"Cassidy!"
That voice. It sent a chill through her every time she heard it. There were very few people she could honestly say she was afraid of, but he was one of them.
She turned and stood stock still. "Yes?" she said carefully, masking her anxiety.
There was something the man did not like about Cassidy. Oh, he loved her numbers. She was off the charts some weeks, and Oversight could not rave enough about One’s golden girl. But she was tall. He hated tall women. Ever since Nikita...but that was another lifetime ago.
Physically, she did not resemble Nikita at all. Though she was tall and slender, her features, her coloring, even her accent were all quite different. Still...he was wary. He disliked defiance in anyone. But especially in his operatives. Though she had yet to give him cause to suspect her of anything untoward, he didn’t like the fact that she appeared to be setting up an alliance with his other, most senior operative, Davenport.
The two of them together would be formidable. Just the idea of them generating their own powerbase, like Michael and Nikita once did, made his bile rise. That brought another scowl to his face.
"They’re waiting for you in Van Access. You’re late." His tone accused her of everything from screwing around to treason.
Sometimes she thought it was personal. This hatred the man had for her. Then again, sometimes she thought he feared her becoming too powerful. They said he had never been the same after Michael and Nikita escaped. They said he would never stop looking for them.
She inclined her head gently, causing her shoulder- length curls to bob up and down capriciously. To look at her, one would never suspect her of such strength, but she could teach the man a few lessons about fortitude. He had never been poor. He had never come up, quite literally, the hard way. Unwanted by her parents. Sold into Section slavery practically at birth. A feral child, she trusted no one. And if she ever did, she certainly wasn’t going to start with him.
She didn’t want to speak to him, but she had to. "May I go now?" she asked quite politely, as if insurrection or murder were the furthest things from her mind.
He nodded. He watched her go, her slim hips twitching ever so slightly back and forth. No, she didn’t appeal to him in the slightest. He had brought her into Section. He had cultivated her, making sure she befriended no one, in an effort to breed the perfect assassin. He was certain he had succeeded. Until now.
Davenport was interfering with his well-laid plans. That had to stop.
***
After the mission, Davenport strode through Van Access, glad he had survived to fight one more day. One day at a time. That was his motto. He never let anything usurp his concentration. Before Cassidy. But now, he found it difficult to think about anything else.
They separated at the entrance to Section, she to return her weapons to Giles, he to debrief with the man. They didn’t so much as glance at each other before they went their own ways, but Davenport was aware of her every movement. Christ, this was getting to him.
***
The debrief did not go well. Davenport suspected that the man was perturbed about something. Well, hell, he was always perturbed about something. It seemed to be his chronic state of being. Vaguely dyspeptic. Sometimes hostile. Occasionally irrational. A little paranoia was good for anyone working within Section, but he carried his to extremes.
Afterwards, Davenport was more than ready to relieve his tension with Cassidy. But where could they go? There was no such thing as privacy in One. But there were sub-levels that few people could access. Given their respective status as Level 5 operatives, they might be able to find a place. Hopefully soon.
He managed to catch her eye in Comm, sliding a finger along the side of his nose to signal her to follow him. Surreptitiously, of course. He didn’t train her, but whoever did was good. She kept up with his changes and switchbacks, somehow following his circuitous route to sub- level 4.
She ambled along the dim hallway, her grey eyes searching the darkness carefully for any shape or form. Lying in wait for her, Davenport suddenly reached out and grabbed her wrist, pulling her into a tight embrace. They stared at one another for several long moments before their mouths met, twisting back and forth with voracious need.
Peeling her mission black jacket back from her shoulders, Davenport seized the opportunity to nip excitedly at her neck. Reluctantly restraining him, Cassidy grasped his face between her two hands, effectively stopping the sensual onslaught.
"Cassidy..." he groaned.
"There are two things I need to know before we go any further," she said, her tone so serious, Davenport thought he might expire if she declined to make love with him now.
"What?"
"One...I don’t even know your first name," she said ruefully.
He laughed softly. "I don’t know yours either. Is that a problem?"
She pondered, her eyes dancing wickedly. "Depends. I can’t see me yelling out, Oh, my God, Davenport, at that crucial moment, myself."
He chuckled. Coloring slightly at the thought of how long it had been since anyone called him by his first name, he hesitated. "Jake. It’s Jake."
"Jake." She rolled the name around on her tongue. "I like that."
He cast his dark eyes over her in an appraising manner. "So...what’s your first name?"
"You didn’t look it up? I am surprised at you, Jake. Such a decided lack of interest."
"Hardly. I just don’t want...aw, hell, I didn’t want anyone to know I was even looking twice at you. In more than a business way. You know how this place is..." His voice was so deep, it caressed her aching senses.
"And how the man is...," she reminded him.
"That, too." He leaned over and resumed his attempts to bite her shoulder till she was covered in love bruises. She stopped him. He looked at her inquiringly.
"My first name is Daragh."
"That’s beautiful," he said, unable to prevent the words from leaping out of his throat. He quickly regained control of himself and looked away from her, but she cupped his chin, pulling his face to hers for another soul- stirring kiss.
"You can call me Derry, if you like," she whispered. "No one’s called me that for a very, very, long time."
He sighed. "Might be safer just to think of you as Cassidy, darlin’. What if I slip up and call you Derry in the middle of a mission?"
She looked curiously sad. He could deny her nothing. His entire body was clamoring to be with her. "Okay. Derry." He kissed her cheek tenderly.
He drew back, prepared to do exactly as she said, if it led to the chance to be with her. "What was the second thing you needed to know?"
"Oh, that." She blushed wildly. She had never looked more beautiful to him than that moment. Shit, he was falling in love, dammit.
"How do you feel about making love to a virgin?"
He stared at her, his heart melting. "Oh, darlin’, that’s a helluva thing to ask me. What, with me wanting you so bad and all."
"Does it make a difference?" She looked like her heart would break if he rejected her now.
Hell, yes, it made a difference. How could he make love to her for the first time in her life? In a hallway? It was so...so... God, he wanted her. And he was half in love with her already.
"Your first time shouldn’t be with just anyone, darlin’. You need to think about this." God, what was he saying? He was all for being noble and all, but here he was, pushing her away with both hands.
"I have thought about it. I want it to be you, Jake."
It took his breath away.
"God, Derry..."
She was like a sweet young flower that had never opened. And suddenly he was the sun, and the rain, and the air that she needed.
"I-I’m too old for you," he stammered.
She smiled, secure in the knowledge that he wanted her more than he would admit. "How old are you?"
"Almost 40. You’re just a kid."
She frowned at him, her beautiful brows creasing with thought. "I’m closer to 30 than you think, Jake. Find a better excuse."
"Okay," he said, nodding his head up and down, ‘this is freaking dangerous. How about that?"
She blinked in surprise. "Isn’t just being here freaking dangerous? What’s the point of living if we can’t take risks?"
"Survival is one thing, Derry. We do what we gotta do to maintain. But to risk everything for--"
She bit her lip. "For what, Jake? For a piece of ass? Is that the phrase you’re looking for?" She spun away from him suddenly, striding several steps into the narrow, dimly lit corridor, making it difficult to read her expression.
Christ, if he thought for one moment, he was making her cry... Damn, she was the strongest person he knew, and that was including every male operative he’d worked with. "Derry, you don’t understand. When it was just sex, it was possible. But you can’t give your virginity away to someone you’re not in love with."
All at once, she paced back to him, piercing him to the quick with those grey eyes of hers. "How do you know I’m not in love with you?" she whispered harshly, her accent even more pronounced.
"Oh, shit, darlin’, don’t tell me that," he wailed, shaking his head with considerable ferocity. As if denial would make it so.
"It’s okay, Jake." She framed his face with her hands, giving him what she assumed might very well be her last kiss.
"What’s okay?"
"That you’re not in love with me." She twisted her fingers together anxiously in an effort to keep herself from touching him again. Staring at a point somewhere in the middle of Davenport’s massive chest, she said, "It’s funny, really. I’ve always been the one keeping people at a distance. I never cared that they didn’t care. No one’s ever...gotten to me before."
She raised tortured eyes to Davenport’s increasingly anguished face. "Except you."
"Derry..."
"I’ve never been able to trust anyone, Jake. Ever. Then I met you." She glanced sideways, her eyes filling with tears she didn’t want to shed. "I thought you were different."
She was scaring him. Her confession of love was touching. But her admission of never being able to trust anyone but him broke his heart. How was it that she was making him feel guilty for doing the right thing? For not taking her virginity? For not reducing what they felt to the lowest common denominator? For sparing her the inevitable break-up?
"Derry, darlin’, there’s no place for a relationship between us to go."
The tears hung suspended like crystalline starlight in her eyes before rolling down her now-pale cheeks. "Well," she said in a tiny voice, "I guess you told me."
She touched a trembling hand to his cheek before she turned to go. He closed his eyes, capturing her hand in his and kissing it. "Derry, I’m not the man you think I am."
"Oh, yes, you are," she whispered.
She took two faltering steps away from him, knowing she had to compose herself before she returned upstairs. He stared after her, his hunger for her growing instead of easing. "Derry..." he called out into the darkness.
"Go while you still can. If I keep you here with me, we both know what’ll happen."
She didn’t move. Her heart beating so hard, it pounded in her ears, she felt terrified. She, who was never afraid. She, who had never dared to love before.
She couldn’t hear a thing but the beating of her heart. It grew louder and louder until she thought she would surely explode. She couldn’t hear him, but she sensed he was behind her.
"Daragh," he said, her full name on his lips.
Still, she did not move. He grasped her by the shoulders and turned her to face him, holding her tight. Shit, he had the sensation of standing on a cliff, miles above a turbulent sea, and all he need do was step off.
"Cassidy...I think I’m falling in love with you. That scares me spitless. So tell me something...are you going to let me go there all by myself?"
She broke into a smile so radiant, it was as if the sun came out from behind the clouds, brightening the world it shone upon. His fingers dug into her arms. She would be hopelessly bruised by morning. But she didn’t care. She’d taken a hideous gamble, and she’d thought she’d lost.
"Dav...I love you. And there’s something I want to give you. Before you change your mind again." Slowly she began to unzip her jacket. He took her jacket from her and knelt upon the floor, making a makeshift pillow for his head. Lying on his back, he held out his arms.
He couldn’t take her standing up. It was going to be uncomfortable enough for her the first time, and without a bed to soften the ride, she would soon regret giving herself to him. So he beckoned to her, his arms pulling her down to where he awaited her love. He cradled her in his arms, his body welcoming her entirely too enthusiastically for his liking.
They didn’t dare disrobe completely, for fear of being discovered. That element of danger added a totally unnecessary level of excitement to the mix. He pushed up her ubiquitous black T-shirt to uncover a pair of small, firm breasts. When his tongue touched her nipples, she arched against him, pressing her lower body precipitously close to his burgeoning arousal.
"Go as slow as you need to, darlin’. I don’t want to hurt you." Davenport cringed at the thought of hurting her. He was a big man, and while Daragh was tall, she was also slender. So he thought to let her use his body as a cushion to absorb part of the impact, and if she stayed on top, she could completely control the speed and depth of their lovemaking. Of course, having told her to go as slow as she wanted, he knew she was going to drive him to the brink of sanity. But somehow, that didn’t sound so bad anymore. He wouldn’t be going alone.
She lay atop his body, her weight as nothing against his massive frame. He found her mouth, and he began kissing her, trying to tell her non-verbally what he felt entirely too inarticulate to describe. Her mouth grew more and more swollen, as his tongue repeatedly penetrated her lips, mimicking the act of love.
She groaned sweetly, and he caressed her neck, his teeth lightly grazing her skin. His hands grasped her hips, unconsciously, pushing her towards his arousal. She jumped, startled, when she felt the size of him under her. "Oh, my..."
He growled under his breath, "Don’t make me stop now, darlin’ girl."
She stared deeply into his dark eyes. "I have no intention of stopping now."
Tangling his fingers in her soft chestnut hair, he reasserted his claim over her mouth. Slowly but surely, she began to inch closer to his arousal. He was quivering with the force of holding himself back. He wanted to bury himself deep inside her and never come out again. But he would scare the poor girl to death if he so much as rolled over on her.
Gently, and so slowly it made him ache, she lowered herself onto his arousal. Wincing at the discomfort this produced, she might have given up and waited for a better time or a more commodious place to consummate their union, but for his excited gasp.
At the feel of him, barely inside her, pressing at the door to her womb, she hesitated but for a second. Taking a deep breath, she sank down all the way, feeling the girth of him rend her more tender tissue. Uttering a soft cry, she fell forward onto his chest, unable to move for several moments. Resisting the urge to move, he let her adjust to him, gradually feeling the tension within her fade. "It’ll get better, baby, I swear."
She closed her eyes and trusted him. She had given him her heart. She could do no less than to give him the rest of her body. He pulled her close, moving slowly inside her. At first, it burned, then, bit by bit, the burning became a wholly different kind of fire. Whispering into her ear, he said, "When I come, it’ll help ease the pain."
For who, she wanted to ask. Obviously for him. But for her? She was just beginning to regret what they were doing when it happened. Holding her hips firmly, he pumped furiously into her, evidently climaxing seconds later. Suddenly the pain was a mere twinge.
"Don’t move yet," he told her.
After a minute or so, he palmed both her breasts, tweaking her nipples until they stood erect under his ministrations. He felt himself grow hard again, and he could tell when she felt it, too, because she moaned for the first time. And not in pain. "Oh," she gasped.
He nodded to her, his dark eyes gleaming brightly, despite the darkness surrounding them. Her hips moved involuntarily, seeking the source of this wonderful new sensation, and he locked his arms around her neck, his lips suckling at her breast. Without even realizing what she was doing, she moved on his arousal, feeling him meet her stroke for stroke. When she began to climax, he saw the surprise in her eyes. The thought that he had given her her first climax made him unbearably hot, and he surged upwards, spilling himself deep inside her.
Collapsing on his chest, she nestled under his chin. "Oh," she whispered fervently, "when can we do this again?"
"Derry!" He shook his head. The love of his life thought sex was just another recreational activity. He was about to say how disappointed he was in her when she interrupted his train of thought.
"Jake?" she questioned, her fingers delicately plucking at the hair on his chest.
"Yeah, darlin’?" he replied gruffly.
"I’m so glad I waited, and I’m so glad it was you." He felt flattered despite himself.
"Hey, I--" He pushed her hair out of her eyes, those clear as crystal eyes he adored.
"Oh, and Jake?"
She sighed prettily against his chest. The precursor to falling asleep, no doubt. He wanted to curse the day he’d met her.
"I love you."
The words actually hung in the air for a moment before they registered in Davenport’s fevered brain. He frowned. "You’re not just saying that cause we, um, er--"
She laughed softly, shaking her head. "No."
Kissing him, she grew thoughtful, her grey eyes serious. "Jake? This feeling? Will it last?"
For someone as sophisticated as she was otherwise, she could be curiously ingenuous when it came to matters of the heart. He was glad. She belonged to him now. He would protect her with his life. Whatever was left of it.
He ran a thumb along her jawline, in awe of the emotion rising up in him. "It’ll last as long as we’re together."
She tilted her head, inclining her cheek against his fingers. "And will we always be together?"
His dark eyes grew shadowed. Was this how Michael felt about Nikita? This utter clarity, this total strength of purpose, in the presence of the one he loved was something new to him.
"If we want to be."
"Oh, I want to be," she breathed against his mouth.
"So do I," he confessed, realizing it was true.
"We’ll have to be careful," she added. He nodded. "Very."
"So..." she said, pretending to a nonchalance she didn’t really feel. She twirled an errant curl between her fingers. "Do you think you could love me?"
He pulled her against his heart, which was beating fast and furious, just hearing the question, knowing they had precious little time to waste, no matter how good it felt lying in each other’s arms.
"I already do, darlin’ girl."
Davenport helped Cassidy to her feet. Pushing her gently against the wall, he tenderly spread her legs, making her wince. "I’m sorry, darlin’. It might be sore for a while yet."
She kissed him lightly. "That’s okay. I’ll consider it my badge of honor. For performance above and beyond the call of duty."
He had to search her face for a moment to determine that she was actually speaking tongue in cheek. Kissing her ardently, he produced a handkerchief from his pants pocket. "You’re the only woman I’ve ever known with a sense of humor."
Arching a delicate dark brown eyebrow at her lover, Cassidy studied the man she trusted with her heart. "Guess you haven’t known the right women."
Applying the handkerchief between her legs, with as much finesse as his big hands would allow, he removed the evidence of their lovemaking. Glancing down at what he was doing, Cassidy sighed happily, a blissful smile on her face. "You’re such a kind man, Dav."
He laughed. "Just taking care of the people I lo-- " Now he sighed, his peaceful countenance clearly disturbed.
"What is it, Jake?"
Realizing that he had alluded to his feelings, but he had not told her directly, he wanted to remedy that error. Right away. Oh, he had implied that he loved her, right after sex, but she might think he was merely using her. Just the thought that she might mistake his feelings for something less worthy bothered him.
After disposing of the handkerchief carefully, he pulled her pants back over her impossibly long legs. The urge to touch and take care of her was so strong in him, he couldn’t deny it any longer. This was going to play havoc with their lives for sure if they continued to work together.
"Derry, I need to tell you something."
He looked so troubled. Oho, here it comes, girl, the kiss of death speech. What we had was fun and all, but don’t go getting your hopes up. Yeah, yeah.... Yeah. No wonder he was being so kind.
Suddenly tearful, she reached for her mission jacket, which was still on the floor. Christ, she never cried. No one ever made her cry. Not even that enigmatic bastard who was running One. And she wasn’t in love with him.
He touched her cheek, and he was stunned when she whipped her face away from his hands. "Don’t!"
"Derry!"
"All things considered, maybe you were right. You should be calling me Cassidy. Cause that’s who I am to you. Isn’t it?" The question was rhetorical, her expression difficult to read in the absence of light.
Suddenly realizing that his fingertips were wet, Davenport knew she was crying. Playing over what he’d said so far, he could have kicked himself for allowing her to misunderstand him.
"Derry," Davenport said in his deep voice, commanding her to stop where she was and listen.
"What?" she asked, trying to hide her face.
He cupped her chin, raising her tear-stained face so that he could look into her eyes. "I’m trying to tell you I love you."
"Ah, you’re just saying that cause I--"
"I’m just saying it cause it’s true."
She stared back at him, her soft grey eyes widening as she accepted his avowal of love. Finally. Placing her much smaller hand over his, she let the words sink into her heart and her soul, feeling as if every cell in her body was rejoicing. She, who had never dared to love, was loved.
He could see the moment she believed him. He wanted to cry himself. No one had ever touched him the way this woman had. It was like she reached inside his body and plucked his heart out, keeping it for her own. Davenport had always been a loner. By choice. Now he knew why. He had been waiting for her. He was looking at the other half of him.
He bent his head to kiss her, and she drifted closer, aching for the weight of his mouth upon hers. But just as they would have touched, Davenport heard a noise. He frowned. A noise? Down here?
Leaving Cassidy’s side, Davenport made a brief foray into the darkness, toward the source of the noise. When he found it, he could hardly believe his eyes. "Cassidy! C’mere! Now!" he called urgently.
She ran to where he stood, transfixed over a small, huddled mass. "What is it?" she asked, peering into the blackness.
"It’s a child."
"A child? In Section?" Cassidy asked incredulously.
Davenport looked decidedly unhappy. "I’ve heard rumors about cloning experiments, things like that, but I’ve never seen any evidence. The kid had to come from somewhere, though."
"What difference does it make where he came from? The point is--"
"What are we going to do about this? We can’t just leave him here. He’ll die." Davenport stroked his chin, a nervous habit that meant he was thinking hard. "But someone must have been taking care of the kid. He looks about, I dunno, 3, maybe 4 years old. He didn’t just poof here."
Cassidy regarded her lover, her coolly analytical mind once more in charge of her body. "Maybe he did."
"What do you mean?"
"Dav, I lived on the streets at his age. When my parents gave me up, I went to a foster home. I ran away. Over and over. When I was his age, they stopped looking for me. I lived hand to mouth on the streets. At least, until Section recruited me."
Davenport didn’t know anything about Cassidy’s background, until now. It explained a great deal. But not this. "How is this connected?"
"I’m just saying it’s possible for a child this young to survive. On its own. Survival is our greatest instinct, y’know."
"Then we walk away, pretend we never saw him, and let him fend for himself? What is this, a freaking test, Derry? I couldn’t abandon a kid this young, and neither could you. If you can...I’m not sure I want to know you." He glanced at her, hoping he hadn’t scared her away for good. But kids, kids were something he never had a place for in his life, and he just knew, he couldn’t turn his back on something this defenseless.
She reached out a hand to the child, who continued to shy away from human contact. Huddled against the wall, the child appeared to be trying to make himself disappear. Well, if he was scared, she could hardly blame him. This was no place to be. For anyone, much less a child.
"What’s your name?" Davenport asked, crouching next to Cassidy. He could barely make out features in the darkness, but now and then, he caught a glimpse of the little boy’s eyes and hair.
Repeating the question more times than he cared to count, he continued to work himself closer to the boy. Unfortunately, it did not have the desired effect on the child. Clearly feeling trapped, the child gave Davenport a feral smile, showing all of the teeth he had.
Hissing at Davenport, the little boy said his name. "Sasha." Sibilant s. Was it possible that English was not his first language?
Finally, growing tired of waiting impatiently for the boy to respond further, Davenport reached for him. Big mistake. The boy leaped on Davenport, sinking his teeth into one massive hand, drawing blood.
"Shit! That kid bit me!"
Before Davenport could move off the floor, the child was gone, a blur of hastily registered features. "Grab him!"
"I can’t!" Cassidy fell forward onto her stomach, clutching at air. "Damn! He was quick!"
Picking herself up off the floor, she brushed down her pants. "Guess we don’t need to worry about him taking care of himself," she said, chagrined at being bested by a mere toddler.
Suddenly she realized that Davenport was silent. Staring at the wound on his hand, blood welling up through the lacerated area, Davenport looked preoccupied. Oh, well, maybe it hurt like the very devil.
One-handed, he whipped out his cell phone, pressing a series of buttons he had clearly committed to memory. Cassidy watched, perplexed, as he contacted someone. Someone unknown to her.
Without speaking the name of the person he dialed, Davenport reeled off what just happened. Then she stared at her lover. In utter disbelief.
"I didn’t get a good look at the kid, no. But the father’s one of your people. I recognized him."
Cassidy couldn’t understand what was happening. "Dav!" she whispered harshly. "What are you doing?"
"Trying to save that kid’s life."
Suddenly reminded of the wound the little boy had inflicted upon Davenport, Cassidy glanced at his hand. The tissue around the bitemark was swollen and inflamed, the laceration itself still seeping blood. "Damn! You’re going to need a tetanus shot for sure, Jake."
Davenport flinched involuntarily. At Cassidy’s questioning look, he said, with some degree of embarrassment, "I hate needles."
She rocked back on her heels, laughing softly. "A big guy like you is afraid of a teensy weensy needle?"
"Hell, yeah. How do you think I got to be this big? By avoiding teensy weensy things that hurt. Like needles."
"So," she said, returning to the subject that was on both their minds right now. "How is your phone call going to save that kid’s life?"
"Oh, let’s just say I’ve got friends in low places."
"You mean, high places," she corrected.
"Nope, don’t wanna have nothin’ to do with the people in high places, sweetheart. I don’t trust ‘em as far as I can throw ‘em, and I guarantee, the feeling is mutual."
She couldn’t help it. She had to ask. "Who did you call, Jake?" she asked, chewing her lip furiously. Davenport laughed. She reminded him of a certain tall blonde with the same propensity.
"Aspacia," he drawled, obviously taking great pleasure in saying the name.
Cassidy snorted, a most unladylike noise coming from the tall brunette. "Excuse me? Sounds like a bloody plant, if you ask me."
All at once, a magnificent woman of uncertain age appeared at the end of the corridor. Her laughter sounding like the pleasant tinkling of tiny bells, she said, "I get that a lot."
"What?"
"People mistaking me for a plant." The older woman was a glorious example of how gracefully some people aged. Her hair a natural midnight black, there was not a trace of gray anywhere on her head. Her eyes were closer to black than brown, their contours tilting upwards at the corner in a manner that would lead some to think she was Asian. However, her heritage was actually Greek.
"Space!" Davenport greeted the woman, evidently knowing her well enough to abbreviate her name in an alarmingly cute way.
Her lovely eyes crinkled at the corners even more as she smiled in welcome. "You called, I came. You couldn’t ask for better service, could you?"
"Nope. That’s undeniably true, darlin’."
Cassidy’s grey eyes nearly crossed in an unexpected fit of jealousy. Darlin’? Dav calls *me* darlin’, you witch.
"I need a favor, Space." Davenport managed to look like a little boy in desperate need of a friend. Cassidy wanted to smack the seductive pout off those lips. PDQ.
Aspacia moistened her lips by licking them, and it seemed to Cassidy that Davenport was watching the older woman a little too intently for comfort. "Of course. What are...friends...for?"
Okay, okay, why the special emphasis on the word ‘friends’? Did this woman not know how to read the signs that said, Do Not Touch, Exclusive Property of Daragh Cassidy? And why were the two of them acting like she was suddenly invisible?
Davenport glanced at Cassidy quickly, then drew the older woman aside, seemingly unaware that he was gently rebuffing the woman he’d just proclaimed to love. "Can we talk over here a minute, Space?"
Cassidy did a slow burn, all the while resisting the urge to childishly stomp her booted feet. "Oh, don’t mind me," she said airily, as though it didn’t bother her in the slightest to be ignored by the man she loved.
Much to her frustration, despite her repeated attempts to hear what Davenport was telling Aspacia, she could only make out a word here and there. It was hardly enough to enlighten her. Who was the boy? But even more important, Davenport claimed to see the father’s features in the boy, enough to identify him. Who was the boy’s father?
Aspacia was nodding, apparently hanging on Davenport’s every word. God, she was a beautiful woman. Cassidy hated her. Though it was completely unlike her to judge someone unfairly this way, she knew it was true. She disliked sharing. Intensely. And there was no way in Hell she was going to share Davenport with this woman. Or anyone else, for that matter.
Davenport kissed Aspacia on the cheek, but the woman was clearly interested in something more. She eased away, managing to claim Davenport’s lips on hers. Cassidy gasped! Why, the cheek of the woman! Right in front of her, too.
"Jake!" Cassidy exclaimed, unaware that she had used his first name.
Aspacia smiled mysteriously. "Jake, is it? It’s so funny that I never knew your first name."
Cassidy gave herself a mental thumb’s up gesture. Score one for me.
"I mean, considering how long we were...together." The woman paused meaningfully, looking directly at Cassidy, who suddenly felt like throwing a temper tantrum.
To Cassidy’s consternation, Davenport didn’t seem to notice the way the woman was practically baiting her. Or else he didn’t care. Grr, how quickly they forgot.
"I think it’s wonderful what you’re doing to help Jake," Cassidy said sweetly, trying to trick the woman into revealing the identity of the child and his father.
Aspacia could see the smile didn’t reach Cassidy’s eyes. Enough game-playing. She removed her hand from Davenport’s arm. "So, which way did he go?"
Davenport pointed east. "These sub-levels are a perfect place to hide. We might never see him again, Space."
Aspacia gave Davenport a reassuring smile. "Oh, I’ll find him for you, Dav. But what would you like me to do with him?"
Davenport flexed his hand gingerly, wincing at the pain it produced. "Well, for one thing, darlin’, you could work on socializing the little beast."
"With an eye toward what?"
Davenport shook his head. "Hell, I don’t know. I just don’t want to let the poor kid starve to death. I couldn’t live with that on my conscience."
Aspacia gave Davenport another blindingly perfect smile, showing her evenly spaced, pristinely white teeth. "You still have a conscience? I knew there was something different about you," she kidded the younger operative.
Aspacia turned to go, then stopped. Giving Cassidy an enigmatic look, she said, "I don’t suppose I should ask what you two were doing down here in the first place."
Davenport’s face lost all expression. "I don’t suppose you should, no," he replied coldly.
For the first time in several minutes, Cassidy felt hopeful. As playful as Davenport’s banter had been with the older woman, he drew a line at revealing his relationship with Cassidy. He did protect those he loved. Suddenly she felt too warm for her mission jacket. She wished the woman would leave.
Aspacia waved and disappeared into the darkness. Cassidy was so relieved, she didn’t immediately notice Davenport staring at her. "Wh-what?"
His mouth curved into a crooked smile. "You were jealous."
"I was not!" she protested, feeling her cheeks flame into twin red blossoms at the apparent lie.
Davenport slid his arms around Cassidy’s waist, pulling her tightly against his body. "You were."
"Well, maybe just...this much," she said, indicating a tiny amount with her finger and thumb.
Davenport kissed her fingers, chortling with glee. "I’ve never made a beautiful woman jealous before."
"Mmm...I’m not sure if I believe you," she said, renewing her claim to him by tracing a path along his jawline with her tongue.
He pulled her gently away from his face. "Now don’t go starting something we can’t finish, darlin’."
Cassidy sighed. Running her hand down the back of Davenport’s neck, she asked, "So what’s the big secret about the boy?"
Davenport frowned. "No secret, darlin’."
"There must be. You wouldn’t tell me who he is. But you know, and so does she, I’ll bet." She scraped a fingernail across the underside of Davenport’s chin. He nearly purred.
"Who is he? Who’s his father?"
"Nobody you’d know, Derry," Davenport lied smoothly, feeling the result of lying to the woman he loved settling uncomfortably within his heart. He couldn’t tell her what he knew. Hell, he couldn’t even tell her about his intermittent connection to Madeline. Even he didn’t know the whereabouts of Michael and Nikita and their family. It was safer that way. What he didn’t know he couldn’t give up during interrogation. He had sworn to protect them. And he would.
No matter what.