A Shot Worth Taking (Bad Karma Special Ops Book 3)

by Tracy Brody

  She breezed into the conference room, then fought to keep from pouting that Tony wasn’t there. “How’s it coming?” Trying for nonchalant, she reached for the nearest carafe and filled her cup.

  “Nothing new since this morning’s bombshell.” Mack winced at his own choice of words. “Tony ducked out a few minutes ago,” he added.

  “Just needed a refill.” She waved the coffee cup. “Back to my cell.” So much for playing it low-key.

  Halfway back to her office, the top of Tony’s head appeared over the partitions on the central office floor. He rounded the corner and broke into a smile when he spotted her.

  “Need a pick-me-up?” His head bobbed toward the coffee and candy bar.

  “Yeah.” Oh, she needed a pick-me-up—one besides a sugar buzz. “Sometimes, a change of scenery helps me see things in a new light.”

  “I know what you mean. Thought seeing you would get my blood flowing again.”

  Oh, my. “Well, I was kinda hoping to—”

  “Hey, Vincenti.” Jarrod’s voice cut off her words. “Oh, hi, Ang.” He paused, his eyes shifting from Tony back to her. His lips twisted in a half smile.

  Crap. Jarrod discovering her interest in Tony was the last thing she needed. “I’ve got more documents to translate. Catch you later.” That thrill was short lived.

  Ten

  “You okay?”

  Tony’s question forced Angela’s eyes open to find him standing in her office doorway—as though she’d mentally summoned him after Jarrod waylaid him a few minutes ago. “Yeah. Just doing mission prep.”

  “Really? Because it looked like you might be praying.”

  Her chin jutted up. “Maybe prayer is a part of my planning.” He had no clue what worked for her or had kept her alive while working undercover to bring down people who had no compunction against killing anyone who got in their way.

  He stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. “Good.” He came around the desk, leaned over, and pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head, surprising the hell out of her.

  It wasn’t a romantic kiss. Certainly not the steamy, passionate, melt-your-insides, start-peeling-off-the-clothes kiss she’d imagined all day. This kiss ignited a different heat deep inside that radiated all the way to her toes and fingertips.

  He lingered over her, his fingers touching her, for a few glorious seconds.

  “Thanks.”

  He mumbled a contented noise, then eased away and sat on the corner of her desk. “I saw the big kahuna was in here. What’s up?”

  “Grochowski wanted to discuss options to get back into Hakim’s apartment to plant a bug in case I don’t hear from him. If you consider the morning after is awkward enough when you do get what you want, imagine the morning after when you spent time in adjacent bathrooms puking. I don’t expect him to call for a do-over, especially if he’s getting ready to leave the country.” She met his eyes, which were locked on her.

  “True,” he agreed.

  “Maybe I’ll get lucky and not need to go. Your genius find anything on a date or location? Because I sure haven’t.”

  The pile of papers on her desk mocked her, and her stomach muscles clenched in a painful knot. There had to be a clue somewhere, but with each passing hour, she grew more convinced Hakim didn’t have any information saved about a possible attack. He’d probably learned better from other plots being uncovered on confiscated computers.

  “Nothing solid.” Tony looked discouraged, too.

  “How do you guys do it?”

  “Do what?”

  “Deal with knowing this kind of shit is out there. I mean, I’ve dealt with drug and arms dealers, but this … It’s not about money. I lived in the Middle East for years and never had anyone come right out and want to kill me. The Muslims I knew were warm, loving people. I know there are extremists—but I don’t get why some radical psychos want to go on a jihad to kill thousands of people. It’s … warped. Wanting to kill innocent people. For what? Attention? Because they live their lives differently than you?” She rubbed her temple, but it didn’t relieve the throb.

  “You gotta realize that it’s not up to you to save the world. It’s bigger than you. You do what you can. And you have made a difference. We’ve got time. Don’t go getting all doom and gloom on me. We have a date when this is over.” He winked.

  “You come in to give me a pep talk?” She managed a smile. His presence, his reassurances, was what she needed. He made it easier to draw a breath, despite the rapid heartbeat his nearness inspired.

  “Actually, to get a smile and take you up on your offer of a place to crash for a power nap. I’m fading, and my patience is shot. Dominguez is trying to trace the girls in the porn flick, so you can imagine …”

  “I don’t think I want to. Help yourself. I’ll try not to sing or hum.”

  “Trust me, it’d be better than what I’ve been listening to.” He turned the chairs on the other side of the desk to face each other. Settling in, he slid low enough to rest his head on the top of the chair and propped his legs on the other.

  “You can slip off your shoes if you want.”

  “My feet might stink.” His bashful look endeared him all the more.

  “Go ahead,” she chuckled. “If they do, I’ll tell you.”

  “Please do.” He leaned forward enough to untie the laces and slip off the dress shoes. “Ah, that feels good.” He wriggled his toes and feet.

  “I know.” She spun her chair and raised a leg to reveal her bare foot. He scanned her unpainted toenails—yet another concession to playing Sabine—up her leg, and met her eyes, raising his eyebrows. Her muscles constricted in arousal.

  It’d been less than twenty-four hours since she spotted him in Pera’s, and now she knew his real name and had a date planned with him. They just had to find out if there was a bomb planted somewhere and make sure it didn’t go off first. That little detail kept her busy rather than admire him while he slept for the next twenty-three minutes.

  Reading Hakim’s emails proved to be an exercise in futility. No dates. No places. And, certainly, no outright exposition on where he or his group might target. He was cautious, but there had to be something. Some clue she’d missed. But what? She rolled her neck, then shook her arms to get her blood moving. Might as well indulge in a small reward. She turned her attention to the man asleep just feet away.

  This morning, Tony shed his suit jacket. Sometime before lunch, he’d ditched the tie. The rolled-up sleeves of the white button-down highlighted the tan on his face and sculpted forearms. Stubble on the verge of being scruff shadowed his face. Even in the relaxed state of sleep, his arms and chest filled out the dress shirt.

  She wanted to see his eyes, though. Eyes that could be as cold and dark as a starless night, or bright, intense, and downright mesmerizing.

  Tony’s head bobbed, then jerked up. His lids opened widely as if on command. Startled, she jolted.

  “Nice nap?” She hoped he wasn’t aware she’d been staring.

  He stretched—the simple act playing into her fantasies.

  “Yeah. That’s what I needed. Thanks.”

  “I think the idea of an afternoon siesta is way underappreciated in this country.”

  “You didn’t stare at me the whole time, did you?” He bestowed her with a rakish smile.

  She cleared her throat, sure her face turned a healthy flush. “Not the whole time,” she admitted.

  “Good. I didn’t want to be a major distraction, but you might hurt my feelings if you ignored me like you did last night.” He put his shoes back on.

  “Trust me, I would rather have you as my dining partner. But until we get this case wrapped up …”

  “Case first, and we can’t be seen together. Too risky. I know.” His head rocked back and forth, and the left side of his mouth skewed up in a grimace.

  He understood. It reminded her she couldn’t invite him home tonight, even if it would help her sleep. Instead, she envisioned hou
rs of staring at the ceiling, trying to think like Anmar Hakim. Crawling into Hakim’s head was about as distasteful as the idea of crawling into his bed. She needed something positive to offset the dark places her mind would be going.

  Tony rose. She got to her feet, too, and skirted the desk before he moved to the door.

  She blocked his exit. He watched her with an intense gaze. His head tilted lower, inviting her.

  She slid her hand to the firm muscles of his bicep. Her other hand went to the side of his head. She lifted her face and kissed him.

  It only took a second for his hands to grip her hips, to pull her body closer, and give her the contact she craved. His tongue skimmed her lips, encouraging them to part, which they did willingly. He smelled and tasted like spearmint, fresh and cool. Better yet, he felt like heaven.

  She backed off, already at risk of getting swept away. It had been months since she’d been with a man. The holding hands and clumsy kisses with Hakim had hardly been intoxicating like this.

  Tony’s thumbs rubbed over her hips, not releasing his hold on her.

  “Those times I kissed you when we were in Texas, I enjoyed it, but it was for show. This”—she smiled at him—“was because I wanted to.”

  “Me, too,” was all he said, his voice husky, aroused.

  He kissed her again. She bet he thought along the same lines—the door’s closed, so go for it. As enticed as she was, she figured it would only be minutes before Weiss, Grochowski, a junior agent, or one of Tony’s team came knocking and would know exactly what was going on.

  Self-denial was not one of her stronger virtues—more like a learned, life-sustaining trait. With an anguished murmur, she ended the kiss. His warm fingers caressed her jawline; his thumb stroked her cheek. She turned her head and kissed his thumb, then stared into his smoldering eyes.

  Seconds ticked by. His expression changed, softened. He blew out a breath with a soft whew. A subdued smile tugged up the corners of his mouth.

  “Guess I better get back to work before rumors start flying. But I’ll see you.”

  She edged aside to allow him access to the door. “We’ve got to find something.”

  “If it’s there, we’ll find it.”

  She noticed he didn’t make empty promises.

  Eleven

  “Still no word from Hakim?” Special Agent in Charge Grochowski leaned on the doorframe to Angela’s office. Lines etched his haggard face. The threat of a dirty bomb meant no one had left at five o’clock. The buzz of activity had slowed though once the sun had set and the support staff trickled out.

  “No,” she drawled and shook her head. “Anything on the bomb?”

  “Zero. Maybe that’s good news. We’ve been through the main files. Now we’re going through the ones that look to be clutter. Intelligence is monitoring all the audio chatter. I think we need to call it a night in case Hakim has someone watching your place. I know,” he interrupted when she started to protest, “but it’s possible. I want to nail this bastard. Can’t risk making him suspicious. At this point, I’m praying to Saint Jude, Saint Michael, and Saint Thomas More that finding nothing means no imminent threat. If Bin Faud is Hakim, maybe he’s making a pilgrimage to see the Eiffel Tower.”

  She wished she believed his assessment, except impending doom weighted her limbs. She began to regret her decision to douse Hakim with the eye drops. If she had slept with him, he’d be more inclined to call or let her in the door if she just showed up at his apartment. Only she hadn’t known what they’d find in his file might require more interaction with him. What if her decision cost innocent people their lives? Would she be able to live with that?

  She remembered Tony’s remark that it wasn’t all up to her. Still, she might be the only one in a position to get the information they needed. “What about al-Shehri? Anything on him?”

  “He must be holed up someplace. We’ve alerted border entry points and agencies throughout the state. So far, no hits from them or from facial recognition. He may not be a part of this, though the timing seems coincidental.”

  Besides al-Shehri’s recent work in Afghanistan, his history included time in terrorist training camps and suspected ties to the group that bombed the hotel in the Philippines. She wanted al-Shehri even more than Hakim.

  “If it weren’t for the information on the bomb, our sole focus would be on him. Pack it up. I want everyone in at eight, and we’ll do a briefing to evaluate at eleven.” Grochowski walked toward Weiss and Cal’s offices.

  Angela gathered the pages stacked haphazardly on her desk. She locked them up. Taking them home would be a security risk and probably keep her up all night, which wouldn’t help. She’d translated them and then read over the content again without finding anything useful. Maybe tomorrow, with fresh eyes, she’d find something. She could hope.

  She picked up her bag in the locker room before heading to the elevators. A chorus of voices carried to her. She scanned the group consisting of Becca, Jarrod, and the suit-clad operators. Catching sight of Tony again set off a flutter in her stomach.

  “You guys get kicked out, too?” She incorporated everyone in her field of vision.

  Mack talked on his cell a few steps away from the group as Grant carried on an animated conversation with Singh, the technical analyst, in front of the elevator doors.

  “Just for the night,” Porter said.

  When the elevator doors slid open, she heard someone—it had to be Tony—clear his throat. Subtle, but she got the message and hung back, waiting while the others crowded into the elevator.

  “We can squeeze you guys in.” Grant took a half step backward, only to jostle forward.

  “They can take the next one.” Lundgren issued it like an order, though a grin played across his face. “Mack?”

  Mack held up a finger only to have the elevator doors close, leaving him behind, too.

  She caught the glower Tony shot at the closed doors, then at Mack, who continued his conversation.

  “Best laid plans,” Tony muttered and punched the down button before turning his sexy smile on her.

  Oh, the fantasies he inspired. In an elevator, no less. It was probably a good thing Mack was there to chaperone them.

  “And they’re sure?” The stupefied grin on Mack’s face couldn’t get any bigger. “You did? Oh, babe, this is great.”

  The elevator finally arrived.

  She and Tony stepped in, and for a second, it looked like they’d get a solo trip after all.

  “Hang on a sec,” Mack called to them. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be there, but we’ll celebrate when I get back. Okay? Gotta run.”

  He joined them, lost in his own world as he pulled up something on his phone.

  Tony peered over at Mack, his face scrunched. “What is up with you, dude?”

  Mack glanced up. “Sorry,” he said. “You, uh, remember me saying Kristie hadn’t been feeling well. She finally went to the doctor today, and they sent her to a specialist.”

  “But she’s okay?” Tony asked with authentic concern.

  Angela had no doubts about what was coming out of Mack’s mouth next.

  “Better than okay. She’s pregnant!” He turned his phone to show them a fuzzy black-and-white ultrasound image.

  “That’s awesome, man. Another girl!”

  “Most likely.” Mack grinned at the screen.

  “For all his shortcomings, he does produce great kids. Show her a picture of the girls. You know you want to,” Tony teased.

  “This is Amber.” Mack pulled up a picture of a blonde teenager. “And this is Darcy.”

  “Isn’t she the cutest thing?” Tony said. “She’s got this adorable giggle, and, man, all she has to do is bat those lashes and give a pout, and you’ll do whatever she wants.”

  Angela had to agree about the impish grin and deep dimples of the young girl with red curls. She peeked up and saw Tony looking at the picture on Mack’s phone. What she read on his face, in his eyes, was the missing piece of T
ony Vincenti.

  When he told her he wasn’t married, she attributed his bachelorhood to him making the same conscious decision that marriage and a family weren’t compatible with their chosen careers. She’d been wrong. His answer wasn’t a “hell no!” denial. He wanted the same things she used to dream of having.

  The picture on Mack’s phone became blurrier as her past taunted her. Being an au pair for the Vasquez boys started out as her favorite undercover role. It had given her a glimpse of non-dysfunctional family life, despite their mother’s ties to her brother, Tito’s, cocaine empire. Elena’s boys weren’t her children, but Angela had come to love them, nonetheless.

  The irony that their father put a contract on her life still speared her soul. She’d been so close to getting Elena and the kids out of the house before the Agency’s raid. If Tito hadn’t brought his teenage daughter, Abi-Maria, with him, they would have been at the park, and Elena and Abi-Maria would be alive. Everything would be different. She might be able to show off pictures of her own family one day. But having a contract on her life extended to that dream family. It nailed the door shut and locked out that possibility.

  “She’s not gonna be my baby anymore.” Mack swiped the screen to stare at the ultrasound picture again.

  In the minute it took the elevator to descend twenty-two floors, her daydreams of an occasional weekend rendezvous with Tony plummeted to the basement of the Not-Likely-to-Happen Hotel. He wanted the honeymoon suite and all that went with it. She only needed a comfortable room as her safe place to crash until she had to move on. Their futures were booked at different resorts.

  Mack’s good news countered the shit piling up all day and reinforced why they did what was needed to protect the people they loved. Still, a twinge of jealousy jabbed at Tony.

  He wanted a woman he loved to come home to. Kids. The whole close-knit, loud, Italian family like he’d grown up in. Like he always thought he’d have by now.

  Did Angela want that, too? What thoughts went through her mind when she’d looked up at him then diverted her gaze? May be something to explore after they wrapped up this mission and could do dinner and—more.