“Yeah,” he said, “unless you want to wait around for them to come back.” She was too smart for that not to be obvious to her.
She glanced out the window. “I should report this to my supervisor.”
“Did you report the other things?” he demanded.
“Of course.” She reached into her bag and pulled out her phone.
“And what did they do?” he asked before she could dial.
“Nothing, which didn’t really surprise me—who knows; they might have more information than I do.” Her fingers stilled over the buttons. Since her area of expertise was risk analysis, he found it odd that anyone had doubted her assessment. “The threat seemed as though it originated from a minor source with minimal exposure, same as the original data breach. I’ve followed the usual protocols for enhanced threat, though.”
How much more complicated was that with a child to care for? Anderson didn’t want to think about it. He would later, after they were in a safe location.
“My car’s in the garage,” he said, ready to take action. “Let’s roll.”
“Wait. I can’t go on the run with a baby. All I have for him is what’s in this bag. Let me go home and—”
He cut her off. “No. Your place isn’t going to be safe.” He knew he was right about that, but fleeing a threat with a baby—with his son—wasn’t the way he wanted to spend his first day as a dad.
“I…” She only hesitated a couple of seconds; he could see her evaluating the situation in her head, assessing risks and options. “Okay. You’re right.” She grabbed the bag and took Nate from Anderson. “Car seat?”
“What?” It was his turn to be surprised.
“Kids have to ride in a car seat for safety,” she explained. “We’ll need to get it from my car if it’s not damaged.”
He wanted to argue that their situation was inherently unsafe, but her jaw had a stubborn set he remembered well. “I’ll get it. You can reach the garage by going through the kitchen.”
He pointed the way before pulling jackets from his hall closet and stuffing them into a tactical bag he always kept packed. A minute later he yanked the door of the bullet-riddled car open to retrieve the car seat. He had no idea how to manage the thing, but he managed to detach it and hauled it to the garage.
“Let me,” she said, taking it and quickly strapping it down while he held Nate. He watched her run her finger over a notch in the plastic where a bullet had sliced through. “Good thing he wasn’t…” She didn’t need to finish the sentence.
“We need to move,” Anderson said to hurry her along. Thirty seconds later, he backed out of his garage and headed in the opposite direction from where the black SUV had gone. He didn’t want to run into whoever had been at the wheel with Violet and Nate in the car.
The problem was he had no idea where the hell they were going.
2
Fourteen months earlier
The techno music thumped loudly in the neon and glass of the club as Anderson scanned his surroundings. Violet’s plan was simple: They would look like an amorous couple enjoying a night out, while getting some shots of a mobster who frequented the club. Anderson was glad to be out of the apartment he shared with Violet as part of their masquerade. He hated being pent up and idle. Watching Violet analyze data wasn’t doing it for him.
They took to the dance floor as soon as they entered the club. It was no hardship for Anderson to dance with Violet. They’d been dancing around each other enough over the past weeks while working together in Moscow. Butting heads, fighting for control. It was almost a sexual release to be so close to her, both of them bumping and grinding.
He had his phone out while they moved to the music, pretending to take pictures of her as she danced. She made a memorable photograph in the barely there dress that exposed the tops of her breasts and ended an inch below her ass. He playfully held up a finger to indicate he wanted one more shot. Anyone watching them would interpret it as his asking her to pose. She took his cue, pouting her red lips and running her hands down her body in a seductive move.
He saw her eyes widen for a split second before returning to her previous sultry expression. She moved closer, her fingers going into his hair as she leaned in.
“We’ve got a problem,” she whispered, giving his earlobe a nip to keep their cover. “Move with me.” She guided their bodies around as she kept tight to him, never losing the beat.
He flicked his glance to the upper tier of the club, where men with guns were fanning out, their eyes searching the crowded dance floor. “We’re blown,” he said into her neck, his lips trailing against her soft skin. “They’re looking for us. But Volkhov is up there.”
“Big guy, receding hairline, mole under his left eye?” she asked, her voice cool.
“That’s him.” Their target, known in the mob world as the Wolf, was peering over the balcony railing. Volkhov ran an outfit of executioners and henchmen used by the top underworld organizations for protection and was notoriously difficult to photograph. All they needed to get from him was verification of identity. Nailing him would shut down some international violence and slow the spread of Russian mob power.
Three days earlier, Anderson had had a meeting with Volkhov, pretending to be a potential client for the executioner’s services. The way the gunmen were searching the crowd indicated Volkhov had made the connection that Anderson was watching him. Since Volkhov was the suspicious type, with a network of informants, he probably knew about Violet as well. They needed an escape plan, but not before Anderson got the picture he wanted.
Anderson captured an image of Volkhov with his phone before dropping his head against her shoulder again. He needed to keep his face out of sight. “Hop up and let me carry you,” he said. She did what he asked, wrapping her arms and legs tight around him. His hands molded to her butt, holding her in place.
“I got it,” she said when he kissed her neck again. “Keep your head down. I can see the exit.”
While keeping up the pretense of making out, she whispered directions in his ear and they worked their way across the dance floor. He trusted her quick, analytical brain to make the right calls and didn’t hesitate to follow her instructions.
“Almost there,” she breathed, her mouth against his temple. “Two steps to the right, and straight toward the emergency exit. Things are about to get ugly.”
“Stop,” a voice yelled in Russian and then in English, loud enough to be heard over the pounding music. Anderson shoved open the steel exit door, dumping them into an alley. Not a minute too soon. The sound of gunfire and echoes of screams came from the club, but Anderson was already running, still carrying Violet, not wanting to slow down long enough to put her on her feet. Down the block, a motorcycle idled at the curb, its driver a few steps away, handing a delivery to a woman in the entryway of an apartment building.
“Bike,” he said as they approached, letting Violet slide down his body until her feet were on the pavement. Despite the urgent situation, the friction sent a zing through him—but they needed to move. He swung his leg over the motorcycle, and she climbed on behind him.
“Go,” she yelled as the delivery driver lurched toward them with a cry. Her arms closed around him and her body pressed up against his.
He revved the bike, rocketing them away from the club and danger. With their cover blown, he couldn’t risk returning to their apartment, so he headed for a nearby safe house. He wound them through the complex pattern of Moscow’s streets, slowing the bike once it was clear they’d eluded immediate pursuit—from the mobsters as well as the motorcycle’s rightful driver—and navigating carefully through a quiet residential area, not wanting to attract any attention as they approached the safe house and pulled into its parking garage.
They didn’t speak as they rode the elevator to the fifth floor and he keyed in the security code he’d memorized before deploying on this mission. The door opened, and he pulled her inside before securing the lock and reactivating the alarm syste
m.
“Did you get it?” she asked, her first words since they’d escaped.
“You bet,” he answered. He took his phone from his pocket and showed her the image of the executioner. His face was clear and large on the screen. A second image showed him next to a known mob boss and directing the gunman in the club.
“Fantastic.” She smiled, and Anderson’s heart rate shot up. He should have thought better of his next move, but his body was still pumping with adrenaline. He yanked her to him for a victory kiss.
Her mouth opened to him, and he plunged his tongue in as he shoved her against the wall, hands roaming down her body, hips grinding against hers. Immediately he knew he didn’t want to stop with a kiss. Weeks of sexual frustration burned through him, and he couldn’t get enough of her. The attraction between them had almost throbbed at times, but they’d both backed away from acting on it. Until then. She pulled his shirt from his pants and slipped her hands underneath. Demanding fingers roamed over his stomach and rubbed across his nipples. She was driving him wild, and all he could feel was need.
“I want you,” he said, not giving a damn that their relationship was supposed to be professional—or that they didn’t always like each other.
“One thing we agree on.” Her hands dropped lower and cupped his erection through his pants, making him moan.
Before she could do more, he hiked her dress up, taking it over her head when she lifted her arms. She wore only a lace thong underneath. He sucked in a breath. God, she was beautiful, even more than he’d imagined she’d be. He palmed her breasts before taking one nipple in his mouth.
“God, that’s amazing,” she murmured, arching into him as he sucked. Their lower bodies rubbed together while her hands continued to explore him, stroking long paths down his back to his butt. When she pulled his wallet from his pants pocket, he lifted his head to meet her eyes. She gave him a sultry smile. “Condom in here, right?”
“Good guess,” he said, switching his attention to her other breast as his fingers traveled down her sides.
“It’s what I do. Make guesses based on evidence”—she gasped when he squeezed her ass—“and observations. My assessment of you is that you’re a condom-in-the-wallet kind of guy. Do you mind if I retrieve it?”
“Help yourself.” A second later, he heard his wallet hit the floor behind him and took the condom from her. He removed his shirt while she undid his pants. With one motion, she hooked her fingers in the waistband of both trousers and boxers and shoved them down until he could step free. Only one wisp of fabric remained between them. He kissed her lips, scraping his tongue across hers, before moving his mouth down her neck, taking nips at her skin. He followed the valley between her breasts, down over her navel, and to the edge of the lace.
Her hands sank into his hair as he swirled his tongue over the fabric, tracing the outline of her cunt.
“Take them off,” she breathed, but rather than wait for him, she pushed the panties down herself. He helped work the thong down her legs, touching and teasing as he went. “Take me against this wall.” She was demanding as always, but he was willing to comply this once.
He stood and rolled the condom onto his dick. “Hop on.”
She put her arms around his neck, making it easy for him to lift her. Her legs squeezed around him as they had in the club, but now there was nothing between them. He plunged into her, bracing her against the wall. She tipped her head back, giving him easy access to her throat and breasts.
Passion like he’d never known swamped him. He had to try to harness it or he’d come too quickly. He tried to slow the pace, but she squeezed her inner muscles around his dick, driving him on. They were both panting as their bodies pounded together. He didn’t think he could last another minute when she came, a rough scream coming from her lips. He thrust into her one more time, and the orgasm took him in wave after wave of pleasure.
3
“Where are we going?” Violet asked after sitting silently in the car for ten minutes. Fortunately, Nate had zonked as soon as they started moving. Car rides had that effect on him, even ones that changed roads and doubled back like this one was doing. Standard practice, she told herself. Anderson was taking evasive action. She’d used her own training to do the same thing in the past weeks when she felt she was being watched.
“No idea. Working on it.” He spoke in choppy sentences, eyes flicking between the mirrors.
She sighed. They’d never been good at conversation. Intelligence work and sex were their joint areas of expertise. And they’d only done the second of those things once. But once had been enough. She twisted in her seat so she could catch Nate’s profile. His head was resting against the padded side of the seat, not far from the bullet hole she’d seen earlier. She squeezed her eyes shut, fighting against the image that rose in her mind.
“Something behind us?” Anderson asked. “I don’t see that black SUV in my mirror.”
Had he forgotten about his son already?
“Nothing that shouldn’t be there.” She faced forward again, unwilling to engage about Nate and Anderson’s role in his upbringing while they were fleeing for their lives. She had to think, kick her analyst brain into gear. The other incidents she’d described to Anderson had happened more than two weeks ago, and she’d begun to feel safe. What had made her assailant escalate from some creepy behaviors to riddling her car with bullets?
She had to look for the source of the change. Her eyes moved to Anderson’s profile. The high forehead, long nose, surprisingly sensuous lips. She remembered what those felt like on her body and nearly shivered with desire. This was no time to be thinking about that night in Russia when they’d torn each other’s clothes off and had primal sex against a wall.
The aftermath of that experience was more indicative of their relationship. They’d caught their breath and immediately turned away from each other. No postsex cuddling. No soft words. They’d each picked up their clothes and gone in opposite directions in the safe house. From then until they parted in Germany a day later, they’d only communicated when necessary.
One magical moment in Russia had produced the little guy behind her. She pulled the note from the outside pocket of the diaper bag where she’d stashed it and looked at it again. Rereading the Russian writing sent a chill down her spine. She wasn’t scared for her own life, but if anything happened to Nate…
She flipped the paper over, looking for any clues that might identify the sender.
“Find anything?” Anderson asked as he merged onto a highway.
“Nothing that I can see.” The fancy equipment at the lab where she worked might reveal more, but she didn’t have access to that. And they’d both contaminated any evidence by handling the paper. “I’m thinking it can’t be a coincidence that the attack was today. You arrived home from your deployment two days ago, and this was the first time we saw each other. Someone’s been watching me and waiting to send us a message when we’re together.”
“Maybe,” he conceded, “but we’ve never been a couple.”
“We looked like one, though.” That had been their cover story in Moscow. He played the role of a wealthy American who might be interested in making an arrangement with the Russian mob, and she’d been his eye candy. The truth couldn’t have been more different. Her analysis work had made her the primary on their mission, and he'd been support and protection. Since they both viewed themselves as being in charge, they’d disagreed nearly daily. Some of that was just the tension of the mission, some was the latent desire between them. “And… I don’t know. Even if our cover is partly or completely blown, maybe my pregnancy convinced them our relationship was real.”
Anderson remained silent for several minutes. “If you’re right about this, we need to change cars. They probably have intel on me, including what I drive.”
“That would be a start,” she said, “but we need a safe place to go so we can figure this out. We can’t drive forever.” Safe houses existed, both government
and private ones, but she didn’t have access to that list. Her supervisor would, but she wondered if that would be a smart move. Protocol told her she should report this incident and wait for directions, but her instincts, which were rarely wrong, told her otherwise.
“Are you still thinking of calling in?” he asked, exiting the highway and taking a road that ran perpendicular to it. She realized they were slowly working their way southwest from his house.
“I don’t think that’s wise. Combined with what happened today, the breach concerns me.” She ticked over the details of the breach, the ones she knew. Were there more?
“Should have been sealed,” he said.
“In a neat and tidy world, it would have been,” she said. Anderson was used to the closed ranks of SEAL teams, where nothing dangerous was allowed to simmer. Her world was much more nebulous. Sometimes threats were permitted to exist, even encouraged, to see where they were going and who they tracked back to. She’d advised taking that course of action herself in the past in certain situations. It all felt different when it was targeted at her.
She’d thought from the beginning that there was a high probability the breach was the work of the Wolf’s organization. Like their leader, they were relentless hunters. Volkhov himself was supposedly being held in a Russian prison, but that didn’t mean his pack was lying around licking their wounds. Or that he was unable to give directions
“This all feels too volatile to me,” she finally said.
“No kidding,” he muttered.
She swung her gaze to him. “What I’m saying is that I need time to analyze and assess. You write stuff in your little notepads.” She reached across and tapped the pad of paper he always carried in his chest pocket. “I have to let intel coalesce in my brain.”
“It helps me to write it down,” he said, looking annoyed.
“I get that. You’d be scribbling away right now if you weren’t driving.” It surprised her how much she knew about him and his methods. They’d been together just six weeks in Russia, but she’d had plenty of opportunity to observe him during that time.
The SEAL’s Surprise Baby: Hartsville’s SEAL Heroes Book Two Page 2