Midnight Velvet

by Jaci Burton

  She might have been a prisoner but she had the most devastatingly handsome prison guard on the face of the earth. It could have been much worse. She could have been stuck with an agent named Bubba—short, fat, balding and stupid. Yes, her situation could be a lot worse.

  “So, now that we’ve narrowed down the list of possibles to people working at the agency, what’s next? How do we figure out who’s the inside man?”

  He scooped a forkful of eggs and drank his orange juice in two gulps. “That should be pretty easy. I finish the mission. First, I’ll drop a few clues about what I’m doing and see who comes after me.”

  Dread shot over her like black-edged lightning. The risks Tyler took frightened her more than she would ever admit to him. It was his job to take these risks. And she had no personal stake in his life anyway, so it shouldn’t bother her. “In other words, whoever tries to kill you is the bad guy?”

  And yet, even as the words spilled from her mouth, she knew it did bother her.

  His smile didn’t match the grim look in his eyes. “Something like that.”

  Her breakfast rolled in her stomach, that queasy feeling of fear beginning to escalate inside her. She couldn’t—no, wouldn’t—think about the danger he put himself in. “And you think you can finish the mission without someone to back you up?” She took their dishes to the sink and began to load the dishwasher.

  “I usually work alone.” He stood and cleared the table.

  Nevada turned toward him and leaned against the sink, grabbing his arm as he walked by. “You’re not alone now.”

  Their eyes met, so much unsettled between them. She feared for him, unhappy that he’d put his life in danger for a stupid mission. But that’s what he did—it was his job. Whether she liked it or not. Besides, she had no right to like or dislike anything he did. She had no control over his life.

  An easy smile played on his mouth. “You’re not quite agent backup material yet.”

  Ignoring the immediate bristling at his remark, she replied coolly, “I could be if you’d give me some training.”

  He shook his head. “What I need to teach you isn’t going to happen in a few days. Training takes time. We don’t have that kind of time right now.”

  “I learn fast.”

  “Not that fast.”

  Refusing to back down, she said, “Then I can help you in other ways.”

  He lifted a tendril of hair off her shoulder, rubbing it between his thumb and middle finger.

  She shivered and remembered the way his hands had glided over her body, the way she’d arched up to meet them, offering herself to him.

  “Yes, I know how helpful you can be.”

  He wasn’t referring to her analytical abilities. “I meant with the investigation.”

  “Oh, did you?”

  He slid his palm behind her head, cupping her neck and drawing her lips to his. Without hesitating, she reached for him; wet, soapy palms splayed against his chest.

  His heart thrummed against her palm in an ever-increasing beat. The confusion she normally felt around him always seemed to dim whenever he kissed her. Then, at least, everything felt right. Was that good or bad?

  “The hot water’s running,” she murmured against his lips.

  “Yes it is,” he replied softly, then slid his mouth over her jaw and neck, playfully nipping at her shoulder.

  The sensuous contact of teeth against skin made her gasp, her nipples pebbling against the thin cotton of her T-shirt. Instinctively she leaned into Tyler’s bare chest, as if the mere act of pressing her aching breasts against him would offer relief.

  He lifted his head to whisper teasingly in her ear. “Is the hot water making you cold?”

  “Not at all.” She leaned back and met his heated gaze.

  He tilted her chin, forcing her eyes to meet his. “Then I take your hard nipples as a compliment.” He kissed her mouth briefly and left the room. Nevada watched him with a hunger that never went away.

  It took her all of an hour to figure out the kissing scene in the kitchen had been nothing more than a way to distract her. She’d mentioned helping him and he’d kissed her until she’d forgotten their conversation.

  Well, not quite. That discussion wasn’t over and she intended to bring it up again right away.

  Except he was in the shower. Nevada sat on the bed in the spare bedroom, the sunlight pouring in from the windows and heating her skin. She needed a shower too, but once again she was without spare clothes. The shorts and shirt she’d thrown on last night in their hurry to escape were her only attire.

  At least she had some privacy now, and even her own shower right outside her bedroom. But is that what she wanted? Privacy? Seemed last night she was willing to give up more than her privacy while she lay practically naked under Tyler.

  Thinking about the things they’d done heated her even more than the streaming sunshine, sending sparks of desire jittering through her. She felt antsy, nervous and unsettled. How many life-changing events could a person handle in a few short days?

  Never before had she craved intrigue and the heart-palpitating rush of adrenaline brought on by danger. Now she lived on the edge of danger, risking both her life and her heart. She wasn’t sure what scared her most—the threat of the cartel wanting to kill her or the danger to her heart from a man whose voice sent shivers of sexual awareness through her body.

  It was easier when Tyler was nothing but a fantasy—a dream about something that could never be. Then it was safe. Now, that fantasy had become a reality.

  Suddenly the door to his bedroom opened and she stiffened, trying to look busy. Yeah, right. Busy doing what? Examining the ceiling? So, she’d been visualizing him naked—there was no crime in that.

  “What are you thinking about?” he said as he crossed the hall and leaned against the doorway to her room.

  If he continued to dress like that, her tension was going to escalate until she erupted like a boiling volcano. Clad only in a pair of cotton workout shorts, he could star in any woman’s fantasy. Tan, tall and not an ounce of fat on him, his hair was still damp from the shower, uncombed in a just-had-sex kind of way.

  Manipulation. That’s what it was, pure and simple. He may have fooled her once, but not again. “I was thinking about the way you maneuvered me in the kitchen this morning.”

  “Maneuvered? How?”

  She didn’t buy his shocked look. “You kissed me.”

  “I didn’t know kissing was considered manipulation,” he said, one eyebrow elevated, lending him that sexy, hellion look. He viewed her through heavily lidded eyes. Bedroom eyes. If she were the swooning type of girl, she’d be collapsing about now. As it was, he made her heart want to leap out of her chest and attach itself to his.

  “Well, you did.” She rose from the bed and approached him, intending to stand firm in her desire to continue their earlier discussion. But then she made a fatal mistake. She inhaled.

  How could plain soap smell so sexy on a man? He was fresh, clean and she was struck by a burning desire to lick that spot on his neck where a droplet of water rested.

  “And how, exactly, did I do that?”

  Her focus drifted back to his face and away from further temptation. “We were talking about me helping you and the next thing I knew you were kissing me, making me forget all about our conversation.”

  “Uh-huh. As if I had the capability to distract you,” he said, trailing a finger along her cheek and down her neck, ever so slowly sliding down over her frantically beating heart.

  “No, you don’t.” She grabbed his hand and pushed it away before he tricked her again. “I’m not dumb enough to let you do that to me twice.”

  “How about just once, then?”

  Nevada knew he was talking about more than simple distraction. Damn if she couldn’t feel her blood boiling at the thought. “Let’s talk about how I can help you.”

  “I thought we just were.” Now he was grinning like an idiot.

  “Tyler!�
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  He threw his head back and laughed. “Okay, let’s talk about it.”

  They went into the office, actually a small, recessed area off the main living room. An L-shaped desk housed a laptop and printer, along with Tyler’s security system. Bright red lights scanned silently, their even lines providing a small measure of comfort after yesterday’s upheaval.

  She pulled up a chair in front of the monitor and connected to the Internet, while Tyler explained what needed to be done.

  “How come no one knows about this place?” she asked.

  “It’s not in my name and I always have a safe house. The only ones who know about this condo are my parents and I think they can be trusted,” he said with a wink.

  “How come it’s clean and has a newspaper and fully stocked kitchen?”

  “I have paid help who keep it that way. I’m usually in and out of here a couple times a week. When I’m on long-term assignment, I let the help know so they don’t buy fresh food.”

  There was a lot to learn about this secret agent business.

  “We need to find out when and where the next shipment of supplies is coming in.”

  “Supplies to make methamphetamine?”

  He nodded.

  “Okay,” she said as the connection was made and she entered the address for the search engine. “Explain the operation to me and I’ll try to find what we need.”

  Tyler took a seat next to her, his fresh scent wafting over her in sensuous waves. Concentrate. She kept her gaze focused on the laptop.

  “Meth labs are usually small operations; your average mom-and-pop drug manufacturers using common household products and appliances to create the drug.”

  “What chemicals do they use?”

  “Lots of different kinds, like cleaning fluids, acetone and lantern fuel. Mainly, they use diet pills and cold medicine.”

  “Diet pills and cold medicine? What do they have to do with making illegal drugs?”

  “There are two ways to cook meth. One is P-2-P, a shortened form of a lengthy chemical name. P-2-P is used by the big drug cartels in Mexico to manufacture meth.”

  “But not in the US?”

  “It used to be, until our government restricted its use and distribution. Because of that, people wanting to make meth turned to another way called ephedrine reduction.”

  “Isn’t ephedrine an ingredient in cold medicines?”

  “Yeah, and diet pills. The meth cooks have to extract the ephedrine from over-the-counter cold medicines. Which is why most meth labs have been small operations.”

  She frowned. “I don’t understand.”

  Tyler took her hand in his. She felt the stirring of her pulse as he rubbed his fingers over the base of her thumb.

  “It takes a very large amount of ephedrine to make a very small amount of meth. The government is aware of what local meth makers do—they buy ephedrine in bulk from the drugstore. That practice has been banned. Now drug and grocery stores limit the number of packages of cold medicines that can be sold to one person.”

  As if he just realized he was holding her hand, Tyler released it and rose from the table. “More coffee?”

  She nodded and watched him leave the room, then turned back to the laptop to begin her search. By the time he returned with their coffee cups, she was full of questions. “So the drug cartel in Mexico brings in the P-2-P instead, setting up larger operations which can manufacturer bigger quantities of meth.”

  “Right. And larger operations mean more meth on the street. They’re sophisticating the drug manufacturing and distribution by eliminating the little people who bought ephedrine at the store and made meth in their garage.”

  “I had no idea,” she said, shocked at what little she knew about such a dangerous drug.

  “Meth is profitable. The more they make, the more they sell. The more they sell, the more people they get addicted.”

  “And more addicts equals increased sales.” She shuddered at the thought.

  He nodded. “Which is why we have to stop this influx of chemicals and put a halt to the start-up of these regional distribution networks.”

  “Then let’s get started.” Armed with determination, Nevada vowed whatever they needed, she’d find it.

  * * * * *

  Tyler had left the condo hours ago. Nevada had been hard at work, looking for clues to the impending shipment of supplies. She’d waved him off when he said he had to leave for a bit.

  It bugged the hell out of him that someone in the agency sold them out, knowing the cartel would have them killed.

  As he shut the front door and set the security system, he pulled out his cell phone, noting several calls from both the commander and Dylan, as well as other field agents. Calls he wouldn’t return. Not just yet.

  By now they’d know he and Nevada had left his house in the country. If someone at the NCA wasn’t in on the plan to kill them, they’d be frantically trying to reach him. Either way, until he discovered who was working against the agency, he wasn’t going to make contact with anyone.

  Someone inside the NCA was involved with the drug cartel.

  But who? And why? For money? Or something else?

  He and Dylan went back quite a few years. His gut told him Dylan was innocent. Dylan sure as hell didn’t need the money, so it didn’t make sense for him to be in with the cartel. But logic forced him to consider everyone, no matter his personal feelings.

  Nevada barely looked up from the laptop screen when he came in the door. He said hello as he passed by and all he got was a brief wave in his general direction.

  He threw the bags down in her room and walked out, waiting for her to notice him.

  “Find anything?” he asked as he approached her.

  No answer.

  “Nevada.”

  He had to give her credit for her ability to concentrate.

  “Nevada!”

  Glaring eyes popped over the top of the monitor. “You don’t have to shout. What is it?”

  “Did you find anything?”

  “Sort of.”

  Well, there’s a definitive answer. “I bought you some clothes while I was out.”

  “That’s nice.”

  She wasn’t listening to him.

  “Thought you might like a shower. You know, freshen up a bit.”

  “Sounds great.”

  When she concentrated, she really concentrated.

  “I was thinking that after your shower you could suck my dick.”

  “Okay.”

  He suppressed the laugh.

  “Maybe even do it twice.”

  Finally her head popped up. “Huh? Do what twice?”

  He crossed his arms and leaned against the archway to the room, feeling victorious. “Too late now. You already agreed.”

  Her brows furrowed, confusion written all over her face. “Agreed? What are you talking about?”

  “Our conversation. You just agreed to take a shower and blow me.”

  Her golden eyes widened in shock. “I did not!”

  Then he couldn’t help it. He laughed at her, which didn’t seem to please her one bit. “When you concentrate, you agree to anything. I’ll have to keep that in mind for future reference.”

  She stood and stretched her back, her breasts straining against her shirt. His gaze was riveted to the sharp points poking the thin material, wishing he could flick his thumbs over her distended nipples.

  “Sorry. I was working. I’ve found a few things that might interest you. But the shower sounds like a great idea. I’ll be right back.”

  He nodded and sat in front of the monitor to peruse the information on the screen when he heard her bedroom door open. He looked up and smiled at her stunned look.

  “You bought me clothes.”

  “Yes, I believe I mentioned that when I came back, but you were too busy to notice.”

  “And they’re all the right size. How did you know?”

  “I guessed.”

  “Guessed?”


  “Yeah.” He wasn’t about to tell her he noticed what sizes she bought when he took her shopping. Definitely not a guy thing.

  Her face colored, which he found adorable. Not many women blushed these days. The fact that she did turned him on quicker than if she’d done a naked table dance.

  Although the naked table dance sounded intriguing too.

  “Thank you,” she said as she stood awkwardly between the hall and the office. “I appreciate you thinking of me.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “I’m going to take that shower now.”

  “Okay.”

  She didn’t break eye contact and neither did he. Finally, she turned and walked into her bedroom without another word.

  And then he exhaled.

  God, she was making him crazy. The last thing in the world he needed right now was an attraction to the woman he was supposed to protect and train. Yet there it was, as obvious as his constant state of discomfort whenever she was near.

  He didn’t want this, but damn if he wasn’t getting tired of trying to fight it.

  Be serious, he told himself. Just when, exactly, had he tried to fight her off? When he’d taken her in his arms and kissed her, or when he had her half-naked underneath him? Obviously she was such a brute she’d overpowered him, forcing herself under him. He laughed out loud at the visual.

  He wanted her so damn bad his hands shook like an addict needing a fix. And Nevada was the drug.

  His feelings for her were compromising the mission, making him lose his focus. Time was dwindling and the stakes were increasing. Taking out this cartel had to be first on his mind.

  Not the desire to make love to the woman whose every word, every movement, every touch, threatened to take him to a place he’d never been. The logical thing to do would be to get her out of his life, and out of his mind, as soon as possible.

  But how? It’s not like he could contact the NCA and make arrangements for someone else to take her. That would be a surefire way to get her killed.

  He needed someone he could trust. Someone he knew she’d be safe with.