by Katt, Sydney
"Don't you ever touch me again, Brad."
He grabbed her wrist and she spun around to slap him again, but he caught her wrist. "You started it, not me."
"Let go of me."
His icy gaze locked on hers in fury. "I'll let go of you as soon as you tell me just what in the sweet fuck you think you're doing, princess."
Allison didn't so much as blink. "Trying to find the car so I can get you back to your boyfriend...Mark."
Seriously? She was still pissed off about the gay guy ruse and fake name he'd used to gain her trust when his assignment had strictly been to assess what she might know about her father's activities or the whereabouts of the Barrows brothers? Women.
Brad dropped his arm and began walking away from her, instinctively knowing she'd follow this time. "I'd leave your sorry ass for a government assassin to finish off right here and now if Adam Barrows wasn't paying me a million bucks to get you to Costa Rica."
"You're taking me to Adam?"
He fixed a smarmy smile across his face and turned slowly to regard her. "You couldn't possibly have thought I came for you out of the goodness of my heart or because I actually gave a shit about you." He shook his head slowly, his grin widening slightly at her hurt expression. "Oh, wait. I suppose you did. You really should have known better, princess. A lot better."
Brad turned from her again, satisfied that he'd gotten in what appeared to be a verbal blow that served as sufficient payback for the way she used him for her little pole dance. He cast a glance over his shoulder and drew his weapon when she remained in place. "Don't make me shoot you." To drive his point he flicked off the safety with an audible click. "You know I'll do it gladly if that's what it takes to get you in the car."
"I don't understand how Adam has a million dollars to pay you."
"Because he's a criminal."
"Except...he's not. Not really."
"How well do you really know Adam and Eli Barrows?"
A moment later, Allison lowered her gaze and followed him in silence to their getaway car, thus beginning their unlikely alliance.
If only any of the hurtful things he'd said to her were actually true.
CHAPTER 3
THEY DROVE IN abject silence for the better part of the day, making only the occasional stop for food or facilities. So he was taking her to Adam? That was good. That must mean Adam hadn't forgotten about her. Maybe there was still hope for a clean start for the two of them.
Even if the extent of his criminal activities did apparently extend beyond breaking his brother out of prison for a murder he supposedly didn't commit.
The shredding claw was at work on her insides again. How long would it take them to get to Costa Rica? Just a short flight? Probably not. He'd said earlier they were driving to the border. She let out a breath. How could she possibly cope with a long road trip in the same vehicle as Markenson? She hated him.
She hated herself more for the thoughts that were running through her head about him.
As the first dusky hues of purple and mauve chased across the sky, Allison turned to Brad and broke their silence. "What's the plan?"
He slid a glance in her direction and then fixed his eyes back on the road. "Put as much distance between us and that transport as possible."
"I, uh, sort of figured as much." She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her skin still burning from his earlier touch. "I meant, how are we getting to Costa Rica?"
"Drive."
She tried to call upon her cursory knowledge from a world geography course she'd taken in high school, but she didn't remember a single thing that counted. "Can we actually drive all the way to Costa Rica?"
"Yes, but we'll dump the car before we get there."
"Then what?"
Brad changed lanes to get around a slow-moving truck. "Oh, so we're talking now?"
"Sort of. Yeah."
"Funny. I tried to talk to you about this five hours ago."
That was true. He had. Unfortunately, five hours ago they'd just gotten into the car and she'd still been too shaken from what had almost happened between them. Not that she'd ever let him know how affected she was by that.
Or by him.
"I was still...processing. I'm ready to listen now."
"Processing." He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, being extracted is traumatic." After a beat, he said, "We'll have to zigzag our way across the country. They'll be expecting you to get out of the country quick so it only makes sense to wait it out until things cool down."
"How long?"
"Probably a few weeks."
"Oh." That was a long time – longer than she was comfortable with. She bit her lip, wincing at the puffiness she felt. It wasn't as though she needed a reminder of what she'd done earlier. "Uh...then what?"
He shrugged. "Cross into Mexico, use some connections to get to Costa Rica. Not really a lot to it once we get out of the US." Brad turned to meet her wide eyes. "And no, I am not trying to drag out this little road trip from hell."
His words shocked her. "I...I didn't think you were."
"So long as we're clear." He turned his attention back to the deserted stretch of road in front of him. "You started all that shit before, Allison, not me."
"I know." Allison fixed her gaze on the scenery flying by her window. More than anything, she didn't want to talk about that. She didn't want to talk about the raw attraction she felt toward the man who'd tried to kill her – probably on multiple occasions. She didn't want to think about the way his kiss had filled her body with the same electric charge the curling iron in the bathtub had. She didn't want any of it.
And yet it was there.
When she'd known him before - first as Mark, the supportive fellow recovering addict and new sponsor sincere in trying to keep her from using, and then as Markenson, the cold-blooded man who'd just as soon kill her as listen to the information he tortured her for - his dark hair had been cut short, making him the picture of a government agent if she'd ever cared to notice at the time. But now...Brad's hair was longer, wilder. It wasn't rockstar long or anything like that, but it was definitely long enough to run her fingers through, to pull on if she needed to redirect the placement of his mouth on her body.
Of all the cruel tricks life could throw at her, the Brad Markenson who'd rescued her from the prison transport van was dead sexy. The fact that he'd just killed people right in front of her didn't dull it. Maybe it was even part of the reason his raw sexuality had intensified for her. Allison knew that said something about her. She just didn't care to analyze it.
Something in the distance caught her eye and stoked her appetite. She tapped on the glass with her finger. "Can we stop for a while?"
"Yeah. What do you..." His face hardened when he saw what had caught her interest. "No."
"We have to stop sometime, Brad."
"Not at a bar we do not."
She bit out her words through clenched teeth. "I need a drink."
"How stupid do you think I am? I'm not taking someone in recovery to get a drink."
"I'm not an alcoholic."
"No, but first we stop now to get you a drink and then in a week or so I'm having to pull over so you can buy smack from some guy named Chill or Tweak on the street corner. My association with the brothers is already tenuous enough without delivering a junkie to them."
"I just want a drink." Want probably wasn't a strong enough word. She needed it to keep her head clear. Without it she would surely do something stupid.
Again.
"It's not gonna happen. The only thing your insistence is doing is reminding me to find a room without a mini bar."
"A room?"
"Does that surprise you?"
"Uh..."
"Well, you're welcome to sleep in the car for the next few weeks, but I for one prefer to have the option of taking a shower after having to kill people."
A shower did sound nice. Just the thought of the hot water cascading down her skin was enough to momentarily take her mind of
f the drink she so desperately needed. But it wasn't long before her thoughts turned on a dime and she began to imagine Brad in the shower with her, his hands sliding over her wet skin, his lips on her, his hard body treating her to a sinful punishment.
Her breath snagged in her chest at the thought. Though she wanted to believe it would be an awful experience because she hated him, Allison knew that to be a lie. After having her body crushed up against him, she'd felt firsthand that everything under those clothes was hard and dangerous. Fucking him would prove to be an unfathomable high, one like she'd never experienced in her life.
Nothing had ever terrified her more.
They spent perhaps another hour in the car in silence before he pulled into the lot of a rundown and nearly deserted motel. He went inside and returned a moment later with a key in hand. Watching him, Allison was struck by the predatory and cock-sure way in which he moved. Of all the people they could have sent to rescue her, Brad was undoubtedly the most well suited to the task. There was no question in her mind that he'd gladly shoot through any obstacle they encountered.
After retrieving some bags from the trunk, Brad led her to the room where she was instantly struck by the immediate problem. "There's only one bed."
He rolled his eyes and let out an exasperated sigh. "They don't have double beds here." Forcing one of the bags into her hands, he added, "I can sleep anywhere. I'll take the floor."
Allison watched him carefully as he checked the locks on the door and windows. "What's this?"
"Clothes that should fit." He glanced at her over his shoulder. "This window isn't secure. You go ahead and hit the shower while I deal with it."
He picked out her new clothes? That felt strange, wrong somehow. That also meant his hands had been all over her underwear. Had he picked out delicate lacy things while imaging how they'd look against her skin? Or had he just grabbed handfuls of white cotton bras and panties and thrown them on the counter for a clerk to ring up without bothering to check the sizes?
Neither option was terribly appealing. She'd put off finding out until after the shower.
Wordlessly, Allison started the water and then stared at the closed bathroom door for a long moment. She thought about locking it, but then changed her mind. What did it really matter? If he wanted in badly enough, he'd either pick the lock or just shoot it out. It wasn't like she'd be able to stop him if he tried.
Who the hell did she think she was kidding? A part of her wanted him to walk in on her.
She stood under the weak spray of warmth for a long time, wincing when the water made contact for the first time with the raw places on her wrists. It didn't make any sense. How could he hurt her one moment and kiss her senseless the next? More importantly, what did it say about her that she'd enjoyed it?
What would Adam say about that?
Allison shut off the water and shook that thought from her head. He wouldn't say anything about that because Adam Barrows would never know. No power on this earth could make her tell him. It would only hurt him and that was the last thing she ever wanted to do.
Even though he'd hurt her more times than she could count.
Even though he'd left her to suffer alone for her part in the escape when the wrong cop recognized her as the woman wanted for stealing drugs from a prison and aiding an escaped convict and slapped cuffs on her wrists in the middle of a convenience store when she was paying for their gas.
Even though he'd sent the one man she passionately hated to bring her back to him.
Was it really any wonder that she wanted a shot of morphine more than breath itself? If she wouldn't let herself slip down that path again and Brad wouldn't let her have a drink to curb the edge...what was left?
Brad, the man she hated; the man she craved.
But what would withdrawals from him be like?
It wouldn't matter. She'd be safely with Adam by then. She'd simply transfer her addiction from one man to another, just the way she was planning to transfer her morphine addiction into a Markenson addiction.
CHAPTER 4
BY THE TIME this was over, Brad knew he'd have earned each and every penny of his million bucks. Something was definitely going on with Allison. If something didn't give soon...it was going to be a very long drive.
If he hadn't needed the money to get out of the country as much as he did, he would've never considered the offer of a man who'd eluded him repeatedly in the months after Allison's arrest gave him a warm trail to follow. Getting fired from the US Secret Service usually wasn't such a deadly affair, but he knew more about illegal off-the-books ops than any civilian got to know. He'd called in all the favors he'd accumulated over the years, but he didn't do any better than the brothers had at getting the proof he'd need to ensure his safety.
Knowing where the bodies were buried did little good when you couldn't prove who was involved.
His eyes were instinctively drawn to the bathroom door when it creaked open. Heaven help him. She'd actually just walked out into the room wearing only a towel, tangled hair dripping with water. The towel might've been enough for a shorter woman, but Allison was tall enough that it would be downright indecent if she reached up to brush her hair.
He averted his gaze quickly. "The room's secure. I'm getting in the shower if you're done in there."
"All yours." Something about the tone swimming underneath her words again drew his eyes in time to watch her sit on the bed and cross her legs, showcasing her smooth thighs. "Feel free to take your time."
She wasn't talking about the shower. Brad cleared his throat roughly. "Don't get any ideas about skipping out on me while I'm in the shower. I've hidden the keys somewhere you'll never find them." He grabbed his bag and headed to the bathroom, avoiding the summons of the skin beckoning to him. "You won't find the bullets either."
"Hmm. No bullets in the gun, huh?" Her eyes raked over him from head to toe. "Somehow I doubt that, Brad."
Wordlessly, he closed himself into the small bathroom and started the water, finding the pressure to be inadequate. While the soft drops fell upon his back, he rested his forehead against the cool tile surface. Whatever game Allison was playing, he couldn't let it continue. This had to stop before it got started.
But that would be easier said than done if she kept parading around in only a threadbare towel.
This was ludicrous. She wasn't even his type. Sure, there was something inherently sexy about any half-naked woman with wet hair, but...this was Allison Waverly.
She was a job. Nothing more. Just a job.
Brad clung to that thought as he washed the day from him. Allison was just another assignment and he prided himself in his ability to get the job done. Romantic feelings had never once gotten in the way. Nor would they. Of course, he would have taken her to bed in a heartbeat if that had proven the best way to get information from her instead of playing the role of her new sponsor with a boyfriend of his own just to make her more comfortable around him. Without batting an eye, he would have bedded her and then killed her to get what he wanted if necessary.
Orders were different now though. All he had to do was get her to Costa Rica. That was it. No sex. No killing. No complications.
Costa Rica.
He let the water wash over his face as he remembered the last time he'd been in a motel room with Allison. All he'd wanted was the information she had when he snatched her out of her apartment before she could make a run for it to meet the brothers. Using her cell phone to contact Adam hadn't been a wise choice.
With every dunk of that pretty head into the full bathtub, he grew to hate himself a little more. And he'd hated her for making him do it, even as he'd smiled inside at her bravery. So carefully, so gently, he had wiped the water from her face and pushed the drenched auburn strands from her eyes. There had been nothing sexual about it, he realized suddenly. He'd actually been thinking about his sister, wondering if she'd be able to fight back so valiantly at the hands of a monster.
Because that's exactly what
he'd become.
Only a monster would repeatedly dunk a woman's head into the bathtub nearly to the point of drowning her. Only a soulless beast would dig her curling iron out of her overnight bag and use it to electrify the water when the simple threat of drowning alone wasn't enough to keep her talking. Only a man as far gone as he'd been would keep up that routine for an hour after he started to believe she'd never found the evidence her father claimed to have. He'd had to.
Brad Markenson wasn't a man who got played.
But when Allison walked out of this bathroom...feelings of brotherly love had been but a faraway memory. There was something sensual about the way she moved across the dingy room. What stirred within him at the sight of her was animalistic, primeval.
The sound of the bathroom door opening ripped his thoughts back to the immediate present. He poked his head around the shower curtain to see Allison, still clad in only the towel, at the sink. "Can I help you with something?"
"Probably." She smiled at him and then turned on the faucet.
"What are you doing?"
She put a glob of toothpaste on the cheap red toothbrush he'd procured for her. "Getting high on Polar Mint Blast?"
Pull it together, man. It's all just a big game. That's all any of this is to her. "And you can't wait five minutes to brush your teeth?"
"No." Her eyes danced with something unfamiliar. "I take my oral hygiene very seriously."
God. Why did even the way she spoke about brushing her teeth sound dirty? "Whatever. Knock yourself out." He retreated back behind the shower curtain and willed the blood back to the correct parts of his body.
This was one job he should've turned down and he knew it. Death at the hands of the government's finest scumbags would've been preferable to this torture.