I Spy a Dark Obsession sa-3

by Jo Davis

  I Spy a Dark Obsession

  ( Shado Agency - 3 )

  Jo Davis

  Desire takes on dangerous forms in the conclusion to the sexy SHADO series.

  As leader of the covert homeland security agency SHADO, Michael Ross wants revenge on ex-agent Robert Dietz. Only two people can help him capture this psychopath: Sexy tech expert Katrina Brandt and Michael's new right-hand man, Bastian Chevalier. But as the three team up, they find themselves consumed by an illicit desire for one another. Will his two lovers be able to save Michael from falling prey to his deadly lust for vengeance?

  Jo Davis. I Spy a Dark Obsession

  In loving memory of Hannah Montgomery, my dear friend and second mom for almost forty years. Losing you is proof that there is never quite enough time to let people know what they truly mean to you. So I hope you somehow know all of the things I ran out of precious time to say.

  The world just isn’t right without you in it. I miss your sweet Southern drawl and your wicked sense of humor. I hope the angels realize how lucky they are to have you among them. I love you.

  Acknowledgments

  Special thanks to: My family for supporting me as they always do, with little complaint that I’m frequently here in body while my spirit is running through the woods taking out the bad guys.

  My agent and friend Roberta Brown for always being there for me. You are a special lady.

  My editor Tracy Bernstein for all her support and confidence.

  My dear friend and critique partner Suzanne Ferrell for coming up with the title of this book! Great one, and so perfect for our heroes’ final showdown with Dietz.

  The Foxes for making what has been a really tough year immeasurably better. I love you all.

  Prologue

  Bastian Chevalier gazed down at the sleeping form of Michael Ross, his boss at SHADO — the Secret Homeland Defense Organization. His oldest friend. In years past, his closest confidant. Fellow football fan and beer-drinking buddy.

  The only person — man or woman — he’d ever loved.

  And you had to go and ruin your friendship by telling him, didn’t you? Sent him straight into Maggie’s arms. God rest her soul.

  Bastian had thought that nothing on earth could equal the pain of watching from the sidelines, heartbroken, as Michael married her. As he spoke excitedly of trying to start a family, while Bastian’s dreams crumbled around him.

  Elbows on his knees, he put his face in his hands and gave a soft, bitter laugh, thinking how very wrong he’d been. Because nothing could possibly be worse than a world without Michael in it.

  No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shut out the horrible memory of the gunshots. Of Michael’s eyes widening with shock, his body jerking, crumpling to the dirty asphalt outside the restaurant. Gunned down by Robert Dietz’s assassin and left to die.

  And he nearly had. Michael had fought hard for days, struggled back from the brink of death as Bastian went quietly out of his mind. Bargained with God, the devil, whomever would listen and heed his plea for Michael to live. His promise that if Michael pulled through, he’d never again ask for more.

  In hindsight, keeping that promise would be the most difficult thing he’d ever done.

  “Bastian?”

  At the sound of Michael’s scratchy voice, his head snapped up and he scooted closer to the bed, fixing a smile on his face that he hoped appeared relaxed and reassuring.

  “Hey, man. How are you feeling?”

  Michael blinked slowly, processing the question, long, dark lashes feathered against pale cheeks. “Like a building fell on me. How…” He licked his chapped lips and took a pained breath. “How long was I out this time?”

  Bastian resisted the urge to touch his hair. Just barely. “A few hours. Water?”

  “Please.”

  After raising the bed a little, he grabbed the plastic cup and pitcher and poured some fresh water. He held the cup close to Michael, angling the straw to place it between his lips. “Easy. Just a few sips.”

  Michael took a few draws before Bastian gently pulled away the straw and helped him settle onto the pillows. Setting the cup on the nightstand, he busied himself checking the IV line, smoothing the covers — anything to keep from getting caught in the brown eyes now studying him. Watching his every move.

  Next he rearranged the plants and flowers sent by Michael’s friends and agents, all bearing get-well wishes. Tidied the magazines he’d brought for when Michael felt up to reading. Threw away some take-out wrappers from the previous night. Which reminded him that he needed to go home and shower, change clothes—

  Michael cleared his throat. “What are you doing?”

  “Straightening things up before I go. What does it look like?” He knew he hadn’t been able to hide the tension in his voice or his movements. Not from his best friend.

  “Bastian. Talk to me.”

  He froze, fists clenched at his sides. An awful knot was lodged in his throat. It was more than a product of fear, of agonizing days waiting to learn whether Michael would survive. It burned and ached like nothing he’d felt before, throbbed in a pulsing wave that spread to his churning stomach and to every limb. And he recognized it for what it was.

  Hatred. Vile, toxic, eating his insides.

  Michael waited. Finally, Bastian’s resolve shattered and he gave his friend the truth.

  “I’m going to kill him,” he said quietly, “if it’s the last thing I do.”

  Michael didn’t have to ask whom. The seconds ticked in heavy silence before the answer came, sure and steady. “We’ll take him together. Promise you’ll wait for me.”

  Don’t you know I’d wait for you forever?

  But that wasn’t what Michael meant, and the reminder tore at his heart all over again. Still, what was one more promise? He nodded. “I’ll wait for you to get well, and then we’ll take down that son of a whore. You have my word.”

  Michael heaved a sigh, his expression relieved, and seemed to sink into the pillows. “Thank you.”

  Their gazes locked, and Bastian’s pulse stuttered as for one unguarded moment something more than gratitude shone in those liquid eyes. An emotion more than warmth, deeper than friendship. Then the connection was broken as his friend’s eyes closed, leaving Bastian shaken.

  He must’ve imagined it. Michael was doped on all kinds of meds, including strong painkillers. Whatever he’d seen in his friend’s gaze was drug induced and would be forgotten by the time he woke.

  Bastian took his seat again as Michael drifted off to sleep. Now that the man was out, he allowed every bit of the love and worry he felt to show once more. Even wrecked, Michael was beautiful. Mussed sable hair poked in every direction, glinting with natural red and gold tints. His full lips were parted in sleep, and Bastian wondered how they would taste, how the muscles of his chest and back would feel under his hands as he brought the man more pleasure than he’d ever known.

  “Stop it,” he whispered to himself.

  He’d wasted enough years longing for a man he could never have, and his feelings had driven a wedge between them. Michael’s brush with death seemed to have given them a second chance at friendship, and he wouldn’t ruin it this time. He’d take what he could get, for however long he had left in this world.

  A shiver trailed down his spine as he thought of Dietz out there somewhere, crouched in a dark corner like a deadly spider. Waiting to strike again.

  And when the bastard made his move on Michael this time, Bastian would step right between them.

  To hell with the cost.

  One

  “Dammit, Michael, what the fuck are you doing here? You shouldn’t be back at work this soon! SHADO can survive without you for a coup
le more weeks.” Michael Ross looked up from the file on his desk and at Bastian Chevalier’s anxious face. In spite of Michael’s CEO and closest friend driving him bat-shit crazy for the past few weeks of his convalescence, nagging him to rest and eat right, Michael’s mouth curved into a smile. He should’ve known better than to think he could hide in his office without being discovered.

  “SHADO will survive, but you, my friend, are about to collapse,” he pointed out reasonably. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed you’ve been running yourself ragged heading the organization and taking care of me at the same time.”

  Bastian was tired, no question. His thick golden blond hair was disheveled from being finger-combed so often, Michael was surprised the man hadn’t gone bald. Dark circles were smudged under bottle green eyes that hadn’t lit with laughter in more than a month. No, more like years, if he was honest, at least where Michael was concerned, and for reasons that had nothing to do with last month’s assassination attempt.

  Yeah, it seemed he’d made an art out of hurting Bastian. His smile dimmed as his friend continued to argue.

  “I’ve been managing just fine, thanks. And this isn’t about me,” his friend snapped. “I know the doctor hasn’t cleared you to come back at all, much less full-time. And are you forgetting his warning that before you were shot, you were flirting with a stress-induced heart attack? Get your ass out from behind that desk. I’m taking you home.”

  Michael opened his mouth to argue, but the thunderous expression on his friend’s handsome face changed his mind. “Fine. It’s not like I’ll get anything else done today with you hovering and glaring at me.” He locked away the file and powered off his computer while his friend waited. Standing, he grabbed his suit jacket off the back of his chair, wincing at the sudden tug on his healing wounds as he shrugged it on. Thankfully Bastian refrained from delivering the smug “I told you so” that obviously hovered on his lips.

  “How did you get here, anyway?” Bastian asked in exasperation.

  “Simon.” Michael paid the older gentleman handsomely to act as his butler, personal attendant, and driver, if needed. The man took his job seriously and did it exceptionally well.

  “Figured as much. You’re the most stubborn jackass who ever lived,” Bastian grumbled, leading his friend out of the offices and into the main hallway.

  “But you love me anyway,” he pointed out cheerfully. Then he stumbled mentally, wondering why he’d said that. Christ, the last thing he needed was to give Bastian the wrong idea. False hope. Worried, he shot a sideways glance at his friend, but Bastian only snorted, shaking his head.

  “I’ve spent the past month nursing an ungrateful horse’s rear end. Super.”

  “A jackass is a donkey, not a horse.”

  “Whatever.”

  “And I am grateful. More than you know.”

  “That’s because you’d go nuts rattling around in that McMansion of yours with nobody but an uptight British butler for company.” Bastian raised a brow. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

  “Okay, you’ve got me there. But that’s not the only reason I — Hey, are you fishing for a compliment?” With suspicion he eyed his friend, who managed an innocent expression.

  “Of course not. You don’t have to say you like having me around for me to know it’s true.”

  “Good. Because I do, you know. Like having you around.” Damn, he had a feeling he’d just been played. But any annoyance over the fact vanished when Bastian graced him with a thousand-watt smile that illuminated his friend’s sexy face and did really weird fucking things to his insides. Sort of twisted them up and—

  Shit, no. The warmth spreading from his belly to his groin was not arousal. No goddamned way.

  “Michael, welcome back.”

  The warm, husky greeting jerked him from his confusing thoughts and his steps halted as he looked around for the source. Their electronic-surveillance expert approached, hand out, a smile on her wide, luscious mouth that he couldn’t help but return.

  “Katrina. It’s good to be back.” He shook the offered hand, noting how her strong, self-assured grip belied the soft, pale skin and slender fingers. Gorgeous on the outside, made of tough stuff on the inside. Not butch, but classy and confident. He liked that in a woman. A lot.

  “I’ll bet. I can’t imagine being laid up for weeks,” she said, letting go of his hand. “Then there’s all the catching up to do. I don’t envy you one bit.”

  God, that voice of hers. Low and smooth, like a palm sliding over his skin. It wasn’t like he hadn’t noticed how her sexy voice tightened his balls every single time she spoke. Because he had. Just like he noticed that her drab white lab coat couldn’t hide the curves on her lovely five-foot-nine-inch body. Or that wearing her hair pulled back into a serviceable ponytail, as she wore it now, couldn’t disguise how stunning the fiery mass was when freed from its confines. He’d always thought she looked like a younger, redheaded version of Rene Russo, and he wondered whether she heard that often.

  The truth was, Katrina Brandt flat-out did it for him, even if it wasn’t appropriate to let on, what with being her boss. Sexual harassment suit, anyone? Still, if he was confused before about the heat enveloping his cock in Bastian’s presence, he certainly wasn’t now. Women turned him on, period. Relief overwhelmed him, nearly knocking him over.

  “He’s not back,” Bastian grumbled, scowling. “He’s ignoring doctor’s orders, and I’m taking him home, where I intend to punish him. Severely.”

  The redhead glanced between them, blue eyes sparkling. “Well, I’d pay good money to see that. I might even help, considering that the boss man here turned down my last vacation request.”

  The three of them shared a laugh, but Michael sensed a peculiar tension underscoring her playful teasing. As though she really wasn’t joking at all. He shifted and pulled his jacket tighter around him, hoping it hid his heavy erection. Jesus, he needed relief. Soon, or he was going to explode.

  He cleared his throat. “Crime doesn’t take the week off, and, as I recall, you asked me at a bad time.”

  “Is there ever a good time in this business?” Her unwavering stare challenged him for a truthful answer.

  “You have a point. Hell, I’ve been out for a month and the place obviously didn’t fall apart.” Thanks to Bastian, but he didn’t say that. “Tell you what — drop by my office with the dates you want off and I’ll approve them. You’ve earned it.”

  “He means drop them off at my office,” Bastian said firmly. “He’s not supposed to be pushing himself just yet.”

  “Will do.” Katrina swept each of them with what Michael swore was an appreciative look filled with sexual heat. “And thank you. Michael, take it easy. Gentlemen, I’ll catch you both later.”

  Watching her walk away, he wondered which of them that predatory look had been for. Surely not both of them. It had to have been the lack of sex that had affected his poor, starved body and turned his brain to mush. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be entertaining such crazy ideas about one of his own employees. A soft whistle from Bastian interrupted his thoughts.

  “Damn, that’s one helluva fine woman,” his friend said, leering at Katrina’s retreating backside.

  A stab of annoyance went through him. “I thought you preferred men.”

  Bastian looked at him in mild surprise. “You know perfectly well I’m bisexual. That means my options aren’t nearly as limited as yours, my friend. Come on, let’s get you home.”

  My options aren’t nearly as limited. Meaning the man could indulge in the pleasures of either men or women without a care. And Michael might be straight, but he wasn’t blind — the man was pure sex and could have anyone he wanted, when he wanted.

  Except me.

  If anything, his annoyance increased and he couldn’t fathom why. As he eased himself into the passenger’s seat of Bastian’s snazzy little red Porsche, he chalked it up to being tired. And horny, too, with no outlet except his own fist. How depressing.

&nb
sp; As Bastian pulled out of the parking lot and drove past the guard gate, Michael removed his iPhone from the inside pocket of his jacket. “What do you want for dinner?” Every instruction regarding the household went through Simon. The aging butler liked to know ahead of time so he could inform Mrs. Beasley, Michael’s part-time cook and housekeeper.

  “Nothing. I’m going home tonight.”

  The calm, quiet statement socked Michael in the gut. “What? Why?”

  Bastian gave a soft laugh that sounded sad to Michael’s ears. “If you’re well enough to ditch me and go against doctor’s orders, it’s probably time for me to get out of your hair. You don’t need me hanging around anymore, cramping your style.”

  “What an asinine thing to say.” What the hell? “Just a few minutes ago, you said I’d lose my marbles without you there, and you’re right. Who’ll watch TV and hang out by the pool with me? Who’ll tell stupid jokes and make me laugh? Even Simon almost cracks a smile when you’re around.”

  “I’m sure you’ll get by.”

  “I don’t want to get by. I want you to stay… unless you’re sick of me.” Dread balled in his stomach at the prospect of Bastian leaving. Before his friend moved in to take care of him following his release from the hospital, Michael had never realized that his sprawling estate was nothing more than a gorgeous prison with a view.

  “That’s crap and you know it.” Bastian sighed. “I’m happy to stay as long as you need me. I just… don’t want to overstay my welcome.”

  “Not gonna happen,” Michael insisted. “I’m asking you not to go. Please.”

  A pause, then, “Okay. I’ll stay.”

  The knot of tension left him in a rush, and he sagged in his seat. “So, dinner?”

  “Anything. Mrs. Beasley has me so spoiled it doesn’t even matter what she cooks.”