Evidence of Passion (Shadow Agents #7)(20)
Author: Cynthia Eden

Dylan cleared his throat. “Go shower. I’ll wait for you in the den.” Because if he stood there in her bedroom, with her scent around him any longer, he was going to crack.

He’d take her in his arms.

He’d kiss her.

He’d make her his.

Dylan slipped past her. The image of Rachel wet, naked, in that shower was already making the tension flood through his body. He was so close to the one thing he wanted most. So close.

“Dylan…”

He stopped at her door. His hand curled around the door frame, his knuckles whitening. “Shower first,” he said, and was surprised by the gravel-roughness of his voice. “Then…”

Then I’m taking you.

He didn’t say that. But maybe, maybe he didn’t have to.

Dylan stalked out of the room before his control shredded. He wanted to be in that shower with her, but after what had happened, he knew she’d need a few minutes to herself. A man had died right in front of her. Hell, yes, that would shake anyone up—even a woman as tough as Rachel.

He found himself in her den. Pacing. A fast glance at the clock showed him that it was nearing 10:00 p.m.

And Rachel hasn’t eaten. The sudden thought shot through his head.

He stilled. He hadn’t eaten. She hadn’t. They’d been too busy at the crime scene. Too busy chasing leads that hadn’t taken them to Jack.

He could hear the roar of the shower. Rachel was in there. Naked. Wet.

He swallowed. She had to be starving. And, for what he wanted to happen between them that night, the woman would need her strength.

The kitchen wasn’t exactly his area of expertise, so Dylan entered the room cautiously. When it came to cooking, he was woefully behind Rachel. The woman usually took pity on him. She’d bring over dinner to his place at least three times a week. Lasagna or her killer spaghetti. Garlic bread that melted in his mouth.

He opened her refrigerator. It wasn’t going to be pretty and it sure wouldn’t be up to Rachel’s usual standards, but he’d have a meal ready for her by the time she exited the shower.

* * *

DYLAN FOXX WOULD DIE.

Jack stared at the lights in Rachel’s apartment. That guy was up there with her.

Jack should have been the one with Rachel. He was the one she loved. Not the EOD agent.

The EOD. They’d been a thorn in his side for too long. They actually thought they could stop him? Him? He was unstoppable. A force of nature.

The government had made him, honed him. Now he was the perfect killing machine.

And I’m ready to kill.

He knew there was a guard outside Rachel’s apartment building. Tagging the guy had been easy, even though the agent did a decent job of sticking to the shadows.

I’m a step ahead.

Always.

He didn’t need to get inside Rachel’s apartment in order to take out Dylan Foxx. He could take steps for the man’s execution from outside.

He just had to plan carefully, had to move all the players right in this little game.

Jack reached into his pocket and pulled out a playing card. The Jack. That card was just for Dylan.

Because you’re next.

Jack rarely killed unless money was involved. After all, he wasn’t a monster. He was a businessman. Patterson had just been business.

Dylan Foxx…his death would be both for business and for pleasure.

You should’ve been faster in that alley. If you’d rounded the corner seconds sooner, you would’ve seen me scaling that restaurant wall.

Dylan Foxx kept underestimating him. That was a fatal mistake.

* * *

RACHEL BELTED HER bathrobe around her body. She stared in the mirror. The woman who gazed back at her looked nervous, maybe even afraid. Her eyes were too big. Her lips trembled.

Rachel’s hands tightened around the belt. Get a grip. Women took lovers every day. Rachel faced down terrorists and madmen on a routine basis. Surely, she had this.

Her breath eased out. She opened the door. Paused.

Dylan matters. I don’t want to mess this up.

Her steps were swallowed by the thick carpeting. She crept toward the den. She’d worked up a semi-speech in the shower. Something that would sound fairly sophisticated. They were friends. Of course they could be lovers, too. They could enjoy one another.

No emotions. Just pleasure. That was the spiel in her mind. It was also a—

Lie, lie, lie. Because when it came to Dylan, her emotions always seemed to be involved.

Mercer had given them the go-ahead for this charade. Only she and Dylan would know that they’d actually carried things to the next level.

When Jack and the threat he posed were gone, would she and Dylan return to a friends-only basis? Or would it be too late for that?

Her gaze darted around the den. Dylan wasn’t there. He was—

The smell of scrambled eggs teased her nose. Her head immediately turned toward the kitchen.

Dylan stood behind the counter. He motioned toward the table. “It’s not much, but I didn’t want you starving on me.”

He’d cooked? Dylan was the king of takeout. He never cooked.

“Eggs, bread and wine.” He gave a little shrug. Was it her imagination or were his cheeks a little ruddy? “I know, it’s no Rachel Mancini Italian feast, but it will keep you going through the night.”

She found herself smiling. Even after everything that had happened that day, a bubble of happiness pushed through her. Dylan could do that. He could always make her happy, even when she knew she should be afraid. “It smells wonderful,” she replied as she headed toward him.

Dylan’s gaze slid down her body, lingering on her legs. The robe was short, falling to only midthigh, and she was pretty sure that his eyes heated as he stared at her.

Her skin sure seemed to burn beneath his gaze.

Very slowly, Dylan’s eyes rose to her face once more. “Do you…feel better?”

Rachel nodded.

Dylan walked toward the table. It was a big table, able to hold eight. Whenever her family was in town—usually once a month—they’d get together at her place for a dinner night. The table should have looked too big for an intimate gathering of two.

It didn’t. Dylan had two plates set close together on the table. And now, two glasses of wine joined those plates.

He’d even taken out and lit one of her candles. The soft glow chased some of the chill from her. Dylan pulled back her chair. Rachel slid onto the seat, her gaze not able to leave his for long. “I didn’t…expect this.”

His hand brushed over her shoulder, and Rachel tensed. Just that little touch had her body driving into a hyperawareness of him.