Once Burned, Twice Spy

by Diane Henders

  His mouth dropped open. “Fizzy…? Good Lord, woman, I had no idea you were such a…”

  I gave him a glare that made him press his sensuous lips together without finishing the sentence.

  “I’m sorry, Storm,” he said instead, and handed the champagne glass back to me. “I was joking, but I should have seen that something has upset you. Can I help?” His emerald gaze sparkled with such sincerity I had to remind myself that he might not be on my side.

  I frowned. “Don’t call me Storm. I don’t want to take a chance on it slipping out of your mouth when somebody’s listening.”

  “It won’t,” he promised. “But it suits you so well.” His voice coasted down into a sexy murmur. “Storm Cloud Dancer, all tempest and passion. Let’s set aside stuffy old duty for a little while and…”

  “Why did you lie to me?”

  “Which time?” he countered, straight-faced.

  “Every time, you…” I bit off the words ‘lying bastard’ and glared at him again.

  Ian sighed. “Won’t you please sit down?”

  I let out an ungracious grunt and dropped into the armchair Nora had vacated. Ian sat on the end of the bed, our knees almost touching.

  “Hang on,” I said as he opened his mouth.

  Unzipping my waist pouch, I blocked his view with my hand and flicked on my bug detector for a moment. It glowed solid green, and I closed the waist pouch again wondering whether I should feel reassured.

  “What, have you got a lie detector in there?” Ian inquired with a teasing smile.

  “No.” I frowned at him. “I wish I did, though.”

  “You can trust m…” he began, then silenced himself with a rueful shake of his head and tried again. “Of course you don’t know if you can trust me, but I promise I haven’t done anything to endanger you. Nor will I.”

  “Nice to hear.” I eyed him steadily. “So, about those lies…?”

  “Yes, of course.” He sipped some champagne, savouring it unhurriedly.

  Stalling while he made up a plausible story? Or simply being the unabashed hedonist I knew he was?

  “I was having you on a bit,” he said. “You know I told you plenty of lies at the commune, but I didn’t actually lie to you at all yesterday. I lied to Nora and Brad Wilson, about that report. Your name was never mentioned in it.”

  “I know. And they both should have known, too.”

  “Yes.” He smiled. “I was curious to see what they would do. And they both lied right along with me.”

  “Which was stupid,” I persisted. “We were all standing there lying to each other and knowing damn well we were all lying.”

  Ian gave a debonair shrug. “Never let it be said that we live boring lives.”

  At the end of my tolerance, I pressed the cool champagne flute against my aching forehead and snapped, “Spill it, Rand. Start to finish. No bullshit, or I swear I’ll finish the job I started on your balls back at the commune.”

  He flinched, his knees coming together just a fraction before he collected himself. “That was uncalled-for,” he protested. “I haven’t tried to hide anything from you.”

  “And yet you’re still dancing around and not fucking telling me anything,” I growled.

  He abandoned his playboy act and sat up straight on the bed. “I divulged nothing to my superiors about you or anyone else at the commune,” he said crisply. “My official report states that I singlehandedly eliminated sixteen terrorists. The last one shot me in the leg but I was able to kill him regardless. I applied a field dressing and waited for a medical evacuation while JTF2 dealt with the remaining terrorists.”

  “And nobody ever questioned the fact that the dead guys were wearing bullets from four different guns?”

  Ian shrugged. “I ran out of ammunition and had to use some of their own weapons against them.”

  I bit my tongue so I wouldn’t snarl, “Well, aren’t you the big hero?” He was a hero; and he’d lied to his chain of command to protect all of us.

  “Thank you,” I said instead. “So what did Nora tell you?”

  “Nora’s comment took me by surprise at the party last night.” He frowned. “I’ll begin at the beginning. She was promoted to Head of Weapons Research a few months ago when Howard Coleman retired. I was rather surprised that she wanted the position…” He hesitated delicately before finishing, “…at her age. However, Coleman was in his late seventies, so it certainly wasn’t unprecedented. I had no dealings with her until this conference was announced. When she found out that I would be the agent in charge, she came to me to request that I set up a chance to speak with you.” His face hardened. “As you can imagine, I was immediately on the alert when she mentioned your name, since nobody at the Bureau should have known it.”

  “That’s what I thought, too,” I agreed. “I wondered if you’d sold us out.”

  “No, of course not. There is no record of you in any of the files. I checked just to be sure. And I checked Nora Taylor’s background, too.”

  My pulse ticked up. “What did you find?”

  “Nothing that set off any alarm bells. She has been employed by MI5 since early 1983, slowly working her way up the administrative ranks. Her records are complete and unremarkable.”

  My mind seized on the date. Early 1983. Just over a year after my mother died in the fiery car crash that left her body burned beyond recognition.

  Or maybe not…

  Ian was still talking, and I tuned back in as he finished, “…so when she explained her connection to you through Sirius Dynamics and her deceased husband, I saw no reason to question it.”

  Her deceased husband. Sam Kraus. A man who had vanished from my life around the same time as my mother supposedly died…

  “Right,” I agreed absently. “Makes sense.”

  I attempted another sip of champagne only to realize that my glass was empty again. Ian gently liberated it from my grasp and refilled it before passing it back.

  “Thanks,” I mumbled, still pondering.

  Ian went on, “So I had expected her to simply ask questions of you at the party last night, but she apparently wanted more privacy.” He hesitated, his brows coming together. “Her questions seemed rather innocuous to require such exaggerated discretion.”

  “Mm-hm,” I agreed.

  Her questions were innocuous because they hadn’t been her real reason for speaking to me.

  As if reading my mind, Ian’s gaze sharpened. “Those weren’t her real questions, were they? You’ll be visiting her room for a private conversation as soon as you leave here, won’t you?”

  I gave him a noncommittal, “Mm.”

  Ian pressed his fingertips to the bridge of his nose, his frown deepening. “Surely you realize that as the agent in charge I can’t allow that. Particularly since you’re still under suspicion for this morning’s little cock-up.”

  “I’m not,” I protested. “I’ve been completely cleared. And if you and everybody else had let Stemp question you with our lie detector like normal innocent people…” I gave him a significant glare. “…we would already know who was responsible. But obviously none of you are innocent.”

  He gave me a slow smile. “I’m certainly far from innocent.” His provocative intonation warmed me despite my worries. “In fact, I’d love to show you how very sinful I am.” He stroked a feather-light fingertip over the back of my hand, bringing all my nerves to shivery attention.

  I drew back. “Cut it out. I’m not dumb enough to let you sidetrack me like that. Why didn’t you do the lie-detector test?”

  “Nora refused, and I agreed with her.” He shrugged. “Would you have submitted to it if you were in my position?”

  “Of course,” I began indignantly, then hesitated. “Well… ” I blew out a breath. “Okay; maybe not. But I probably would have. Nobody was going to ask about classified information; and even if they did you could have just refused to answer. We only had simple yes-or-no questions: Did you see anybody shoot me; did you s
ee who threw the smoke bomb; and did you see who stole the metal powder?”

  “No; no; and no.”

  I scowled at his disarming smile. “Fat lot of good that does without a lie detector. You’re a professional liar. I can’t tell the difference.”

  “Thank you.”

  “That wasn’t a compliment.”

  His smile widened. “I beg to differ. It’s a high compliment from an agent whose skills I respect very much.” The smile sharpened. “Which brings us full circle, despite your worthy attempt at deflecting my attention. I can’t allow you to visit Nora unsupervised. And I need the phone number she gave you.”

  I gave him my nicest smile. “No, I really don’t think you do.”

  Unfazed, he rejoined, “And what did she whisper that set you off?”

  “She said ‘thank you, dear’.” I held my best poker face.

  “And now you’re lying to me.” His smile widened as he reclined on one elbow and raised his champagne glass. “To secrets and lies: the spice of life.”

  “I’m not lying. That’s really what she said.”

  “But it meant something else to you. Which is why you’re now panting for the chance to speak to her privately.” His gaze coasted over me in a clinical evaluation of my threat level that was almost perfectly disguised as a seductive invitation. His voice deepened, his green eyes sparking with heat. “I can make you pant in a much more enjoyable fashion.”

  When I threw out a hand palm-first in a ‘stop’ gesture, he sighed and added, “Come on, Storm. I can’t budge on this. Let’s just have a nice little romp and then you can be on your way. I can’t let you speak with Nora alone, and you know it.”

  “I know; and I didn’t ask you to,” I countered, my mind rocketing through possibilities.

  Ian wasn’t going to yield. I wouldn’t either, if I were in his place.

  But I had to speak to Nora, and that conversation absolutely had to be private. And it had to happen before I dropped off-grid.

  And I needed to drop off-grid tonight.

  Should I tell Ian the truth, or part of it? If I told him my mother had faked her own death, moved to the U.K. for three decades, and was now trying to secretly contact me, maybe he’d bend the rules for me.

  Or more likely he’d be insulted that I’d tried to make him believe such an improbable tale. And hell, even if he did believe me, it would likely make him even less inclined to allow me a private conversation.

  I let my shoulders drop in defeat and gave him a rueful smile and a truth. “Okay, you’re right. If I were in your shoes I’d do exactly the same thing; but I have orders to talk to Nora privately. If I put you in touch with Director Stemp and he relays the order to you, would that work?”

  “No,” Ian said regretfully. “I’m sorry, but your director has no authority over me. The order would have to come through my superiors. Can you get Stemp to talk to them?”

  “Probably not tonight.”

  And probably not ever; because Stemp wouldn’t divulge our reasons for investigating Nora.

  I sighed. “Well, screw it, then.” I drained my champagne glass and held it out to Ian for a refill. “We’ll just have to run it up the chain of command in the morning.” I let the corners of my words soften. “Wow, this champagne is hitting me hard tonight. Too tired, I guess. Long day.”

  “I can only imagine.” Ian handed over the refilled glass. His hand lingered on mine as I accepted it, and I gave him an appreciative smile. “If you’re tired…” He let the sentence trail off with an inviting gesture at the bed.

  I gave him a slow look from under my lashes and relaxed into my chair, tracing the rim of the glass with the tip of my tongue. “I don’t think I’m quite tired enough to sleep yet.”

  Ian sat up as though he had steel in his pants and I’d just become a magnet.

  I let my gaze drift unhurriedly down his body. Maybe he did have steel in his pants. Mmm. This time my tongue tipped out to caress the glass involuntarily.

  “Storm…” Ian’s voice was deeper and huskier now, his eyes darkening. “Have you had too much to drink?”

  I shook my hair back and gave him a lazy smile. “Nope. Just enough.”

  “How fortunate for both of us.” He leaned forward, his knees slipping between mine, and reached for my free hand. “Won’t you come a little closer?”

  I sat up and moved to the edge of the chair, opening my legs so his knees slid up the insides of my thighs. “How’s this?”

  “Oh, lovely.” His gaze locked on my lips as his fingertips traced sensuous circles on my palm.

  I shivered, letting my eyes drift closed to savour the sensation.

  “Storm?” His voice was only inches away, his breath warm on my cheek. When I opened my eyes he smiled, and I let myself fall into the depths of his striking green eyes.

  He shifted forward again, pressing firmly between my legs as his lips found the sensitive corner of my jaw. Butterfly kisses fluttered across my skin and I let out a breathy moan as every nerve ending in my body woke.

  “That is…” Ian’s lips bestowed soft kisses along my jaw line. “The sexiest sound…” His lips found mine in a slow kiss. His fingertips traced the side of my neck to bury themselves in my hair and I pressed closer, parting my lips to invite him in.

  He gently broke the kiss, lifting the champagne flute out of my hand and placing it on the table beside me.

  “Now…” He leaned in again, tasting my lips with light kisses as his hands skimmed up my arms to my shoulders. Then he pulled away again. “This is quite a reach,” he murmured, indicating the distance enforced by his knees pressed into my crotch. “Maybe we could get more comfortable…?”

  “Mmhm,” I agreed. “Like this?” I half rose, sliding forward to straddle his lap.

  “Oh… yes…” He pulled me closer, settling a highly sensitive area of my anatomy against the firm bulge in his pants.

  I tilted my hips, moving slowly against him while our kisses got steamier. His hands slid down my back to cup my ass, his fingertips transmitting flickers of pleasure through the centre seam of my jeans.

  Letting my hands roam the hard lines of his chest and shoulders, I tugged gently at the holster strapped under his arm. “Are we a little overdressed here?”

  He chuckled against my lips and his hand coasted around my thigh to draw a line of heat from my crotch to the Glock at my waist. “I believe we are. Shall we initiate a disarmament?”

  “That sounds like a fine idea.” I stripped off my parka and sweatshirt and dropped them on the floor.

  “Oh, good start,” he agreed. “If I may…?”

  Hot hands slid under my T-shirt, gliding up over my breasts before lifting the T-shirt off over my head. As he pulled me closer to kiss his way across my collarbone toward my cleavage, I fumbled the buttons of his shirt undone.

  He reached for the button of my jeans, and I slid off his lap to stand in front of him.

  “I’ll take mine off if you take yours off,” I teased, sliding my zipper slowly down.

  Ian grinned and peeled off his holster and shirt, revealing the chiselled body I remembered from eight months ago. I surveyed him hungrily, taking my time and letting him see the heat rising in my eyes.

  “I’ll take mine off if you take yours off.” He echoed my phrase with a wicked smile as he undid the button of his pants.

  “Oh, hell yes.” I unbuckled my waist holster and laid it on the table, then unzipped my jeans and lowered them to my ankles. “Just let me get this one,” I murmured as I reached for the trank pistol.

  Just a quick shot and he’d be…

  A dart stung my thigh. As a wave of dizziness washed over me, I jerked my blurring gaze up to see Ian lowering a tiny blowgun from his lips.

  “Sorry, Storm,” he said.

  “Bashtard…” I mumbled, my knees already wobbling as numbness raced outward from the injection site.

  But his drug didn’t work quite fast enough.

  As grayness swooped in
from the edges of my vision, I heaved the trank pistol up with the last of my strength and pulled the trigger.

  Chapter 26

  I dragged open eyelids that felt as though they weighed ten pounds apiece.

  Half-naked.

  Sprawled on the floor.

  Cold.

  Ian’s legs dangled from the bed above me, twitching. He was waking up, too.

  I fought the drug, forcing back dizziness and focusing all my will on my arms and legs.

  Move, dammit!

  My limbs wouldn’t cooperate.

  Ian’s feet jerked again.

  Come on, come on! Move!

  My trank pistol was still in my hand. If I tilted it up a fraction and pulled the trigger, Ian would be down for the count.

  It might work. I only had to twitch an uncoordinated finger on the trigger, while Ian had to muster enough fine motor control to use the tiny blowgun, or else manually inject me.

  But he had more muscle mass, so he would shake off the effects of the tranquilizer faster.

  Long moments crept by in a ludicrous immobile race. Ian was mumbling unintelligible words, most likely profanities. I was doing the same, my unwieldy tongue blurring my swearing into a nonsensical drone while my heart hammered as though it would break free of my ribs.

  Ian struggled up onto one elbow, squinting cross-eyed at me.

  My hand still wouldn’t move.

  The classified trank pistol lay in my useless palm, as though I was offering it to Ian in a blaze of idiocy almost as brilliant as my original plan to seduce him and leave him lying unconscious while I had my private conversation with Nora…

  Ian tried to grope for something on the bed and fell back again amid another spate of slightly more distinct swearing.

  My fingers twitched.

  Almost there…

  Ian heaved himself up again, managing to slump into sitting position. He pawed clumsily at the duvet. I glimpsed the blowgun momentarily between his fingers, but it fell back onto the bed as he tried to bring his other hand toward it.

  “Bugger!” This time his exclamation was much more intelligible.

  He was recovering too fast, dammit.

  A dart was gripped between his fingers.