“Oh, my God.”

Annika Svenson stood at the threshold of Dev’s office, her heart thundering madly. She probably wasn’t supposed to overhear Dev on the phone, but Marlena had learned long ago that trying to stop Annika from barging into the office was useless, and now that Annika was pregnant, the secretary made even fewer waves. In fact, everyone on base had suddenly become all kid-gloves with Ani. Even people who had always hated her. Which was kind of funny, and it took the sting out of being treated like an invalid.

Dev’s brown eyes flashed with surprise, which was a rarity. “Clearly you forgot that conversation we had about you making appointments?”

“Which one?” She hurried inside, trying not to wince at how her boots pinched her swollen feet. “Dev—oh, my God, you got the bitch. You got that bitch who killed Akbar.”

Dev nodded, but there was an uncharacteristic hesitance in the action. “Yeah. We got her.”

Okay, so maybe he was having a bittersweet moment. Because, sure, they had the killer in their clutches, but the fact that Akbar was dead remained. Just as dead as the Phoebe bitch would soon be.

“Let me have her.”

Dev leaned back in his chair, folding his fingers over his abs. Anyone else would have looked relaxed, but in his black BDUs, Dev managed to radiate authority and danger. “Annika, even if you hadn’t lost your powers, you’re the most pregnant woman I’ve ever seen.”

“Oh, funny, Dev. It’s these stupid maternity BDUs. Not flattering at all.” She rubbed her very pregnant belly and ignored his smirk and his comment about losing her powers. That was one of the dangers of pregnancy among special-ability types like her; pregnancy often affected powers, and sometimes they didn’t return after the baby was born. Annika was terrified of not regaining her electric shock ability that made her so lethal in the field, but she tried not to obsess.

Much.

“I told you months ago that you could wear civvies, and you should be on maternity leave anyway.”

Whatever. She wasn’t the sit-at-home-and-knit-booties type. “So. Who bagged the skank?”

“Stryker.”

Annika’s head snapped back hard enough to give her a sudden headache. “And she’s still alive?”

Stryker had wanted Phoebe dead even more than Annika, had been consumed by the need to shove a blade into her black heart. No way would he have gone for the capture over the kill.

“She’s alive,” Dev said, “because I want her that way.”

“You planning to torture her first?” Excellent.

“I’m planning to get her to talk. She can help us bring down Itor—”

“Bullshit.” Annika eyed the couch and then decided that if she sat, she’d be turtled and never get up again. “She won’t talk and you know it.”

“Phoebe won’t, but Melanie might.”

Okay, this was just bizarre. Annika didn’t buy the whole multiple-personality thing, and she wouldn’t believe anything the psycho said anyway. “And after you get what you want from her? Are you going to let Stryker have her?” The way Dev avoided her gaze put a lump in her gut, though it had to fight for room with the baby. “Dev?”

“Even if we can’t get intel from her, I can’t kill her. Not until Itor is dismantled.”

A chill ran up her spine, feeding her dread and her anger. “You might not be able to, but I can.”

“No,” Dev said softly, “you can’t. She’s Alek’s daughter.”

“Then we send her back to him in pieces—” Annika broke off with a gasp. “Oh, God.” She slapped her hand over her mouth and actually stumbled backward. Dev rushed around the desk to catch her, but she recovered and sidestepped him because, truth was, she didn’t want to be touched right now. “She’s … she’s your sister.”

He nodded.

Annika had to force herself to speak through a wave of nausea. “When did you find out?”

“Yesterday.”

The baby kicked, probably sensing Annika’s turmoil, and she willed herself to calm down. It didn’t stop the swirling in her stomach, though. Poor Dev. He had such evil in his family. Just once, couldn’t something be easy for him?

“I want to make one thing clear.” His voice was hard, all business. “I’m not bringing her here for a family reunion. I plan to use her to get to Alek. Taking down Itor is my number one priority, and I will do anything to accomplish that.”

“I know, Dev.” She did. But she also knew that he sometimes gave people more chances than they deserved. Annika herself was a prime example.

He nodded in that dismissive way of his. “And just as no one knows Alek is my father, no one is to know that he’s hers either.”

Well, it wasn’t “no one,” since Dev had made Annika, Creed, Ender, and Marlena aware of his relationship to Itor’s leader, but yeah, she got what he was saying. The fewer people who knew, the less pressure, speculation, and judgment would be on him.

“Goes without saying.” She waddled to the door, the sudden urge to pee cutting through her worry that Dev might be in over his head with this Phoebe situation. “Call if you need to talk or anything.”

“I will. Oh, and, Annika? You’d better decide on names. Soon.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Are you being psychic or paranoid?”

“I’m not telling.” He grinned, but damn, he looked beat. “I don’t suppose you want to know if it’s a boy or a girl.”

“If I’d wanted to know, I’d have asked at my last ultrasound.” She heaved her massive girth through the doorway, cursing when her belly brushed the doorknob. “This is all your fault.”

“The baby?”

“Yes. You threw me and Creed together.”

“Not like that.”

“Still your fault,” she grumbled as she shuffled through the waiting area, followed by Dev’s laughter. It really was his fault, and though she gave him a hard time, she wouldn’t change a thing. She might still doubt her ability to be a good mother, but she’d also once doubted her ability to love anyone. Yet here she was with her own little family she loved—Dev, Creed, and the unnamed life inside her.

And she’d do anything—anything—to protect them. Which meant that she didn’t give a shit if Phoebe was Dev’s sister or not. If the woman threatened Annika’s family in any way, shape, or form, she’d pay. And Annika didn’t believe in mercy. Or in second chances.

* * *

Mel had been in a lot of uncomfortable situations in her life, but hanging out on a plane with men who wanted her dead but who had been ordered not to kill her topped the charts.

Then there was Stryker. She couldn’t figure him out. She got that he was confused, and that he was struggling to believe she was a completely separate entity from Phoebe, and that she was on the up-and-up when it came to wanting to help take down Itor.

So yes, he had some issues to overcome. Which would explain why sometimes he was nice to her, and other times, like now, he glared and snapped. At least this time, she wasn’t the cause. His mood had been knocked around by Ender, Wyatt, and the man they’d called Dev, who had disconnected just a few minutes ago.

So now probably wasn’t the best time to tell Stryker that she had to go to the bathroom. Maybe she’d start out with something that wouldn’t require him to unchain her.

“This Dev guy … he’s your boss, right?”

Stryker nodded.

“What did he mean when he said to be careful what I wished for?”

Stryker shrugged. Great. This was going well.

“Would I know him for any reason?”

Stryker’s remarkable eyes narrowed, and she squirmed under the intensity of his stare. Well, that and because she had to go to the bathroom. “Why?”

“He sounded familiar.” She frowned. “No, not familiar. More like … I don’t know, like I felt him. Sounds crazy.”

Ender, who hadn’t taken his eyes off her, sat forward in his seat. “What do you mean, you felt him?” When she hesitated, he barked, “Answer!”

“Back off, asshole,” Stryker snapped. “You’re scaring her.”

“Waa.” Ender pouted mockingly. “I’m scaring the sweet widdle Itor agent. Maybe you can comfort her by trying to get into her pants again.”

Stryker shot to his feet, and Ender met him in the aisle. Tension became a soup in the plane, but then Wyatt was there, shoving them apart. “Knock it off. I don’t want another ass-chew call from Dev.” No one moved, and anxious energy began to build again.

“Um … excuse me? I have to go to the bathroom.”

“Too bad.” Ender sank down in his seat and kicked his feet up on another. “You can hold it for a few hours.”

“No,” she said, “I can’t. So unless you want me to ruin these really expensive seats, you’ll let me go.”

“I’ll take her,” Stryker muttered.

Ender swore. “I’ll do it. She stays cuffed and the door stays open.”

“You’re not taking her anywhere.” Stryker leaned over to unfasten her bindings from the chair. “And she can close the door.”

“You aren’t in charge anymore,” Ender said, and once again, Stryker whirled to face the other man.

Wyatt slammed his palm on Stryker’s chest. “Easy there, cowboy. Ender’s right. The door has to stay open. What if Phoebe comes out while Mel is in the bathroom?”

“I’ll go in with her.” The expression on Stryker’s face dared the other men to argue, and just as Ender opened his mouth to do exactly that, Wyatt finished unhooking the bindings.

“Go.” Wyatt stepped back to clear the aisle. “But, Stryker, don’t make us regret this.”

Stryker yanked her to her feet, which were still shackled, same as her wrists, so she had to shuffle down the aisle like a prison inmate during a transfer. Behind her she heard someone mutter something about “compromised,” and Stryker let out a series of nasty curses as he shoved her into one of the bathrooms. He came in behind her, and though she was grateful that it was about three times the size of a commercial jet’s restroom and included a shower stall, it was cramped for two people.

“Thank you,” she said softly.

“Don’t thank me. I didn’t do it for you. I did it for Dev. Hurry up.”

She tried, but her fingers shook so badly that she couldn’t unbutton her jeans. Finally, with yet another curse, he tore them open and turned away while she went. Between him and the cuffs, the whole thing was awkward and embarrassing, but she finished, stood, and once more needed his help.

“Jesus Christ.” He reached for the buttons on her jeans. “You can freeze men so solidly they break into ice cubes, but you can’t dress yourself.”

Something inside her snapped, and she knocked his hands away. “Never mind. I don’t want your help. If I have to go to the bathroom again, don’t bother helping. I’ll deal with Ender. At least with him, the hatred is consistent.” She tried to shoulder him aside so she could get out of the tiny space that seemed to grow more cramped the longer she was in it, but he snared her wrists and pushed her against the shower door.

“You aren’t going to get anyone else to help you.” Stryker’s broad shoulders filled her vision, and she did her best not to notice how his T-shirt stretched like a second skin over his taut muscles. “And you’re definitely not going out there with unbuttoned pants.”

“Oh, right. Because you can’t have anyone thinking you tried to get in them.” She struggled to get out of his grip, but his fingers only tightened more. “Do they know? Do they have any idea that you fucked me already? Maybe I’ll tell them, just so I can see the look of disgust on their faces.”

Fury lit his eyes, making the blues and greens swirl inside the crystal globes. “You do that, and I’ll—”

“You’ll what?” she spat. “Beat me? You can’t even come close to what my own father did to me. Kill me? Big deal. It’s going to happen anyway. How stupid do you think I am? Once you and your people are done with me, after you’ve wrung every drop of usable knowledge out of me, I’m dead. So stop with the threats.”

His jaw worked, and she could hear the sound of him grinding his molars even over the hum of the jet engine.

“What’s the matter,” she taunted. “Can’t find the words to convince me that you aren’t going to kill me? As an ACRO agent, surely you’ve been trained to lie.”

“Stop it,” he ground out.

“Stop what?” Pent-up frustration put a sharp edge on her reply. “Stop being realistic? After I finally figured out that all my hopes for any kind of normal, long life were nothing but a silly fantasy?”

He lunged, his pelvis rocking into her, and she sucked in a sharp breath at the erection nudging her belly. Between her legs, she went instantly wet, as though her body was connected to his and knew exactly what they both wanted.

The space got smaller as he rolled his hips against her. “Stop that.”

His breath hung like mist in the air. At some point, she’d engaged her power, and the bathroom had become a freezer. Just as she wondered if the rest of the aircraft had been affected, she got her answer.

“Stryker!” Ender’s enraged bellow vibrated the walls, but Stryker didn’t seem to notice.

Instead of responding, his mouth came down on hers.

Stryker was vaguely aware that Ender and Wyatt were in the background cursing, but he was more aware that his cock was rock hard and looking for a home inside of her like a heat-seeking missile set to strike.

He’d stopped before—he would not stop now. Not even if Ender and Wyatt tried to drag him off her, which he knew they wouldn’t try. Once his elemental side was triggered, he was too dangerous to piss off further.

His tongue dueled with hers in a kiss that stole his breath and he didn’t care.

He moved like lightning, because the need was too great, his body demanding satisfaction, his eyesight blurring. He slid the keys out of his pocket and leaned down, unhooking one ankle cuff. While he was down there, he yanked at her jeans, taking them down and off one leg.

When he stood again he unbuttoned and unzipped his own cargo BDUs and let them fall to his ankles. He didn’t uncuff her hands, just slid his head between her arms and her hands sought quarter on his shoulders.

She didn’t protest. His mouth sought hers again, his tongue slid inside in a blatant imitation of what he was about to do to her.

Hands on her ass, he hoisted her so her back was to the wall, her legs wrapped to his waist. His cock against her wet sex. And then he impaled her, driving in hard and fast.

It was only then he paused, the feeling of her hot flesh tight around him like a fist. “So hot, Mel. How are you so goddamned hot?”

Her eyes were wide from his penetration. “You,” she managed to moan, and that’s when he began to move again, his mouth capturing hers as he did so and everything else be damned.

He’d been holding back for too long.

He wanted more—his mouth on her breasts, his face buried between her legs to taste the sweet juice until she screamed, but that would have to wait. This was about instant gratification and it was still taking too damned long.

She gasped his name against his mouth, and yes, that’s what he wanted. Wasn’t sure where the hell this need to claim her came from, the need to protect her, but it was alternately turning him on and pissing him off.

And pissed-off sex was just as good as happy sex. Better, even, if the way she was meeting his thrusts was any indication.

She wanted to hate him as much as he wanted to hate her. And somehow, neither of them could get there.

It made it that much goddamned hotter, especially when her nails scored his back as he thrust deeply. She asked him to do that again, harder, and he could almost ignore the fact that the plane banked hard to starboard.

Of course, they banked along with it, but they didn’t stop the motion. He ended up wedged into the corner with her half on top of him. All that mattered to him was that he was still inside of her.

“Fuck me, Mel,” he told her, moved her hips up and down.

“Are you … doing … this?”

“I’m … doing … you.”

“The plane … something’s happening …” she managed, but then she was kissing him again and she was contracting around him, forcing his orgasm to shoot in a brilliant blend of color behind his eyelids.

The plane bounced wildly right along with his release, began to settle and straighten as he began to see clearly again too, and yes, it had been him doing something to fuck with the plane.

Best they untangle and face the music.

Mel’s breath was warm against his cheek, her body bonelessly wrapped around his. She raised her head from where it had been against his shoulder, her eyes glazed.

“Hey, are you all right?” he asked.

“More than,” she told him. She was rubbing his neck, massaging the muscles with her fingers, the clinking of the metal a reminder of who she was. Where they were.

What would Akbar say about all this?

At the thought of his name, Stryker sagged. It welled up inside of him, the anger that always threatened to boil over—that frequently did—changing to a pain so great he wondered if it would ever go away. “He’s gone. Akbar. It’s my fault.”

“No, it’s not,” she said softly, tears welled in her eyes.

And it wasn’t hers either.

“Your friend. I’m so sorry … you have to believe me … I’m so sorry …” she murmured as he struggled to breathe, to hold it together.

It wasn’t going to happen.

Mel simply pulled him close, held him while he completely lost it, his head buried against her, his cock still inside her, and he mourned his friend with the woman who …

The woman he needed to save.