gold sparkles, and why the hell did he see stars each time he came?
And the most important question of all—did the mind-blowing connection he had with her change everything?
Yes.
He quickly disposed of the useless condom and then gave her all of his attention. Stroking her hip as he pulled a cover over her naked body, Arnie second-guessed mentioning the ineffective protection. Telling her wasn’t going to change anything.
The only reason he didn’t feel like a depraved dog about the whole thing centered on a weak twig hanging from the end of a creaky branch attached to a wobbly limb—that the injury he survived had left his fertility in question.
No doctor said so directly, but he sort of assumed scrotal trauma and surgical intervention had a negative impact on his shot at procreation. He envisioned a specialist with a sperm retrieval cup and a shit ton of modern fertility assists if having kids was going to happen. Otherwise, he was hearty, healthy, and had the testing to prove it, so she wasn’t in danger of picking something up by sexual transmission.
His goddamn motherfucking phone buzzed. He closed his eyes and grimaced. It was barely five a.m., so whoever was trying to reach him was probably calling from the East Coast, where it was three hours later.
“Your phone,” Summer murmured.
“It’s fine,” he growled, annoyed by the intrusion of his real life.
She rolled to her back and looked at him. Her expression was hard to read, but the energy pulsing around her wasn’t.
“You don’t sound fine.” She bit her lip and watched him closely.
The phone buzzed again. “Fuck,” he grunted and launched off the edge of the bed with an angry push. Stomping to the pants he left in a pile on the floor, he fished in the pockets, ignored the blindfold they hadn’t used, and found the piece of technological crap messing with his chill.
It was Dottie calling from a NIGHTWIND line.
Goddammit.
He scraped a hand over his face. Responding when contacted by one’s handler was drilled into him so deep there was no way to ignore the command—not even the fact that NIGHTWIND in no way controlled him the way the men in suits once had.
His eyes shifted to Summer’s face. She was watching him intently. The girl was smart as a whip and had to know a five a.m. phone call wasn’t good.
“I have to respond,” he told her in a monotone growl.
She hopped off the bed, having clearly interpreted his statement as a command to clear out.
“I’ll make coffee or something,” she mumbled.
He watched her stumble to a clothes tree by the bedroom door, grab a robe, and pull it on. Before he could stop her, she was gone. Speechless, annoyed, and naked, he initiated the return call and barked when Dottie answered.
“It’s fucking five a.m., Dottie.” His snarl left no illusions about his state of mind.
“Yeah? So? Treachery doesn’t sleep, Darnell. Now shut up and listen.”
He sighed deeply and scowled. Using his given name was like pulling the fire alarm. Never had he felt less like giving a shit, but once again, his instincts were ingrained and could not be disregarded.
In a clipped, businesslike tone, Dottie gave him an unwelcome heads-up that reminded him of a hard fact—the past was also the present, and although he separated from that life a long time ago, it had the power to override everything.
“It’s a deep insert, Arnie. The boss is hammering out the details with State. They aren’t fucking around.”
“When?”
He heard her sigh and got a sense Dottie wasn’t at all okay with the situation.
“Yesterday at four p.m. Or today at eleven. Or maybe next Thursday. Who knows. They aren’t exactly being forthcoming—which is why the boss stepped in.”
Kingsley Maddison’s involvement made him pause.
“I’m a little busy,” he sneered.
“Uh-huh. And I know how much you enjoy your family reunions.”
“That wasn’t what I meant,” he answered without thinking what he was revealing.
A long silence followed. Realizing his mistake, he mouthed the word, “Fuck,” and shook his head.
“Well, well, well,” the way too intuitive Dorothea Anders Quick drawled. “What have we here? Hmm?”
“Shut up.”
She laughed. “In all the years I’ve known you, Arnie, you’ve never put your needs first, not even once. Yet you say you’re a little busy. With what?” After a short pause, she added, “Or should I ask, with whom?”
The scent of brewing coffee caught his attention. He frowned and snapped out a reply. The only reason he bothered was because the sometimes irritating woman was the closest thing to