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Striking Distance
Debra Webb
Do or Die…The assignment was clear: neutralize the dangerous assassin who had targeted the head of the Colby Agency. But how was CIA recruit Tasha North supposed to accomplish it? The assassin was highly skilled, had no fear, no conscience. No name.So she used the one weapon that affected him as no other could–herself. Slowly Tasha began to earn his trust, to find the pieces of humanity left in him after years of abuse. But after they shared so much, could she complete her assignment? Especially when she learned his true identity?
DO OR DIE…
The assignment was clear: neutralize the dangerous assassin who had targeted the head of the Colby Agency. But how was CIA recruit Tasha North supposed to accomplish it? The assassin was highly skilled, had no fear, no conscience. No name.
So she used the one weapon that affected him as no other could—herself. Slowly Tasha began to earn his trust, to find the pieces of humanity left in him after years of abuse. But after they shared so much, could she complete her assignment? Especially when she learned his true identity?
Praise for bestselling author Debra Webb
“Brims with tightly woven suspense around
every corner, and twists and turns abound.
Webb moves effortlessly between two very diverse romances and masterfully keeps the reader
on the edge until the last page.”
—RT Book Reviews on Striking Distance
“Debra Webb is endowed with an incredible imagination and an impressive ability to create multidimensional, realistic characters.”
—The Romance Reader.com
Praise for bestselling author Julie Miller
“Another excellent book from Julie Miller!”
—Romance Reviews Today on Forbidden Captor
“[Miller] writes some of the most intense story lines, and her latest entry is a smooth, nonstop ride.”
—RT Book Reviews on Nanny 911
Debra Webb
Debra Webb wrote her first story at age nine and her first romance at thirteen. It wasn’t until she spent three years working for the military behind the Iron Curtain and within the confining political walls of Berlin, Germany, that she realized her true calling. A five-year stint with NASA on the space shuttle program reinforced her love of the endless possibilities within her grasp as a storyteller. A collision course between suspense and romance was set. Debra has been writing romance, suspense and action-packed romance thrillers since.
Visit her at www.debrawebb.com (http://www.debrawebb.com) or write to her at P.O. Box 4889, Huntsville, AL 35815.
Julie Miller
Julie Miller attributes her passion for writing romance to all those fairy tales she read growing up, and to shyness. Encouragement from her family to write down those feelings she couldn’t express became a love for the written word. She gets continued support from her fellow members of the Prairieland Romance Writers, where she serves as the resident “grammar goddess.” This award-winning author and teacher has published several paranormal romances. Inspired by the likes of Agatha Christie and Encyclopedia Brown, Ms. Miller believes the only thing better than a good mystery is a good romance.
Born and raised in Missouri, she now lives in Nebraska with her husband, son and smiling guard dog, Maxie. Write to Julie at P.O. Box 5162, Grand Island, NE 68802-5162.
Striking Distance
Debra Webb
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Dear Reader,
Thank you so much for purchasing Striking Distance. This is a very important story in my long-running Colby Agency series. Just a couple of months ago the fiftieth book in the Colby Agency series was released. If you’re new to the series I hope you will be intrigued by this story and want to read more.
Victoria Colby is one of my favorite characters. Her journey through tragedy and triumph has made her one of my readers’ most beloved characters, as well. This story in particular reveals so very much about Victoria, past, present and future.
Hold on to your heart—you’re in for an emotional and action-packed ride! Be sure to visit my website, www.debrawebb.com, for news about upcoming books!
Enjoy!
Debra Webb
Debra Webb
Striking Distance
Special thanks to Denise Zaza, the absolute best editor on the planet. Thanks so very much for your trust and your encouragement. It was only with your unerring guidance that this dream came true.
This book is dedicated to one of the finest men I have had the personal and professional pleasure of knowing. He is definitely one heck of a good man. This one is for you, Ebb Deason.
Contents
Chapter 1 (#u6419a267-5199-500a-9380-8349596d9220)
Chapter 2 (#u30bda0e5-3ddb-55ba-92b4-75e4561028c8)
Chapter 3 (#ua1e1ea4e-a799-51f8-b555-97129d2511d4)
Chapter 4 (#ub55a1fb0-deb2-5af4-80c3-b5b26abb3b52)
Chapter 5 (#u3b3f61d1-caf3-5de6-b5c2-37684d03113e)
Chapter 6 (#ucf0f4b49-dc9a-5e13-a8ab-a143543687c0)
Chapter 7 (#uf4c28edf-e8f8-5841-91ae-b44cba3d4d00)
Chapter 8 (#udf6a6f53-0174-5cd9-916b-b9147477e726)
Chapter 9 (#ub7f5ebb0-dcab-54ea-8d03-2be5f0e64e6f)
Chapter 10 (#u974c92bf-a93a-5ed5-819d-b3aa8cdca2f4)
Chapter 11 (#u09d562e9-8d7d-5100-b2ab-d1553bd2ed3c)
Chapter 12 (#u5a24d040-3e54-509e-ad4f-514753b3058e)
Chapter 13 (#ucffe52c7-2638-53cf-973e-01037656cee7)
Chapter 14 (#uc414e154-da4e-5470-82f6-46d743499c99)
Chapter 15 (#u2dbcfefa-1490-57a4-9372-3936c2d3f7fa)
Chapter 16 (#u4c6aa9e3-cc5f-5d75-b359-65232d62a598)
Chapter 17 (#u3cf3c9e5-268d-5ae8-b198-2aa0ca871fa8)
Chapter 18 (#uc97e4893-0097-57a5-a472-17d4c3ab06a7)
Chapter 19 (#u80ff319b-5de6-58dd-a8bd-8fd9db7e7778)
Chapter 20 (#ue521f5bc-708f-5e01-911f-ff574142a201)
Chapter 21 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 22 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 23 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 24 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 25 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 26 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 27 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 28 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 29 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 30 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 31 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 32 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 33 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 34 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 35 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 36 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 37 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 38 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 39 (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 40 (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter 1
No matter the legacy a man left behind, ultimately it was his death that defined him.
Chicago’s Rosehill Cemetery was something of a tourist attraction with its medieval castle-like entrance of Joliet limestone and dozens of brooding mausoleums ranging in architectural styles from Egyptian to Gothic. The inhabitants, Civil War generals and soldiers as well as vice presidents, all lay in perpetual slumber in a place so blatantly filled with pomp and circumstance that even the soft tread of footsteps seemed an intrusion.
However well landscaped and adorned with lush shrubbery and graceful trees, this city of the dead with its foreboding Celtic cross and shimmering lake was still just a cemetery. Row after row of markers, whether mere headstones or more elaborate structures, represented lives that existed no longer.
His seeking gaze settled on one plot in particular where a woman stood quietly, probably reminiscing about the life long since laid to rest there.
The date of death engraved on the cold granite headstone indicated little about the man interred...but the name inscribed on that same glossy black surface said all that one needed to know.
James Colby.
Beloved husband and father.
Another epitaph should have been added: Ruthless butcher and marauder.
The great James Colby had been shot down and killed like the worthless bastard he was and not a minute too soon. But, even in death, his presence still lingered among the living. His essence kept alive...his work continued by a woman who was no better than he had been. Though she’d been warned, she persisted in her self-ordained, lofty endeavors. Just like her husband, nothing would stop her.
Except death.
And now her time was close at hand.
From his vantage point fifty meters away, well within striking distance, he read her every expression, watched her every movement through the crosshairs of his high-powered tactical scope. It was a face he had come to know intimately with the use of advanced technology and unending patience.
Looking weary and resigned the woman peered down at the elegant headstone as she no doubt struggled with the overwhelming silence around her...felt dizzy with the stifled senses of the dead and buried. The smell of damp earth would fill her nostrils with each breath she drew into her lungs, a sickening reminder that the rich, sodden soil perpetually cloaked her long-dead husband in its cold, relentless embrace.
Nothing could change the past.
Victoria Colby, he knew, had slowly come to realize that only she had the power to change the future. He’d waited a very long time for her to come to that understanding.
And yet she was powerless to deter him from his course.
She would die.
Soon.
The decision had been made long ago. His mission sanctioned even before he became a man.
He zeroed in to where her black heart beat beneath the tailored navy suit she wore. His finger curled around the trigger as his respiration ceased entirely. The bipod held the rifle steady, its precision aim a work of master craftsmanship.
He could kill her now...this instant...and nothing or no one could stop him.
Certainly not the crippled excuse for a man who stood a few meters to her left, watching, his senses so keen, his internal alarm so sensitive that he recognized some unknown threat even now. Smelled the danger in the very air. His rigid posture broadcasted a status of elevated alert.
But Lucas Camp had nothing to fear today.
The venerable Victoria Colby remained safe for the moment.
Oh, she would die.
But only one knew the day and the hour that death would come.
And it damn sure wasn’t God.
Chapter 2
Victoria Colby knelt before her late husband’s headstone, uncaring that the waning October sun had yet to dry the morning’s heavy dew from the grass. She traced the deeply gouged lines in the sleek surface that formed the letters of his name...the date of his passing. A heavy breath caught in her throat before it raggedly slipped past her trembling lips. How she missed him still.
Fifteen years had passed since she’d watched his body lowered into this grave. Since then the life she had once known had ground to a sudden and vicious halt. Without the help of her dedicated friends and colleagues at the Colby Agency, the private investigations firm her husband had nurtured like a child during his final days on this earth, she would surely not have survived his murder.
Her friends had gathered around her, united in strength and loyalty by the heinous tragedy, and held her up when she would otherwise have fallen. With their help she had risen from the ashes of devastation and forged ahead with her husband’s dream, making the Colby Agency the very best in the business of private investigations. She had reached that goal, surpassed it, even. James would be very proud. The Colby Agency employed only the finest in the fields of investigation and security. The reputation she had garnered with the help of her outstanding staff was unparalleled.
As proud of that accomplishment as she was, fifteen years was a very long time to devote oneself to nothing but work. In a few months she would turn fifty. That milestone would be reached with nothing to show for her half century on this earth other than her esteemed agency. For some that might be enough, but not for her. She needed...wanted...
She glanced at the man who respectfully waited a short distance away. His presence made her all the more aware of how much more she wanted. He had been there for her through it all. Had waited patiently for his time to come.
Lucas Camp had served the United States government in one capacity or another for his entire adult life. Most of that dedicated duty had been spent working covert operations that only the president and God knew about. Not once had he hesitated, not even when his own life was at grave risk, when assigned a mission. It was that same man’s selflessness that had saved James Colby’s life in Vietnam and had shored up her resolve on too many occasions to name when she had felt ready to give up...to crumble beneath the weight of seemingly perpetual agonies. He had showered her with an unending source of friendship and kindness, of encouragement and belief in her ability to go on.
For some time now she had known that Lucas was in love with her. Admittedly, what she felt for him could be called nothing else. She knew without reservation that James would want her to be happy, would want no less for her than the kind of man Lucas Camp epitomized.
And still she had hesitated to allow their close relationship to evolve naturally.
The past had haunted her for far too long.
Victoria stared down at her left hand and the narrow gold band that had resided there for twenty-seven years. It was time she moved forward with her personal life. She slipped the band from her finger, held it tightly for one more moment, then pressed it gently into the soft soil at the base of the headstone. “Thank you for all that you gave me, James,” she whispered. “You’ll always be in my heart.”
She swiped away a lone tear that trekked down her cheek and drew in a deep breath of much-needed resolve. It was time to move on, to look to the future rather than the past. She braced a hand on the cool surface of the granite and pushed to her feet.
She had waited long enough.
So had Lucas.
If only she knew the right words to say to thank him for his patience and unending devotion. But there were no words to accurately describe her feelings. Actions spoke louder than words. She’d asked him to bring her here today to show him her intentions.
She smiled when he joined her. “Thank you for giving me a moment.”
Those gray eyes searched hers with a kind of uncertainty she would never have associated with the man she knew so well. “You’re sure about this?” He glanced at her left hand and its bare ring finger.
Victoria nodded. “Yes. It’s time I paid attention to what’s important now.”
An emotion she couldn’t quite define replaced the uncertainty in his eyes. The ferocity of it made her pulse rush with anticipation. “We’ll take this slow, Victoria. One step at a time. There’s no need to hurry.”
Warmth spread through her at his words. He’d stood vigil so very long and still he wouldn’t make a single move without considering her feelings first and foremost.
“We’ll take it slow in the beginning,” she allowed, wanting him to hear in her voice the warmth that his nearness generated inside her.
A tiny smile quirked the corners of his mouth. “You’re the boss.” He gently folded his arm around her. “Let me take you to lunch,” he suggested, that ever-watchful gaze doing a quick, covert—but not quite covert enough—area sweep. “The wind is brisk out here, don’t you think?”
She kept her smile firmly in place and resisted the urge to look around the cemetery, brutally squashed the little shiver that threatened to scurry up her spine. Something had put Lucas on guard. He wanted to get her out of here in a hurry but without alarming her in any way. He didn’t want to ruin the moment that he knew had been a long time in coming for her—for them.
She trusted his instincts too much to ignore his assessment. Though she hated even the suggestion of running from a threat, she wasn’t a fool. Fate had been cruel to her, she’d lost her child and her husband in the space of three years. There had been a time when death would have been a blessed relief. Even now, at times, she wondered how she had survived the utter devastation. If the threat involved only her, she might choose to ignore it...but that was not the case. She’d come too close to losing Lucas only a few months ago on that godforsaken island to think for one second that he was as untouchable as he’d like her to believe.
She could not lose him...not now when she’d only just fully realized how very much she needed him.
She would do whatever it took to keep him safe and away from the evil that had destroyed her life once.
Leberman, the soulless devil, would not win this time.
Though she had never been able to prove it, she knew Errol Leberman was responsible for her husband’s death. She couldn’t be positive he was the one who had taken her son, but in her heart she knew it was a strong possibility. He had done all within his power for twenty long years to destroy her. Just a few short months ago he’d almost succeeded.
The ruthless bastard had lured first Lucas, then her, to St. Gabriel Island. Lucas had been badly hurt...and she’d known that she could not let Leberman win.
He had to be stopped.
Permanently.
Chapter 3
Lucas always enjoyed his time with Victoria, but today he’d been distracted. She had noticed, and to some degree there had been nothing he could do about that. She read him too well.
“You’re sure that’s all that’s bothering you?” she asked again as she closed the door of her office behind them. He hadn’t felt she was secure until he’d gotten her back into this building, this office. His concern at the cemetery as well as at the quiet, out-of-the-way restaurant where they’d dined had apparently been obvious.
Her own suspicions had been raised and she didn’t intend to let it go. No one could accuse Victoria Colby of being anything less than persistent. As she awaited his response she shouldered out of her jacket and hung it on the coat tree in the corner, unknowingly providing him with an opportunity to simply look at her in a rare, unguarded state.
He suddenly wished he could see her dark hair loose. He knew it would be long, though she always kept it in a serviceable, upswept arrangement. The silver highlights enhanced the depth of the woman. As she turned to face him once more, he stole yet another moment to admire her effortless beauty. Great personal loss had etched her porcelain skin with fine lines, yet failed to detract from the gentle, sophisticated elegance.
He had been in love with Victoria from the moment he first laid eyes on her thirty years ago. But she had been the fiancГ© of his best friend and colleague, later to become his wife. As much as Lucas loved her...wanted her...he would, even now, undo the past, resurrect her husband and son in a heartbeat to make her happy, if only he possessed the power. But he could not, of course. He could, however, love her and protect her until the day he took his dying breath.
That he would do.
He produced the expected smile and stuck to his original story that would tie in to his immediate plans. “It’s nothing, really. Casey has gotten it into his head that I need a vacation and, well—” he shrugged, using all the tactics he had learned over the years in the spy business to hide what he didn’t want her to see “—you know how I am about work. I can’t see myself taking off that kind of time. But Casey is the boss and he keeps insisting.” He heaved a sigh. “I have a feeling he isn’t going to take no for an answer. This little trip away from D.C. won’t be enough to appease him.”
Victoria looked thoughtful for a moment. “I’ve been getting the same hassle around here,” she said, her brow furrowing. “Everyone but me thinks I need a vacation. I suppose even I realize it’s past time I took some time off.” It was her turn to shrug. The gesture drew his eyes to her slender but proud shoulders and the white silk blouse she wore. The contrast of the delicate, feminine fabric to the strong, tough-as-nails woman beneath only served to widen his smile into the genuine article. “Maybe I should,” she went on as she looked directly at him, a new kind of sparkle in those brown eyes. “Maybe we should.” Her expression turned inquisitive, the barest hint of a smile curled the corners of her lips. “What’re you grinning about?”
He held her gaze for a couple of beats, weighing her words and the emotion that looked very much like desire he’d noticed there. “Is that an invitation, Victoria?” he ventured, ignoring her question for the moment. His heartbeat accelerated, sending a surge of heat through his body. He wanted this. Wanted it very much. But it had to be her choice...her decision.
She unconsciously rubbed her left hand, missing the ring she’d worn for more than half of her life. “Yes,” she said succinctly. “It is.”
Scarcely breathing for fear he would somehow break this spell, Lucas took her hands in his and considered how she’d tucked that precious gold wedding band into the ground next to her husband’s headstone. That act had taken a great deal of courage, and he respected what it surely meant. She was ready to move on. But he would not push the issue. He had waited a lifetime for this woman, a few weeks longer wouldn’t hurt. But her safety was another issue altogether.
He was getting closer.
Lucas had sensed his presence today at the cemetery. During lunch he’d excused himself briefly to meet with his security team leader in the restaurant’s bar. His suspicions had been confirmed.
The man, who they assumed at this point to be a hired assassin, had taken up a position about fifty meters from Victoria. He’d been armed with a special police-style rifle, complete with tactical scope and bipod. At one point, one of the two specialists assigned to Victoria’s secret security detail had almost engaged the target. Lucas had warned his men that the assassin was to be kept alive if at all possible. But he’d gotten damned close today. The only thing that had kept Lucas’s man from taking out the assassin was the fact that he’d visually verified the weapon’s positive three-position thumb safety was still locked. The shooter had had no intention of killing Victoria today.
He’d simply been watching.
Lucas could only assume that he was standing by for final authorization to complete the mission. He’d had at least three opportunities so far and hadn’t acted. But there would come a time when he would, that was a certainty. Lucas had to take countermeasures before that happened. Somehow, while keeping Victoria safe and allowing the assassin to stay on their trail temporarily, he had to get someone close to this guy. It was the only way he could hope to catch the real threat: Leberman.
Victoria would never be safe as long as Leberman was alive. If he had hired this assassin as Lucas suspected, there might be a chance of tracking this hired killer right back to the bastard’s hiding place. Which was the only reason they hadn’t taken out the shooter already. They needed him to get to Leberman.
“Then we have plans to make,” Lucas offered as he dispensed with the other troubling thoughts and focused on her invitation. “Where would you like to go?”
She searched his face, looking for some hint of what was on his mind. Suspicion still nagged at her, he knew. “Shall I have Mildred bring us coffee while we discuss the possibilities?”
The prospect of planning their joint vacation pleased her, and he hated like hell to disappoint her. They were so close. He groaned and glanced at his watch. “I have another meeting in thirty minutes. I could try and reschedule or—” he pretended to mull the idea over
“—why don’t you think about the destination possibilities and then we’ll discuss the options over dinner tonight?”
“That would be lovely.”
He squeezed her hands once more before letting go. “I’ll see you at eight, then.”
She nodded, her hopeful expression wilting just a little.
He would make this up to her.
Victoria watched Lucas leave her office, the ever-present limp only adding to his distinguished demeanor. He looked so handsome today. The gray shirt emphasized his eyes. The elegant charcoal suit fit his lean frame perfectly. Their time at lunch had been more relaxed than any they’d shared since before the incident on St. Gabriel Island. It had felt good to simply be, with no talk of Leberman or the past.
She wanted it that way from now on.
He wanted it, too. She knew he did.
The only thing she couldn’t figure out was why he insisted on lying to her.
Chapter 4
Lucas leaned against the examination table in the small treatment room and waited for the others to arrive.
The door opened, and a nurse with a cheery expression peeked in at him. “Mr. Camp, would you like some water or coffee?”
“No, thanks.”
She shot him a cheeky smile and disappeared, allowing the door to close with a slow whoosh behind her.
He couldn’t risk detection of this meeting. Complete secrecy was crucial. If Leberman or any of his people—and he could only assume that the assassin might be one of several—saw Lucas with Victoria’s most-trusted investigators, they would know he was on to them. He didn’t want that to happen any sooner than necessary. Nor could he risk that any part of the Colby Agency offices were bugged. It was a long shot since the offices were swept for foreign electronics on a regular basis, but one he wasn’t willing to chance. As long as Leberman thought they were one step behind, he wouldn’t get nervous and perhaps do something rash, like giving the final execution order.
The door opened again and Ian Michaels entered the room followed closely by Simon Ruhl. They were the kind of spit-and-polish guys who epitomized the term spy. But Lucas knew the gritty, less glamorous side of the business. He couldn’t be deputy director of Mission Recovery without having been exposed to the worst that man was capable of. The highly trained Specialists in Mission Recovery were only called in when all else failed.
Ian acknowledged Lucas with a mere nod while Simon commented, “Nice place for a meeting.”
This wouldn’t be the first time Lucas had used a physician’s office for a clandestine meeting, but it had been a long time. Not since his surgery after bringing down the traitor who’d almost destroyed Mission Recovery before Casey came on the scene as director. Had it been four years already? At any rate, this physician was an old friend from his military days. His Chicago clinic, situated mere blocks from the Colby Agency’s location just off the Magnificent Mile, was a perfect front for conducting covert ops.
“You have any trouble with the transportation?” His lips twitched when he noted the slightest flinch in Ian’s carefully controlled exterior.
“Not if you discount the siren,” Ian commented dryly.
Though Lucas had walked into the office like any paying patient, Ian and Simon had arrived by ambulance and were hustled in through the rear emergency entrance. Anyone watching Lucas enter the clinic would never know that two Colby agents had arrived via the back door.
“So, what’s going on, Lucas?” Simon was the first to call the meeting to order. Ian remained occupied with sizing up Lucas and his intentions. The man was good at that. Could tell more by watching his prey for mere minutes than from listening to hours of interrogation. Victoria had bragged to Lucas long ago about Ian. He was good at the business of peeling away the outer layers and getting to the bottom of things.
“I told you two weeks ago that I suspected Victoria was being watched.” He spread his hands in a speculative gesture. “I couldn’t be sure of the source of the problem—still can’t be absolutely certain. But we now have reason to believe that this man may be connected to Leberman. He may be on the verge of making a move.”
Silence reigned briefly while the two men absorbed the ramifications of that bit of information. Anyone who had been with the Colby Agency for any length of time knew about Leberman. The bastard had made it his life’s mission to destroy Victoria Colby and all that she stood for. Lucas was certain he’d killed James Colby as well as the boy, Victoria’s only child. But even that wasn’t enough for the devil. He just kept coming back for more. Playing his sick games and then going back into hiding. He hybernated for years...until it was safe to surface again. Then he’d strike.
But this time was going to be different. This time Leberman was going to die.
“We don’t have any real evidence to support our assessment, of course,” Lucas went on pushing the disturbing memories away, “but I’m certain enough to take the appropriate action. I’ve put a security detail in place.”
“We’ve reviewed every case that might carry enough significance to warrant this sort of vengeance,” Simon informed him, bringing him up to speed on their end and lending even more credence to Lucas’s conclusion. “There simply isn’t anyone out there related to a Colby Agency case who we have reason to suspect at this time.”
Lucas stroked his chin as he considered how to broach the next step. Neither of these gentlemen was going to like his strategy, and their cooperation was essential.
“What is it you’re not telling us?” Ian cut to the chase.
Lucas almost smiled. Two minutes and the guy had nailed him to the floor. Judging by the fierce glare he had trained on Lucas at that moment there was no way around giving him a straight answer.
“The man watching Victoria may be a professional assassin hired by Leberman. I believe his mission is to complete what Leberman started on that island.”
The air thickened with a new level of tension. All three were well aware of the events that had unfolded on St. Gabriel Island in a matter of hours. Events that had been years in the planning. The tiny island off the coast of Georgia had proven the perfect stage for his devious plans.
“Then she is no longer safe in any public setting,” Ian suggested.
“I would have to agree with you.” Evading the issue would be pointless. “To be frank, he’s had ample opportunity already, but has chosen not to take the shot. My conclusion would be that he’s keeping surveillance and waiting for final authorization from Leberman.”
“But you can’t be certain that Leberman is the one behind this,” Simon countered. “You don’t have any actual proof. No factual intelligence.”
“No.” Lucas looked from one to the other, reading the skepticism they wanted to cling to. No one wanted to believe Leberman was back, least of all Lucas. “Everything I have is speculation. But we all know he’s the most logical candidate.”
“Why haven’t you taken out the assassin already?” Ian pressed as his own sense of anticipation obviously moved to the next level. To his way of thinking that would have been the most strategic move. Hell, it made perfect sense, but Lucas had his reasons.
This would be the tricky part. “We all know that Victoria will not hide from this once she’s briefed on the situation. Nothing any of us could say would change her mind. And we also know that she will never be safe as long as Leberman is alive—”
“We’ve had this conversation already,” Simon noted matter-of-factly. His agitation was somewhat more evident than Ian’s. Tension radiated in every aspect of his posture.
“We have,” Lucas agreed. “My stand on the matter has not changed. We need to get Leberman. If this assassin can lead us to him, we have to take the risk.”
“The risk you speak of,” Ian interjected calmly, his subdued tone more lethal than if he’d shouted the words, “involves Victoria’s life, correct?”
Their gazes locked for two beats. “Correct.”
“And you are willing to take this risk?” Ian pushed for finite clarification.
“It’s our only option.”
The two Colby agents exchanged a look.
Simon spoke up first. “Lucas, I’m confident that Victoria’s best interests are your primary concern. I know you’ll do whatever is necessary to protect her, but you must know that we can’t simply pretend this isn’t happening. We have to take some sort of action.”
“The only action that will make a difference requires Victoria’s cooperation, which will compromise our efforts.” He divided his attention between the two somber-faced men. “I have an alternate approach in mind. First I have to persuade her to take a vacation with me. I’ve plotted a destination. She’ll be completely cocooned by my team of Specialists until we can reel this guy in. I won’t allow anything to happen to her, you can rest assured of that.”
“You’ll keep us informed of every step,” Simon persisted.
“I’ll keep the two of you informed.” Lucas gestured from one to the other. “I don’t want anyone else to know the plan. No one, is that understood?”
“Are you implying there might be a traitor inside the Colby Agency?” Ian inquired, one brow raised slightly higher than the other his only outward indication of surprise.
“I’m not implying anything,” Lucas asserted. “I’m simply not taking any risks. No one but the four members assigned to her security will know exactly where she is. And even those four won’t know where they’re going and for what reason until they get there. If there is a breach in security it won’t be on my end.”
“If you spirit her away to safety,” Simon countered, “how is that going to affect the situation with the assassin and his leading you to Leberman?”
Another dicey maneuver. “I’m going to send someone undercover to get close to him.”
“Since complete anonymity is essential, who will you utilize for that assignment?” Ian wanted to know, his tone reflective of his uncommitted stance on the matter.
“I’m going to use someone who isn’t affiliated with my people at Mission Recovery or the Colby Agency. Someone completely out of the game.”
“You think that’s wise considering who we’re up against?” Simon prodded, his arms folded over his chest. He clearly didn’t like this any more than Ian did. For that matter neither did Lucas.
“This agent is a recruit fresh from the CIA’s training facility. Our Forward Research group has been tracking her progress since before she entered the program. She’s good. Damn good. She has a degree in psychology, which could prove useful. And she has no stake in the matter either way.”
“What makes you think she’ll go for this assignment?” Simon looked even more suspicious of the whole strategy. It did sound like a suicide mission, even Lucas had to admit it.
“If she’s got half the fire burning in her belly to impress the brass as it appears, she’ll go for it.”
“But is she good enough to do the job?” Ian voiced the remaining variable.
Lucas smiled as he thought of the hotshot he’d observed steamrolling her peers, female and male alike. He’d been waiting for the right kind of opportunity to bring her onboard. “Oh, yeah. She’s good enough.”
“She’ll try to get close to this guy in hopes that he’ll lead her to Leberman, is that it?” Simon relaxed, but only marginally.
“She’ll get close to him, and then when Victoria vanishes he won’t have any choice but to contact Leberman for additional instructions.” Lucas hoped like hell it would be that easy.
Five seconds lapsed into thirty as the two men closest to Victoria at the Colby Agency considered his proposal.
“I can see how this might work.” Simon was the first to edge toward commitment.
“And what about you, Ian? Do I have your support?” Lucas couldn’t move forward without both these men on board. Timing and synchronized reactions were everything. There couldn’t be a single glitch.
“I have no reason to doubt your loyalty to Victoria,” he said in response, without actually answering at all. “I do, however, have reservations as to the plan you’ve outlined, but I can’t conceive of a better strategy.” His gaze locked fully with Lucas’s. “As you say, Leberman must be stopped. It’s past time we got this done.”
“All right, then. I’ll set things in motion on my end. The only thing I need on yours is full cooperation and complete secrecy.”
“You have that unconditionally,” Ian said with that quiet intensity that would unnerve most men.
Lucas nodded. “I’ll keep you posted.”
With the preliminary plans out of the way there was nothing further to discuss. “We’ll ensure status quo at the office until we hear from you,” Simon offered in parting.
“I don’t want Victoria to suspect anything,” Lucas reiterated as they moved toward the door. “She’s already picked up on my uneasiness.”
“We understand.” This from Ian. He paused before following Simon into the corridor. “Just one more thing.” He looked directly at Lucas. “I have no doubt that you will do all in your power to protect Victoria from this assassin.”
“I will,” Lucas assured him.
“If,” Ian qualified in that low, deadly tone, “you take this risk and fail, it will be the last thing you do.”
Their gazes held for a beat of screaming silence.
“If,” Lucas allowed grimly, “I fail, you can use my gun to do the job.”
Chapter 5
Tasha North tossed her bag into her car and yanked off the confining double-breasted suit coat that had felt like a straitjacket all day. This stuffy attire was just one more thing she hated about her new job. She flung the inside-out garment into the back seat and dropped behind the wheel of her Volkswagen Beetle. She breathed a sigh of pure, unadulterated relief. Whenever she settled into the white leather seat of her little yellow Bug she felt normal...almost.
Jerking the pins loose from her hair, she shook the blond shoulder-length mass free and pushed her sunglasses into place. She cranked and revved the engine. Thank God it was Friday. She couldn’t wait to get out of here.
Tires squealing she rocketed out of her designated parking slot and zoomed toward the exit of the mammoth parking garage. At the security checkpoint she slowed for the guard to ID her, gave him a big, friendly smile, which he returned sheepishly, and then proceeded forward.
Once off Langley property she floored the accelerator and headed home.
Frustration pounded in her brain. She hadn’t joined the elite CIA to sit behind a desk. All day long she did the same thing: reviewed intelligence reports, looking for tidbits others had missed. Oh, she’d found an item here and there, especially the past couple of days. But that wasn’t how she’d seen herself fitting into the agency she’d been in awe of all these years. At any rate, when she’d graduated from training, her superiors had insisted that her battery of assessment tests had determined that this was the best assignment for optimum use of her skills.
In her opinion that was a load of crap.
So what if she had a near-photographic memory and felt like cyberspace was her second home or that she could hack into the Pentagon’s computer system as easily as checking her e-mail? Would they never forget that little incident?
She rolled her eyes as she merged onto the expressway. She’d only done it once. Good grief, she’d been seventeen. Kids did stupid stuff like that. She was more sensible now, played by the rules, thought before she acted... Well, most of the time, anyway.
But at seventeen she’d been impetuous. Still, once the hoopla had settled down, especially the part about no charges being filed, and her parents had stopped having cardiac episodes, she’d actually gotten a little excited about having stepped knee-deep in national security shit. A CIA recruiter had come to see her at high school. It had all been very secretive. Her first covert briefing. He’d told her how impressed he was with her skill and how he’d personally kept her out of trouble. Had said that he’d be watching as she moved through her college career. Then, with a mysterious “I’ll be in touch,” he’d disappeared just like the spy she dreamed of being. And just as he’d promised, on graduation day he’d shown up at the university to recruit her.
And what had they done?
They’d stuck her behind a metal desk reading boring reports all day every day.
Oh, the training program had been great. She’d loved it, kicked ass and taken names, coming out top in her class.
Those intensive weeks had been exhilarating...had felt like the CIA she’d dreamed of joining.
This—she glared at the skirt and low-heeled pumps she wore—was not. She looked just like her mother for heaven’s sake.
Tasha took a breath. Okay, okay. She knew the deal. Paying her dues wasn’t the end of the world. Impatience had always been her most glaring flaw. She was almost twenty-three. It was past time she’d learned how to take the waiting in stride.
“Grow up, Tasha,” she grumbled. “You have to earn your way in the real world.” How many times had her father told her that theatrics didn’t pay off? “Patience is a virtue,” he’d say at least once a day while she was growing up. Be that as it may, in high school she’d gotten noticed by proving she could do what no one else could—like cracking the Pentagon’s cyber security.
Another sigh heaved from her chest. This wasn’t high school. Being slick and cagey and, as bad as she hated to admit it, irreverently arrogant wasn’t going to put her at the top of the food chain when her superiors, those rating her ability, were all replicas of her dear old dad. She had to be patient. Had to prove her worth behind a desk before she graduated to field operations. Hadn’t she learned a good deal about the human psyche in college? A degree in psychology taught her one thing if nothing else—meet the expectations of the humans in charge and life was much easier.
She could do it. Five days a week, eight hours a day, for a while longer. Her time would come...eventually. All she had to do was play it cool and bide her time. She reached to turn up the volume on the CD player just as the sound of her cell phone ringing drew her hand in another direction. Groping around in her bag she fished out the phone and flipped it open.
“North.”
“Tasha, this is Martin.”
Her respiration came to a screeching halt before accelerating into double duty. Her recruiter. A major player amid the powers-that-be at the Agency. Could this be the call she’d hoped for? “Martin, how’s it going?” she asked when she had reclaimed her voice, then moistened her lips in nervous anticipation. Why would he be calling now? She hadn’t heard from him for nearly three months...not since surviving training...and being shackled to that damned desk. She’d all but given up.
“We have to talk. Can you meet me right now?”
A frown worried her brow as she considered the urgency in his tone. What was up with that? “Sure. Where?”
“Take the next exit. There’s a gas station on the right once you’ve cleared the overpass. I’ll be waiting.”
Her frown deepening, she closed her phone and tossed it in the general vicinity of her bag.
What the hell was going on?
She slowed for the upcoming exit ramp and took it as instructed.
But...she glanced at the discarded phone, then back at the expressway she’d veered from...how did he know where she was?
Tracking device. She’d heard rumors that all new agents were injected with the latest technology. A device so small that it could be installed with nothing more than a subcutaneous pin prick. With all the immunizations required in training, she could have been injected with anything and not known the difference.
She shrugged it off. Just part of the business. If they wanted to keep tabs on her comings and goings she didn’t mind. Anything for the job.
She stopped at the end of the exit ramp, then made a sharp left.
The highway that cut beneath the overpass was one of those takes-you-nowhere kind that sprawled off into the woods in either direction. To her surprise there was a gas station up ahead. It looked deserted. As she eased into the parking lot her assumption was confirmed. Not simply closed but out of business.
On the far side of the lot Martin waited, leaning against his shiny black Jaguar. Smiling in spite of the buzz of warning going off in her head, Tasha pulled up next to him and climbed out. This was Martin. The man who’d held the door to the CIA open for her. He’d assured her that he had his eye on her and would see that her future turned out the right way.
Maybe he had news along those lines for her now. A jolt of irritation shot through her. He’d better have good news. She was sick of all talk and no action.
“I’m glad you came,” he said as he removed his dark glasses. “We need to talk.”
She nodded, slipped off her eyewear and tossed the designer sunglasses onto the dash of her car. He was right. They did need to talk. If he didn’t have an offer for her now, he’d better get things in motion. She’d had about all the nine-to-five grind she could tolerate. Moving closer, she propped a hip on the rear quarter panel of his sleek automobile. “I hope you’ve got good news for me.”
He studied her for a moment, then asked the last question she’d expected to hear, “You have the codes, don’t you?”
The hair on the back of her neck stood on end. “Codes?” Her posture stiffened before she could stop it. He noticed. Dammit. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“They’re watching you.” He surveyed the wooded area around them. “They know.”
“Who knows?” She straightened, adopted a fight-or-flight stance and did a little surveying of her own.
He reached into an interior pocket of his high-priced suit jacket and pulled out a 9 mm handgun. “Take this. You may need it.”
She stared at the nickel-plated weapon before accepting it. “How do you know?” She’d reported the breach the moment she stumbled upon it while reviewing endless boring text. Someone, inside the agency, had hidden the codes in the documents. She had no idea how or why, she’d simply done her job. But, as Martin said, she had, in fact, uncovered some sort of code. Her supervisor had appeared agitated that she’d made such a discovery. And it wasn’t like she could forget what she’d seen. Once she viewed data—any data, written, visual, whatever—it was in her brain for all time.
“I always know what’s going on with my special students.”
He’d been an excellent mentor. She’d counted on him. Trusted him...but somehow this felt off. The psych evaluators who’d assessed her prior to advancing into the CIA’s training program had called the little sixth sense she possessed elevated precognitive reception. Well, whatever the hell it was, her little precog receptors were humming like mad.
“Is there something else I should know?” Was he only here to warn her to be careful? She resisted the urge to shake her head. It just didn’t make sense.
“You’ll need—” The rest of his words were cut off by screaming tires and a roaring engine.
Tasha dove for the ground, hitting the asphalt hard and rolling behind his car just as a hail of gunfire erupted.
Martin followed suit, their movements like a well-choreographed dance.
She shifted into a crouch and prepared to return fire when the world suddenly went dark.
* * *
Her head ached.
Tasha slowly opened her eyes and surveyed the room around her. Plain white walls. No furniture other than the chair in which she sat.
Where the hell was she? She blinked and even that small movement cost her. The ache in her head sliced through her skull like a machete.
Her hands were secured behind her back. She twisted her wrists, the flesh there burning from the tightness of the ropes.
Martin.
Her heart skipped a beat.
Had he been shot?
The code.
Surely this wasn’t about that code...she didn’t even know what it related to.
The door across the ten-by-ten room suddenly opened, and a man dressed in black combat gear walked in. He closed the door behind him and leaned against it.
“Hello, Agent North.”
She looked up at him from beneath her lashes and told him her position in no uncertain terms. “I don’t know what you want. You’re wasting your time.”
He tugged at first one leather glove and then the other, pulling them firmly into place. “You think so?”
She laughed softly, anticipation already rushing to steady her spinning head. Let him take his best shot. “I know so.”
“We’ll just see about that.”
He started toward her, and Tasha did as she had been trained.
She shut down all nonessential functions.
Closed him out.
Closed everything out.
Chapter 6
They’d covered her head and tied her hands behind her back again. Tasha stayed very still, absorbing the details around her as best she could in her current state of near numbness. The vehicle—a cargo van maybe—she’d been shoved into glided smoothly toward its destination. City streets, well maintained. No back road. Not yet. Wherever they were taking her she had a pretty good idea they planned to execute her and dump the body.
She hadn’t given either of the men who’d interrogated her what they wanted. She was of no further use to them. Those words echoed through her throbbing skull as she allowed her senses to awaken more fully, inch by slow inch. The bruised ribs and split lip were the least of her worries. Unless she finagled an escape she was dead.
Just in case she managed a getaway, she had studied each face she’d encountered very carefully. Had even gotten a DNA sample under her nails when she scratched one of them. She almost smiled when she thought of the head butt she’d pulled off, taking one guy down. She hoped his nose was broken.
Well, at least she’d put up a good fight and she hadn’t given them the code.
That was something.
Though an alien emotion, what felt like fear, moved through her. She had to admit that the thought of dying so young lacked any appeal whatsoever.
The vehicle rocked slightly as it slowed, then stopped briefly. She listened intently. No traffic sounds. A left turn. Then a right. They were likely nearing their final destination now. Her heart rate quickened.
The vehicle bumped over a rise and then stopped. Parking lot, she surmised. The sound of metal sliding over metal and a rush of cool air told her the cargo door had been opened.
It was now or never. She had to make a move.
When she would have pushed herself up, brutal hands shoved her forcefully from behind, sending her hurtling out of the vehicle.
She landed hard. Her skin, wherever exposed, identified asphalt beneath her. Struggling frantically, she maneuvered into an upright position, her legs folded painfully under her. If she could only get up...
Those hands pushed her back down.
She braced for the impact of a bullet.
Silence.
Footsteps retreating.
Tires squealed as the vehicle spun away.
Stunned as much by the shock of being left alive as by the pain now making itself known in a big way, for one long moment Tasha could only sit there, bewildered.
The sound of clapping jerked her out of her state of dazed confusion.
She stumbled to her feet, battling with the bindings on her wrists. Within seconds she was free, the knots oddly easy to escape. Not like before.
“Bravo, Agent North.”
She jerked the cloth sack from her head and glared in the direction of the voice. Martin. Her mentor. Her recruiter. The man she trusted above all others.
“What the...”
Her words drifted off as realization seeped into her muddled gray matter. She’d been set up. He hadn’t needed a tracking device...he’d planned this.
“You son of a bitch,” she snarled as she charged toward him.
He held up both hands to halt her attack. The streetlamp on the outer perimeter of the abandoned parking lot provided sufficient light for her to see his features. “Now, don’t go taking it out on the messenger.”
“What the hell was this?” She swiped at the blood leaking from her split lip, wincing at the burn.
“Just a small—” he held his forefinger and thumb close together “—final test,” he assured her with a knowing nod.
“Test?” she roared. “You people played enough mind games on us during training. I’ve been out of training for three months! What else do I have to do to prove my loyalty?”
He sighed and braced one elbow on the other arm so that he could rest his chin in his hand as he’d often done when pacing before the class. “You see, Tasha,” he offered quietly, his easygoing tone making her want to slug him, “there are a chosen few who get special notice. For those, like you, we have exclusive plans. But, there’s always one final test. And that test can only be administered after you have access to negotiable information, otherwise it’s pointless. You, of course, passed with flying colors.”
Some of the fire went out of her fury. But she was still as mad as hell. “What does this mean?”
He smiled. “It means, my dear Tasha, that you are on your way. Very soon you’ll be brought into that exclusive club.”
She narrowed her gaze, her suspicion mounting. “How soon?” She wanted more than an empty promise. She’d had that.
“Soon.” He surveyed her haggard appearance. “Now go home, take a long hot bath and enjoy your weekend.”
Before she could demand any other information, he got into his Jag and drove away.
“Bastard,” she muttered as she staggered to her own waiting, considerably more modest, vehicle.
She’d lost one of her shoes, so she kicked the other one away before climbing behind the wheel of her Bug. Her panty hose were shredded, and one knee was skinned. She dragged off the ragged nylon and tossed it out the window. Only one button held her blouse together. But at least she still had all her teeth, she mused, sliding her tongue over her undamaged pearly whites.
A quick glance in the mirror and she grimaced. She looked like hell. Well, as long as it got her where she wanted to be. No pain, no gain, right?
She started the engine and pointed the car toward home. Damn she was beat.
Literally.
Half an hour later she braked to a stop at the curb outside her small Crystal City duplex. Swearing profusely she eased out of the car. Every muscle in her body screamed in protest of each move. Fat lot of good three nights per week of martial arts had done her. With her hands tied behind her back she’d scarcely landed a single blow.
Appeasing herself with the memory that Martin had said soon, she padded barefoot up the steps and to the front door. Soon she would join an exclusive club. She knew what that meant—field operations. Smiling, she reached to insert the key into the lock. She stilled. A chill raced over her skin. Her pulse tripped into the rush zone.
Something wasn’t right.
It was past midnight and damned dark. Most of her yuppy neighbors were in bed already. Like her they all worked too many hours to bother with pets, so the whole neighborhood was dead silent. They were all good little robots, spinning their wheels in their white-collar world by day and playing nice, tidy little home owners by night.
Boring...boring. Not the life she’d planned for herself.
Hopefully that was almost over for her.
At the moment over might very well have an altogether different meaning.
Cautiously, not making a sound, she moved around the side of her house. Her unit was the last one on the block, which gave her quick access to the rear of the property without passing a neighbor’s window. Keeping close to the brick wall, she edged around to the back.
She flattened against the wall next to her back door and listened intently. No sound came from inside, but the goose bumps raised across her skin warned her that things were not as they should be.
During training she’d met a few other recruits who had this elevated sense of alert. Advanced precognitive warning system, whatever the shrinks wanted to call it. She’d always had it...had banked on it more times than she cared to recall. Whenever her gut clenched and her flesh pebbled she paid attention.
She eased a little farther across the rear of the house until she reached her bedroom window. A smile slid across her lips when she found it open an inch or two and with one broken pane. The bastard. He’d climbed through her window. Just who the hell did he think he was? He’d likely been damned disappointed that she didn’t even own a DVD player much less a Blu-ray. She preferred making her own entertainment.
Another thought struck her on the heels of that one. This was too easy. Not right. She considered her options and decided that going in was the best route. She’d be prepared for whatever waited inside. And she knew someone was there...she could feel it.
In less than ten seconds she was in the room with scarcely any effort and without having made the slightest noise to warn her prey.
The bedroom was dark but Tasha didn’t need any light. She knew her way around her own home.
She reached into the tissue box on the bedside table and snagged her weapon. A .38 that she’d purchased the day she graduated from college. A girl had to have her protection. Besides, she’d thought she was going into the spy business. Didn’t every spy carry a weapon? Fleetingly she thought of the 9 mm Martin had lent her for about five seconds. It probably had been loaded with blanks, just like the ones that had sent her diving for cover when the van came barreling into the gas station’s parking lot. She gritted her teeth against a new surge of fury. This sure as hell better not be another one of his games.
She frowned. The .38 felt wrong. She weighed it in her hand...too light. She crouched down and felt under the edge of the bedside table for her backup piece. A sinking feeling kicked in. This business of game playing had gone too far. A burglar would have taken the gun, not just the bullets.
She eased across the bedroom and through the open door. She had memorized each spot where her floor creaked and avoided those areas as she made her way down the short hall that connected the five rooms of her home like spokes on a square wheel. The bathroom was clear...the kitchen was, too, except for three nights’ worth of dirty dishes. She didn’t have to see them to know they were there, her memory provided a vivid image. Nothing in the guest room.
With each breath expertly controlled to avoid audible detection, she locked her right elbow and leveled her .38. She kept her left hand slightly behind her, the .32 grasped firmly there. She didn’t want to give away her backup piece just yet. Giving herself a mental three count she entered the living room, her gaze sweeping left to right until she visually engaged the dark outline of the target framed in the meager light from the streetlamp outside the window.
On the sofa. Looked tall. Male probably.
The barrel of her .38 zeroed in on his torso. “Don’t move or you’re dead.”
“Do you mind if I turn on a light? I prefer to look a person in the eye when conversing.”
A new kind of wariness slid over her, and she squinted to make out the details of his face, which was impossible. “Who the hell are you?”
“I’m reaching for the light,” he informed her as one arm moved toward the table next to him.
The lamp switched on and she blinked to adjust to the brightness. The warm glow from the sixty-watt bulb spilled over the intruder who looked to be about fifty or so. Graying hair...eyes the color of a winter’s frost. Business suit, designer quality. His hands were propped on a cane in front of him. Briefcase sat at his feet.
Resisting the urge to frown, she cocked her weapon. “You’d better start talking, old man, before I decide to shoot first and ask questions later.”
He opened his left hand and showed her his palm and the brass rounds gleaming there. “You might find that difficult without these.”
She leveled the .32 in her left hand on him then. “I don’t think it’ll be difficult at all.” She tossed the useless .38 aside.
He smiled, approval gleaming in his eyes. “You are good.”
“I don’t know who the hell you are,” she growled, “but I can tell you that I’ve had a really bad day. So bad in fact that I could shoot you right now and blame it on post-traumatic stress and probably get away with it.”
“Sit,” he ordered. “And we’ll talk.”
That sounded a little too damned familiar. Talking had done nothing but get her in trouble today. Still watching him warily, she moved to the closest chair, which put her directly across the antique-trunk-turned-coffee-table from him. She eyed his cane skeptically and let him see her dubiousness. “How the hell did you manage to climb through my window?” she asked bluntly. Beating around the proverbial bush had never been her style.
He smirked. “Who said I climbed through the window?”
Her gaze narrowed then cut to the front door. Sure enough the lever was turned to the unlock position. She’d known the whole window thing was too easy...staged.
“I only opened the window to make you think I’d climbed through,” he explained unnecessarily. But then he did that on purpose, wanted to rub it in.
“Okay, so you have my attention now. What’s this about? I’ve endured about all the head games I intend to play today. And you don’t look like the type who has to force the ladies to do his bidding. So what do you want?” Despite being over the hill and using a cane, the guy was attractive, in a smart-ass sort of way, definitely distinguished looking.
That last jab won her a genuine smile. Her heart fluttered. When he smiled, wow! Those gray eyes sparkled with mischief and something deeper...something curiously fascinating. She scolded herself. That was just the kind of thinking that usually got her into trouble. This stranger had broken into her home and had unloaded her weapon. He could be armed. She surveyed him again. Probably was. Besides, she wasn’t supposed to notice how cute he was. He wasn’t a frigging stray dog looking for a home. In fact, she’d bet he was about as far from domesticated as one could get. Another concept crept into her thoughts. Had Martin’s schemes moved to a new level?
“My name is Lucas Camp. I’m here because I need you for a mission.”
Whatever he’d said after his name was lost on her. “Lucas Camp?” She lowered her weapon. “You’re a legend.”
Another of those charming smiles. “Some would disagree with you on that.”
What the hell was a superspook like Lucas doing in her living room? “Former Military Intelligence turned CIA,” she said aloud, recalling all the rumors she’d heard about the legendary Lucas Camp. “Then the story gets a little murky. Everyone knows you’re out there, but no one knows any more than that. You’re the best of the best. No one can touch you.” She’d never say it out loud but he represented all that she wanted to be. Made Martin look like a pussy. Well, okay, maybe not a pussy, but she was a little pissed at him right now.
“Unless I choose to allow them access,” Lucas said with a pointed look at her.
Her breath caught in her chest. He was allowing her access. This was Lucas Camp—in her home—talking to her. Her eyes rounded and she passed the back of her hand over her burning lip. “Would you like something to drink? Water? Beer?” Dammit, he probably preferred coffee and she didn’t even own a coffeemaker. She winced again at her stinging lip.
“No, thanks, Ms. North. As I said, I’m here to discuss a mission with you.”
She felt her eyes go even wider. A mission? Had he said that before? “With me?”
He nodded. The amused expression he wore told her she was making a complete idiot of herself. Time to pull it together and act like a professional. She’d survived CIA training after all. And today’s final test. She was no lightweight. She squared her shoulders and looked him directly in the eyes. “What kind of mission?” She sounded strong, professional. Just when she would have given herself a mental pat on the back she remembered how she looked—like hell for sure.
While she tugged at her blouse to keep it closed he reached into his briefcase, withdrew a phone, entered a code and offered the device to her. “The profile is pretty sketchy, but this is what we have.”
She reviewed the meager contents, scrolling forward one screen at a time. John Doe, estimated age thirty, approximate height and weight six-two, a hundred and ninety pounds. Living somewhere in Chicago, specific address unknown. She surveyed the shot someone had taken from a considerable distance, probably zeroing in with a mega zoom lens. Blondish hair, similar to her own. Blue eyes. Chiseled good looks.
She looked up at Lucas and asked, “You don’t know who this guy is?” Which was a dumb question since he was listed as John Doe. Duh.
Lucas shook his head. “Not a clue. We believe he’s an assassin.”
Now that got her full attention. “Who’s his target? The president?” Another rush of adrenaline seared through her veins. This might just be her lucky day.
“Nothing politically related or that high profiled,” he told her without going into specifics, which was par for the course. Intel was doled out on a need-to-know basis only.
“What part do you need me to play in this mission?” She emphasized the word need. No matter how he downplayed the scenario, this had to be big or Lucas wouldn’t be involved. Maybe not White House big, but big in any case.
“We need to know who this guy is and, more important, we need to reach out and touch the man who hired him.” Lucas pointed to the phone. “The next face you see is the one we’re looking for.”
Tasha studied the final image on the screen with new curiosity. This one was older. Gray hair, gray-blue eyes. Five-ten, a hundred and sixty pounds. This one looked almost harmless. She flipped back a screen or two. Now this one—she studied the younger man’s grim features—looked deadly. “So, you want me to get to know the assassin. In hopes he’ll lead me to the man who hired him.” Her gaze connected with Lucas’s. “Is that it?”
Lucas nodded, then quirked one brow a fraction higher than the other. “That is, if you think you’re up to it. The personal requirements might be steep. To get as close as you need to...” He allowed the unfinished statement to linger in the air a moment before he continued. “We’ll be watching from a distance, but not close enough to keep you safe. You’ll be on your own.”
Another charge of excitement went through her. “I’m up to anything you can throw my way.” She knew what he was worried about, and she could handle it. Her training had included intensive profiles to see if she could tolerate mental as well as physical abuse of all kinds. All results indicated she would hold up under pressure exceedingly well. She licked her busted lip for emphasis. She would die before she’d break. Fooling a polygraph as well as tactics to fight the effects of certain drugs were all a part of her vast repertoire. “Sounds almost too easy,” she admitted.
“We don’t know anything about this assassin,” Lucas said grimly. “We have to assume he’s extremely dangerous. There’s no way to guess how many people he’s killed in his career or what his MO is. If the man who hired him is who we believe he is, then you can rest assured that our assassin is highly trained and well experienced.”
She could read between the lines. This was a mission that contained a definite “suicide” element. Getting close to the target and staying alive would entail a great deal of skill and more than a little luck.
“What’s in this for me?” she wanted to know, undeterred. They might as well get to the heart of the matter. “If I’m going to risk life and limb for you, what will you do for me?”
Lucas looked pleased that she’d asked. “You succeed in this mission and you’ll come to work for me with the best of the best.”
Struggling with the desire to do a victory whoop, she clamped down hard on her outward reactions. Stay cool, don’t let him see that you know this is an opportunity of a lifetime. A route through all the BS and straight to the kind of work she longed to do. It was rumored that the elusive Lucas Camp headed some sort of elite top secret organization. A club far more exclusive than anything under the CIA umbrella.
“And if I fail?”
“Then it won’t matter,” he said flatly. “Because you’ll be dead.”
That was the answer she’d expected. If she got close to this guy and he suspected for one nanosecond that she was a spy, she’d be history. Tasha shrugged. “So, I won’t fail.” She looked straight into the knowing eyes of one of the most powerful men on the planet and watched for the slightest flicker of deceit. “Just one more question, Mr. Camp, why me?”
“Because you’re good.” No hesitation, not even a glimmer of deception. “Too good to be stuck behind some desk.” A smile curled one corner of his mouth. “Too good to be working for the CIA period.”
She inclined her head and pushed for a little more. “What’s so bad about the CIA? The whole world is convinced that the CIA has ultimate power and prestige.” That much was true. But those with the real power were few and far between, that was the part they never showed in the movies.
Lucas chuckled. “Agent North, my organization is what the CIA wishes it were.”
His statement validated the rumors she’d heard. “When do I go to work?”
“Tomorrow. A cab will pick you up early and take you to the airport. Someone will be waiting at O’Hare to take you to your temporary quarters. This assignment may last a few days or a few weeks. I can’t be sure at this point. Don’t take anything from home. We’ll furnish everything you need.”
She knew a moment’s uneasiness, but only a moment. “What about my work at Langley?” If this didn’t pan out and she miraculously survived...
“Time off has been cleared with your immediate superior. He doesn’t know why and doesn’t need to. Once this mission is over, you can decide if you want to take me up on my offer or go back to your job with the Agency.”
Sounded fair enough. “All right.” This was the opportunity she’d waited for, a chance to prove what she was made of. “Once I’m in Chicago where do I start?”
“Our boy hangs out most weekends in a club downtown called the Metro Link.”
She’d read that in the sketchy personal info on the phone.
“You’ll need to commit to memory the meager intel we have on this guy.”
“Already did.” She passed the phone back to him. “How come there’s nothing on the guy who hired him except a visual image?” That part struck her as odd. Lucas certainly sounded as if he knew more about the guy than what he looked like.
“Intel will be provided as necessary.” He dropped the phone into his briefcase as he stood. “I think you understand what to do from here.”
Nothing she hadn’t expected. “How do I let you know once I’ve made contact with the target?” she asked as she followed him to the door.
“I’ll be in touch with you when the time comes.”
Translation: Lucas Camp would be watching.
“By the way.” He hesitated before going out the door. “Just in case you were wondering, Agent Bauer’s nose isn’t broken.”
Before she could ask how the hell he knew about Martin’s little test and her performance he’d disappeared into the night.
Just like a ghost.
Chapter 7
Victoria stared at her reflection in the mirror for a long time that night, the brush clasped in her hand as she stroked her long, dark hair. The silver streaks gleamed in the light, reminding her of just how old she really was. So much time had passed...and nothing in her personal life had changed. Beethoven’s “Moonlight” Sonata played softly in the background. The music usually relaxed her, but it wasn’t working so well tonight.
She sighed and laid the brush on the vanity table next to her bottles of perfumes and cosmetics, all lined in a neat row awaiting her attention. There was moisturizer for her skin, anti-aging cream for the fine lines that marred her eyes and mouth. And, of course, the skin firmer for less delicate parts of the anatomy. Everything that one could need to remain youthful looking.
Maybe she should have started using the products long ago. Then perhaps she would not look quite so old. But nothing she applied to her skin would change the way she felt inside.
Ancient would be the best description.
Age had never really bothered her until now. She looked down at the bare ring finger of her left hand, and for a moment her chest tightened with anxiety. She’d made a new commitment today. One that in no way lessened the old one, but rather, forged a new path for her to move forward. Looking back was definitely not good for her peace of mind. James was gone. It was well past time to move on. Lucas was alive and ready to move into the future with her.
She peered at the weary face in the mirror. But was she really ready for that journey? Her right hand moved to her chest, settling over her heart. On a conscious, cognitive level she felt ready. It was her heart that hesitated, that worried about starting over.
Victoria stood and moved away from the vanity table. She paused in front of the full-length mirror mounted on the wall near her walk-in closet. She was almost fifty. What did Lucas see when he looked at her?
Tugging the silk belt free she shrugged out of the robe, allowing it to puddle around her feet. She studied her nude body then. Her skin was still slightly flushed from her long, hot soak in the tub. Her dark hair, even with the silver streaks, contrasted sharply against her pale flesh. She’d never really noticed that before. Would the contrast please Lucas? Or did it only make her look pale and haggard?
Pushing that worrisome detail aside, she moved on to other features. Her breasts were still reasonably firm and high, not that they’d ever been that large, but they were presentable, she supposed. Her husband had never complained, but then, that had been a very long time ago.
Her waist narrowed nicely and her hips flared just enough, though she couldn’t quite claim a flat tummy. Time and gravity had taken its toll there as well as behind, she noted as she turned slightly. Her legs were fairly toned, mostly from the treadmill she used every morning.
She wondered what kind of women Lucas had been involved with in the past. Though he’d never been married she felt certain there had been numerous lovers; after all, he was a very handsome man with endless charm. A smile relaxed across her lips and affection twinkled in her brown eyes. Did her eyes glitter that way when she smiled at Lucas? She sighed, anxiety gnawing at her insides. Just something else to wonder about. She would know soon enough.
Locating panties and a nightgown, she dressed for bed, then turned off the lights except the one on her bedside table and crawled beneath the covers. She didn’t have to bother with turning off the music, it was on a timer. An hour from now it would end on a graceful note and, if she were lucky, she would be fast asleep. The day had been long and tiring. Going to the cemetery always affected her that way. She thought of the way she’d buried her wedding band and took a moment to search her heart now for regret or guilt but found none. She stared up at the ceiling and wondered at the lack of the emotions she’d fully expected to experience. Fifteen years was certainly long enough to grieve. She needed to move on. Living in the past had taken a heavy toll on her in the past few months.
It wasn’t really moving into a relationship with Lucas that weighed so heavily upon her, she felt reasonably sure. James would want her to be happy, there was no question there. It was her son.
He’d been gone for eighteen years. His twenty-fifth birthday would have been last month.
Her heart felt like a load of bricks in her chest as she sat upright and struggled for breath. Tears burned her eyes even now, after all those years. If only she could have had closure. The not knowing was the worst. She could only imagine the horrors her child had suffered before his death. Oh, she’d tried to pretend that some kind family had found and raised him. A couple who had been desperate because they couldn’t have a child of their own. But that wasn’t likely. She didn’t need an FBI profiler to tell her the score. She was all too well aware of what happened to most children who vanished into thin air.
She closed her eyes and forced away the thought of Leberman. Both she and James had been certain he had had something to do with Jimmy’s disappearance, but they’d never been able to find any proof. And as the years had dragged on that possibility had diminished. Leberman wanted to hurt them. If he’d been the one to take their child, wouldn’t he have used him to wield the ultimate pain? Another part of her was utterly convinced that Leberman was indeed the culprit. But she would never be certain.
They’d searched the lake for weeks. James had hired special diving teams even after the authorities had given up. He and Lucas had worked personally with those men. If he’d somehow ended up in the water, surely they would have found something...anything. But there was always the possibility that he was out there...beneath the glassy surface of that lake near the house she’d once called home. She shuddered at the thought.
She hadn’t been able to stay in that house after James had died. It was a splendid home. They’d planned its design together, had enjoyed every moment of the work involved in bringing it to life. The place was beautiful still...but she couldn’t go back there. Too many memories. Yet she hadn’t been able to part with the property, either. Too much of James was there, and then one of the FBI agents working her son’s case had told her that sometimes when stolen children grew older, assuming they survived, they found their way back home...to the last home they’d known with their families. So she’d kept the house. The agency used it as a safe house or for the occasional VIP since it wasn’t that far outside the city. But she never went there...never.
She didn’t like thinking about it. The memories were too painful.
Victoria threw the covers back and climbed from the bed that had felt like heaven on earth a few minutes ago but now closed in on her like a prison. She padded to the kitchen and peered into the refrigerator to see what looked good. She wasn’t really hungry, but she’d do anything to take her mind off the past. Lucas crossed her mind briefly, but she dismissed the idea. Too late for coffee and conversation...too soon for anything else. Food would have to suffice. Carrots, salad fixings. She made a face. Not in the mood. Yogurt. Not tonight.
Ice cream. Now that was more like it.
She pulled the freezer door open and reached inside, spotting her favorite flavor right off the bat. Her hand stalled halfway to its destination. A box of chocolate ice cream sat next to her vanilla. The bright yellow smiley faces drawing and holding her attention.
Why would there be chocolate?
She never ate chocolate. It gave her hives.
She frowned, but then remembered that her housekeeper sometimes brought along snacks on cleaning day...but she was on a diet. The carrots and celery in the vegetable bin were hers.
Victoria picked up the full quart of forbidden indulgence and studied it. The cold from the open freezer door, from the package, leeched through her skin, settling deep inside her. She shivered...tried to think why this carton’s presence should disturb her. She hadn’t seen those smiley faces for years....
Jimmy had loved chocolate anything...ice cream...milk. Especially the kind that came in this carton.
Just as Beethoven’s sonata reached a crescendo the box slipped from her limp fingers.
She backed away from the refrigerator.
Her head moving from side to side, she told herself it couldn’t have anything to do with him.
She should call Freda and see if she had brought it...if she’d gone off her diet—
The security alarm wailed, jerking Victoria from the unsettling thoughts.
Confusion pulled her in different directions before she gathered her wits. She should turn the music off. Pick up the box of ice cream that lay on the floor. Needed her robe...
Shaking off the confusion, she rushed to the keypad near the front door. She’d set the alarm before her bath. It was habit...she scarcely remembered the act. The display flashed a warning that a failure had occurred in area fifteen.
The den. Grabbing the closest object for protection, which turned out to be a long-handled umbrella from its stand, she moved quietly toward the den, the siren wailing in the background, drowning out Beethoven. She wasn’t really afraid. The community security guard would arrive almost immediately. As if to punctuate that thought the telephone rang. She ignored it. If she didn’t answer, the authorities would arrive post haste, as well. Any burglar worth his salt would know that and run like hell. She huffed under her breath, any burglar worth his salt wouldn’t have tripped the alarm in the first place.
The den stood in complete darkness. It was past midnight and any moonlight there might be was blocked by the trees shading this side of the house. She stood very still, listening, watching, but sensed no movement...no presence. Holding her breath, she reached for the wall switch by the door and flipped on the lights.
The problem wasn’t immediately evident. All looked as it should be. The sheer panel hanging between her drapes suddenly shifted. A new kind of tension climbed up Victoria’s spine. Moving cautiously, listening for any sound besides the insistent alarm and the rushing piano notes, she edged toward the window. Another slight shift of the sheer fabric. Every muscle tensed for battle, she jerked the panel back. The window was open only four or five inches. Just enough to allow a breeze to drift into the room. Just enough to break the connection of the security contact.
She exhaled the breath she’d been holding and peered down at the open sash. How had that happened? It had to have been closed when she set the alarm, otherwise she’d have gotten a default message. When she would have reached to push the sash down she saw a small black, mangled object, not much larger than a quarter on the sill. She leaned closer and visually inspected the object. Knowing better than to touch it and contaminate any evidence it might offer, she stood back and considered the possibilities.
She always kept the windows locked. Always. Unlocking it from the outside without breaking the glass would be impossible. Plus, this was a gated community, it wasn’t as if vandalism or burglaries were commonplace. Had someone intended to open her window earlier, before she came home, and somehow failed? That didn’t make sense. How would they have gotten in with the alarm set?
Pounding on the front door startled her from her thoughts. Surprised that security had arrived even more quickly than she’d anticipated, Victoria disarmed the security system as she passed the keypad on the way to her front door. Perhaps the police had arrived, as well.
“Mrs. Colby!”
She hurried to the door and peered through the peephole. Better to be safe than sorry. She drew back at what she saw. “Identify yourself, sir,” she demanded. This was no policeman. At least, not one in uniform. Nor was it the grounds security who donned clearly marked blue uniforms.
“Mrs. Colby, my name is John Logan. I work for Lucas. I need to know that you’re all right.”
He worked for Lucas? She remembered the name John Logan from that nightmare on St. Gabriel. She looked again. Her breath caught as she recognized the young man this time. What was he doing here?
She unlocked the door and jerked it open. “Is Lucas here? Has something happened?”
John Logan looked worried...or maybe upset. “No, ma’am, he’s not here, but he’s on his way.”
A frown furrowed across her brow. “Why are you here?”
“Ma’am, if you’ll let me come inside so I can ensure that the house is secure, Lucas will explain everything when he arrives.”
Irritation wiggled its way up her backbone as a scenario formed in her mind. Oh, he would explain all right. She’d known he’d been keeping something from her. She just hadn’t expected it to include John Logan.
“Come in, Mr. Logan,” she said with a welcoming, utterly fake smile pushed firmly into place. “Look around all you’d like. There’s an open window in my den. That’s what triggered the alarm.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He nodded and walked right past her in the direction of her den.
Her mouth dropped open as she realized that he knew the layout of her home. But then, why was she surprised? Lucas always was thorough.
The golf cart security used to buzz around the small exclusive community came to a bone-jarring halt in her drive. Beyond that blue lights flickered, drawing her attention farther down the street. She knew without taking a second look that the SUV on the police cruiser’s tail was Lucas’s.
She left the door open and went in search of her robe. Dignity was required when exerting power over one’s own domain. Lucas was about to find out just how much indignation she could rally.
* * *
“Just how long were you going to wait before you told me?”
Lucas thought about that for a moment but one glance at Victoria told him he’d be better off just to tell her the truth rather than some concocted story. “Until we were safely away on our vacation.”
She blinked, fiddled with her robe a bit more, then looked up at him again. “So this man, this assassin, has been following me for two weeks.”
Lucas nodded. “At least. We’re trying to identify who he’s working for.”
She looked heavenward and made a disgusted sound. “Please, Lucas, spare me the supposition. You don’t need evidence. You know it’s him.”
He sighed. It was after 3:00 a.m. They were both tired. Pursuing this discussion was pointless, but she wasn’t finished punishing him just yet. “Yes, Victoria, I believe it’s him. But I have to be certain.”
“How are you planning to pinpoint his involvement?” Her expression boasted her considerable doubt. “You know how he is. He can stay underground for months—years even. He could be anywhere, posing as anyone, providing this assassin with his instructions over the Internet.”
That was all true. She knew it and so did he. “I’m moving someone into position to get close to this assassin as we speak,” he explained. “Once you and I have disappeared, he’ll have no choice but to report to Leberman, leading our source straight to him.” Lucas couldn’t help glancing around the room even though he knew his own man had swept the entire house for surveillance bugs. Still, it was habit.
Victoria stood, abruptly announcing she’d heard enough. She was furious and he couldn’t blame her.
Lucas supported his weight on his cane as he got to his feet. Damn, he was exhausted. “Logan has removed the device from your windowsill and locked the window. The house has been swept for bugs and any other sort of foreign gadget or substance. Are you sure you’ll feel comfortable here the rest of the night?”
He would like nothing better than to take her back to his hotel with him. But she would refuse. He knew her answer before he asked. He didn’t really like her being here after what happened tonight, but his men would be watching.
The intruder had obviously gotten in while Victoria was at the office today. He’d disarmed her security, since she said she always set it before leaving for work, and then planted the device that contained a small explosive charge—just enough to push the unlocked window up at a later time, breaking the security mechanism’s contact. Then he’d reset her alarm and left. Lucas assumed that the small explosive had been coated with a substance that deteriorated when subjected to air. The slow deterioration, likely calculated to the very minute, had allowed for the timing of the explosion and thus the security breach. Ingenious. Lucas knew before he looked there would be no prints. This intruder was a professional.
It was him.
The assassin who feared no one—not even Lucas and his men. Lucas wasn’t stupid. He felt certain the guy was well aware his men had noticed his presence. And still he stalked Victoria. Fearlessly.
The idea that he could have left more explosives in the house tied Lucas’s gut in knots. There was no end to the damage he could have done—poison and any number of other booby traps. He should have had someone watching the house at all times...but he hadn’t even considered that avenue. His only concern had been keeping Victoria safe in real time. He’d failed to properly evaluate the threat. He was too close to this...not thinking clearly. It wouldn’t happen again.
“No, thank you, Lucas,” she said finally, the annoyance she’d felt at his deception visibly draining away. “I’ll be fine here. Besides—” she gestured to the door “—your capable men are right outside.”
That reminded him. Ian and Simon were still waiting outside with John Logan and Vincent Ferrelli. Lucas imagined the two of them would be dressed down next. Victoria had already told them in no uncertain terms that she would speak to them later.
Lucas nodded his understanding of her decision to stay home. As he had known, Victoria Colby would not run from any sort of threat. “We’ll talk again later this morning. We still haven’t reached a decision on where we’ll take our vacation.”
One brow winged higher than the other. “Do you really expect me to believe that you haven’t made that decision already?”
He tugged at his collar. Even without a tie binding his neck she could make him squirm. “We can discuss it over lunch.” He wanted her a lot calmer and more cooperative than she was right now before they made any decisions.
Damn, this was too close.
He hoped like hell Tasha could move in on their guy in a hurry. She’d be settled into her apartment by noon today. Maverick and Ramon, two more of his specialists, would serve as her backup, and bring her up to speed. She had to get next to this guy. Lucas needed something...anything to go on. He was counting on her to move quickly. He just hoped it didn’t get her killed.
He swallowed hard. If it did, it would be entirely his doing. She was young and reckless. Far too reckless to fully comprehend the level of danger involved. But he’d needed her, and Lucas had never failed to take whatever risk required to accomplish his mission. For the first time in his career, he wondered if he had done the right thing.
Victoria squeezed his arm. “I’m okay, Lucas. Really.”
He snapped back to the present. She’d mistaken his preoccupation for concern. And he was concerned. About a number of things. “That’s all that matters,” he said as much for his own benefit as hers. Keeping her safe was all that really mattered. He leaned down and brushed a kiss to her cheek. “Good night, Victoria.”
He didn’t want to leave her. She looked so vulnerable in that white silk robe with her dark hair falling down around her shoulders. He’d never seen her like that and it was all he could do not to stare in awe.
Allowing her one last smile, he turned away and started for the door.
“Oh, dear God,” she gasped.
He turned back to her, performed a quick visual inspection. Had she only now realized she was injured in some way? “What?”
“In all the excitement I completely forgot,” she murmured. Her frightened gaze collided with his and she gestured vaguely toward the kitchen. “I don’t eat chocolate ice cream.”
Chapter 8
The insistent throb of the music from the Metro Link nightclub kept a rhythmic pace with her confident stride as Tasha made her way to the entrance. Black thigh-high leather boots and skintight, cheek-baring silk shorts gave the illusion of legs that went on forever. Legs toned from all those five-mile runs, making every guy she passed stop and stare.
The strappy halter top showcased her flat belly and the contour of her spine, covering nothing except her breasts, and even then the gossamer-thin, lacy fabric scarcely left much to the imagination. A small leather bag, hardly large enough to hold some cash, a couple of loose cigarettes and her car keys, hung from a long, delicate gold chain that draped over her shoulder. The bag bounced against her hip with every step she took. An ankle-length jacket that was as sheer as air and designed from black netting so thin and fragile that it felt like a midnight fog against her skin completed the daring ensemble.
She possessed all the bait and weapons required for a manhunt.
At the main entrance she paused for the bouncer to wave his security wand around her body. She opened her purse to show her keys when the wand passed over it and hummed a warning.
She smiled wickedly at him. “Baby, you don’t have to worry about me,” she crooned. “The only thing I’m packing is a raging desire to find just the right guy.”
His slick bald head stilled, his eyes level with her waist when the wand hummed another warning at the top of her right boot. He looked up at her, one eyebrow cocked in question.
“It’s just my cell phone,” she insisted. She reached into her boot and tugged out the slim communicator that had triggered the metal detector. “See.” She waved it in front of his face before slipping it back into her boot. “Anything else you need to see?”
He straightened, glanced at the crowd lining up behind her and then back at her. He wanted to see more. No doubt. The gleam in his eyes gave away his every thought.
“Come on, man, we don’t got all night,” his co-worker groused. He waited impatiently, the official Metro Link stamp in his hand. A veteran on the job, she surmised. One who wouldn’t be impressed by a half-naked woman and a sexy come-on line.
The guy with the wand waved her through. “Have a nice night,” he offered, his tone chock-full of innuendo.
She leaned close to him and whispered, “Believe me, baby, I will.”
“Let’s go,” the other guy grumped.
Tasha squared her shoulders and gave him a look that said, Buddy, you need to get laid, and held out her hand. He glared at her then smacked the stamp in place. An eerie ML glowed on her skin between her wrist and knuckles. She flashed him a “bite me” smile and moved on.
Heavy-metal music blasted from the surround-sound system as she strode into the crowded club. The maximum occupancy posted was five hundred, and she’d bet Martin’s Jag that they’d long passed that limit. Patrons were jam-packed into every available square foot. A long, sleek bar of black-and-mirrored glass flowed along one wall. Up front the crush of the crowd made it difficult to distinguish one couple from another on the dance floor. It more accurately resembled a sea of body parts, all connected somehow like a scene from a gruesome horror novel as they gyrated to the beat.
A laser light show splashed across a screen high above the band jamming on the stage. Booze and beer abounded like manna from heaven, and she quickly spotted a number of other less-than-legal stimulants. Leather, lace and tattoos. Smoke, heat and sex. Women with men and all variations in between. It was all out there. Just like Sodom and Gomorrah.
So this was his favorite haunt, she mused, scanning for her target. Tall, blond and deadly liked it trashy. Well, she could play any way necessary. Backup knew where she was at all times. The handy dandy tracking-monitoring device looked just like a skin patch, the kind people used for kicking the nicotine habit or for birth control. Skin colored and shaped like a small round bandage. Rafe “Maverick” Scott, one of the two men Lucas had assigned as her backup, had instructed her to place it under her left breast. The device would send out a constant signal providing her location as well as her cardio stats. If her heart rate escalated to panic level Maverick would come to her rescue.
But she wasn’t going to need that kind of backup tonight.
She did a double take, her gaze landing on Mr. John Doe himself.
“Mmm-hmm,” she muttered under her breath. “You are one amazing Y chromosome.” For a killer, she added.
John Doe sat on a stool about center of the long bar, those ice-blue eyes scanning the dance floor like a hungry panther ready to pounce on his dinner.
Looking for a little action, big boy? Taking her time as she crossed the room, she took stock of his numerous physical assets. Whoever had estimated his height and weight had done a stellar job. Those broad shoulders tested the seams of his black shirt. Powerful thighs filled out a well-worn pair of jeans. Black ankle boots, the kind made for walking and climbing, soft leather uppers, ribbed soles. For stealth and traction. Smart.
He wore a watch, but no other jewelry that she could readily see. The slight bulge at his left side about midway of his torso would indicate a shoulder holster. She wondered how he’d managed to get in here with a weapon. Official ID, perhaps? Just something else she’d need to check out.
The couple sitting next to him got up and headed for the dance floor, presenting the perfect opportunity for her. “The gods are watching over me tonight,” she murmured.
She slid onto the stool next to J.D., John Doe just sounded too cliché. “Great band,” she said when he glanced in her direction.
He didn’t respond.
Okay. She crossed one leg over the other, offering up a length of thigh for his perusal. He never even looked her way. She leaned toward him. “What time it is?” she asked, ensuring she spoke loud enough for him to hear her.
He held up his wrist so that she could see the face of his watch. She splayed her fingers over his muscled forearm and drew it closer to her face. He tensed and pulled free even before she was ready to let go.
Not the reaction she’d hoped for, but a reaction nonetheless.
She leaned close again, ensuring that her shoulder rubbed against his. “Thanks. What’s your name?”
Again nothing.
Five minutes passed with her sitting there gazing out over the mass of swaying, twitching bodies and him doing the same. Not one word was spoken.
Time for drastic measures.
She hopped off her stool, standing as close to him as possible. “Hey!” she shouted at the bartender. “How about a beer?”
A long-necked bottle slid down the counter toward her. She snagged it and took a long draw. “Hmm,” she purred as she wiped her chin. She sighed and plunked her bottle back onto the counter. She resisted the urge to wince. Although her lipstick did a great job of camouflaging her split lip, the alcohol still burned on contact.
She leaned against the bar and adjusted her position slightly so she could look her target directly in the eye...well, she could if he turned his head a mere five degrees and allowed her to. Jerk. Maybe he just wasn’t in the mood?
Only one way to find out.
She pulled a cigarette out of her purse, a girl never knew when she’d need a conversation starter, and provocatively leaned in his direction. “Do you have a light?” she asked, peering up at him as if the world just might come to an end if he gave the wrong answer.
He looked at her, that piercing gaze cold enough to give her frostbite, then glared at her breasts for a fraction of a second. “No,” he growled before looking away, clearly unimpressed.
Dammit.
Well, at least he’d spoken to her.
She tossed the cigarette onto the bar and propped fully against the counter, pressing her shoulder into his, as she drank her beer and contemplated her next move.
The beer was cold and refreshing once it got past her lip, but he was making her sweat. Usually she didn’t have this much trouble getting a guy’s attention. Surely three months sitting behind a desk at Langley in a two-piece suit hadn’t thrown her off the game this badly. Giving herself grace, she hadn’t actually ever attempted to bait a killer. It must be tricky, she mused. Rising to the challenge, she studied him out of the corner of her eye. His profile was strong, his jaw chiseled. A scar running from the corner of his mouth to the middle of his cheek served as a kind of permanent dimple. Otherwise, movie-star-quality features, but more rugged. She squinted for a better view. There was something in his hairline.
Another scar...
No.
Tattoo.
A number: 6...6...shit...
She stiffened.
He turned his head and pointed those laser-blue eyes directly at hers.
She opened her mouth but it took about three seconds for the words to come out. “Is that...?”
She couldn’t say the rest. He knew what she meant. She saw it in his eyes. Damn. Was this guy for real? Focus, Tasha. Stay calm. She forced her heart rate to slow before that cowboy Maverick could come bursting through the door.
He was still staring at her.
“What do you want from me?”
An involuntary shiver raced over her skin at the sound of his voice. Or maybe she was just freaked out by the bizarre tattoo. But the deep, gravelly sound scraped over her flesh, leaving every single nerve ending raw and tingling.
“I...” She moistened her lips and grappled for the cocky attitude she’d waltzed in here with. “My name’s Tasha. I just thought you were cute and that maybe we could—”
He looked her up and down. Not a fast and furious sweep, but a slow, methodical perusal...as if he were devouring every square inch of her with his eyes. She shivered again. Jesus, what was wrong with her?
When that unyielding blue gaze collided with hers once more, he said, “Go away.”
Had this encounter tanked or what?
She mustered up a properly pissed-off look and the body language to go with it. “Maybe I don’t want to. Maybe I like it right here.” She guzzled the rest of her beer. “You know,” she said, her gaze focused on the mirror behind the bar, but her voice just loud enough for him to hear, “I knew moving here would be a mistake. My first night on the town and I get the brush-off from the best-looking guy in the club.” She turned toward him then, pressed even more intimately against him. “Why is that, do you think?”
He shifted just enough so that his face was about two inches from hers. “Maybe it has something to do with that big mouth.”
She laughed softly and then sighed, allowing her breath to feather across his lips. “Well, now I know, don’t I?”
He turned away as if he hadn’t even noticed her seduction attempts. How the hell was she supposed to crack this guy?
Lucas’s offer echoed in her ears...succeed in this mission and you’ll come to work for me with the best of the best. Failure was not an option. The cell phone tucked into her boot vibrated. Maverick, no doubt.
She braced a hand against J.D. as she fished out her phone. He flinched. Great, he didn’t even want her to touch him. “Yeah.” She turned away from the exasperating man, straining to hear over the music.
“I take it we have contact.”
Maverick’s call would show up as a cell phone listed to her fake roommate, Patti. Under normal circumstances he would call if he didn’t like what he saw on the monitor, if in distress she would say the right phrase or her inability to answer would equate to the same, and the cowboy would create a diversion, allowing her to escape whatever trouble she was in. But tonight’s call was just to ensure contact had been made and to tie her to his monitoring link. Once he’d put a call through to her cell phone, as long as that phone was turned on he could trace her. Backup to the other apparatus, he’d told her. He liked playing it safe. She glanced at the brooding man at her side. “Definitely. I thought you were coming back to pick me up, Patti.”
“Our friend is nearby,” he said knowingly. “Very good.”
“Yeah. Forget it, I’ll figure out something.” She hung up, closed her phone and tucked it back into her boot. She heaved a disgusted sigh. She couldn’t be certain how this would go from here, but at least she’d made contact. That’s all Lucas had wanted for tonight. But she wanted more. She wanted to prove how fast she could work...how deep she could go right from the start.
Her target suddenly stood.
Damn.
He tossed a couple of bills onto the counter, clearly preparing to split.
“You leaving already?” She shifted as close to him as possible. “We didn’t even get to dance.”
She looked up at him with all the sensual invitation she could muster. For two beats he stared right back at her without a word...without a reaction at all.
Abruptly he snagged her by the arm and moved away from the bar. Startled on one level but grateful on another, she allowed herself to be dragged around the fringes of the dance floor, zigzagging to avoid gyrating bodies. His fingers were like iron vises around her wrist. He didn’t slow down until they had cleared an emergency exit and were standing in the alley behind the club. Fear trickled through her but she quelled it instantly. Somewhere in the back of her mind she wondered vaguely why no alarm went off when they pushed through the exit. The fire marshal needed to start doing his job. She suddenly hoped like hell Maverick was doing his.
“Decide you want to take me home with you?” she encouraged, blocking the internal alarm going off inside her head. She was playing with fire here. Pushing the limit...but at least she had his attention now. When she would have reached toward him he shoved her to her knees.
“You know what to do,” he said savagely.
Oh, damn.
She took a breath, looked at his crotch and the sizeable bulge there, then peered up at him, careful not to let her uneasiness show. “You know, you’re really cute and all, but I don’t go down on a guy on a first date. Especially when I don’t even know his name.”
When she would have pushed to her feet he snagged her chin in a punishing grip forcing her back down. “I guess you don’t know how to use that big mouth after all.”
She glared right back into that icy gaze and countered, “Considering your attitude, I guess you’ll never know.”
His gaze held hers a second longer before he released her and started to walk away.
Tasha lunged to her feet and went after him. Dammit, she couldn’t let him get away. “Wait a minute. I—”
“Shut up.” He kept moving...didn’t look back.
She hurried to keep up with his long strides. “Look, my roommate left me here. I really need a ride. Could you at least give me a ride?”
This could go either way...all she wanted at this point was to find out where he called home while in the Windy City. That was more than Lucas had asked for, but then, that was the point. Considering this guy’s attitude, however, that might be all she could hope for period.
Glancing down his shoulder at her, his stride never slowing, he growled, “Call a taxi.”
“Wait!” She stayed right on his heels. “Don’t be a jerk. I just need a ride. Is that such a big deal?”
He stopped. A straining ray of light from a distant streetlamp filtered through the darkness where they stood, softly illuminating those Arctic eyes and highlighting the hard planes of his face.
She held her breath...all she needed was half a chance....
“A ride, nothing else.”
“Nothing else,” she promised.
He turned and started walking again. She followed. Two blocks later he clicked the remote on his keychain and the headlights of an SUV came on.
She climbed into the passenger seat while he slid behind the wheel. When she snapped her seat belt into place he asked, “What’s the address?”
She gave him the address for her apartment and relaxed back against the seat as he pulled out onto the street. “Oh, no!” she groaned and smacked her forehead with the heel of her hand. “My roommate called me...” She looked over at him. “In the club, you know. She needs the apartment to herself tonight. I have to hang out somewhere else.”
“A hotel, then.” This he said, as usual, with no emotion and without even sparing her a glance.
She moistened her lips and reached way down deep for her whiniest voice. “But I don’t have any money for a hotel. It took most everything I had to pay my share of the rent when I got here. Couldn’t I just crash at your place for the night? I swear I won’t be any trouble. I’ll even sleep on the couch. I don’t usually go home with strangers but I don’t know anyone else in town and—”
He slammed on the brakes. The seat belt was all that kept her from an up-close encounter with the dash.
“Get out.”
She glanced around the dark neighborhood. They’d already left the cluster of night spots behind. Rush Street and Division were safe enough, she knew from Maverick’s briefing, but it was after midnight...who knew? Of course, she had backup, but this guy didn’t know that. Mr. Coldhearted Snake apparently didn’t give a rat’s ass.
“Fine.” She muttered a couple of fitting expletives as she jerked the seat belt loose and scrambled out, then slammed the door as hard as she could.
When she walked away she gave it everything she had, swaying her hips like a hooker on a desperate mission.
She might not have his home address, but she had his license plate number. That was something.
When he didn’t immediately drive away, an uneasy feeling quivered up her spine. She resisted the urge to turn around and assess his intent. If he gunned the engine she’d hear him in time to dive to safety.
She forced herself to put one foot in front of the other and to pretend he wasn’t even there, watching, waiting, for God knows what. The memory of that bizarre tattoo made her shiver again. There was something really wrong with this guy. Her sixth sense hadn’t stopped vying for her attention since she walked up to that bar.
As if she didn’t have enough trouble already, a drunk staggered from an alley a few yards ahead. A friend joined him five seconds later. Both watched her steady progress without making a move. She braced herself for a scuffle.
Was everything determined to turn out badly tonight?
The SUV rolled slowly forward.
She sensed the movement more than heard it.
Just before she reached the plot of sidewalk where the two winos waited, the SUV stopped next to her, and the passenger-side window powered down.
“Get in.”
She folded her arms over her chest and turned a belligerent glare in his direction. “Are you sure? You know they have medication now for bipolar disorders.”
“Get in.”
Those cold eyes cut through the darkness with a warning. He wouldn’t be pushed any further.
“All right.” She opened the door and climbed back into the luxurious leather seat. “So,” she ventured when he’d eased into forward motion once more. “You’ll put me up tonight?” She resisted the urge to smile in victory. Why had she ever doubted herself?
He braked for a traffic light and swung that piercing gaze toward her. “If you’re certain that’s what you want.”
She blinked...knew a foolish moment of panic. “Of course I’m sure. Is there some reason I shouldn’t be?”
That relentless stare bored into her for several seconds more. “That depends.”
The light changed and he shifted his attention to the task of driving.
She swallowed, wet her lips and considered whether or not she had made a serious mistake. “Depends on what?” she inquired nonchalantly, uncertain as to whether he would even bother to answer.
He didn’t look at her...just kept driving. But his voice when he spoke was every bit as icy as she knew his eyes would be. “On why you picked me out in that club tonight.” He relaxed into his seat, still not so much as glancing her way. “You see, I don’t believe in coincidences. Everything happens for a reason. And—” he did look at her then...the fleeting stare chilled her to the bone “—I will know your reason.”
Chapter 9
“We lost her.”
Maverick stared at the handheld monitor, hoping like hell he’d pick up her signal again.
Nothing.
“Dammit.”
“He could have a jamming device in his vehicle,” Ramon offered from behind the wheel.
“Just keep driving,” Maverick barked. Ramon had been in this business almost as long as he had, but that didn’t give either one of them an edge at a time like this. If they couldn’t pick up a signal on the tracking device or the cell, the bastard had to have a jammer on board. It was that simple. “We gotta find that son of a bitch.”
He studied the electronic map of the vicinity where they’d last picked up the signal...where they’d last known Tasha North to be. She’d climbed into the SUV with the guy, and they’d lost her signal but had visual contact, so Maverick hadn’t worried. Then, when she’d gotten out a couple minutes later, the signal had come through loud and clear once more. He shook his head and hissed another curse from between gritted teeth. The bastard had a jammer in his vehicle, all right. He knew all the ropes and wasn’t taking any chances.
Able to maintain visual contact for a while, they’d followed him for several blocks. But, erring on the side of caution, they’d had to lag too far behind to keep up. He’d moved out of visual range...the signal hadn’t returned.
Now she was gone.
Maverick called up on the screen a ten-mile radius relative to the last visual sighting. “We’ll take this area one block at a time and hope we spot his SUV.”
“And if we don’t?” Ramon asked, his expression as disgusted and worried as Maverick’s surely was.
“Then we report in.”
He didn’t have to say the rest. If they couldn’t find her soon they’d have to let Lucas know...and start looking for her body.
Chapter 10
“What did you learn?”
Lucas settled on Victoria’s sofa in the very den where approximately twenty-four hours earlier the assassin had been setting his little booby trap. He leveled his attention on the woman waiting expectantly for his response. She looked as regal as ever; the coat dress, the color of ripe peaches, flattering to both her complexion and her figure. One would never know that she’d been through pure hell. She sat in the elegantly brocaded chair directly across from him as if a briefing related to her home’s intrusion were an everyday affair.
“How are you holding up, Victoria?”
Though she looked prepared for anything, her shoulders square, her chin lifted high. He knew better. This couldn’t be easy.
“Lucas, I need to know what you’ve learned. Please don’t attempt to spare my feelings. It’s far too late for that.”
He set his cane aside and looked her straight in the eye. “He’s been in your home, as you know. Planting the device that opened your window would have been impossible by any other means. He left no prints that we can find. Nor did he leave any other surprises.”
She shifted slightly then. He resisted the urge to shake his head. No matter what she said she wasn’t as ready for this as she wanted him to believe.
“So you’ll keep my home under twenty-four-hour surveillance now.”
It wasn’t a question. She already knew the answer. Lucas had hoped to conceal the depth of his awareness regarding the assassin’s movements, but that was impossible now. He would note the increased surveillance on the home. That couldn’t be helped. But keeping his suspicions from the assassin that Leberman was behind this was imperative.
“Yes.”
“He’ll realize that we know, then,” Victoria noted, reading Lucas’s mind.
He nodded. He tried without success to keep the other worry from interfering with his concentration. They’d lost contact with Tasha at one this morning. If the bastard had killed her...
Lucas forced the idea away. Tasha was too good to go down this easy. He refused to believe she was dead...just yet.
Something changed in Victoria’s eyes. Her expression went from firm and solemn to fragile and frightened. “What about the ice cream.”
This was the part he’d dreaded the most. “Freda didn’t bring the ice cream.” He managed a smile. “She swears she’s still on a diet.”
Victoria nodded stiffly. “I thought as much.”
Lucas leaned forward, braced his forearms on his knees. “Is there a possibility that you picked it up by accident. Didn’t notice that one of the flavors was chocolate.”
The weariness that settled over her expression then tied his insides into knots. “You know, I’ve considered that possibility over and over.” She clasped her hands together in her lap. “I’m nearly certain I didn’t...but then I can’t be sure.” She looked at Lucas. “I’ve even wondered if I’m losing my mind entirely. Having memory lapses maybe.” She looked away and shook her head. “I just don’t know.”
“Yours are the only prints we found on the carton.”
Her gaze met his once more, and the anxiety there almost undid him completely.
“But that doesn’t really mean anything,” he hastened to add. “Since he didn’t leave his prints anywhere else, either.”
He didn’t want her to go through another moment of this. Couldn’t bear it. “Victoria, I think it’s time for us to make those plans. I’d like to get you away from the danger. I don’t like how close he’s gotten.”
She appeared to consider his suggestion for a few moments, but before she could respond, Logan came to the door of the room. Lucas pushed to his feet and strode across the room to see what news Logan had brought. When he moved into the entry hall, farther away from Victoria, Lucas’s tension ratcheted up a notch.
“I just received additional information on the brand of the ice cream.”
His people were analyzing the chocolate ice cream from every standpoint, from taste to the manufacturer.
“I assume it’s a local manufacturer.”
The look in Logan’s eyes set him even closer to the edge.
“It used to be. But that brand hasn’t been manufactured at all for more than ten years.”
Chocolate. Little Jimmy Colby’s favorite. Even the brand was the one Victoria remembered buying for her only child. But it had been off the market for ten years.
“So he’s been keeping it all this time,” Lucas suggested.
Logan nodded. “The age of the product would be consistent with that theory.”
The memory of those hours on St. Gabriel Island when he’d been face-to-face with Leberman for the first time in nearly two decades came pouring into his mind. The bastard hadn’t said much...had apparently gotten his jollies from merely watching Lucas squirm when faced with the realization that Victoria was somewhere on that island and he couldn’t protect her. Lucas hadn’t cared if the bastard killed him but he couldn’t bear the idea of him hurting Victoria any more than he already had.
Something had been different.
For all those years Leberman had lain in wait. Then, out of the blue, he struck. He could have killed Lucas... possibly even Victoria. But he’d disappeared instead. He’d played them. Lured them into his trap, dangled the possibility of death, then disappeared, leaving someone else to finish the task. But that had been a ploy. Leberman had known the effort would fail. Everything that happened on that island had been a precursor. Some sort of test or preliminary tactic for the real thing. An appetizer to the main course, so to speak.
He’d killed James Colby fifteen years ago. Lucas was certain of that. Though Leberman had not claimed responsibility he’d left his calling card. James had been tortured relentlessly then shot twice, once in the back of the head execution-style, then once in the heart. The first shot had killed him...the second hadn’t even been necessary. It had made a statement from the killer.
From Leberman.
Just as the ice cream did now.
He was here.
He’d devastated Victoria all those years ago. Could have devised a way to kill her a dozen times over since...he was far too cunning for anyone to believe otherwise. But he’d chosen not to strike. The little drama he’d set in motion on the island had been to prove something. Otherwise why would he have simply walked away, leaving both of them still alive? Lucas’s gaze narrowed as he thought about that. The answer was suddenly so simple.
He’d played out that whole ridiculous scenario to make sure Victoria was ready for the next step. He’d waited all these years to make sure he could hurt her as deeply as he desired. She’d needed time to get over losing both her child and her husband...to finally get on with her life. He’d waited for her to fall in love again.
With Lucas.
It all made sense now.
Killing her years ago when she’d already lost so much that she’d wished for death anyway would have lacked the zenith he yearned for...the fulfillment he needed.
So he’d waited. Waited for her to feel again.
Waited for the ultimate moment.
When Lucas was prepared to make her his once and for all.
The weight of the epiphany crushed down against him.
The game this time would be for keeps. Lucas could feel it in every fiber of his being.
If the bastard had his way, both Victoria and Lucas would die.
Soon.
But first he would play, draw out his pleasure.
Lucas gritted his teeth against the fury that whipped through him...and that one obsession would be his doom.
Lucas would see to it.
Errol Leberman was dead already...he just didn’t know it yet.
Chapter 11
Tasha jerked awake.
She sat up straight and took stock of her environment.
The room was dark.
She couldn’t be sure how much time had passed but she was certain it should be daylight by now.
The perpetual darkness, along with the dank, musty smell confirmed her suspicions that she was in a cellar or basement. Someplace underground.
She lifted her right foot, crossed it over her knee, the metal on metal clanging a noisy reminder that she was shackled to the cot. Rubbing at her ankle where the metal chafed her skin, she stretched her neck first one way and then another. She had a hell of a crick in her neck and shoulder from sitting in such an awkward position while she dozed. Her side still hurt from the beating she’d taken during Martin’s little exercise. But she’d slept, anyway.
She hadn’t meant to sleep at all, but exhaustion had finally claimed her after hours of trying to get loose. He’d taken her boots and her tiny purse, leaving her with nothing to pick the lock or attempt to pry it open.
After feeling around on the cold concrete floor and stretching the chain as far as she could and finding nothing, she’d admitted defeat and plopped back down on the cot to wait. She’d decided to conserve her energy for kicking ass.
She set her jaw firmly when she considered the heartless bastard who’d locked her down here. When he showed up again she intended to let him have it, shackled or not. To punctuate her heated thought she jerked on the confining chain with all her might.
“Don’t waste your time.”
The deep voice cut through the darkness like a knife, piercing her defenses. She gasped in spite of herself. Dammit. She hated even the implication of weakness. Hated even worse that he could rattle her so easily. How had he sneaked up on her like that? She’d always been a very light sleeper.
Since Maverick hadn’t shown up, she could assume that being underground had silenced the tiny electronic pulse her tracking device emitted. He had taken her cell phone and likely turned it off.
Just her luck he had a brain to go with the awesome bod.
Renewed fury raged through her.
She rocketed to her feet and moved as far in the direction the sound of his voice had come from as the chain would allow. “Why the hell are you keeping me here like this?”
The silence thickened as she waited for an answer. Her heart banged painfully against her rib cage.
“To watch you.”
She laughed, a dry, totally pissed-off sound. “Yeah, right. You can’t even see me.”
“Sure I can.”
She drew back slightly. He was right in front of her. Her expression hardened with the anger sizzling inside her as she pushed all thought of playing it safe aside and leaned toward him. “Then read my lips.” She mouthed a detailed description of what she thought of him.
He snagged her chin in one iron grasp. “So you don’t think I’m cute after all?”
She stilled. He couldn’t see her...reading her lips was impossible. Her eyes narrowed. Unless he was wearing night vision goggles. She reached for his head. He manacled her wrists but not before she touched his face and found no goggles. The idea that he actually could see that well in the dark startled her all over again.
“Why didn’t you leave when I told you to get lost?”
She tried to analyze his tone but it proved impossible. He spoke firmly, harshly almost, but there was no underlying emotion. No anger...no concern...nothing.
“Well, we both know it wasn’t because of your sparkling personality.”
He jerked her closer still. So close that she could feel his breath on her face when he spoke once more. “What do you want?”
Tasha took a moment to shut down her emotions. So far she’d been pretty much going with the flow, but things were different now. He was dead serious. She couldn’t screw up. Her reactions had to be calculated.
She peered up at him, though she couldn’t see a damned thing in the dark, and relaxed in his hold. “I thought you were cute. I...I was attracted to you.” Then she lifted her chin and glared belligerently since he, apparently, could see. “But that was before I found out what a jerk you are.” She tried to wrestle her arms free from his hold. “What are you? Some kind of serial killer or something?”
“And what if I am?”
She stilled, allowing him to think that the idea startled her. Well, it did, sort of, but not enough for the drama queen performance she was laying on at the moment. “You’re...you’re not going to kill me, are you?”
He made a sound...a laugh, only too soft and with no humor whatsoever. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
Time to pump up the theatrics. She tried to pull free again. “Let me go!”
He released her, and she stumbled back a couple of steps. “Look, just let me go and I won’t say a word. I don’t even know your name.”
“That’s what they all say,” he countered, his tone purposely sinister.
He wanted her afraid...he didn’t like it that she wasn’t scared of him. Tasha pondered that assessment briefly. He wanted to be in complete control. Testing the waters of her theory, she summoned the proper emotion and pleaded, “I swear I won’t say anything!”
Another of those soft, humorless laughs, scarcely more than a breath. “With that mouth do you really expect me to believe you can keep a secret?”
She balled her fingers into fists and suppressed the urge to slug him. Jerk. “Just tell me what you want,” she urged, going for a placating tone and forcing her muscles to relax from their battle-ready stance. She had to remember he could see. “I’ll do anything you ask.”
He moved closer...a step, maybe two, the movement soundless. But she didn’t have to hear him, she felt him, as if they were somehow connected on some weird level. “But, if I’m a serial killer as you suggested, anything you do won’t make a difference. You’ll die anyway.”
He liked the power...wanted her helpless. She was sure of it. Reacting as he would expect to the encroaching sound of his voice, she backed away, the chain rattled as she bumped into the cot. “Just my luck to hit on a psycho,” she muttered, forcing a tremor into her voice. “But my luck has always sucked anyway.” She had a hunch. It was a long shot, but what the hell. “My own mother ran out on me as a kid, but I managed to get by.” She glared in his direction, lifting her chin with a hint of defiance. “Looks like fate had it in for me all along.”
He moved again...close enough that she could have reached out and touched him.
She collapsed onto the cot in a show of defeat. “Just get it over with.” She hugged herself and exhaled a shaky breath. “I don’t want to play any sick games. I got enough of that crap from my old man before he cut out on me, too.”
“You just don’t know when to shut up, do you?” Before she could make an evasive maneuver he grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her to her feet.
Surprisingly, she sensed anger in his tone, felt it in his punishing grip. She thought about that for the three seconds she dared permit the distraction. He didn’t want to hear about her fictional childhood distress. Was there something like that in his past? Maybe she’d play up the whole “beaten down” strategy and see where it took her.
“Look,” she said wearily, “if you’re going to kill me you’d better let me pee first otherwise I’m going to make a hell of a mess on your floor.”
He grabbed her right hand and pried it open. Before she could fathom his intent he placed a key in her palm. Startled all over again by his actions, she crouched down and unlocked the steel bracelet around her ankle. She rubbed the raw skin there and then straightened and offered him the key back. Could this guy be human after all?
“Does this mean you’re not going to kill me?”
He didn’t answer, just manacled her arm and dragged her across the room. The stairs were a little tricky in the dark, but he didn’t seem to have any trouble.
She wondered how he could possibly have such excellent night vision. There were people like that she knew, but generally there was some physiological reason. He’d have one, as well.
When he opened the door at the top of the stairs, she blinked rapidly to allow her eyes to adjust to the light.
She studied the layout of the house as he led her through the kitchen and down a hallway. Back door in kitchen near sink. Three more doorways in the hall. One leading to what looked like a living room, the one they’d exited from the kitchen and the third one led to a bathroom. The stairs climbing to the second level started where the hall ended opposite the front door. No pictures on the walls. No other decorating touches.
At the bathroom door he stood aside. “Make it fast.”
She sidled past him but hesitated before closing the door. “You mean you’re not going to watch.”
He folded his arms over his chest and leaned against the wall without responding.
Tasha closed the door and sagged with relief.
She exhaled some of the tension tightening her chest, but instead of relaxing, she quickly surveyed the small room for a means of escape. Not that she’d decided she needed to make a run for it yet...but just in case. She was pretty sure that if he’d intended to kill her he would have, whether she needed to relieve herself or not. Besides, she was trapped.
The only window was one of those small rectangular ones above the tub/shower combination. As slim as she was there was no way she was getting out that route.
Knowing he was waiting right outside, she pushed off the door and took care of nature’s call.
As she flushed the toilet she couldn’t help smiling. She’d done it. Gotten him to bring her to his lair. Lucas Camp, she mused, wherever you are, I’m in.
Chapter 12
They’d driven around most of the night.
And found nothing. Her signal had restarted briefly at one point, but not long enough for a lock on her location.
Maverick scrubbed a hand over his face and cursed himself for letting her get away.
He was her backup.
If she was dead...
Ramon was part of her backup, as well, but Maverick was the one in charge. In nearly two decades of this kind of work he’d never lost a team member. Not once. He didn’t want to start with one so damned young.
An almost inaudible beep sounded in the silence of the truck.
He jerked to attention, his gaze going instantly to the monitor he still clutched in his hand.
The two previously flat lines he’d stared at for hours on end blinked into activity.
“We’ve got her back,” he said in a rush, the words scarcely more than a relieved whisper.
Ramon sat up a little straighter behind the wheel. “Give me some directions, amigo.”
He rattled off the necessary information, not once taking his eyes off the tiny pulsing lights that represented Tasha North’s heart rate and location.
They were back in business.
He had to get word to Lucas.
Chapter 13
Tasha moistened a cloth and washed her face. She couldn’t be sure how long he would give her in here alone, but she needed some time to get a better grip on her strained emotions. She might be tough but she was still only human. Playing this guy’s game had been hard work.
There was something not quite right here, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. If he’d been the stone-cold killer he appeared to be she’d be dead now. It didn’t take a master’s degree in psych to see it...and she had one.
She’d be lying to herself if she didn’t admit that a small part of her wanted to get the hell out of here ASAP. But the professional in her needed to see this through. She was close—right where Lucas wanted her. If she could just stay alive she could bring this guy down.
Whether he was as bad as he wanted the world to believe had nothing to do with her mission. Lucas wanted her close to him so he could be stopped. She got the distinct impression that as soon as he had led them to the man who’d hired him, he would be terminated.
That thought gave her an uncharacteristic pause. The hesitation confused her...but it was there. She’d have to deal with it.
She shook off the thought. That was the number one rule in the spy business—never, ever let the enemy close enough to make it matter.
The door opened, and the enemy in question barged in.
“Did you forget how to knock?” she asked the face glaring at her in the mirror.
“You never answered my question.”
Back to that again, huh?
She spun around on her bare heel, bracing herself against the sink and staring up at him. “I already told you that I hit on you because you were the cutest guy in the club. Deal with it.” The images Lucas had captured of this guy didn’t do him justice, especially his eyes. Nor had the dim lighting in that club last night. His eyes were...amazing.
Suppressing a shiver she started to give him her back. He stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. “What’s this?” He tipped her chin up and looked first at her healing lip then at the fading bruise on her cheek.
Concealer and makeup had covered the evidence of the roughing up she’d taken night before last. The low lighting in the club had helped, as well. But with the makeup long gone and in the bright light of day, there was no hiding her battle scars.
“My roommate and I had a disagreement.” She drew away from his touch. “It happens.” She turned back to the mirror and grimaced at her reflection. She looked like hell. Nothing she could do about that since she had no cosmetics, not even a brush. She combed her fingers through her tousled hair. The net jacket that had looked so sexy last night reminded her of snagged pantyhose this morning. She peeled it off and stuffed it in the trash can next to the toilet, purposely bending from the waist to startle her host.
“And this?” He gestured to her right shoulderblade when she straightened once more. “Did your roommate take a knife to you as well?”
Dammit, she’d forgotten about that old battle scar. Her first scuffle with a would-be mugger once she’d moved out on her own in college. He might have drawn first blood, but he’d also been the only one lying on the ground when the police finally arrived.
“I guess I forgot to mention that between my successful attempts at running away from the system, I survived a couple of foster homes. Nobody really wanted to deal with a rebellious teenager, but they didn’t want to lose the government check with my name on it.” She shrugged as if it didn’t matter. And it didn’t, because she was only making this stuff up. But, like a good movie, it was based on true stories she’d heard while interning in a social services office. “People don’t bother with troubled teens unless it’s for one of two reasons.” She looked him straight in the eye via the mirror, sensing that she would see a reaction. “For the money or the sex.”
He flinched. She resisted the urge to pump her fist in the air and scream yes. She’d gotten to him...maybe just barely beneath the surface, but someplace under the skin all the same. She’d sensed a resistance in him before when she brought up the past. He definitely did not like going there. The first piece of the puzzle. She might not have the opportunity to dig more deeply, but she’d learn what she could until it was over.
She turned around, stared up into those cold, hard eyes once more. “What about you?” She touched his jaw, tracing the outline of an old scar that gave him a permanent dimple before he could evade her touch. Her gaze moved lower, to another scar where his shirt opened into a vee at his throat. She hadn’t been able to see that one last night in the low lighting. A jagged little line a shade or two lighter than the rest of his skin.
Some unknown force driving her, she reached toward him with her other hand. Oddly he didn’t move away. She released the next button of his shirt. And then another and another until it lay open to his waist where he’d tucked it into his jeans. Too caught up in the moment to note his reaction other than the fact that he allowed her to continue, she pulled the shirt free of his jeans, pushing the sides farther apart so that she could see more of his well-defined torso.
For one long moment she couldn’t breathe. There were too many scars to count...some small, thin lines...others much more lethal looking. She wanted to ask him about them, but when she opened her mouth no words would come. Instead she touched one particularly brutal-looking scar so damn close to his heart she couldn’t imagine how he’d survived the wound. She felt him tense beneath her fingertips, but, again, he didn’t move away.
That extra instinct she possessed was screaming at her now, warning that she was about to dive headlong into dangerous territory...delve past some unseen boundary of no return, and still, she couldn’t stop herself. She looked into those ice-blue eyes, letting him see every confusing emotion she felt at that moment.
“Still think I’m cute?”
Right now—this moment—was the turning point. Her response to him now would determine whether or not he allowed her full access. He refused to trust her, but some part of him wanted to believe that she was telling him the truth.
Her future depended upon this one defining second.
She went up on tiptoe, and even then, reaching that grim mouth was a task. He stood several inches taller than her. She brushed her lips lightly to his. Something electric zipped through her...startled her.
He pulled away...eyed her suspiciously.
Just when she felt certain he wouldn’t respond, he grabbed her, whirled her around and pinned her against the wall with his big body. His mouth came down hard on hers. The kiss was punishing, savage. A mixture of desire and fear surged through her veins. She couldn’t deny the attraction, but his touch was brutal.
She shoved at his chest. Every muscle her body encountered was like granite. Her lip burned, the wound reopening beneath his onslaught. The tang of blood had her pushing harder against him.
“Wait,” she murmured breathlessly when he broke the seal of their lips just long enough to take a breath. She touched her lip, swiped at the trickle of blood. He watched her intently, his own breath ragged, but a good deal more controlled than hers.
Just then she remembered the monitor and made a conscious effort to slow her respiration...her heartbeat. If Maverick was still monitoring her activity, she didn’t want him barging in.
“Not like that,” she whispered. “Like this.” She told herself it was a mistake, but that didn’t stop her. She kissed him tenderly...slowly. He didn’t move a muscle...held perfectly still. She kissed those firm lips until her own unexpected reaction forced her to break the contact. Not taking the time to evaluate her motives, she pressed her lips to the tiny scar on his cheek and then moved lower. Scar after scar she acknowledged with her lips...tracing each with her tongue. Her fingers fisted in the worn soft cotton of his shirt, and she fought the crazy need swirling inside her. This was work, she repeated mentally over and over. She dropped down to her knees, careful not to break the contact of her lips against his skin.
She was winning this battle. He braced his hands against the wall, his eyes closed and for the first time since she’d met him, the hard lines of his face softened just a fraction. But that was the only thing soft about him. Flirting with danger, she drew her tongue along the warm flesh just above his waistband. If she didn’t stop now...she might have to finish this but every instinct told her that seduction was her only chance of reaching this guy.
Without warning, he grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her to her feet. When her gaze collided with his, he looked totally unaffected. Anything he’d felt was long gone.
“I’ll take you home now.”
He released her and walked out of the room. Tasha let go a shaky breath and sagged against the wall to pull herself together. She was hot...damn hot and wet. She’d enjoyed that more than she should have—definitely more than he had, it seemed.
Damned fool, she railed at herself silently.
She knew better than to let that happen.
Staring at her reflection in the mirror, she just shook her head. The chance of a lifetime and she was going to screw it up playing amateur psychologist.
Whatever this guy’s problem, it wasn’t her job to save him. Her mission was to deliver him up to Lucas Camp for one thing and one thing only.
To die.
Chapter 14
When he pulled the SUV next to the curb outside her apartment building, Tasha couldn’t help thinking she’d had her chance and now it was over.
This wasn’t the kind of guy to allow any sort of strings. She most likely would not see him again. But at least she knew where he lived, for the moment. She had his license plate number and a damned up-close description. But that’s it. She knew absolutely nothing else about him.
“You didn’t tell me your name,” she said in the silence that ensued after he’d shifted into Park.
He turned toward her, his gaze cutting right through her like cold, hard steel. “Does it matter?”
She nodded, feeling startled by and wholly unprepared for the emotions he wrought in her.
“Seth.”
“Seth,” she echoed, thinking that it somehow fit. Some Egyptian slayer or something. “I like that.”
He stared at her for a second that turned into ten before she started to squirm. There was something about his eyes...
She couldn’t just get out now...she had to leave him with some reason to contact her again. She grabbed a pen from the console that separated them, then reached for his hand. He resisted at first, but eventually allowed her to draw it to her lap. She jotted her number on his palm.
He stared at his open hand for a moment then at her, but he didn’t say he would or he wouldn’t use the number.
“Bye, Seth.”
She opened the door and climbed out, but his voice stopped her before she walked away.
“Just one thing.”
She looked at him expectantly, her hand on the door ready to push it closed.
“Tell your roommate if she touches you again she’s dead.”
* * *
Tasha entered the building without allowing herself to think. She needed a long, hot bath. She needed to think...but first she had to get that final look she’d seen in his eyes out of her head.
He’d looked directly at her and issued that warning as if she belonged to him, and anyone else who touched her would be risking life and limb.
It didn’t make sense.
On the elevator she stabbed the button for floor fourteen and leaned back against the wall. God, she was exhausted, mentally and physically.
The lift stopped on thirteen and she opened her eyes to see who would be boarding an upbound elevator with only one floor to go.
The doors slid open and Maverick waited in the corridor. “This way, North,” he instructed.
Coming to immediate attention, she exited the elevator and followed the big cowboy down the quiet corridor. Though he didn’t wear a hat, he had the boots and the attitude. She’d never been so glad to see anyone in her life. He was tall, broad-shouldered and had just a sprinkle of gray in his dark hair. Just enough to tell a girl he’d been around the block a time or two. She was glad to have him on her team.
At the fourth door on the right, he opened it and stepped back for her to enter the apartment before him.
“This whole floor is ours,” he said in answer to her questioning look. “The escape route I showed you in your apartment upstairs will bring you here.”
The escape route he spoke of was an oversize laundry chute accessed from her walk-in closet.
Inside the thirteenth-floor apartment, Maverick’s partner, Ramon Vega, waited. He was much smaller in stature but quite confident and capable looking as well. His Latin heritage showed in his good looks, but he’d long since banished any accent from his dialect. He pressed a couple of buttons on a remote control and a wide-screen monitor came to life. Lucas Camp behind a desk blinked into vivid focus, his gaze zeroed in on her as if they were face-to-face in the same room.
“You look like hell, North,” Lucas said by way of greeting.
She noticed the Webcam then and knew that, for all intents and purposes, they were face-to-face. She plopped down on a chair directly across from the screen and accompanying camera. “Feel like it, too.”
“Tell me what you’ve got.”
Before Tasha launched into a detailed report of the events since making contact with her target, she needed to get one thing out of the way.
“Something isn’t right with this guy,” she said, confusion lining her brow. She could feel it but couldn’t quite label it.
“You mean something besides his being a sociopath?” Maverick ventured.
She nodded. “Yeah. Something besides that.”
“Give us a profile on how he lives,” Lucas said, setting the direction of the briefing. “Maverick has already told me where he lives and a brief summary of the neighborhood, but what did you see inside?”
“Not much at first. The lights were out when he took me in and he locked me in the basement until this morning.”
Lucas frowned. “Locked you in the basement?”
“Shackled me to a cot down there. The cot was bolted to the concrete floor. There was no way to escape. I had my doubts as to whether or not I’d see the light of day ever again.” She sighed wearily. “I can’t be the first person he’s held prisoner down there. His preparations were too well thought out.”
“That’s why we couldn’t get your signal back,” Maverick concluded. “I’m certain he had a jammer in his vehicle, but after that I couldn’t be sure what happened. He stashed you underground, that explains it. You had me worried for a while.”
She nodded. She’d been a little worried herself. “This morning he brought me back upstairs. I didn’t get a good look around, but the place looked fully furnished with the usual household goods. I imagine his private space was on the second floor. I didn’t get that far.”
“Do you think you made enough of an impression to see him again?” Lucas wanted to know. He was watching her closely, assessing her state after her first encounter with the target.
She moved her hands over her face and through her hair. “I think so. Maybe. It’s difficult to tell. He’s so guarded.” She looked directly at Lucas then, or at least at his image. “There’s something wrong with this guy, Lucas. Something really wrong.”
“Anything you picked up on could be helpful. I’ve got a profiler standing by.”
She nodded. “It’s more than just the fact that he kills for a living, obviously.” She tried to think how to label it...but nothing that came to mind felt accurate. “He’s deeply troubled. I got the distinct impression that he’s not afraid of anything, death included.” She shrugged. “It’s weird. It was nearly impossible to get any kind of reaction out of him. It’s like he blocks all emotion. Doesn’t feel a thing. And the scars.” She shook her head as she thought of the marks on his body. “I’ve never seen so many. He’s had it rough at some point. But the lack of emotion was the biggest thing I noticed. I could scarcely get a reaction out of him at all.”
Ramon lifted a skeptical brow and eyed her skimpy attire. “Are you sure he isn’t dead?”
A pained laugh burst from her. “Oh, no. He’s very much alive...just buried somehow.”
“What about prints?” Maverick tossed into the conversation. “We could ID this guy if he’s in the system.”
Lucas nodded. “Possibly, but we’ve run his picture through the system and didn’t find anything. Still, there’s always the possibility that he’s had his appearance altered. Did he give you a name?”
“Seth.” Tasha tugged off first one boot, then the other. She reached into her right boot for her cell phone, handling it carefully. “He handled the boots and the phone.”
Maverick and Ramon took custody of the items.
“I don’t think that’s his real name, though. Not that I expected to get the real thing,” Tasha said to Lucas. “But I studied Egyptian mythology as an elective in college. Seth was a sort of dark god, a slayer. The irony of it is too coincidental I think.”
Lucas nodded his agreement. “We’ll see what we can find on the name Seth. It may be an alias he’s used before.”
“What now?” she asked Lucas, then glanced at the two men who served as her backup.
“Now we wait,” Lucas announced.
That felt like such a waste of time. Tasha spread her hands in a gesture of uncertainty. “Maybe I should have tried to plant some sort of tracking device on him. He could be meeting with the guy who hired him right now and you can’t allow a tail to get close enough to find out.” She didn’t want Lucas disappointed in her performance and he certainly hadn’t given her any real reason to think he was pleased at this point.
Maverick spoke up first. “No way, little lady. This guy’s a pro. He’d have found it, known you were the one who planted it, and that would have been the end of that, if you get my drift.”
She nodded. The end of her, no doubt. “You’re right. It just feels like I should have done more. He has my number, but who knows if he’ll call.”
“You got a lot farther than we expected for a first encounter,” Lucas said pointedly. “And you’re alive to tell about it. He’ll call.”
She supposed that was close enough to a pat on the back. And she sure as hell hoped he was right.
There was only one thing she could do now.
Wait.
Chapter 15
Tasha moaned softly as the steam rose around her. It felt so good to just soak for a while. She’d taken a shower after her debrief this morning, then a power nap that lasted for three hours. But this...this was pure luxury. She needed this. Her muscles loosened...relaxed as the heat chased away the stress and soreness. It might just take hours to soothe all the kinks and stiffness.
She apparently had the time. He hadn’t called.
Her eyes opened and she lay there, her gaze searching for anything in the foggy room to focus on. She didn’t want to think about him...not yet. Draping her arms along the sides of the tub, she forced his image away.
But not quickly enough. An entirely different kind of heat coiled inside her. She cursed herself for allowing it. He was a killer...the enemy. And yet, somehow he’d gotten to her on a level over which she had no control. It was totally unbelievable. She tried hard to pinpoint the precise root of the feeling. It wasn’t sympathy. There was a definite physical attraction, despite his lack of personality. But that wasn’t such a big deal. As Ramon would say, she wasn’t dead. Any woman breathing would be attracted to Seth on a physical level. But she could handle that. He was an assassin...a very dangerous man...a bad guy...the enemy. Taking him down wouldn’t be a problem.
That last thought echoed hollowly. “Shit,” she muttered. This couldn’t happen. She’d just met the guy. Taking him down was her mission...but something felt wrong.
How could she even think about screwing up this badly? She shook her head slowly from side to side. This was the opportunity of a lifetime. Lucas Camp had come to her! She couldn’t let anything get in the way. Why the hell had she chosen psychology for her major, anyway? If she hadn’t, maybe then she wouldn’t have bothered looking beneath the surface.
She scrubbed a hand over her face and cursed herself again. This wasn’t about what made the guy tick. This was about stopping a killer—a hired assassin—before he accomplished his mission. Her primary goal, outside seeing that he didn’t accomplish his, was making the connection between him and the man who hired him. Nothing else mattered. All those scars... The overwhelming feeling that he was as much a victim as those he hunted was of no consequence.
He would be stopped, one way or another. And so would the man who’d hired him. Lucas’s intentions were crystal clear. He wanted this guy dead. Tasha felt it all the way to her bones. It was personal somehow.
A knock at the front door jerked her from her troubling thoughts. Water sloshed as she pushed upright. Her heart kicked into a faster rhythm.
She shifted to her feet, the steam rising off her skin, and stepped out of the tub onto the fluffy bath mat. Shouldering into the robe without bothering to towel dry, she reached for her weapon next.
As she padded down the short hall, her bare feet leaving a trail of water, she chambered a round in the weapon Maverick had given her. Another knock rattled the hinges as she crossed the living room. She peered through the peephole, her heart pounding, and saw Maverick.
Heaving a relieved sigh, she shook off the tension and opened the door. “What’s up?”
Maverick stepped inside, and she closed the door behind him. “Just wanted you to know that we lifted his prints from your cell phone but they were useless.” He passed the phone back to her.
A frown nagged at her forehead. “He wasn’t in the system?” The guy was clearly a high-end professional, getting caught wouldn’t be in keeping with his skill level. And unless he’d been caught and charged with some crime, he wouldn’t be in any system.
He shook his head and handed her the boots she’d worn last night. “Can’t tell. There’s too much alteration, not enough legible lines to go for a match.”
“He doesn’t intend to be ID’d.” This just kept getting better and better. Seth was really on top of his game. He’d had his fingerprints altered.
“It’s professional work, too, not a homemade job.”
That’s why she hadn’t felt any particular roughness when he’d touched her. This wasn’t a hack job to alter any prints he’d leave behind, this was one of those cutting-edge “escape clinic” laser jobs. Very expensive, very cleverly done. Either Seth or the man he worked for knew how to remain anonymous.
“If he calls,” she offered, “I can try and get a look around his place. See what I can find.”
Maverick nodded. “Just be careful.” He looked at her a moment before he continued. “Lucas would like you to try and get a DNA sample. We don’t know how much good it’ll do, but it’s another avenue of identification.”
The various ways a sample could be obtained flashed quickly through her mind. “All right.”
Maverick looked away briefly before adding, “You know a shed hair won’t get us what we need. If you could lift his toothbrush or razor, assuming it’s not the electric type, that would be better.”
She nodded. “Got it.”
“Just be careful, North.” Maverick shook his head, his expression cluttered with more concern than she would have expected from a man of his background. “You’re right when you said there’s something off about this guy. He worries me more than most I’ve run across in my time. Lucas said the same thing.”
At least she wasn’t the only one picking up those vibes. “Don’t worry, I’ve got it under control.”
That was a flat-out lie, but he didn’t need to know it. In the event that he was fishing for Lucas, she wasn’t about to give him any information that could discredit her in any way.
“I’ll be right downstairs.” He glanced at her robe. “Don’t forget to put another patch in place.”
“Will do.”
When he’d gone, she retraced her damp path to the bathroom, drained the tub and cleaned up the mess she’d made. She set her weapon aside, reached into the medicine cabinet and got the box that contained the patches. To anyone else they looked like a simple birth control prescription. Lucas’s people covered every base. If her target decided to check her out, he’d find nothing that would suggest she wasn’t who she said she was. They’d even furnished the second bedroom of the apartment, complete with young, female wardrobe, to give the illusion of a roommate.
Tasha pressed the patch into place and checked out her reflection. The bruise on her cheek was pretty much gone now, and her lip was way better. A dab of makeup and she’d be good to go. Her side was still a little tender, but not so bad.
The firm knock on her front door made her jump. Damn, she was edgy. Forgetting her appearance for the moment she strode back into the living room. What did Maverick want now?
She opened the door without bothering to check the peephole.
Her target filled the doorway, those piercing blue eyes covered by dark shades.
For one second she was sure she had to be imagining things, but she blinked and he was still there.
He removed the concealing eyewear and focused that fierce gaze on her. “Ask me in.”
A shiver raced across her skin as much from the sound of his deep voice as from those eyes. She summoned a semblance of control and stepped back, opening the door wide. “Come on in.”
He reached down and picked up a bag she hadn’t noticed since she was too busy staring at those unsettling eyes. Idiot, she railed silently. Details. She wasn’t supposed to miss any.
Once he’d stepped inside, he closed and locked the door behind him. That move should have set her on edge but didn’t. Maverick and Ramon would be watching. Her apartment was rigged for surveillance. Seth looked at her, surveyed her lack of proper attire and then settled his gaze on hers. “I have a job for you.”
For just a second it kind of annoyed her that she found not a glimmer of approval in his eyes. She was standing there naked but for the robe, and he didn’t even notice. God knew that she’d absorbed every damned detail about him. Black T-shirt beneath a pale blue cotton button-up shirt. The telltale bulge of the weapon he wore, well-fitting jeans and those made-for-traction ankle boots. If she hadn’t enjoyed the perusal so much she could have chalked it up to merely being part of her job. But the heat funneling beneath her belly button made a liar out of her. She pushed the disturbing sensation away.
“What kind of job?”
“You need money, right?” He said this as he surveyed what he could see of her apartment. It was a nice enough place and wasn’t the reason he asked the question. She remembered telling him that she didn’t have a job yet and was pretty much broke from coughing up her share of the rent.
“Yeah, I need money,” she said bluntly. “But not badly enough to do anything illegal.” She looked him up and down, pausing briefly at his crotch. She looked away just as quickly. Either the guy stayed aroused all the time or he was extremely well endowed. Why she would notice and why it would have such an effect was beyond her. What the hell was wrong with her?
“There’s nothing to worry about.” He offered her the shopping bag he carried. “Put this on.”
Still trying to read his expression, which was impossible, she accepted the bag that turned out to be a good deal heavier than it looked. Inside was a brown uniform. “What’s this?” Her senses moved to a higher state of alert. Even folded up as it was she recognized the delivery-service getup.
“I’d like you to make a delivery for me. It’s very simple.”
“What kind of delivery?”
When he looked at her this time, there was no way to miss his impatience. That he allowed her to see the emotion surprised her and served as a warning at the same time.
“Don’t ask so many questions.”
She shrugged and headed to the bedroom with the bag in hand. For a second or two she allowed the elation of his return to bolster the nagging worry over where this might be headed. For the moment he was back, and that was all that mattered.
Moving quickly, she dragged on a pair of panties and a bra. Surprisingly the uniform was a good fit. Maybe he’d noticed more than he’d let on. The weight in the bag was the shoes. He’d thought of everything.
She brushed her hair and pulled it up with a claw clip, grabbed her purse and sunglasses and readied for whatever the hell he had in mind.
He waited right where she’d left him. Maverick and Ramon would know whether he’d looked around. She would find out later.
Seth scrutinized her from head to toe. “Perfect.”
“Why not just have the package delivered in the usual manner?” she asked as they exited her apartment.
“I have my reasons.”
She locked her door and followed him to the stairs. Fourteen floors, either the guy had a phobia where elevators were concerned or he didn’t want to get trapped in one in case he had to make a run for it.
He didn’t speak again even after they were in his SUV and headed into city traffic, which was no big surprise. He only spoke when he had something to say or she forced a response out of him. She occupied herself with attempting to determine their destination.
A few minutes later he parked in the lot of a large office building right off the Magnificent Mile, Chicago’s main street of shops, restaurants and ritzy office buildings.
He reached into the back seat and picked up a package. Eight-by-ten, she estimated. Wrapped in a plain brown paper. Addressed to... She leaned toward him slightly to read the name and address.
The name slammed into her with all the force of a runaway train.
Victoria Colby.
She was his mark.
“You know...” Calm, stay calm. She forced her heart rate back to a normal pace and focused on slowing her respiration. She couldn’t let him see that she recognized the name. “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea.”
He nodded toward the building. “Fourth floor. The elevator opens right into the Colby Agency lobby,” he went on as if she’d said nothing. “Ask for Victoria Colby. Don’t let anyone else sign for the package except her. Do you understand?”
She moistened her suddenly dry lips. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she realized that he’d just said more to her at one time than any other time since they’d met. “What’s in the package? You’re sure—”
“Go.” He pushed the package and an electronic clipboard toward her and pressed her with a gaze that warned her not to argue. “Now.”
She took the package and the clipboard and climbed out of the SUV. She walked slowly across the parking lot, praying that Maverick had her location. She forced her mind to consider what could be in the package. It felt a little light for any kind of elaborate explosive. A detonator would be required. But then again there were all kinds of lightweight devices. She considered the possibility of some sort of poison. Something absorbed through the skin or inhaled like anthrax.
Resisting the impulse to scan the lot for Maverick’s vehicle, she opened the main door and stepped inside. She strode straight up to the lobby desk.
“I have a package for Victoria Colby,” she said in as professional a tone as she could manage. He could be listening, watching even. Who knew what sort of gadgets he could have added to the innocuous-looking uniform. There’d been no time to check it out thoroughly.
“Fourth floor,” the watchman said without even asking for ID.
It was the uniform. It was too much a part of everyday life for anyone to give it a second thought.
Tasha went to the bank of elevators and pressed the call button. She let her respiration and heart rate increase faster and faster as a signal to Maverick that something was wrong. By the time she reached the fourth floor, her skin felt flushed and she’d all but hyperventilated. Even if Seth had some way of monitoring her now, he would expect her to be nervous going in.
The receptionist greeted her with a smile and a pleasant, “May I help you?”
“I have a delivery for Victoria Colby.”
The receptionist reached for the package. “I’ll take it for you.”
Tasha knew a moment’s panic. “I’m sorry,” she said, grabbing back control. “Ms. Colby has to personally sign for the package.”
“Oh.” The woman’s expression turned to one of confusion, or maybe irritation. She pointed to the corridor on Tasha’s right. “Her secretary’s office is the first one on the left.”
Tasha forced a smile. “Thank you.”
She passed a couple of people in the corridor, both male and wearing suits. Colby Agency investigators, Tasha presumed. Each one surveyed her thoroughly before moving on. She wanted to scream, “Doesn’t anyone suspect anything is wrong here?” But she only smiled stiffly.
“Good afternoon. You have a delivery?” This from a pleasant-looking middle-aged lady whose name plate read, Mildred Parker.
“Yes, for Victoria Colby.”
“Well, generally the receptionist would sign for any packages,” she offered kindly.
Tasha glanced at the clipboard. “The sender requested that Ms. Colby sign for the package personally.”
“Very well.”
The secretary stood and moved toward the door on the other side of the room. Tasha followed. The older woman knocked once and pushed it open.
“Victoria, there’s a special delivery for you. This young lady needs you to sign for it.”
Mildred opened the door wider and stepped to one side for Tasha to enter.
Her pulse racing, Tasha met the dark gaze focused on her from the other side of the massive mahogany desk. So this was Victoria Colby. She looked every bit as dignified and sophisticated as Tasha had expected.
What she hadn’t expected was the incredible complacency where security was concerned. Wasn’t Lucas supposed to have men watching her? Forcing her feet into action, Tasha moved across the room.
Victoria Colby reached for the clipboard Tasha offered. “Good afternoon,” she said with a smile.
Tasha forced an answering smile and nodded.
Victoria signed the clipboard and passed it back to her, her open hand waiting for the package.
As she slowly extended the package toward the woman, Tasha tried to warn her with her eyes...tried to make her see that something was wrong.
If Victoria noticed, she didn’t show it.
“Thank you,” she said as she settled the package on her desk.
Tasha managed a stiff “Have a nice day” and left. She punched the down button at the elevator and fought the need to tell someone that this was all wrong. A part of her braced for the sound of an explosion or for a scream of agony.
When the elevator doors finally slid open, what felt like a lifetime later, Tasha drew up short when a tall, dark-haired man moved to exit the arriving car. He paused and looked directly into her eyes for two beats. She prayed he would see the warning there. When he at last moved past her he allowed his hand to brush hers.
The rush of relief was so profound that she scarcely stepped forward quickly enough to catch the elevator before the doors closed.
Whoever the guy was he had to be one of Lucas’s men. The look he’d given her was one of assurance, the physical contact a sign that he understood something was wrong. Maverick had gotten word to Lucas.
She stabbed the button for the lobby and sagged against the closest wall. Taking long, deep breaths she calmed her racing heart and slowed her frantic respiration.
When she reached the SUV, Seth didn’t ask any questions, just drove away once she’d climbed inside.
The silence that hung in the air ignited a fury in her belly. By the time he pulled up to the curb in front of her apartment building her temper had raged out of control.
“I want to know what was in that package.” She turned on him, glared at him with all the anger she felt inside.
He didn’t even bother taking off his sunglasses or looking her way, he simply offered her a wad of cash.
She almost told him where he could shove the money, but that would be out of character for the role she played. Instead, she snatched it from him, startled to note that it was five one-hundred-dollar bills.
“You can dispose of the uniform.”
She grabbed her purse, shoved the money into it before slinging it over her shoulder. She started to get out, but hesitated, then shook her head. No way was he getting off this easy.
“I don’t like being used,” she told him. “If that package was dangerous and that lady—”
“There was nothing in the package that could physically harm anyone. It was merely a message...a reminder.”
She closed her eyes for one second as another blast of relief hit her.
“Get out.”
Renewed fury obliterated all other emotion. “You’re unbelievable. You come to me for a favor, then you treat me like a piece of trash you can toss away.”
He remained silent, motionless, seemingly oblivious of her heated emotions.
In a lightning-flash move, she snatched off his sunglasses and glared at him. “You really are—”
Before she could finish the statement, he’d jerked her across the console and trapped her between his chest and the steering wheel. The look in his eyes was murderous, his expression hard, his breathing shallow and harsh.
“Don’t ever do that again.”
Ignoring the fury seething in every part of him, she lifted her chin defiantly and demanded, “And just what will you do about it if I do.”
He kissed her.
Savagely.
Then he drew back and looked into her eyes. “Get out.”
She didn’t hesitate this time. She scrambled out of the vehicle and strode to her building without looking back. Not until she was inside her own apartment, with the door closed and locked behind her, did she allow herself to breathe easy.
She thought of all she’d learned about him from their brief encounters. The way he’d locked her in that basement. The bizarre tattoo...the way he tried to hurt her even when he kissed her.
Whatever else she felt or imagined she felt, one thing was a certainty...this guy was dangerous.
Extremely dangerous.
To her.
Chapter 16
“Where’s Lucas?”
“He’s on his way, ma’am,” Logan told Victoria. “I’ve checked the package thoroughly. It appears to be safe, but I’d rather you wait for Lucas’s arrival before we open it.”
Victoria looked to Ian and then to Simon. Both men looked as uncertain about this as she felt.
She hadn’t needed John Logan to rush in and snatch the package from her hands to know something was wrong. The young woman who’d delivered it had given her the undeniable impression that she should be afraid.
Victoria closed her eyes and tried to steady the spinning in her head. She wasn’t sure she possessed the fortitude to get through this. It was bad enough that an assassin was stalking her, but the ice cream...now this.
Leberman, the son of a bitch, why didn’t he just confront her face-to-face? Why all the subterfuge? All the games?
Because the sick bastard gets off on the pain he inflicts. She knew the answer. Understood perfectly why he was doing this to her. Still, she couldn’t fully come to terms with it.
Victoria opened her eyes and stared at the package. Her only regret was that she couldn’t kill the bastard here and now.
From his hotel only minutes away, where he’d set up a mini command post, Lucas arrived just then, his gaze going first to her, then settling on the package lying in the middle of her desk.
“That’s it?” He looked to Logan and then to Ian.
Both men nodded. Logan told him, “I can’t find any indication of explosives or poisonous substances. Scans indicate a nonmetal object.”
“Clear the room,” Lucas commanded. “I don’t want anyone in here when I open it.”
“Absolutely not,” Victoria argued. “The package is addressed to me, I’ll open it.”
“I’ll open it.” Simon stepped toward her desk.
Simon had a new wife. Ian had a wife and two children. And Logan had a wife, as well. Victoria looked to each of the trusted men and ordered, “Leave my office. I want to do this alone.”
Ian shook his head. “Not going to happen, Victoria. Either allow one of us to open the package, or we’ll stand here and debate the point all evening.”
She surveyed the determined male faces around the room. All were prepared to die to protect her. Every damned one of them was as stubborn as she was.
“All right.” She stepped back. “Open it.”
Simon quickly stepped in front of Ian. Simon had done time with the FBI and was fearless when it came to doing his duty. He was just one of many fine investigators Victoria employed. She prayed the evil that had followed her life for nearly two decades would not touch him now.
Using the gloves and utility cutter Logan had brought into the office, Simon carefully slit the packaging. He pulled back the outer wrapping and cut the tape sealing the lid on the small box. He dragged the package a little closer and cautiously lifted the lid.
He studied the contents for a moment before allowing his gaze to meet Victoria’s. She saw the uncertainty there a split second before he turned the box around where she could see what it held.
A small blue sneaker was the only item in the box.
She didn’t have to touch it or inspect it in any way. She recognized it immediately. She knew everyone in the room was waiting for her to say something...but she couldn’t speak. She could only stand there, as the tears spilled down her cheeks, and stare at the small shoe her son had been wearing the day he disappeared.
Chapter 17
He drove back to the house in Oak Park well after dark. He’d waited until Victoria Colby had left her office, her protector, Lucas Camp, and his two men close by, and then he’d followed her home.
It hadn’t been necessary for him to see her face as she opened the package. He saw all he needed to in her pained, stoic profile while she pretended to go about her daily routine as she left the office. He was satisfied.
They knew he was watching, but they did nothing. He’d wondered at that in the beginning but he understood now. They had what they considered an ace in the hole. And Victoria Colby would want to see how this game played out. She wanted the truth. She wanted Leberman.
As, he imagined, did Lucas Camp.
He laughed softly as he considered what lay before them. Victoria Colby couldn’t possibly imagine the horrors in store for her before the blessed relief of death would come. He almost hated to allow it to end that way.
He backed into the driveway that flanked the house he used for the time being. He hated coming back here, but it was a necessary part of the strategy. Though he enjoyed the buildup, the crescendo of death would be lessened immensely, in his opinion, by this grandstanding.
But it was not his decision to make.
As he did each time he returned, he searched the grounds, considered the windows and doors for any subtle change in the way he’d left them.
He knew immediately that he had a visitor.
A careful one.
Like smoke, soundless and camouflaged by the darkness, he stole into the house. His visitor waited in the darkness of the inner hall, like a cancer lying dormant before it struck its unsuspecting victim. Being in this house again with him gnawed at Seth’s gut like the sharp hunger pains he’d once known in that dark place he’d called home.
“What do you want?” he demanded.
He didn’t want him here. Had no desire to speak with him or to see him.
Leberman flipped on the overhead light switch, leveling the playing field since he could not see so well in the dark. He blinked to adjust his vision.
“You made the delivery?” he demanded without preamble.
“Yes.” Seth squashed the sensation of fear that, even now...after all these years, tried to surface. He reminded himself that he was not afraid of anything—most especially this son of a bitch.
Leberman nodded. “Good. And the rest is on schedule?”
“I don’t want you here.” He clenched his jaw hard to hold back the emotion he refused to allow. Control was essential.
Leberman met his gaze, those beady eyes showing no fear. The tables had turned in recent years. He was a fool not to fear him. “I know you don’t want me here. You despise me now.” He circled him slowly, inspecting him as he had hundreds of times before. Seth resisted the instinct to stiffen. “I know exactly how you feel about me,” Leberman continued. He moved back in front of him. “But that changes nothing. You owe me this. You will see it through.”
Seth didn’t respond. Leberman knew he would not fail. As he said, he owed this to him. And then they would be even...finished.
Leberman leaned closer and sniffed. “You’ve been with a woman. I smell her perfume.”
He didn’t bother to respond to that comment, either, though a tendril of uneasiness slid through him. He banished it with the same indifference he displayed for his unwanted guest now. Theirs was not a relationship based on friendship or fondness of any sort. They had only one thing in common. Sheer hatred for the Colby name.
“Did you fuck her?” Leberman inclined his head thoughtfully. “I think not. Perhaps that’s the reason for your foul mood.” He smiled grotesquely. “She must have seen you for what you are. Pure evil...a beast. Did you let her live in spite of her rebuff?” He sniffed again. “You’re not getting soft are you?”
Seth locked down all emotion and moved a step closer to the bastard, his fingers fisting tightly to resist the urge to wrap around that scrawny throat. Only with him did he still struggle with the human weakness of baser emotions. “Unless you came here to provide additional instructions, we have nothing to discuss.”
Leberman peered up at him, studied his face, seemingly oblivious to the hatred radiating in his direction. “I trained you so well. You don’t show the first hint of emotion. Anger now and again, perhaps, but nothing more.”
This was a waste of time. “Say what you came to say and go.”
“Pain, death, none of it touches you, does it?” Leberman persisted. He smiled. “You are magnificent.” He shook his head slowly from side to side. “You have no idea how proud I am. Every moment I’ve waited will have been well worth it.” He sighed mightily. “You’re prepared for tomorrow?”
The question was unnecessary. “Of course.”
“Good. I’m looking forward to this step more than you can know.”
Seth said nothing.
A beat of silence passed. When Leberman would have gone, Seth reluctantly issued a warning of a different sort, “They’re watching me closely now. I don’t think I was followed, but it’s a possibility.” Though he didn’t really care if Leberman was caught or not, it would ruin his own plans at this stage.
Leberman cocked his head. “Really? I’m surprised you let them that close.” His eyes narrowed. “That’s not like you. It’s her, isn’t it?”
“I’ll create a diversion so you can go undetected,” he offered and walked away, leaving the bastard to think what he would and not bothering to answer his question. He didn’t give a damn what surprised him.
If Lucas’s men were out there, as he suspected, all he had to do was set a course for Victoria Colby’s private residence, and they would follow.
He glanced back at Leberman once more and warned, “Don’t come back.”
“Just so you know, I will be watching tomorrow,” Leberman told him, an underlying threat in his tone. “I’ll be very careful to stay out of sight, but I will be watching.”
Seth just wanted him out of his sight. If he chose to watch tomorrow it was of no consequence to him as long as he stayed out of the way and away from him. The death of Lucas Camp only served one purpose as far as Seth was concerned.
To torture Victoria Colby.
Chapter 18
Tasha lay in bed at midnight with no sign of sleep in sight. She couldn’t stop thinking about what Lucas had told her. The package had contained a small boy’s shoe. One of the shoes Victoria Colby’s child had been wearing eighteen years ago when he’d gone missing.
Victoria had been devastated then and today.
Tasha thought of the woman she’d met briefly when she delivered the package. Strong, steady, still very attractive at fifty or so. But that woman had been brought to her knees by a horrible reminder of the past.
Why would Seth do that? Tasha felt certain that he was following Leberman’s orders. Lucas had told her that they suspected this man named Leberman of having taken the child. Once he’d disposed of the body he’d obviously kept souvenirs for later.
Leberman wanted to make Victoria suffer before he ended her life. Lucas was sure he had more dirty tricks up his sleeve. Tasha also fully understood Lucas’s personal ties now. Victoria Colby.
Tasha’s thoughts turned to Seth then. Was it about the money? She’d turned the uniform and the bills he’d given her over to Maverick for fingerprinting in hopes of finding Leberman’s or anyone else’s who might be connected. She wondered how much a man like Leberman would pay to hire a man as skilled and ruthless as Seth to carry out this well-planned drama that was supposed to end in death.
She wondered at the brutalities Seth must have suffered to make him the kind of man he was. She flopped over onto her other side. Why the hell did she care? He was a killer. It didn’t matter what made him that way. Her only job was to stop him once they’d located Leberman.
Tasha pushed up from the bed and shuffled into the kitchen for a drink. Sleep wasn’t coming. She might as well give up and do something useful. Maybe some yoga. She could definitely handle some relaxation exercises.
The telephone rang, startling her.
She blew out a breath. Damn, she was going to have to get a grip here. She strode over to the table next to the sofa and picked up the receiver. It wouldn’t be Maverick, he’d knock on her door.
“Hello,” she said softly as if she’d been awakened, though she really didn’t expect to hear from Seth again this soon.
“There’s a cab waiting outside.”
Seth.
Anticipation seared through her. “A cab? Where am I going?” She glanced at the clock, 12:35 a.m.
“I think you know.”
An audible click told her he’d hung up.
She lowered the receiver and dropped it back into its cradle.
For a while Tasha simply stood there trying to decide if she could take this step or not.
She knew what he wanted.
Had felt the primal urgency in his kiss that afternoon. Had also felt his resistance. He didn’t want to want her.
She closed her eyes and ordered her heart rate to slow. Sleeping with him was supposed to be a last resort. But nothing was as it should be with him. She needed that closer connection with him. She needed him to need her. Seduction was her only option.
Rather than stand there rationalizing further, she did what she had to do.
She dressed for the occasion.
Short black skirt, matching thong, even shorter gold top, no bra, no hose. She slid her feet into strappy black sandals and looked herself over. The hesitation she saw in her own eyes was unlike her...she shouldn’t hesitate. This wasn’t personal. It was business—essential to the mission. She’d known going in that it might come to this. She shook her head and looked away from the lie in her eyes. Somehow, stupidly, she had waited for this moment. She hoped like hell her motivation was grounded in the mission. But she had a very bad feeling that it wasn’t.
Tossing her toothbrush and other essentials into a bag, she glanced at the gun she’d left lying on the toilet tank. But she couldn’t risk him finding it. She had mace. That would have to be sufficient. He was a lot bigger than her, but she could fight as well as any man. On second thought she removed the patch and tossed it into the trash. Maverick knew his location. She wasn’t going to risk having to explain the patch to Seth. Or worse, have him detect its signal if he chose to do a body sweep.
As he’d said, a cab waited at the curb. She climbed in, and the driver pulled out onto the street without asking for directions. Maverick would be furious, but it wasn’t like they didn’t know where Seth lived now. Her apartment was monitored, they would know she’d left.
She relaxed into the seat and cleared her mind. She wasn’t going to argue with herself anymore. Whatever happened happened. End of subject.
She knew what she had to do.
A few minutes later she leaned forward and surveyed the street signs.
“Why aren’t we headed for Oak Park?”
“That’s not the address I was given,” the cabbie offered with a shrug. He smiled then. “Maybe it’s a surprise.”
Uneasiness slid through Tasha. An all-too-familiar sensation these days. There were surprises and there were surprises. This was definitely one she hadn’t anticipated. Failure to anticipate her target’s moves was a dangerous weakness. He looked more and more as if he was a serious weakness.
* * *
Thirty minutes later, after traveling through several exclusive neighborhoods, the cab braked to a stop in front of a massive ornamental gate. She squinted to make out the house that lay beyond but couldn’t.
After a moment the gate opened and the cab rolled through and toward the house at the end of the drive. As they neared the structure she could make out the soaring, contemporary lines and angles. A high wall enclosed the property for as far as she could see, and if her sense of direction was on track they were near the lake. That would explain the elegant homes they’d passed.
“Here you are.” The cabbie glanced back at her and smiled with masculine approval. “The fare has already been taken care of.”
“Thanks.” Tasha stepped out of the cab and looked around for a bit before moving toward the house. The cab left through the gate, and she heard it close behind him. The house looked dark except for foundation lights that up lit from the well-landscaped shrubbery. But Seth liked the dark.
She moved toward the front entry, wondering where his SUV was parked. A side entry garage perhaps.
As she moved up the steps, the front door opened and he stood there waiting for her. He didn’t speak, just waited. Her pulse reacted and she chastised herself for the lack of control.
If Maverick had tried to follow her, he was nowhere to be seen. But then, that was her fault for removing the one link between her and her backup.
It was just him and her.
She was on her own.
When she’d stepped inside, he closed the door behind her and turned on the lights, the setting far dimmer than she would have preferred.
“Looks like you’ve moved up in the world,” she said to him when he remained silent. Even in the low light she could see that the house was elegantly decorated and expensively furnished.
“This way.”
She followed him up the grand staircase. Surely this wasn’t his home. Maybe Leberman’s? That didn’t make sense, either. Lucas and Victoria would certainly know if he were this close. This place didn’t exactly have a lived-in feel, but it didn’t have that closed-up smell or feel about it, either.
When he stopped again and turned on a light, they were in a generously sized bedroom with French doors that likely led out onto a balcony. She imagined there was a view of the lake. The furnishings were just as exquisite as the ones downstairs, including the massive king-size bed.
He took her purse, then leveled that piercing gaze on her. “Take off your clothes.”
She walked over to him and reached for the buttons of his shirt. “How about we take off yours first?”
Strong fingers encircled her wrists and pulled her hands away from his shirt. “Take them off.”
She backed up a step and considered her limited options. She could refuse and blow this now—maybe have to fight her way out of here—or...
He unzipped her purse then removed a thick fold of bills from his pocket and dropped them inside. When he’d tossed the bag aside he issued his order again. “Now, take off your clothes.”
Unbridled fury scorched through her. “You think I’m some kind of hooker?” She glanced at her bag for emphasis.
When he didn’t answer she huffed in disbelief. “Oh, man.” She stormed out, didn’t even bother with her purse. She wanted to make the right connection with the guy. Earn his trust. This kind of connection would get her nowhere fast.
By the time she reached the landing he was right behind her. She ignored him and kept moving. She was down the stairs and halfway across the entry hall when he stopped her. He whirled her around to face him, his hold on her arms brutal.
“No one walks away from me.”
“Let me go,” she warned.
Something changed in his expression. “I thought you needed a job,” he countered, his eyes narrowing suspiciously.
She tried without success to jerk free of his savage hold. “I need a job not a john. Now let me go!”
He released her as suddenly as he’d grabbed her. He took a step back physically and emotionally. “Get your bag. I’ll take you back.”
Tasha couldn’t move for a moment, unable to look away from that fierce gaze just yet. When she could break free of the spell, she turned and hurried up the stairs. She cursed herself every step of the way for being the fool she was. She should be glad that he hadn’t out-and-out raped her. Instead, he’d turned off the desire she knew he had felt as easily as he turned off a light switch.
And, unbelievably, she was disappointed.
Chapter 19
He performed his usual check of the perimeter of the Oak Park property before entering. Thankfully no one waited for him this time. A quick sweep for alien electronics and he relaxed.
If Leberman showed his face once more he might just kill him now and put them both out of their misery. Dread, or something on that order, hardened in his gut. He tamped it down. Hated those old sensations Leberman so easily engendered in him. When Victoria Colby was dead they would be even, anyway. What difference would a few days make? Once his score with Leberman was settled he intended to kill the bastard if he ever came near him again. Just looking at him made Seth remember the past, and he didn’t want to remember.
He climbed the stairs to his room without bothering with light. He was as much at home in the dark as he was in the light, maybe more. The dark had always been his friend. No one could see him in the dark.
Before he could stop the mutinous memory, Leberman’s words echoed in his head. He knew what he was all right. He was pure evil...a monster. Hadn’t he been marked long ago? That was just one more reason he couldn’t trust Tasha. She pretended to see what wasn’t there...pretended not to care what he was.
But he knew differently.
He knew a great deal more than she suspected. He knew exactly what she was doing. Leberman had his sources. He untied his shoes and toed them off, then shouldered out of his shirt and dropped it to the floor. The weapon and holster he shrugged off and lay on the bed. A gun had been his only sleeping partner for more than a decade. He was never without it. Never intended to be, as long as he was still breathing.
As he peeled his T-shirt up and off, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He moved closer to inspect the numerous scars that marred his otherwise well-maintained body. Ugly, brutal marks that told the story of his past. A past he wanted to forget. He studied his face and the slash on his jaw that had been the last one inflicted by the bastard who’d trained him.
He banked the fury that ignited instantly whenever he allowed himself to dwell on the past. His lips flattened into a grim line. The bouts of anger he’d been dealing with lately were nothing but an indicator of his one weakness—the past. When he had paid his final debt he would never think of the past again.
The image of Tasha flashed through his mind, sending a new kind of fire straight to his groin. She was proving a weakness, as well. He’d allowed his curiosity to get the better of him.... That had been a mistake.
It wouldn’t happen again.
He had no reason at this point to kill her, but he would if she got in his way.
The curiosity she’d sparked in him was the only reason she wasn’t dead already.
But she was toying with him...there could be no other explanation.
He knew what he was, and no woman would want that.
Unless she was paid to want it.
He shook his head in self-disgust when even the mere thought of her got him hard. Not once since becoming a man had he allowed any woman to hold that kind of power over him.
Sex, he decided, was only about his body’s need for physical release, nothing more. He stepped back into his shoes and tied them. Then reached for his shirt and weapon. Well, physical release would be easy enough to obtain.
There were plenty of women out there who knew how to use their mouths for something more than talk.
He didn’t need Tasha.
Any woman would do.
They were all alike—manipulative, clingy, untrustworthy. Though admittedly they had their uses, he had never met one he needed.
He didn’t need anyone or anything.
Chapter 20
Tasha sat in the darkness of the compact car Lucas had provided. She peered at the house where Seth had held her prisoner just forty-eight hours ago. Though the place was dark, she knew he was in there, his SUV was in the drive.
Tonight—this morning, actually, since it was well past midnight—when he’d dropped her back at her apartment, she’d been too furious to think before she reacted. He hadn’t uttered one word to her the entire trip. He’d simply driven her back as he said he would and stopped only long enough for her to get out.
Even now renewed fury burned away all reason. She’d entered her apartment building, given him thirty seconds and then exited again. She’d jumped in her car and driven straight back to the lake house with no rational thought as to the consequences. She’d sat there for a few minutes watching the eerily dark house, but that extra instinct of hers had nagged her into going back to the Oak Park residence. She’d sensed that he wasn’t at the lake house.
Somehow, incredibly, they’d connected on a level that she couldn’t begin to understand. The only thing she did know with a certainty was that she’d lost a good deal of her objectivity way too fast. She felt angry at him for drawing her close, only to turn her away when she refused to do things his way. The idea that he could so easily turn off any need or desire made her want to scream with frustration.
Bottom line, she’d wanted him to want her. Which meant one thing, she’d crossed the line. Hell, she hadn’t simply crossed the line, she’d pole-vaulted over it.
This wasn’t supposed to be personal, even if sex were involved. It was business—the mission. Somehow she’d allowed the amateur psychoanalyst side of her to get sucked into his world. She was so busy trying to figure him out that she was losing all perspective on reality.
He was a killer.
An assassin.
He tortured and murdered people for money.
Her career would be over if the Agency or Lucas Camp discovered that she’d crossed that line. Worst of all, she feared her lack of objectivity was even more deeply personal than her overwhelming need to know what made him tick.
Maybe her career should be over if she couldn’t maintain proper perspective any better than this.
The headlights of his SUV suddenly glared through the darkness.
She tensed...forgot all else and moved to a higher state of alert. Where the hell would he be going now? To Victoria Colby’s house? That didn’t feel right. He was surely aware that she would be tucked in for the night with maximum security. He was on to Lucas now, probably had been from the start.
The SUV he’d backed into the driveway rolled forward onto the street, in the direction of Chicago proper and away from her position.
Slowing her respiration and pulling her focus on track, Tasha eased into a nearby driveway, turned around and followed him. Maintaining a visual would likely be impossible since she couldn’t risk getting too close. At this hour the very idea of tailing a target was ludicrous. There were no other vehicles on the quiet residential streets with which to blend.
But she’d give it her best shot.
Even if he didn’t spot her, she was in deep trouble. Maverick would have her hide whenever she showed up back at her apartment. She was supposed to wear the monitoring device at all times. When Seth had called about the taxi she’d foolishly assumed the destination. Now she had nothing to blame but plain old stupidity. She’d been so angry she followed him without taking the proper precautions. She’d acted on the moment...on instinct. What the hell good was backup if she left them in the dark? She imagined Maverick would report her carelessness to Lucas.
Somehow she had to make tonight worth the risks she’d taken. Going back empty-handed wasn’t an option. She needed something.
Something only he could give her.
And that was the bottom line. As much as his actions had rubbed her the wrong way, pushed some button he shouldn’t even have access to, she’d walked away with nothing and no guarantee that she would see him again. Unacceptable. She was better than this. She would get to him...she would give Lucas Camp what he wanted: Leberman.
As they neared downtown, traffic appeared, which facilitated her ability to duplicate Seth’s turns without the risk of detection. Since she’d never visited Chicago before this assignment, she didn’t know the name of the area he selected for his middle-of-the-night cruise. But it didn’t take her long to recognize he was headed toward the seedier side of town.
Block after block of adult-entertainment joints, hole-in-the-wall newsstands, pawnshops, dive bars and the occasional sleazy-looking motel. The heavy flow of pedestrian traffic made it look like a Saturday night on Bourbon Street in New Orleans rather than a plain old weeknight in the low-rent section of Chicago.
He pulled over to the curb, and Tasha did the same. From her vantage point a block behind him and parked between two other vehicles, she watched a hooker approach the passenger side of his SUV. Since he’d passed at least a dozen in the past three blocks, she could only assume that he’d decided this one suited his taste.
Try as she might to watch the scene evolving before her with cold, clinical objectivity, a mixture of rage and something she wasn’t prepared to label seethed inside her. He wanted someone he could control, someone who would play the game his way.
Seth eased away from the curb, drove to the end of the block and turned into a small parking area. Seconds later he approached the woman waiting outside an adult entertainment club. He followed her inside.
Tasha, wishing like hell she had her weapon, fished for her cell phone. She had to let Maverick know where she was. She might not be thinking as clearly as she should, but she wasn’t completely stupid. According to the display, she’d missed three calls. Oh, yeah, Maverick would be pissed. With the phone set on vibrate there had been no ring. “Dammit.” Even worse, she had no signal now. No signal. How could she be in a city this large and not get a signal?
“Hell with it.” She tossed the phone to the passenger seat and emerged from her car. Her senses on full alert she started in the direction of the club. She ignored the comments tossed her way by the men, as well as the women, she passed along the way. At least she was dressed to fit in.
The club Seth had entered was a narrow two-story building sandwiched between a pawnshop and a sleazy restaurant that was closed for the night. No bouncers waited at the entrance to check for weapons or to stamp her hand. Management apparently had a lax door policy. No surprise there.
Inside, music blared and multicolored lights flashed and throbbed in sync with the rhythm. Tasha surveyed the crowded room, careful to stay in the shadow of the tight clutch of weirdos hanging near the entrance. Seth and his hooker were nowhere in the throng. Tasha peered beyond the masses enjoying lap dances and watching porn videos on the array of wall-mounted screens, her gaze locked onto a dimly lit corridor and set of stairs on the opposite side of the club. She moved in that direction.
“You got an appointment?”
The male voice halted her in her tracks, and she glanced over to the man standing at the end of the battle-scarred bar. The numerous body piercings and tattoos did little to enhance his thin, haggard frame.
She smiled flirtatiously and leaned on the counter to look up at him. “Do I need one?”
He jerked his head in the direction of the corridor marked Employees Only. “You do if you’re going in there.” He looked her up and down when she stood back and adopted a put-upon expression.
She reached into her purse and withdrew the wad of cash Seth had dropped in there earlier. “I only want to watch.”
The bottom feeder behind the counter grinned grotesquely. “Baby, this’ll buy you just about anything we have to offer.” He flexed his bare, tattooed arms as he braced against the counter and leaned forward. “Including me.”
How could she resist? she thought loathingly. “As tempting as that sounds,” she lied, “there’s something else I need to do first. A big guy, blond hair, dark glasses came in here a couple minutes ago with a redhead.”
He nodded to the corridor again. “Last door on the left upstairs.”
She gave him a million-dollar smile that suggested a promise she definitely didn’t intend to keep. “Thanks.”
Tasha pushed through the crowd and made her way up to the second floor. Nine doors lined the dark corridor, most were partially open, offering glimpses of sexual depravity involving whips and chains and parties of three. The music still thumped loudly, adding a sick score to the nefarious acts taking place.
She slowed as she came nearer to the final door. Like the others it stood slightly ajar. A warning blaring in her skull, she eased into the entryway, allowing the door to shield her to an extent. She peeked into the room, telling herself that she just needed to know what he was up to. But that was a lie. This had nothing to do with her mission...this was personal. She knew it, but the realization didn’t stop her. She had to know. Had to see.
Swaying provocatively the woman undressed in front of him. Tasha watched his unchanging profile as the hooker gave it all she had without eliciting the first visible reaction from the man. Completely naked, her body pressing close to his, she reached for him, but he pushed her hands away. Yet something passed between them. He hadn’t spoken, Tasha was sure of that. The hooker must have seen some indication in his eyes of what he wanted.
She knelt in front of him, her red hair swishing around her shoulders as she moved her upper body brazenly, showing off her large breasts. Taking her time, to draw out the tension, she unfastened his jeans. First the single button at his waist, then slowly, ever so slowly, she lowered the zipper of his fly.
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