Skin Dive

by Ava Gray

  He picked at his food until she went into the bathroom to get ready for work and then scraped most of the meal back into the pan. She enjoyed doing for him so much that he didn’t have the heart to ask her not to bother. And it made him feel good, even if he couldn’t enjoy it like a normal guy.

  “Want me to walk you to work?” he asked.

  “It’s still daylight. Plus I have my pepper spray and that alarm horn you got me.” The amusement in her voice said she thought he was overprotective.

  But in this neighborhood, it was all he could do to let her go out alone. Ever. Each moment she was away from him, he suffered all the torments of the damned because life without Gillie Flynn wouldn’t be worth living. He wanted to lock her away in a tower like a princess, but that never worked out well. In stories, they always ran off with the first guy to spring them.

  “I might stop in later for a drink.”

  Shit, of course he would, after he got a little sleep; he’d gotten used to doing so in swing shifts. It was a good thing McGinty’s had a ninety-cent draft, or it’d take even longer for them to save enough for the ID packages. But Mick seemed to know he was there to keep an eye on Gillie more than drink, and he didn’t mind Taye nursing the same beer for hours.

  “Then I’ll look for you when I take my break.”

  Three hours after she scrubbed up the vomit from the men’s room, Gillie went into the ladies to freshen up. There wasn’t a lot she could do before seeing Taye, but she did wash her hands twice with soap, run a comb through her red curls, and put on some lipstick. She had gotten smart about the gross cleaning jobs; now she wore an apron and took it off when she was done, so her McGinty’s shirt stayed relatively fresh.

  She pushed the door open and scanned the room. The usual drunks occupied their usual stools. Mick smiled at her from behind the bar, acknowledging she was on break, and she nodded at him. Taye liked the cracked leather booth at the back, where he could sprawl and read while pretending he was going to finish his beer. In a busier pub, maybe people would’ve gotten on him about ordering more or moving on, but this tavern was never more than half full, even when the Tigers were playing. The game had been over for more than an hour, and afterward, people trickled out. It had to be close to midnight now.

  When he glanced up from his book—an old Zane Grey somebody must’ve left behind—his welcoming smile made her weak in the knees. In a minute, Phyllis would bring out her usual burger and fries, but until then, she could sit and smile at him like neither of them had anyplace they’d rather be. Even if she knew better.

  “Rough night?” he asked.

  “No worse than usual.”

  “I hate seeing you here.”

  She knew that. “Things will get better. This is temporary.”

  As the waitress approached, Gillie fell quiet, smiling in thanks. The other woman didn’t have to wait on her, but it was her way of saying thanks. Before she came on board, Phyllis had to do a lot of the cleaning herself.

  “I keep telling myself that, too.”

  “It would be worse if we weren’t together,” she said.

  He studied her for a long moment in silence, and she feared he would lecture her about unreasonable expectations. And then he surprised her. “If I wasn’t with you, I wouldn’t bother.”

  A frown creased her brow. “With what?”

  “Anything.” That brought to mind questions but he changed the subject. “How is it you can work so hard and come out looking so beautiful?”

  Her heart gave a wayward thump. Maybe he offered the compliment as a distraction, but hell, it worked, mostly because she read the sincerity in his face. He usually tried to hide any hint of attraction, fearing she’d get the wrong idea about his intentions. Tonight he smiled at her with his heart in his eyes, and it thrilled her from head to toe.

  “Just lucky I guess,” she said, breathless.

  “I’m the lucky one. You could’ve gone off with anyone else.”

  “I couldn’t. I don’t trust anyone else.”

  Something fierce and stark flashed in his sea-hued eyes, but his lashes came down to veil the look. Instead, he studied her palm, flattened on the table. Taye took her hand and pressed a kiss to her fingertips. They were rough from the work she did; he didn’t appear to notice, but she noticed the contrast between her skin and the softness of his lips. She knew him well enough to take it as thanks for her faith in him—still, a pleasurable chill rolled through her. Daringly, she grazed his lower lip with her index finger. Phantom kiss.

  Their eyes locked and held. Her breath accelerated. She felt the heat of his desire as if it were a hidden flame, burning him from the inside out. For the space of four heartbeats, he let her touch him. His lips moved in another kiss, and then he drew back. Not a sharp, sudden movement, but a retreat nonetheless.

  “You won’t regret believing in me,” he said softly. “You should eat.”

  Well, he was right about that. Manny’s food didn’t improve once it cooled off. Gillie ate half the burger and some of the fries, with extra ketchup, while he amused her with a story about the guy who had been trying to pick up Phyllis earlier. She listened with half an ear, appreciating his company.

  “Was it the guy with the red and black plaid cap?”

  Taye cocked a brow. “How’d you know?”

  “Eh, Steve’s not picky. Phyllis, me . . . sometimes Mick if he’s really drunk.”

  Instead of laughing, he took on a ferocious edge. “You promised to tell me if anyone bothered you in here.”

  “He’s harmless.”

  “What did he do?” The lines of tension beside his mouth alerted Gillie to the fact that this wasn’t just overprotectiveness kicking in.

  “Tonight? Slapped me on the ass and told me I had the freshest buns in the bakery.”

  A muscle ticked beside his jaw. “This has happened before?”

  “Not that exact thing. Steve can be creative.” Egging him on might not be the best idea, but it was fun. “I’d better get back to work. My fifteen are almost up.”

  As she stood, he did. He stepped into her space and cupped her face in his hands. To her astonishment, he bent and kissed her. Not a sisterly kiss. Not a friendly one. The heat of his mouth kindled a sweet blaze in her belly, and she parted for him. She might’ve done it wrong the first time, but she knew better now. His tongue brushed hers, once, twice, teasing glides that curled her toes. His lips lingered on hers deliciously, endlessly, until he nipped her lower lip as he pulled back. Dizzy euphoria filled her head—God, how she wanted him.

  The few patrons in the bar, including Steve, were watching with varying degrees of interest. Taye put his hand on her shoulder and said to the room, conversationally, “I’ll kill the next guy who touches her.”

  Her elation died. There had been a purpose behind the show; it didn’t mean he wanted her. It meant he didn’t want anyone else to mess with her—a fine distinction, and a bit dog in the manger. With a sigh, she went back to work.

  Seven months in this place, seven months of endless temptation. She shrugged. Still better than the alternative.

  CHAPTER 4

  I twas a beautiful day, dawning pink and silver. Sand crunched beneath his feet, along with sand dollars and miscellaneous seashells. The water shone a cool and brilliant blue. In the distance, a few fishermen had already gone out to cast their nets, but they were too far away to help Nico Margolis. Caleb Dunn jabbed the barrel of the Glock between his shoulder blades; if the twat had any mental capacity at all, he’d know he was being marched down to the beach to die. People didn’t come out here at gunpoint to chat about the weather.

  Sadly, he didn’t seem to have worked it out, which explained why his brother-in-law wanted Nico dead. Something about being married to his sister, so he’d given Nico a job running numbers and drugs; he was spectacularly bad at both. Now the brother-in-law needed a permanent solution that wouldn’t blow back on him.

  Cale forced the man to his knees. Since he had a cont
ract on his head and very little sense in it, he was begging for his life in guttersnipe Italian. Which might have helped his cause if Cale spoke Italian. Might have, but unlikely. In general, he didn’t negotiate under such circumstances. Men would promise anything, even if delivering it lay outside their scope. They always thought a change of venue would help, if they could just buy ten more minutes, everything would be different.

  Not this time, Nico. End of the road for you.

  Dunn didn’t think of himself as a contract killer. He was more of a jack-of-all-trades, a true mercenary. In his nearly two-decade career, he had driven fugitives across international borders, stolen a couple of planes, fought in five private wars, and seen two dictators die. One of them, he had shot himself. So plugging a lowlife didn’t rate very high on his list of things he should never, ever do, even if the man was crying like a widow.

  With a faint sigh, he put two slugs in the back of the man’s head, as agreed under the contract. As usual, he wiped the gun, dropped it, and left the mark by the water. Some beachcomber would find him, hopefully before the tide came in. Cale jogged up toward the road and got into his rented Fiat. Everything had proceeded right on schedule. Now he had a plane to catch.

  Paris would be nice this time of year. He’d take a little time off, maybe look up Lisette, who had promised to kill him if he ever showed his face again. It would be fun if she tried; that always led to the best anger sex.

  Halfway to the airport, his phone rang. It was his dedicated sat-phone, a number only given to former clients, which meant he had worked for this person before, or they were a referral. He answered with a curt, “Dunn.”

  “It has work for you.”

  Bizarre voice. He couldn’t tell if the caller was male or female—a little deep for the latter and too light for the former, the most purely androgynous tone he’d ever heard. The verbiage wasn’t quite right, either, but maybe this wasn’t a native speaker. Some smooth, awful thread ran through it, something . . . not quite human, as if it came from a mouth with too many teeth. But surely he was tired—imagining things. A job was a job.

  “Lay it out for me.”

  “It desires two fugitives remanded to its custody.”

  Cale hesitated. “I take it you don’t work in law enforcement?” “It does not. This contract would prove lucrative.”

  “Are they dangerous?”

  “Yes.”

  A thrill of interest surged through him. It had been a long time since he had a worthy hunt. Most of his targets were stupid and predictable. They ate, fucked, and slept in the same patterns, so it was child’s play to snatch them. He could use a challenge.

  “I’ll need a full dossier on each of them, last known location, and half a million dollars.” He always started high. Any employer would be prepared for that, and haggling was fun. But within five minutes, this creepy fuck should come to an agreement if he or she was serious.

  Instead, the voice said, “Half now, half when the job is completed.”

  Holy—

  All of his alarm bells went off. When the other party showed no interest in negotiation, it meant the task was so difficult as to be impossible—that, or they wanted it accomplished beyond any rational reason. It whispered of obsession, which was never good in his line of work. Business was business, and it was best not to chase it with a crazy cocktail.

  “How did you get this number?”

  “The hunter worked for Gerard Serrano, yes?”

  “Once,” he admitted.

  The bastard was dead now, and good riddance. He’d tried to cheat Cale out of his bonus for completing the job within the ten-day deadline. Regardless, Serrano had all kinds of shady connections, so there was no telling who might be on the other end of the line. His silence must have communicated some misgiving.

  “It represents a consortium called the Foundation, which funds scientific research. Serrano was one of the initial members.”

  That sounded particularly spooky; scientific research covered a lot of ground, but the money was too good to pass up, just the job he’d been looking for in order to top off his nest egg and get out of the game entirely.

  Cale swallowed his qualms and said, “You have a deal. Send me the paperwork.”

  “Excellent. Tickets to New York wait at the airport. One of its people will be at LaGuardia with everything needed to complete the task.”

  Damn. They were fucking sure of me, weren’t they? That made him uneasy, too. Focus on the money, mate. It’s keen and green, and soon you’ll be done with this shit for good.

  Puerto Vallarta was gorgeous this time of year. Some people preferred Cancun, but Tanager didn’t like the tourist influence. She thought it was more like an American colony than a true reflection of Mexico. PV still had the feel of a quaint beach town, where she could stroll along the malecon and pretend she had nowhere else to be. There were also gorgeous resorts here at reasonable prices, private beaches, plus fabulous service. Not that she ever paid for anything. All she had to do was walk in the door, ask to speak to the manager, and then say, You want to comp your best suite, an all-inclusive package. Her siren voice did the rest. Though it only worked on men, there were enough males in the world that she always got what she wanted.

  Which was why she found Mockingbird’s resistance intriguing. Maybe it was the electronic interference on the line, but she had never been able to get him to do anything he didn’t want to. That didn’t stop her from trying. Everyone needed a hobby.

  “Come on,” Tanager said. “You know what you want to tell me.”

  She was the only one who got away with teasing Mockingbird. Lying in the chaise lounge with her feet crossed at the ankles, she sipped at her foamy piña colada. The umbrella kept the sun off her fair skin, but the warmth was welcome, and this vacation was long overdue.

  “I’m not telling you my name,” he said, sighing. “Not yet. But I will tell you this much now . . . I used to have another handle. People knew me as Apex.”

  “Huh.” It was more concession than she’d expected, though it still didn’t tell her much. But she might be able to do some digging and turn up some information. Most likely, she would choose not to, however. If she found out, it could cost everyone else down the line. It sucked that they lived in a world that demanded such caution, but it was what the Foundation had made it.

  “Does that make you feel better, like we’ve formed an indisputable bond?”

  “Haven’t we?” she asked, her tone serious for once.

  Funny, but Mockingbird knew her better than anyone else. He had been the one to save her, when everything went so disastrously wrong, after—well. After. She had known him for years, longer than any other agent; Tanager had been with him since before he realized their organization had to grow inexpressibly more paranoid and complex if people like them weren’t all going to wind up in Foundation prison cells. She called damn few people friend, but he fit the bill.

  An awkward silence followed. Sometimes she wished she could fucking find him and see what he looked like, the guy who seemed like he never slept, never stopped fighting the good fight. Only through his diligence did all the balls stay in the air, and God only knew what would become of everyone else if anything ever happened to Mocks.

  “Yeah,” he said finally. “You’ve been with me almost as long as Shrike, and you still haven’t quit on me.”

  Shrike was an interesting case. He had executed some of the bloodiest revenge that their organization had ever seen, but in the end, he just walked away. Last they heard, he was operating independently, solving problems that didn’t fit easily into any jurisdiction.

  “I won’t either. Can you see me giving up all this?”

  He laughed. “Not really. Anyway, the reason I pinged you is twofold. First, I have news about the Exeter facility. I have confirmation . . . five subjects made it out alive. I already rescued a couple of them, but they weren’t interested in signing on right then.”

  “Give them time. Once they see how
hard life is for people like us without a little help, they’ll take the recruitment package.”

  “I think so, too. I don’t care as much about the healer, but we could use another warrior.”

  “Careful. You’ll make me feel unwanted.”

  “Not my intention.”

  “So what’s the second part?”

  “I’ve been thinking about this, ever since Kestrel was taken. We used her before we discovered the tungsten-blocking properties . . . and she found a lot of test subjects for us.”

  “Made recruitment a dream,” she agreed.

  “So how did they find her? They didn’t have anyone who could pinpoint locations like that. I’ve thought all along it couldn’t be coincidence, and now I’m sure. Someone sold her out.”

  Fuck.

  “Have you looked at everyone’s financials?” Tanager sighed and shook her head. “Never mind, I know. Most don’t even have their own bank accounts, just cards you gave them.”

  “Yep. All the money flows through me. Doesn’t mean somebody didn’t take a briefcase full of cash, though, and I have no way of tracking that. The Foundation makes payments all the time. Needle in a haystack, even for me.”

  “So what’s my part in this?”

  He outlined it for her.

  “Really? Shadow detail?” She sighed in frustration. “I’m the last person who should do this. I draw attention. I thrive on attention.”

  “Tan,” he said quietly. “You’re the only one I trust. Everyone else is too new. I can’t tip my hand . . . I can’t let them know I’m not the all-powerful Oz—that I am, in fact, just the little man behind the curtain.”

  What must it be like for him? He had nobody in whom he could confide. Well, except me. And I’m not exactly the most reliable person in the world.

  “So you want me to plug our leak. Am I permitted to use force?”