorav 9mm at Wyatt’s temple.

Wyatt
just looked pissed. But he had the presence of mind to zip up his pants, and
for some reason, Sean let him.

Had
they all been drugged with some sort of airborne aphrodisiac? She wouldn’t put
it past Itor to try something like that, but why would they?

The
door to the office burst open, and four of Sean’s goons swarmed inside. Three
leveled their weapons at Wyatt, and one aimed his at her. Idiots.

"Sean—"

"Not
now." Sean nodded to one of his men. "Take Wyatt to the holding area.
String him up."

She
hoped Sean wouldn’t notice that the blood had drained from her face.
"Sean, be reasonable. Let him go. He didn’t do anything."

"It’s
okay, Faith." Wyatt’s voice was low and soothing, with the protective edge
she’d seen earlier in his eyes. "Don’t get involved in this."

The
hell she wouldn’t. Whatever was going on, it wasn’t his fault. Sean was
obviously in shoot-first-ask-questions-later mode, which didn’t bode well for
Wyatt’s future. Especially if Sean suspected that they’d slept together, which
would explain his fury—in part, at least. Sean wasn’t usually the jealous type,
but he believed she was joining Itor and that they would finally be together
again. He didn’t like to lose, and if he saw Wyatt as any kind of competition
at all…he’d destroy the man.

She
stepped forward, earning a blow to the cheek from the goon closest to her. Her
head snapped back and the coppery taste of blood filled her mouth.

Pure
murderous rage burned in Wyatt’s eyes. "Bastard," he snarled.
"She’s a fucking accountant!"

He
struck like a snake, knocked two of the goons to the ground with his fists and
spun to the third, kicking his weapon out of his hands. The fourth got in a
punch to Wyatt’s kidneys. Wyatt grunted but didn’t miss a beat. He traded blows
with the other man, who clearly knew his shit and was throwing Hapkido kicks
and hits like a master.

In
the small space, Wyatt managed to hold his own, his lean body moving with a
grace she wouldn’t have expected from someone so tall.

Sean’s
nasty curse rang out. She felt the familiar tingle that signaled the use of his
energy-draining power, and Wyatt stumbled.

"Wyatt!"
Her warning came too late. He went down on one knee, and Sean cracked him on
the back of the head with his pistol.

"Dammit,
Sean! Don’t hurt him!"

Sean
ignored her, still focusing on Wyatt, who crumpled to the floor. The goons,
limping and wincing, had him bound in moments. And they’d taken no special care
to be gentle.

"You,"
Sean said, pointing to the guy who had hit her, "are fired." From the
deadly expression on Sean’s face, she knew the guy was lucky to have gotten
away with nothing more than losing his job.

Head
swimming from the blow, the residual sexual haze and the confusion of whatever
was going on here, Faith watched helplessly as Wyatt was dragged out of Sean’s
office, semi-conscious and bleeding.

As
soon as the door closed, she turned on Sean, intent on getting Wyatt out of
this. "None of that was necessary. And overkill, don’t you think? He’s a
civilian, and you used your powers on him!"

Strangely,
she got the feeling that if not for Sean’s unsporting use of his gift, Wyatt
might have been able to fight his way out of the situation despite the fact
that he had been outnumbered and outgunned.

Sean
seized her wrist. "You fucked him, didn’t you?" He squeezed until she
had to grit her teeth to keep from crying out. "You’re both a little too
concerned about each other."

His
words sank like a rock in her gut. This was precisely why she’d tried to keep
her distance from Wyatt. Well, one of the reasons anyway. And now he was in
danger because she’d allowed herself to care.

"Well,"
Sean snarled, "are you going to deny it?"

"No."
There was no use. It was far more dangerous to lie and be discovered than to
tell the truth.

She
rubbed her bruised cheek with her free hand, using the time to collect herself
and bring back the cool-agent persona she needed. "It was just sex."
Smiling seductively, she trailed a finger down the center of his chest. "I
like my playthings. It meant nothing."

So
much for not lying.

"Wait."
She frowned. "You didn’t know we slept together until after you pulled the
pistol on Wyatt. So what was the commotion about, then?"

"I
have no idea!" Sean shoved her away and kicked his desk in a fit of
temper. "I called him in to fire his ass, and then I got this
e-mail…bloody one-liner from some ‘informant,’ telling me I had an enemy
operative under my nose, here for the weather machine, and the next thing I
know, I’m jerking him off and what the fuck was going on?"

All
kinds of warning bells made her heart stop like it had been flash-frozen.
Someone had told Sean he had a spy in his midst. Her heart started again,
leaped right into her throat.

"What
do you remember?"

Sean
paced, ate up the small office in five long strides. "I was getting ready
to call in an escort to take him off the platform," he muttered.
"Then everything’s fuzzy until—"

"Until
I walked in, and you snapped out of it."

"Exactly."

She
replayed the video feed in her head. No way had Wyatt enjoyed Sean’s hands all
over him. Sean, however, had been crazed with lust, something that had been
very apparent even on the phone’s small screen.

And
when she’d stepped into the office, she’d seen Wyatt’s expression, one of mild
concentration, as though he’d been fantasizing about being somewhere else,
maybe with someone else. He’d been detached, but she’d suddenly felt like she’d
taken a dive into a pool of ecstasy. Like the very air in the room had been
infused with a drug that took away all thoughts except those that originated
below the waist. She hadn’t cared about anything but getting Wyatt naked and
getting the relief she needed.

The
effect had been powerful, intense…and unnatural.

Bloody
hell.

"He’s
an agent." Her voice was a stunned whisper, but her shock only lasted for
a second, veered quickly to hurt and fury.

A
sickening sense of betrayal weakened her knees, and she had to brace her palm
on the wall to keep from falling. Had he known about her all along? Had he
planned to use her against Sean or to take the weather machine? Or maybe he
worked with the bastards who had taken Liberty, and had been sent to keep an
eye on Faith.

She
pictured him just half an hour earlier, out on the platform, his arms caging
her against the rail and telling her how freaked he was about what was going on
between them. She’d felt fissures form in her chest wall as he talked about
growing up on a rig, and yeah, he could have been playing her like James
freaking Bond, but something about that theory didn’t ring true. He’d been too
outraged when the goon hit her a few moments ago.

He
truly believed she was an accountant, something that shouldn’t make her feel
better, but did.

Sean
spun on his heel in the middle of the room. "An agent? Do you really think
so?" Sarcasm dripped from his voice like acid. "And you fucked
him."

"Calm
down." Easy for her to say, when inside her emotions churned. "He
doesn’t know who or what I am. He thinks I’m a company auditor. And we don’t
know who he’s with. We don’t even know what special skills he possesses."

"Besides
seduction powers any Seducer would kill for?" Sean scrubbed a hand over
his face. "Christ. What was I about to do?"

"I
should think that would be obvious." She caught herself playing with her
choker and dropped her hand. "What do you plan to do with him?"

Sean
barked out a laugh, snuffing any hope that he’d show mercy. "What do you
think?"

She
wasn’t surprised, but she did feel ill. She knew what Sean, and Itor, were
capable of.

She
also knew she couldn’t do a damned thing to help Wyatt. And when Sean poked her
in the chest with a finger and said, "He’s your lover, so you’re going to
do the honors," she knew she couldn’t do a damned thing to help herself
either.

If
Wyatt was lucky, he had five minutes left to live—unlucky would make it ten,
because the fucking rack they’d strung him up on was starting to massively get
on his nerves and pull his bones to the point of no return.

Not
that the sensory dep had been a walk in the park, but at least he’d enjoyed the
mental torture. This slow stretch of his limbs, however, his arms and legs
spread-eagled by chains attached to slow-moving winches, would not be the way
he’d go down.

His
telekinetic powers were drained significantly, both from his own use of the
mojo plus Sean Stowe’s apparent ability to drain powers—something ACRO hadn’t
known about. Hurt like a motherfucker too when the guy did it, which was why
Wyatt had been forced to remain here all night long and take this shit.

What
doesn’t kill you makes you stronger,
his old CO would tell him, but right now he was walking along that dangerous
kill line.

The
beating hadn’t worked; neither had the cat-o’-nine whip, made specially ordered
with nails. The loud music and the blaring lights were easy enough to
ignore—he’d had far worse in training and at one point he’d told his current
torturers so. They hadn’t appreciated that much, which was why he found himself
in this predicament, ready to be torn literally limb from limb. The thing was,
they’d do it whether or not he’d talked.

Faith
lay unconscious on the cement floor—they’d dragged her in this morning, right
before they’d jacked him up in chains. She’d been beaten, and when they’d
started to take off her clothes, he’d gotten that sick feeling that came out of
helplessness and rage combined.

But
they’d left her alone in favor of continuing to have their fun with him,
something he was grateful for. He’d taken the punishment with even more
strength after that—his sense of protection was too strong to let himself die
and leave her behind.

Breathe.
Concentrate and breathe.

The
feeling began the way it always did, a tremor that started at the back of his
neck, vibrated through his skull like a freight train running straight through
hell, and just when he was sure his skull was going to break apart, he saw the
world through a hazy, lime green veil that let him know everything was under
control, and that it was time to start shooting from the hip.