Free Garrison's Creed (Titan) by Cristin Harber Page B

board with Bonnie and Clyde. She wanted them to see her first, to show her extraction team that she wasn’t hiding behind a man. To show Roman that this was her job too. All good reasons, but she’d be lying to herself if the thought of Cash behind her in these ten-out-of-ten fitting jeans hadn’t crossed her mind.
    God, no. She needed to erase him from her thoughts. The giddy school girl routine was going to get her into trouble.
    Two steps before she passed through the door, Cash snagged her belt loop. He pulled her to a quick stop, his hard body catching right behind hers. A shiver licked down her back and tingled where he pressed against her. Her body vibrated, needing to push back against him. Mind over body, she only managed to freeze.
    “Nic. One sec,” he whispered in her ear. He was way too close, and it felt familiarly amazing. His breath warmed a spot behind her ear and rippled down her neck. The thump, thump of her pulse might have been loud enough for him to hear.
    She shifted to look at him, balancing on her good foot, more than aware that her insides were spinning. “What’s up?”
    His hand stayed at the base of her back, the heat of his touch warm through her shirt. “Goddamn, you’re gorgeous. Just thought you should know what I’d be looking at on the flight home.” Then he patted her bottom, scooting her up the last two stairs and into the cabin.
    Good thing he did because telling her legs to work—right and then left, repeat—would’ve been a chore. Her fuzzy mind spun, trying to let autopilot take over. His touch seared from her ass and spun out of control to the tips of her fingers and toes.
    Somehow, she rounded the corner and slammed into Roman. Great. Autopilot disengaged. He eyed her, doing a quick assessment, then stared at Cash. “You okay, Nicola? You’re looking… sick.”
    Sick? Try flush with flippin’ pheromones. So much for her grand plan to act big, bad, and in charge. “I’m good, Roman. You need to chill out.”
    Roman’s eyes bounced to Cash. “Everything kosher?”
    “Everything’s as you like it.” Cash pushed past both of them, pulled the brim of his hat over his eyes, and sat down next to Rocco.
    Nicola saw Bonnie and Clyde cuffed and secured in place. Roman gave her another overprotective glance, then gave a thumbs up to the pilot. They were airborne by the time she got comfortable in her seat. Bonnie’s angry face said she was going to raise all kinds of hell once they got to Langley and figured out this headache. Clyde—AKA David, AKA the butler—was a blank canvas. Anything she tried to read on his bruised expression was a figment of her intel-seeking imagination. The guy gave her nothing. Damn CIA training.
    Whatever . If they were both in on it, she was coming up aces. If it was just the butler, then she owed Miss Bonnie a sorry-I-almost-shot-you card and a fruit basket carved up like a flower bouquet. Or maybe just a gift certificate to Guns R Us, because Nicola was sure Rocco wasn’t handing Bonnie her piece back.
    The flight to Virginia was fast. They deplaned, jumped into waiting government vehicles and were sped away to Langley. Arriving at CIA headquarters, their group was separated and, she assumed, all waiting to be debriefed. Nicola had to explain the little problem of why she’d gone all berserker on her extraction team. Beth would believe her.
    Maybe…
    Well, of course she would. Beth was her best friend, the only person she trusted inside Langley and maybe outside as well.
    It’s not that Nicola had proof, per se. It was more of a gut feeling, but there were facts that couldn’t be denied. Blank extraction instructions. Gunfire after she jumped the window. The butler saying he didn’t want to kill her. Little things like that.
    As interrogation rooms went, this one was standard. Nicola shifted in the uncomfortable chair, wondering how many sets of eyes watched as she sipped a Sprite.
    Patience.
    She needed a barrel of fortitude. The