A shiver traveled down her spine as he wrapped his arms around her waist, his bare skin on hers. She ran her fingers through his hair as he unclasped her bra, and she gasped as he palmed her breast. Even if she wanted to move, it would be impossible. The door held her in place from behind; the big, strong man pressed himself against her as he rolled her nipple between his forefinger and thumb while kissing her neck. Each slow, tortuous touch of his lips delivered a quake of desire throughout her body, and she found herself gripping his shoulders just to stay upright.
As he pulled away, she wanted to scream and haul him closer to her. He absolutely could not stop what he'd started.
"You've got dinner on the table," he murmured, his voice gravelly.
She didn't even know how to respond to him since dinner had become the last thing she wanted, so she said, "I've got a big bed."
He arched an eyebrow at her, a smile spreading across his face as he stared at her with hooded lids, his eyes bright with passion. "At least let me help you clean up."
Closing the space between them, she wrapped her arms around his neck. "We can order pizza later."
His grin widened, and he picked her up. As she wrapped her legs around his waist, he kneaded the flesh of her hips and butt.
"Sex and pizza. I knew I'd fallen in love with you. Now, point me in the right direction of that big bed."
On that night, they'd become inseparable, and they'd married during a small wedding in her mothers' church three months later.
She lay in a big bed now, and she reached over to the empty pillow, wishing and praying that one day, she'd see Jordan lying there, smiling at her, pulling her to him and whispering words of devotion as he passionately made love to her.
23
"Jordan, I'd like to introduce you to Dr. Sidney Bullot. Doctor, this is Jordan."
He eyed the tall, thin man in his fifties with the hard, brown eyes and a hawkish nose, and silently cursed. The doctor didn't look friendly in the least bit, and he wondered why Joe had introduced them.
"After Sidney's finished examining you, I want to have a brief discussion with you."
As the doctor approached his bed, there weren't any smiles, no hello, how are you, which was fine with him. He wasn't exactly in a chatty mood, and he seriously doubted he had a choice on the 'discussion' Joe wanted.
Jordan swore someone had filled his limbs with cottage cheese. He felt so weak, both physically and mentally. His last session with Ava and that damn dog had nearly destroyed him. He had truly wanted to die, and now had developed a deep fear of the woman and the mutt.
The doctor said nothing as he examined him. His blood pressure was taken, his eyes dilated with a bright light, and then the doctor looked up his nose, and drew some blood with enough finesse, Jordan didn't even feel the needle slide in.
He didn't know what it all was about, but at this point, he didn't care.
The doctor left the room, and Joe rolled himself over to the bed.
"Jordan, what do you think is going to become of you?"
Well, that was a stupid question. After he got his strength back, he would rain the fires of Hell down on everyone in this house, killing them all.
Yeah, it sounded good, but honestly, he wondered how long it would be until he felt sturdy enough to get up off the bed without requiring copious amounts of energy. If they kept exposing him to Ava, it could be a really long time.
Joe pushed his glasses up his nose. "Do you think I'm just going to let you walk out of here, knowing that I'm your target? That the other men in this house will be in danger, as well?"
He didn't answer, but that would be a very stupid thing to do, and Joe Smith seemed anything but stupid.
"And what do you think will happen when you don't show up for your post assassination forty-eight hour check-in?"
Hell, he didn't even know how long he'd been here. He had no idea how much time had passed. And, how in the fuck did Joe know about that?
But, he did have an idea of what would happen to him if he did get out of here. His handler at Group Nine would wonder where he'd been, and he imagined there'd be some creative questioning involving him getting hurt, just to make sure he didn't lie.
"I can see you aren't going to answer me, so I'll leave you with your thoughts. I only see this ending one way."
Joe rolled himself over to the elevator and then disappeared when the doors closed.
Finally left alone, he turned toward the wall, grateful that they'd left enough slack in his bindings to let him move from side to side.
In a nutshell, Joe had been right. No matter which way he turned, he was completely fucked, for lack of a better term.
Joe wouldn't let him out of here while breathing, which frankly, was a smart move. If he put himself in Joe's shoes, he could see the reasoning. Jordan would come after him again, if only to repair his damaged pride at getting caught, and frankly, he'd also want to tie up the loose ends here, and that included all the other men and Ava.
Shit. The thought of killing her certainly didn't sit well with him, and it would be difficult, but she had to go.
If, for some reason, he did get out of here and went back to Group Nine, he'd most likely be tortured to find out what he'd been doing instead of following protocol and checking in on time, even if he told the God-honest truth the first time around. If he left here alive and decided to go out on his own, they'd hunt him. He knew this for a fact, as one of the people he'd killed this year had been a wayward operative.
But what if all they said was true, and he somehow did remember everything? Where did that leave him? He'd still have Group Nine after him, and he'd rather have his ass set on fire.
He sighed and shut his eyes.
He couldn't push aside the idea that he was somehow connected to Ava. His visceral response to her had been too intense, too jarring and upsetting. The last time he'd seen her, he'd literally felt he would die, and almost wished he had.
She had one of those faces that showed every emotion, even if she tried to hide it. When she looked at him, her gaze seemed so earnest and desperate for him to believe what she said, he couldn't call her a liar and say she wanted anything else.
Ava truly believed he had been her husband, one he saw that she loved with all her heart. And her reaction when he'd accidently thrashed out at the dog … the mutt played an important part in her life, and if no one lied to him, the little fucker had played a very significant role in his life, as well.
Had Group Nine been lying to him all this time? If so, why? And what had happened to him to erase his memory so efficiently, and how had it been done?
He'd spent the past year truly believing he fought for the good of his nation and that the people he had killed needed to die for various reasons. What if all that had been a lie? What if his whole life as he knew it had been a complete farce? What if he had been married to Ava and that mutt had been their dog, and the men who now held him captive had been not only his co-workers, but his friends?
If all they said was true, what kind of man had he been?
The little he knew of Ava, he couldn't imagine her being with a cold-blooded killer like him. She wouldn't want to be associated with, let alone loved by, someone like that. No, he imagined she'd be with a man who possessed a kind, almost gentle heart, someone who could make her laugh and at the same time, make her feel protected and safe.
That definitely didn't describe him, but maybe in a different time, it had.
His next thought would have jolted him to an upright position if his shackles hadn't stopped him.
What if this whole scenario was a test by Group Nine?
But a test for what? To see how he handled the stress of being imprisoned?
It could be a possibility. But how did they make certain that he'd have such a strong reaction to Ava?
He closed his eyes again. Everything seemed to have gone to Hell after his last assignment in San Francisco. He tried to remember the hypnosis session in the hotel room afterward. It had become standard protocol for all agents to undergo hypnosis after a job had been completed. The handler took copious notes on the sights and sounds, the trance state allowing the assassin to bring details he or she may have not noticed to the forefront. According to his handler and previous training, it had become a way for Group Nine to ensure the assassin, and the job, hadn't been compromised. But, what if instead, it had been used for nefarious reasons?
Possibly, Nicholas had planted some seed during the session that gave him such a strong reaction to Ava, and they'd set up this whole ruse-the Joe Smith assignment, Ava, these men-all a test to see how he'd react and navigate imprisonment.
That had to be it.
As he drifted off to sleep, he couldn't believe how surreal everything seemed, and a niggling of doubt on his captivity theory crept in. He'd just have to wait and see what they had planned for him next.
24
"Ava, I'd like you to meet Dr. Sidney Bullot."
She set down her coffee cup, stood, and shook the man's hand. His light blond hair greyed at the temples, and small creases around his cool, distant gaze made her place him somewhere in his fifties. He didn't smile, and looked at her as if meeting her had become a huge inconvenience to him.