by Pamela Clare
Zach nodded. “Look at her wrists. Our medical guys said the bruises there are consistent with her having been restrained on or around the day she was abducted. Same with the bruise on her forehead.”
Darcangelo studied the image, his expression turning dark. “He didn’t just restrain her. He had to do more than that to create those kinds of injuries on her wrists. I’d say he put them on too tight or dragged her or hanged her by her wrists. She looks exhausted.”
“Our guys said the same thing.”
Darcangelo handed the image to Hunter.
“I guess we know you have his attention, McBride,” he said. “This Tweet must be in response to your quote in the paper. Any luck tracing the IP address?”
Zach shook his head, taking a seat across from them. “He used an IP blocker. The guy is CIA. He knows how to use the Internet without being found. We’re analyzing the image to see if the background or the clothes she’s wearing can tell us anything.”
Hunter stared at the print. “What the hell does he want from her?”
“What do you think he wants?” A look of disgust came over Darcangelo’s face. “We know for a fact that he manipulated her into having a sexual relationship with him. Why go on the run alone when you can have such attractive company?”
He shot Hunter a glance.
“Hey, why are you looking at me? That was different.” Hunter put the photo in the center of the table. “Is the Agency still giving you a hard time?”
“They’re stonewalling us at every turn. So far the brass in DC have stood by the Colorado office on this, even threatening the Agency with a hearing. Her father’s ties in Washington are standing by us, as well.”
Darcangelo took the photo again. “What did you make of her parents?”
“They are cold, unfeeling people. Meeting them made me wonder why Holly is as sweet as she is. Her father is a pretentious boor, and her mother vain and self-centered. When they weren’t arguing with each other, they were talking about themselves. I found myself wanting to shout, ‘Your daughter has been kidnapped!’”
Hunter shook his head. “You’ve got more self-control than I do.”
“If we’d just gotten there a bit sooner.” Darcangelo was talking about the gas station in Nederland.
“I hear you.” That had been shitty luck. “The part I don’t get is how Dudaev’s men knew where to look for her when we didn’t.”
“I think we may be able to shed some light on that.” Corbray walked through the door, followed by Tower.
They sat down at the table, the gravity of Corbray’s expression and the slight smile on Tower’s face making Zach uneasy.
“What you’re about to hear can’t go out of this room. Got it?” Corbray looked at Zach and then the others. “You can’t even share this with your wives. I know you’re going to want to, but you can’t. If you do, it will make its way through the ‘You Go, Girl’ grapevine, and I’ll hear it from Laura. If that happens . . . Busted.”
“They’re not all like that. If I tell Tessa to keep a secret, she does,” Julian said.
Zach, Marc, and Javier shook their heads.
“We’ve got just one thing to say about that, Dorkangelo.” Marc shared a conspiratorial glance with Zach and Javier.
Zach knew where this was going.
“Sucky-swirly,” the three of them said in unison, grinning.
Darcangelo held up his hands in mock surrender. “Okay.”
“Are you blushing, buddy?” Marc asked. “You are, aren’t you?”
There was definitely some red on Darcangelo’s face.
“No, I’m pissed off and planning to kick your ass.”
“Guys. Do not repeat what we’re about to tell you.” Corbray was serious again. “We’ve been going back and forth with Tower’s sources at the Agency, and they want us out of this. They say Holly’s abduction is an internal matter and that we—”
Hunter interrupted. “An internal matter? What the hell does that mean? Are we supposed to let some rogue officer abduct and manhandle Holly while the Agency tries to pull its head out of its ass?”
“Sorry, but their ‘internal matter’ became our problem when that bastard manipulated and kidnapped one of our friends.” Darcangelo looked truly pissed off now.
Zach had to agree. “The marshals service won’t back down.”
“You don’t get it.” Tower shook his head, grinning. “Holly is a CIA officer.”
Silence.
Zach must have misunderstood. He looked over at Darcangelo and Hunter, who looked at each other, the confusion on their faces a match for what he was feeling. “Holly? She’s CIA?”
Corbray nodded. “She’s a non-cover officer—an NCO. She’s been working for the Agency since she was a freshman in college. All information on her and her job are classified top secret. The fact that they shared this with Tower proves how desperate they are to get us off this case and out of their way.”
Zach didn’t know whether to laugh or lose his temper at Corbray and Tower for playing some kind of perverse game here.
“You’re kidding, right?” Darcangelo took the words right out of Zach’s mouth.
“Nah, man.” Corbray leaned back in his chair. “Hey, I had the same reaction, but this is ironclad.”
“Our Holly?” Hunter looked from Corbray to Tower and back again. “CIA?”
Corbray nodded. “Our Holly.”
Tower was the only man in the room who didn’t look like he’d just gotten kicked in the gut. In fact, he seemed to be enjoying this. “From what I’ve been able to piece together, her job is to carry out certain covert operations that can only be undertaken in up-close and intimate situations. She was probably working the night Andris showed up, drugged her, and popped Dudaev.”
“Are you saying she sleeps with people—for the CIA?” Hunter asked.
That would certainly explain a few things.
“If that’s what an operation requires, yes,” Tower said. “Her job is to get close to men who pose a threat to national security—men like Dudaev that no one else can get close to. She was charged with recovering stolen Agency files from him that night. I have no idea whether she succeeded or whether Andris got there first. My sources believe Andris targeted Holly because he saw her there and figured out she was an Agency officer. They think he may be forcing her to help him.”
But Zach was remembering the day he’d gone to Holly’s place to update her on Dudaev’s murder. She’d seemed afraid, confused, innocent—and, well, kind of adorably dumb. But that must have been an act.
Tower glanced around the room at them. “Oh, come on, guys. Don’t tell me your feelings are hurt. Yeah, I know she kept you all in the dark, but what was she supposed to do—pull you aside at a barbecue and say, ‘Hey, by the way, I’m a CIA officer’? I’m not into helpless, dumb women, so, frankly, I feel relieved—and more than a little impressed.”
For a moment, no one spoke.
Darcangelo cleared his throat. “It’s a little different for those of us who’ve known her for a long time—or thought we knew her.”
“I hear you, man,” Corbray said.
Hunter rubbed the stubble on his chin. “I still can’t quite believe it.”
Zach found himself wanting a drink. “So what’s the bottom line?”
“As far as we can tell, this internal investigation is tearing the Agency apart,” Tower said. “It’s devolving into a civil war inside the Special Activities Division, and thanks to this bastard Andris, Holly has been dragged into the middle of it. Word is, Dudaev’s goons were in Nederland because someone in the Agency told them where to find Holly. Someone wants to eliminate both of them.”
“No way. No fucking way.” Zach wasn’t sure he gave a damn about Andris, but no one was going to get another chance at Holly—not on his watch. “So what’s our plan? I don’t care what Holly does for a living. I won’t abandon her.”
“No question. We stick with her,” Corbray said. “At least we know n
ow that she has some training and skills to help her stay alive.”
Chapter Twenty
Nick watched as Holly reached for a piece of ice, her bare breasts swaying tantalizingly close to his mouth, her silky thighs straddling his hips. She ran the ice cube slowly down the side of his throat, tracing the line of his carotid, then moved it over his clavicle and down his chest to his right nipple. Her lips followed the trail of moisture left on his skin, the heat of her mouth a contrast to the cold as she nuzzled him beneath his ear, nipped his throat, flicked his nipple with her tongue.
A jolt of pleasure shot through him, and he felt his nipple harden. “If this is your idea of cooling me off, I got to say I don’t think it’s going to work.”
She smiled and reached for another piece of ice.
She touched the ice to his skin, a rivulet of water tickling his chest as she moved it to his left nipple, which she lavished with the same attention she’d given the other, kissing it, licking it, making it hard.
Another jolt of pleasure.
He hadn’t thought of his nipples as being sensitive—but then he’d never had a woman do this to him before. Just watching her, seeing her naked body above his, her pink tongue on his skin, turned him on. He reached down, cupped one of her breasts, toyed with the sensitive tip.
“Uh-uh. Naughty boy.” She shook her head. “This time is just for you, remember?”
Oh, he remembered all right. She had promised him the best blow job of his life if he would drive into town and get her a pint of strawberry ice cream. He knew that reading her parents’ comments in the newspaper had left her feeling down, and since they were low on propane anyway . . .
He gave her breast a little squeeze. “Oh, honey, this is for me.”
She looked at him through those big brown eyes, an expression of blatant female lust on her face, and reached for another piece of ice.
He watched as she trailed the ice cube down his sternum and over his abs to the sensitive skin below his obliques. His abs jerked, the ice and rivulets of melting water tickling his skin. Again, she followed the trail of moisture with kisses, licking his obliques, nipping the skin near his groin, making his abs tense again.
His cock, already hard, stood there, waiting for her attention.
She ignored it, moving to his inner thighs, teasing and kissing his skin until the ice had melted.
He understood now. She wanted to torture him.
“I think you missed something.”
“This little thing?” She took his cock in her cold hand, stroked it.
He might have protested her use of the word “little” if his breath hadn’t caught in his throat at the sheer pleasure of her touch.
She reached for another piece of ice, traced it along the underside of his cock, moving it in a circle beneath the rim then over the head, making the muscles of his ass contract and his balls draw tight.
He squeezed his eyes shut. “You know, cold doesn’t do a lot for a man.”
“What if it’s followed by heat?” She took just the head of his cock into the warmth of her mouth, swirled it with her tongue.
“Holy hell.” He opened his eyes, watched as she played with him, drawing his foreskin up over the head, licking him through that thick layer of skin, running her tongue beneath it, sucking on the ultrasensitive tip.
She was driving him crazy, the stimulation arousing as hell, making him ache for her. Just when he thought he couldn’t stand all this damnable teasing any longer, she drew his foreskin back—and took him into her mouth.
He slid one hand into her silky hair, watching as she began to move her mouth up and down the full length of him. She was beautiful, so damned beautiful, the sight of her devouring him beyond erotic. “Holly.”
God, it was good, and it just kept getting better and better. The wet heat of her mouth. The slick friction of her tongue. The tight pressure of her lips. Sensation overwhelmed him, driving him to the edge, the first hint of orgasm coiling inside him. He willed his body to relax, wanting to savor it, but then she went faster and increased the pressure, using her hand and mouth in tandem, stroking and licking him from the aching head to the base.
Ah, God, it was perfect. She was perfect.
He wanted more, needed more of this, more of her. Both of his hands were in her hair now, his fingers curling through the silken strands. He heard himself whisper her name, not once, but again and again.
Climax blasted through him, driving the breath from his lungs, his release intense and hot as she finished him with her mouth.
For a moment, he lay there, fighting to come down from whatever heaven she’d sent him to, his heart pounding. When he opened his eyes again, he found her watching him, a knowing smile on her face. Her lips were wet and swollen, her gaze soft. He smoothed the hair back from her face, felt an ache in his chest, tenderness for her stirring behind his breastbone.
He ran a knuckle down her cheek. “You sure know how to keep a promise.”
She stretched out beside him, rested her head on his chest, and for a few minutes, they lay there together in the dark, the fan blowing cool night air over them both.
Holly raised her head. “Do you hear that?”
Nick didn’t hear anything. “Hear what?”
“It’s a beeping sound.” She got to her feet.
And then he heard it, too.
He jumped up. “It’s one of the computers.”
Still naked, they ran downstairs into the basement.
Nick sat, tapped the keyboard of the computer that was beeping to awaken the display. “It’s about damned time.”
“We cracked the password?” Holly let out a cheer, then looked over his shoulder. “What was it?”
“A variation on the name of his yacht combined with his birth date.” Nick grinned, a feeling of warmth in his chest. “You are amazing.”
Damned if she didn’t blush.
And Nick wondered how often in her life Holly had been praised for something besides her appearance—or her skill in bed.
But her gaze was on the computer screen. “Now the real work begins.”
* * *
Not bothering to turn on the light, Holly grabbed one of her sundresses and a pair of jeans for Nick and hurried back down to the basement, pulling the dress over her head while he stepped into the jeans and zipped them.
He sat down again.
Holly pulled up a chair, excitement making her pulse skip. “I can’t remember the last time I’ve had more fun.”
Nick raised an eyebrow. “You need to work on your definition of fun.”
Holly read over the folders on Dudaev’s desktop and felt some of her enthusiasm slip away. “Most of this is in Georgian. I’m won’t be much use to you, I’m afraid.”
She saw an icon resembling a separate disc drive that bore the label of a popular brand of flash drives—SanDisk. “Those must be the Agency files from the USB drive.”
“Right.” He knew that.
She pointed to another. “That must be the key. Nice of him to keep it where we can find it.”
Nick handed her the box of nitrile gloves. “Put these on before you accidentally touch something.”
“Good idea.” She slipped a pair of gloves onto her hands, watching as he opened the key and entered it at the prompt.
What appeared on the screen at first made no sense to her, despite the fact that it was in English. “What are we looking at?”
“Oh, I’d say twenty-five to life.”
“That’s not funny.” Okay, so it was funny, but there was a chance it was also true, especially in his case. “Is this all from the internal investigation?”
“I think so.” He moved the cursor over the long list of files. “There’s a folder with personnel files for everyone involved in the operation that night. The rest look like inter-agency memos, reports, and photos.”
He opened one of the folders and clicked on a file. A document that was labeled “Top Secret” opened on the screen. Written on
Agency letterhead, it appeared to be the official report about the operation in Batumi dated two years ago.
He clicked on another. It was a forensic report about the death of an officer named Robert Carver, complete with photos of his dead body and the crime scene.
Holly willed herself not to look away. “You know what we need now?”
“A printer,” he said.
“And some way to organize all this stuff—folders, markers, labels.”
It was after midnight, so there was no way to get supplies now.
Nick looked over at her. “You should get some sleep. I’ll run into town to get what we need tomorrow morning first thing.”
“Are you kidding? I couldn’t sleep now.” Holly glanced at the other CPUs. “Why don’t you copy the Agency files to another computer? I can look through those while you look through Dudaev’s emails. That way we can make faster progress.”
He frowned, and she could tell something about that idea didn’t appeal to him. “I’m not sure you’ll understand what you’re reading. All the people, the places, the events—you’ve only gotten an overview.”
Didn’t he trust her? Did he think she couldn’t understand?
The thought left her feeling more than a little irritated—and defensive. “I’m smarter than I look.”
“I know you’re smart.” He turned toward her, reached over, pulled her into his arms. “Okay, let’s do it your way. I’m right here if you have questions. I wouldn’t have come this far without you, Holly. Thank you.”
And just like that her irritation was gone, replaced by a feeling of warmth.
She drew back. “I’m going to make coffee.”
“Good idea.”
* * *
Holly was glad that Nick had given her an account of what had happened on that terrible night in Batumi. Without that overview, it would have taken her much longer to make sense of what she was reading. But by three in the morning, she was too bleary-eyed to keep going.
She got up, kissed Nick on the cheek. “Goodnight.”
He came to bed a short time later, his movements rousing her from sleep.
She reached for his hand in the dark.