Seduction Game

by Pamela Clare

  Damn it, Bradshaw!

  What was her problem?

  No, she didn’t care about him. She detested him.

  But she did care about the lives and safety of her friends.

  And she cared about the truth.

  If what he’d told her was true, and she’d been targeted for termination, she wouldn’t be safe until she knew who was after her and why.

  But could she trust him now after everything he’d done to her?

  The part about his being recruited out of Delta Force was true—she was sure of that. That’s why Javier hadn’t been able to find out anything about his discharge. He’d said he was a paramilitary operator with the SAD. She believed that, too. He didn’t have her HUMINT training. If he had, he’d have realized she was playing on his sympathy for her during the interrogation. As for the rest—the part about being set up as a fall guy—it was almost too absurd to consider. Except that . . .

  Nick had warned her in his morphine stupor that his boss might send someone after them. Then Dudaev’s men had showed up at that gas station, clearly on their way up to the cabin. If they knew where to find her and Nick, that meant someone at the Agency had tipped them off. And that meant Nick might be telling the truth.

  She rubbed the bruise on her forehead, her thoughts too confused, her emotions too ragged, her mind too exhausted to think through it right now.

  She needed answers, answers only Nick could give her.

  He stepped out of the back door, walked up to the vehicle.

  Holly climbed back into the passenger seat, wincing at the pain in her ribs.

  He opened the door and got behind the wheel again. “We won’t have running water until I can get the well’s pump system working again, but once we get some propane, we should have electricity.”

  She looked up at the darkened house, her dream of a hot shower and soft bed vanishing. “I bet the place is crawling with mice and spiders.”

  “I didn’t see any mice, but there’s a nest of snakes in the basement.”

  “A nest of . . . of snakes?” Holly’s skin crawled. “I am not sleeping in there.”

  She half expected him to make some smartass comment, but he didn’t.

  “I know you’re hurting and tired. Give me a few minutes to unload the gear and move the vehicle to the side of the barn, and you can crash in the back.”

  Five minutes later, Nick disappeared inside with the last monitor and a fist full of power cords, the minivan now parked out of sight of the road, its windows open to let in the night breeze.

  Holly crawled into the back, laid the rear bench seat flat, and curled up on her right side, the SIG P229 stowed beneath the seat where she could easily reach it. She tucked an arm beneath her head for a pillow—and was asleep in an instant.

  She didn’t hear Nick return. She didn’t feel him lie down beside her. She didn’t even dream.

  Chapter Fourteen

  It was sunshine that woke her, the daylight stirring her from sleep. Holly opened her eyes and found herself curled up against Nick, who slept on his side facing her, one of his arms pillowing her head, the other wrapped lazily around her waist. For a moment, caught between sleep and wakefulness, she wondered where they were.

  Then she remembered.

  She jerked back, sat upright, pain lancing through her bruised ribs at the sudden movement. She clutched her side, breath hissing through her clenched teeth. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “Hey, easy.” Nick sat up, reached out to steady her. “I was sleeping.”

  “Couldn’t you find somewhere else?” She took a backward step and sat in one of the bucket seats that made up the center row, the pain still sharp.

  “And leave you out here alone?” He frowned. “Is it your ribs?”

  “You ought to have been a doctor instead of an assassin.”

  His brows drew together in a frown, a muscle clenching in his jaw. He turned away from her and dug through his gear, then handed her an unopened bottle of water and a small packet containing two ibuprofen tablets. “You need something in your stomach before you take those.”

  At those words, her stomach growled, and she realized she was starving, thoughts of scrambled eggs, toast, and coffee filling her head. But that’s not what Nick had in mind. He tossed her a brown plastic bag labeled “MRE Menu 17: Maple Sausage.”

  “Gee, thanks.” She opened the bag, sorted the contents, and decided to eat the dehydrated granola with milk and blueberries and skip the rest. She opened the plastic spoon and the granola bag, poured in a little water, and stirred.

  “I know you were probably hoping for breakfast and a latte at some café, but eating in public isn’t a great idea right now, not when your face is likely all over the television. There’s no way you won’t attract attention with those bruises. Speaking of which, I should take a look at your wrists when you’re done. You don’t want those lacerations to get infected.”

  Holly shook her head. “I can take care of myself.”

  “Fine by me.” He moved the bench seat back into its upright position, then held something up. “You forgot this.”

  The SIG P229.

  She expected him to keep it or to criticize her for forgetting about it. After all, a firearm wouldn’t do either of them any good if she didn’t have it with her at all times. Instead, he reached over the seat and handed it to her without a word.

  A peace gesture?

  He’d have to try a hell of a lot harder than that.

  “Thanks.” She took it, tucked it in the back of her jeans, then started in on her granola. It wasn’t as bad as she’d feared, but in truth she was so hungry she’d have eaten it even if it had tasted like cardboard. She finished it and found herself tearing into the cinnamon scone. It was dry as sawdust, but tasted good enough.

  Nick climbed out of the back of the vehicle and closed the door, then came around to the side and got into the driver’s seat. He turned to face her, pointed to the rest of the MRE. “If you’re not going to eat those, I’ll take them.”

  “Suit yourself.” It almost hurt to sit here eating breakfast with him when what she wanted to do was rage at him.

  Nick tore open the flameless heater, poured in a small amount of water, and propped the bag on the passenger seat. Then he opened the outer packaging for the maple sausage and stuck the inner packet into the heater bag. After a few minutes, he removed the packet, opened it, and began eating chunks of hot sausage with a spoon, the scents of pork and maple syrup filling the small space.

  They finished breakfast in strained silence.

  Outside, birds sang in the trees, a few crickets still chirping.

  Holly found herself fighting a sense of unreality. For the past two days, she’d been chained to the ceiling, a victim of abduction. Today, she was on the run with the bastard rogue officer who’d abducted her. Well, she’d been right about one thing.

  It hadn’t been boring.

  Holly? Are you okay? Where are you?

  The sound of Javier’s voice came back to her, making her throat tight. What had happened last night with him and his men? Had they arrived in time to take Dudaev’s men into custody? Had shots been fired? Had anyone been hurt? They would have viewed the surveillance footage from the gas station by now. They would have watched her get into Nick’s SUV. Did they still consider her a victim of abduction, or were they starting to consider other possibilities?

  Someone would have contacted her parents by now—the police, the FBI. Her mother would turn Holly’s disappearance into a drama about herself. Holly had no idea how her father would react. Regardless, they wouldn’t learn anything from the Agency. Even if Holly were killed, they would never know she’d been a CIA officer.

  “What time is it?” Nick’s voice cut through Holly’s thoughts. He pointed toward the watch she still wore on her wrist.

  “Almost eight.” She hesitated a moment, then unfastened the watch, and tossed it back to him. “Not really my style.”

  “Tha
nks.” He strapped it on, glanced at the time. “Let’s get supplies.”

  * * *

  Nick stopped the vehicle across from the hardware store. “See any cameras?”

  Holly shook her head. “That doesn’t mean the stores won’t have them.”

  He crossed the highway into the parking lot. “I’ll take the hardware store. You take the thrift shop. Keep your head down. Try not to let anyone see your face or wrists. And don’t buy anything we don’t truly need. I don’t want to resort to robbing banks because you blew our cash buying shoes or some damned thing.”

  She tucked her hair beneath the baseball cap, then opened the door, and stepped to the ground. “Go to hell.”

  Nick felt like he might already be in hell. He was on the run with a woman who despised him. The man he’d trusted and admired most had betrayed him, leaving both his job and his life on the line. His only hope lay in finding something in those files that would help him understand what was going on, perhaps even something he could barter for immunity. His world had turned upside down, and he didn’t know why.

  He needed Holly’s help, but she’d already made it clear she didn’t want to be involved in decrypting the files. She didn’t even want to know what they contained. How could he convince her that it was in her own best interests to help him?

  He needed to prove to her she could trust him.

  And how are you going to do that, Andris?

  Hell, he didn’t know.

  He couldn’t just apologize and expect her to get over it. He’d wounded her pride by beating her at her own game. But worse than that, he’d hurt her.

  He’d used her loneliness against her and then betrayed her. That would have been bad enough. But he’d taken it a step further, calling her a whore, tearing into her, trying to break her. When he’d accused her father of having sexual desire for her, he’d seen anguish on her face, and he’d known that he had cut her to her core, laying bare a grief that she’d kept hidden from everyone.

  He had exposed her, and she hated him for it.

  He couldn’t blame her.

  Of course, the funny part of it was that Nick really liked her. The moment he’d realized she was a fellow Agency officer, all the reasons he’d had to despise her had vanished. He’d come away from that interrogation with nothing but admiration for her mental toughness, her skill as an officer, her ability to think on her feet. And the desire he’d fought to subdue when he’d thought she was a criminal had come rushing back.

  He wanted her—and she wanted him dead.

  Perfect.

  Somehow, he needed to reach her. If he could, he’d pick up the pieces of her he’d broken and give them back to her whole again. But that’s not how life worked. He would have to show her trust if he wanted to win hers back. He would have to prove to her that he was sorry, make her see that they needed each other if they wanted to survive.

  He headed into the hardware store, grabbed a cart, and began to fill it.

  * * *

  Holly watched Nick enter the hardware store before passing the thrift store and walking a few shops down to Dot’s Coffee Emporium and Internet Café. She’d noticed it when they’d pulled into the parking lot. Knowing she might not get another chance, she hurried inside and made her way to a bank of computers in the back.

  The place was crowded, all the computers taken. Given the poverty they’d seen in this area, it was a good bet that many people didn’t have home Internet access or even personal computers. But she didn’t have time to wait for one of the stations to open up.

  She walked up to a young teenage girl who was posting on Facebook, pulled a hundred out of her jeans pocket, and whispered, “I’ll give you this if you let me use this computer for ten minutes. After that, you can have it back. I promise.”

  The girl stared at her and at the money, then smiled. “Sure.”

  She logged out, then gave Holly her seat.

  Holly first logged on to the IP-blocking site she used. Given what was at stake here—her life—she didn’t want anyone to know where she was right now, not even her CO. When the blocker was up and running, she logged in to her public Twitter account.

  She posted a Tweet.

  I am craving a latte this morning! #NormalDay

  It was just a way of letting her friends know she was okay.

  Then she logged in to her secret account and sent a series of private ciphertext messages to her CO, using the last key he’d posted and hoping he’d think to use that to decipher them.

  Unhurt. Was abducted by Andris. He knows my employer. Says he was ordered to terminate me. Says he has been set up by his CO. Believe he might be telling the truth. Dudaev’s men found us at remote location. Andris claims only his boss knew we were there. At safe location with Andris. No Internet access. No phone. He poses no threat to me at this time. Please advise.

  She couldn’t wait around for the reply. If Nick saw her in here . . .

  Quickly, she logged out of Twitter, deleted her browsing history, then logged out of the IP blocker. It was time to go shopping.

  * * *

  Nick worked his way down the list. Filter for the water filtration system. A basic tool set. Bucket. Water pitcher. Well-disinfection kit. A few pairs of work gloves. Latex gloves. Extension cords. Lamp. Light bulbs. Bug spray. Cleaning supplies. Folding chairs. A queen-sized air mattress.

  Nix that.

  She did not want to sleep in the same bed with him.

  Two twin-sized air mattresses. Air pump. Two sleeping bags. A double hot plate. A mini-fridge with a freezer box. Snake traps. Black weed cloth. Duct tape. Several tanks of liquid propane.

  He paid with cash and made two trips to get it all out to the minivan. He did his best to arrange things to save space. They still had to buy groceries.

  Holly still wasn’t back by the time he finished. He returned the shopping cart, and walked across the parking lot to the thrift store. The asphalt was soft in the heat, weeds poking through in places where it had crumbled, the paint long since worn away.

  Inside the thrift shop, Holly was making her way toward the door, pushing one cart and pulling another.

  On top of a box piled high with pots and pans sat a baby’s car seat.

  He picked it up, looked at it. “Is there something you need to tell me?”

  “They’re looking for a couple, not a family of three.”

  “I don’t follow.”

  She glared at him as if he were an idiot, pulled a large doll out from beneath a bag of towels. “Put the doll in the car seat, the car seat in the minivan, and to any law enforcement officer driving by, we now look like a family of three. I have a friend who straps a blow-up doll into the passenger seat of his car so that he can take the HOV lanes without being pulled over and fined.”

  “Devious.” Nate found himself grinning. “I like it.”

  He put the car seat down, picked up the doll. It had blond hair in a shade similar to Holly’s, pouty little lips, and blue eyes. “She takes after you, except for the eyes. What are we going to name her?”

  Holly glared at him.

  * * *

  Holly backed away as Nick emerged from the house carrying a plastic garbage bag full of snakes in one gloved hand. The bag writhed.

  He grinned. “Twenty-three.”

  She shuddered. “How can you be sure you got them all?”

  Maybe they should just burn the house down to the ground.

  “I can’t.” He turned and walked toward the nearest field. “I’ll set traps to catch any I missed. Hey, at least they kept the mice away.”

  She supposed that was something.

  She glanced upward, the sun high in a cloudless blue sky. It was noon and already a hundred and five degrees according to the old thermometer attached to one of the porch posts. Sweat trickled between her breasts, beaded beneath the hair at her nape.

  God, she couldn’t wait for a shower!

  She watched as Nick walked some distance into a weed-choked field
and dropped the bag onto the ground, grateful she wasn’t close enough to see anything slither out. She turned and walked up the porch steps and into the kitchen, prepared to wage war against filth. They had decided he would work on the generator and the water system, while she cleaned the bedrooms, bathroom, and kitchen. She had agreed to this arrangement in part because she knew nothing about generators or water systems and in part because it meant she wouldn’t have to be anywhere near him—or the basement.

  She slipped into a pair of rubber gloves, dropped bleach, a gallon bottle of water, some spray bathroom cleaner, and sponges into the bucket, then grabbed the broom, dustpan, and dust mop and lugged it all to the top of the stairs.

  She claimed a bedroom at the back of the house as her own and started there. The room was stiflingly hot and stuffy in the midday heat. She tried to open the window, but it wouldn’t budge.

  “Want a hand?” Nick’s voice came from behind her.

  She jumped, startled. “I’ve got it.”

  But it was clear after a few minutes of struggling that she wasn’t going to be able to make the window budge.

  “Give up yet?”

  “I think weather has made the wood swell.” Holly stepped back.

  Nick took over. “I’m sure that’s it.”

  She tried not to notice his biceps or the way the muscles at his neck strained as he slowly forced the sash up. She was not attracted to him—not after what he’d done.

  Fresh air carried the scents of summer into the room, a hot breeze offering some relief from the stuffiness, if not the heat.

  “Thanks.”

  “I should have the generator running soon, and then you can hook up one of the fans.” He stood there for a moment as if there was something else he wanted to say, then turned and walked away. “I’ll be outside if you need me.”