by Dana Marton
“Those three,” Reese said with amused nonchalance.
She swallowed the wrong way and coughed.
“You okay?” He was next to her in two steps.
“Fine,” she said forcing out the word. “Thank you.”
“Can’t let my partner choke to death.” A smile played above his lips.
“I meant for that boy.”
“He was that important to you?” He watched her.
She nodded.
“Okay. I understand.”
And the look in his eyes told her he really did. She’d never known anyone like him. Even his twin brother, and how odd was it to think this, but yes, even David with all his gleam and his suave style paled in comparison.
“So which of you was born first, you or David?” she voiced the question that came out of nowhere.
“I’m the old man.” He hunched his shoulders, but grinned.
And all of a sudden, she wanted to know more about him. Anita had this game they had played when they’d first arrived on the island in hopes of forging a better team. “Tell me one thing most people don’t know about you.”
He straightened and looked at her thoughtfully. “In high school, I was in a garage band.”
She smiled at the picture that popped into her head. “Heavy metal?”
“Country.”
The smile stretched her lips wider. “With your brother?”
“With some of the neighborhood boys. David was the manager.”
She shook her head. “Naturally. Sing something. Please?”
“Not even for money. I was the drummer,” he said, then his eyes narrowed as he focused on her face. He reached out and brushed his thumb over her cheekbone. “You hurt yourself.”
“I did?” She didn’t feel a thing. She reached up, too, her fingers touching his for a split second before he pulled away. “Just dirt.” She smudged her fingertips together. “Probably from when I dived into the boat.”
“Crazy night, huh?”
Her gaze dropped to his lips. Like the rest of the man, they were finely cut and masculine. Then she caught herself and lifted her gaze to his and saw it darken.
And then wa-woom, the whole comfort thing they’d been building between them was gone. The rush of nerves and the urge to flee were back, and it confused the spit out of her. What was wrong now?
She waited for the usual icy fingers of panic that squeezed the air out of her lungs, but that didn’t come. Instead, she found herself swaying toward Reese a little.
His hand slid around her waist and pulled her to him the rest of the way. When their bodies touched, it felt oddly different from before—a whole new range of sensations blinking to life throughout her body.
She was a little dizzy. And she was thirsty, definitely thirsty.
He rested his forehead against hers then shook his head as if he was fighting something. Then he gave in and touched his lips to hers.
Her eyes flew wide, then closed after a second, the lids growing unbearably heavy. Her arms were tingling right down to the tips of each finger. And then it clicked.
This is what it feels like to want a man.
The realization should have scared her, but it thrilled her instead. Because how normal was that? She was with a guy and she wanted him instead of being scared out of her brains.
And he wanted her!
The pleasure of that thought made her sink against him. She was practically swimming in relief. She smiled against his lips.
He pulled away, not looking nearly as pleased as she was. “I was going to apologize, but I see you find this funny.”
“Not funny.” Although she couldn’t stop smiling. “Just good.”
He shook his head, looking torn. “This is not what you need from me. I’m supposed to make sure you feel secure.”
“You do. See? That’s the point.” And she was grateful for that. “I wasn’t scared.” Why couldn’t he understand how monumental that was?
“So what did you feel?” he asked, his voice turning brusque.
“Relieved and safe.” Wasn’t that the most wonderful thing ever?
SHE WAS GOING to drive him crazy. Reese took in the way her face lit up, all excited because she hadn’t run.
On the one hand, he understood her reaction. Okay, almost. What the hell had just happened? When he kissed a woman he expected to make more of an impact.
Was he supposed to be overjoyed that she didn’t throw up on him from nerves or run screaming into the night at the touch of his lips?
Why were his knees weak with wanting, dammit? Why didn’t she feel the desire that was burning deep in his gut?
What right did he have to those feelings anyway?
Wrong time, wrong woman, wrong time, wrong woman. The words chimed in his head. And how many men had told themselves that right as they were whizzing down the slippery slope?
He wasn’t going there. Not him. Not on this mission. He had sufficient experience to avoid that trap. He was old enough and smart enough.
“I apologize anyway.” He backed up another step, wishing he could as easily back up in time. “As I said, you didn’t need this now.”
“But I did.” She stepped right after him, full of naive enthusiasm. “I spent so much time thinking I might never be able to trust another person, that I might never have a normal reaction to a man. But you’re so safe, and I’m finally starting to see that.” She gave him a beaming smile.
He closed his eyes for a minute before turning around and grabbing a towel from the back of a kitchen chair.
“It didn’t completely weird me out. For a moment I thought it would, but then it didn’t. It just felt totally okay. You know? Like no big deal.”
He could hear some frustration in her voice at his obvious lack of understanding.
He could barely understand his own reaction. When was the last time he’d felt this strong a pull toward any woman? Had he ever? Was it the adrenaline of the mission? Their forced proximity? The fact that he’d been on an overseas mission for far too long? He couldn’t begin to explain. Instead, he headed for the door, grabbing his swim trunks from the back of the chair on the way.
“Reese? What are you doing?” she asked behind him, now sounding bewildered.
Did she expect him to stay and celebrate?
He was happy for her. It was great that he no longer scared her stiff. It was a sign of healing. She was moving in the right direction, and he wanted that for her.
But, God help him, a moment ago he had wanted so much more than that. It would scare her half to death to know just how much. Boy, could she learn to hate him in a hurry. He didn’t have the heart to tell her that he wasn’t safe, nor were his impulses where she was concerned.
So he said the only thing he could, “I’m going for a swim.”
Chapter Five
Tsernyakov looked down at his list of close associates and thought long and hard about each. Which ones did he want to keep and which ones should he let be victims of the terrible attack to come? He didn’t trust a single one of them; he would have been a fool to do so. But he didn’t think any of them worked against him, either. If he had, he would have taken care of those already.
When this was over, would he need a bigger organization or a smaller one? Would the shake-up strengthen any of his subordinates enough so that the man might rise to become a worthy rival?
He was good at planning, but the magnitude of what was about to shake the world was, to a degree, disconcerting, even to him. He couldn’t afford to miss anything. No mistakes this time. He looked at the list again. Could everyone there stand up to that kind of stress?
He picked up a pen and crossed off one name, then another. He was poised over the third when a knock on his door interrupted his thoughts.
“Come in.”
“Forgive me, sir. Yakov is here.”
“Send him in.” He turned the paper over, leaned back in his chair and smiled.
Seeing Yakov face-to-face wasn’t necess
ary, but he wanted to meet with the man one last time. Yakov had been a thorn in his side long enough.
“Zdrastvuitye.” The man came in, pompous as ever, dressed like a billionaire. He never did know how to keep a low profile. It would have been the end of him sooner or later.
“Zdrastvuitye. How is business? Why don’t you sit?” He didn’t extend his hand for a shake, didn’t want to overplay his role.
“Growing by the day.” The man gave him a smug smile. “I heard you need me.” The way he spoke the sentence made it clear how much pleasure it gave him to word it like that.
“I’m thinking about divesting a few things. You were the first man I thought of.” Let his own conceit ensnare him.
He looked surprised. “Some of the shops not producing as they used to?”
Tsernyakov shrugged as if the conversation pained him. “It’s getting to be too much, that’s all.”
“What are we talking about?”
“Not sure yet. I’ll be making a list. I just wanted to know if you’d be interested in making the first bid once I’m ready to move.”
“Why me?” The man’s eyes narrowed.
“I do this favor and you agree not to compete against what I decide to keep.” He made it sound like he was concerned about Yakov pushing him out of some markets. In reality, nobody ever came close. The areas he chose to enter, he ruled.
Yakov wasn’t big enough to be called an adversary—although he liked to fancy himself as such—but he’d been the cause of considerable aggravation. Now he was hesitating, probably wary of a trap.
Tsernyakov didn’t worry. Most men had one ruling emotion that outlined their actions, no matter how much they thought, how carefully they weighed. For Yakov, this was greed.
And sure enough, the man nodded after a couple of seconds. “How soon?”
“Not more than a few weeks.” He watched Yakov as the man mentally calculated how much cash he could free up in that time.
I could have him killed, Tsernyakov thought idly.
He could kill the man even now, sitting across from his desk. A bullet from the handgun in his drawer would be all it took, or a nod to his secretary as he showed the man out.
But selling Yakov the assets that Tsernyakov felt were risky was so much more satisfying. He would make sure Yakov was at an impact location when The School Board unleashed their virus. The man would die a miserable death, along with his closest associates and his family, all infected by him, down to the five-legged freak cat he was rumored to have for a pet. But not before he paid a couple of million dollars to Tsernyakov for the privilege.
SAM SOAKED UP the sun as she lay on the beach and watched Cavanaugh walk toward her from the house. He hadn’t shown himself all morning. Maybe he was upset over the kid’s disappearance. He didn’t seem upset, though, strolling down the path as if he owned the world.
A shadow fell across her face, then Reese thumped to the sand next to her.
She suppressed all thoughts of their kiss the night before. If he could pretend that nothing had happened, then so could she. She was the queen of pretending. “Go away,” she said, although she wouldn’t have minded his company even if all they did was lie in the sun in silence.
He looked pretty damn good in his navy blue swim shorts, even with the scars that dotted his skin. They should have made him look more dangerous, but, oddly, they didn’t bother her. She knew he’d gotten them protecting people, just as he was protecting her right now. Obviously, he wasn’t scared of stepping between his charge and a bullet.
That, actually, made her feel even safer when she was with him. “I think Philippe is coming over to talk to me. Maybe I can find out some information.”
“Consider me already gone.” Reese grabbed the bottle of lotion and rubbed some on, making it look like that was his only reason for stopping by. The man had some awesome muscles.
He was about to leave when Cavanaugh halted his progress, still a good twenty feet from them, and pulled a cell phone out of his pocket.
And then an odd thing happened. Philippe’s whole body language changed. He went from king of the hill to subordinate in the split second it took to look at the LCD and identify the caller. His smarmy smile was gone. He was explaining something, growing frustrated, but holding it in check. He never once raised his voice.
Reese watched closely, too. “I wonder who the caller is.” He nodded at the splendid compound. “Philippe is pretty high up. Can’t be too many people out there who could make him kowtow like that.”
“T?” she asked, using their code name for Tsernyakov.
“I think chances are good to excellent.”
Sam looked away from Philippe, not wanting to get caught staring. The guy every law enforcement body in the world was searching for, the main target of their mission, was likely on the phone just a few yards away. If that was truly the case then she had gotten closer to him than anyone ever had before. And it was still light-years from pinpointing his location.
“What if we got the phone? Would that help?” she asked, suddenly inspired.
“Maybe, if we can get it to Brant Law and he can get it to a lab. Call records are not that easy to hide.”
Her mind moved a mile a minute as she considered the possibility. “But how are we going swipe the phone?”
“Know anyone who has experience as a pick-pocket?” Reese grinned at her, appearing all relaxed as if the key to all they sought hadn’t just dropped into their laps.
He was right. They had a cover to keep. She took a slow breath and glanced back at Cavanaugh, who was putting away his cell.
Could she get it? So far, throughout the mission, she had the feeling that she was being overestimated. Yeah, her rap sheet was impressive, but that was only because she got caught practically every time she even thought about breaking the law. Brant, Nick and the women on her team thought her arrest record was the tip of the iceberg. But it had been nearly everything she’d done and some she hadn’t. False representation.
Sure, she’d lifted a handful of wallets over the years from careless tourists. There were times when the shelters had been ruled by gangs at war with the one she had to stay loosely affiliated with to be allowed to hang out on the art museum side of Center City. No shelter access meant no food—except for Sundays when most churches had socials after service for those who attended, visitors invited. But by the following Wednesday, when she had already picked out every last crumb from her pockets, she did what was necessary to survive.
“Say we get the phone. How are we going to deflect suspicion?” she asked, pushing the past aside.
“Don’t need to if he never realizes the phone is gone.” Reese shrugged.
“A switch?”
“Why not? We’ll let your team know, and they could have a replacement waiting for us. We’ll go out on a WaveRunner ride later tonight and meet up with one of them.”
“And if Philippe figures out the phone is gone while we’re away?” She didn’t like this plan. “An instant switch would be better.”
Reese’s eyes narrowed as he watched her. “You’re right.”
The simple admission thrilled her. “I get the make and model, we call it in to Brant. He gets a corrupted chip for it and gives it to us. Then I can switch the chips. We’ll have Philippe’s info, and he’ll just think his phone broke.”
Reese was grinning.
She couldn’t help smiling back. His approval felt nice.
“Hope you are having fun.” Cavanaugh finally reached them. “Sam.” He nodded to her with a smile. “David,” he greeted Reese.
“I’m going to take the boat out this morning.” His attention was directed at Sam. “How about a little snorkeling? I know a spot that’s near some rocky outcroppings. They block the current. There isn’t much surge.” He was back in gracious-host mode. All signs of the tension brought about by the phone call were gone.
“Absolutely,” Sam said, although she could barely swim.
The important thin
g was that Cavanaugh would have to take the cell out of his pocket if he got into the water.
The man turned to Reese. “You are welcome, too, of course.”
Reese gave him a level look. “Wouldn’t miss it.”
Cavanaugh’s gaze hesitated on the scars on Reese’s chest. “Law-school hazing that rough these days?”
“Not quite. College boys that stupid these days is more like it,” he said as if disgusted with himself. “One too many beers at a frat party and I wrapped the car around the first phone pole. Learned my lesson.” He even managed to look embarrassed. “It was a long time ago.”
Cavanaugh nodded. “We all had our youthful digressions.”
What was his? Sam watched him. Setting up a cocaine-distribution center on campus? “So do I need to bring anything?” she asked.
“I keep the equipment on the boat. Come as you are.” Cavanaugh let his gaze run down the length of her as he offered her his arm.
She took it, despite the fact that having to touch him set her teeth on edge.
“I have to run back to the room to get something.” Reese left them, probably so she could work her charm on Cavanaugh and get some information out of him.
The thought of having to get into the water—deep water with some really nasty fish in it, such as sharks, for example—had her mind buzzing, however, and they ended up talking about the dominant currents and the wind. Or rather, Cavanaugh talked and she pretended to understand. She knew little about the sea.
Four other people waited by the boat already, Eva entertaining them with one of her stories. Her boyfriend was nowhere in sight. They had a fairly loose sort of relationship that didn’t exclude others. Good—the more distractions for Cavanaugh, the better. Reese caught up with them a few minutes later with a baseball cap for himself and one for her.
She tugged hers onto her head, wondering how long it would stay there once the boat picked up speed. “Thanks.”
“Away we go, then.” Cavanaugh grinned at his guests as he climbed in and got behind the wheel. As many possessions as he had, it seemed the man was still excited by his toys.
She made sure to stay near him and keep an eye on his pocket. If he took the phone out, she wanted to know where he put it.