by Debra Webb
“Who are you?” The harshly uttered words were fraught with emotion he couldn’t restrain. Damn her. She’d fooled him…betrayed him on every level. The idea made him sick to his stomach.
She put her hands on her hips and seemed to mull over his question a long moment. Then her startlingly blue gaze settled on his once more. “Even I’m not sure about the answer to that one anymore.” She stepped closer. “But I know who you are.” She leaned forward. “And I also know that you’re a marked man, Mr. Baxley. Either you do as I tell you or you die. Seems like an easy choice to me.”
He stared into those dazzling eyes, his gut clenching with opposing emotions. “How can you be a part of this? Jamie Colby is just a child.” That he could have been fooled so completely worsened the misery in his gut.
The woman he had known as Eve Mattson, braced her hands on his arms and put her face in his. “What you think of me is irrelevant. My mission is all that matters.”
“Are they doing this for the money?” His fingers curled into fists even as his skin beneath where her palms rested tingled with desire from her touch. He silently cursed himself. Hated that he could still want her so desperately.
She didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she studied his face, searched his eyes. A fleeting flicker of some emotion he couldn’t quite label, regret perhaps, passed across her face—the face he’d cherished with all his heart. The same one that had haunted his dreams every night since she had disappeared.
“I can tell you one thing for certain,” she said, her voice achingly soft and familiar. “It’s definitely about money.”
He held her eyes. Wished he could understand how the woman with whom he’d made love…had planned to spend the rest of his life…could be so cold. Where was the heart he’d been sure he’d touched?
She jerked away from him as if his thoughts had reached out, speared her in that chest that apparently harbored only emptiness.
Then she turned and started for the door.
“Don’t do this,” he urged, the plea all too real on far too many levels.
She stopped and turned back to him. “If it makes you feel any better, this has nothing to do with the Colby agency or the kid.”
What the hell? On cue, his injured arm burned where the bullet had passed through his flesh. “I don’t believe you. If this isn’t about the Colby Agency, then what’s it about?”
“You, J.T.” She reached for the door, looking back over her shoulder at him. “It’s about you.”
Chapter Three
10:30 p.m.
Eve scanned the shoreline, then the street.
No sign of trouble yet.
She lowered the binoculars. It wouldn’t last. And she needed more time. Getting J.T. out of his house and into her car hadn’t been easy. He’d been out cold. But not as cold as the scumbag who’d been waiting for him to come home. She’d taken care of that situation without breaking a sweat. Dumping his body in the water once they’d gotten here had been an easy cleanup. The real work had been moving J.T. to this location before he regained consciousness. She’d been forced to take an extra step to ensure he didn’t rouse too soon.
Now he was wide awake.
And they were close.
Whoever the hell they were.
A breath hissed from her lips as she tucked the binoculars into her shoulder bag. She’d been in this business a long time. Every job she accepted came with certain risks. It wasn’t rocket science. Just work. Get in, get the goods, whatever the goods happened to be, and get out.
She was very good at her job. Damned good. Whatever persona was required, she could pull it off. She researched the required occupation to the point that she appeared every bit the experienced expert. Not once in nearly a decade had her skills been questioned.
For her, creating a new identity and pulling it off was—in a word—simple.
But not this time.
But then, she’d never played the part of fiancée. Lover, yes. Mistress, of course. But never this intimate character.
Her fingers clenched.
Just a job. That was all this had been. She had to keep that fact in mind. The only reason she was still hanging around the Windy City was because no one—no one—double-crossed her.
Until she neutralized this situation, she wasn’t going anywhere.
He wasn’t going to make it easy.
Anticipation zipped along her nerve endings. The need to draw his scent into her lungs…to touch his skin was a palpable force inside her. No one had ever gotten that far beneath her carefully constructed exterior. She steeled herself to block the reaction. Again she reminded herself that he was part of the job, nothing more. And the job wasn’t finished yet.
Not until she got the bastard who’d double-crossed her.
And ensured that J.T. didn’t pay the price.
If this guy thought J.T. was his biggest problem, he had no idea what he’d done. Crossing her had been a serious mistake.
Now she was his biggest problem.
He would soon understand just how big that problem was going to be.
As if the thought had summoned his minions, movement below snagged her attention. She watched from the fourth-floor window as four—no, five—men moved toward the warehouse.
“It’s showtime.” She turned away from the window and headed for the stairs. If she’d been smart, she would have moved already.
Things didn’t always go as planned. That was why her motto remained firm. Always have a backup plan. And an exit strategy for every occasion.
Timing was where she’d fallen down tonight.
She jogged down the three flights of stairs to her destination and burst through the door.
“We have to move. Now.”
Fists clenched, J.T. glared at her. “Whatever you’re involved in, I’m not a part of it.” He moved his head from side to side. “The we that included you and I ended the day you didn’t show up for our wedding.”
Not exactly original, but the statement had been one he’d likely wanted to say to her for two weeks now. He’d gotten that out of the way. Good for him.
She hated to do it this way, but…what the hell. Her right hand rammed into her bag, and her fingers closed around the butt of her Glock. “Save it, J.T.” She drew the weapon. “We don’t have time.”
Dropping into a crouch, she retrieved the knife from her bag with her free hand and cut the bindings from around his ankles with one quick swipe to each. She stood and looked him dead in the eyes. “Give me any trouble and we’ll both be dead in—” she hummed a note “—about three minutes.”
“You carry a weapon?”
The question hit its mark. Maybe not the question, but the way he’d asked it. He’d believed in her. Swallowed her profile hook, line and sinker. She flinched.
She never flinched. But somehow it bothered her that he was disappointed. In her.
“Trust me,” she warned. “We don’t have time for this.”
He stared her dead in the eyes.
“Give me one good reason I should trust you for a second.”
That he no longer trusted her…hurt. And it shouldn’t have.
“Because you want to stay alive.”
A door bursting open echoed in the distance.
The enemy was in the building.
There was no more time to talk.
The decision had to be made now.
“Cut me loose.”
His tone left no room for doubt. He didn’t trust her. Not one iota. But he wasn’t stupid. He would accept her word…for the moment.
Two swipes of the blade and he was free.
She sheathed the knife in her bag and headed for the rear exit, keeping one eye on his every move.
He stood, steadied himself and followed the path she’d taken.
Maybe this wouldn’t be so difficult after all.
In the corridor she stayed close to the wall. J.T. did the same. The consuming quiet was disturbing. The enemy was inside. But where?
Part of her wanted to drop back and take at least one of the enemy out of action, but not completely out. She needed information. The scumbag at J.T.’s house had forced her hand. She’d had no choice but to take him out. Couldn’t question a dead man.
“This way,” she whispered to the man sticking close behind her.
He didn’t question her decision, just followed as she took a side corridor that would lead to the outside. She’d spotted five men; taking on five single-handedly wasn’t something she wanted to do under the circumstances. J.T. was wounded, not seriously but wounded all the same. Not to mention he wasn’t exactly an ally. And she couldn’t risk arming him.
At the exit she hesitated, listened. J.T. gestured to his right and whispered, “Maybe thirty yards behind us.”
Had he heard something she hadn’t? Then she heard it, too. The whisper of rubber soles on concrete floors. The slightest vibration in the air.
He was good…. But then she’d known that.
She pushed through the exit, uncaring of the metal-on-metal sound the lock mechanism made. No time to care. Keep moving.
Down the exterior steps. Quickly. She glanced back once to ensure J.T. was right behind her. He hadn’t slowed down or second-guessed the need to escape.
At least so far.
She hit the ground running. The dock was above their heads. They’d scarcely cleared the exterior maintenance area when she heard the exit they’d used reopen.
The iron stairs groaned with the weight of the enemy’s descent.
Damn, they were close.
“The water,” she said to J.T., knowing he would understand.
Eve rushed toward the bank that wound up to the dock. Her shoes bogged down in the damp earth. She hadn’t factored in today’s rain.
Her feet slid. She braced her free hand against the ground rising up to greet her and ordered her legs to keep moving.
Scrambling onto the dock, she regained her balance and rushed forward. The warehouse’s rear dock jutted out over the water. A single cargo boat floated in the calm waters. A boat would be handy about now but there was no time to attempt getting it started and backed away from the dock.
At any second the enemy would reach their position.
No time to evaluate the situation.
“Jump,” she ordered.
She shoved the Glock into her waistband and dropped feetfirst into the water. Instinctively, she held her breath just before the cool depth engulfed her.
A surge of water from her left told her J.T. had obeyed her command.
Something else that wouldn’t last.
A rip through the water jerked her attention to her right. She couldn’t see anything but she recognized the sound.
Gunfire.
Damn.
She dove deeper. Pushed through the dark depths, headed for the craggy shoreline in the distance. The goal was to get as far from the dock—and the reach of the enemy—as possible before surfacing. J.T. cut through the water next to her.
She hoped like hell his strength would hold out.
Her lungs burned.
Just move.
She pushed harder.
Bullets sliced through the water.
To her right…too close.
Damn.
She swam harder. Kept her body beneath the murky surface when the urge to rise grew stronger.
Fight the urge to breathe.
Push! Keep going!
One last lunge forward.
She needed air.
Her face broke the surface.
Gasping for oxygen, she swam hard. Stroke after stroke. Harder. Push!
Her fingertips brushed the rocks of the shore.
Almost there.
Where the hell was J.T.?
She whipped around.
He’d surfaced, was breathing hard. Not close enough for her comfort.
The dark figures on the dock were still firing. The bullets cut through the surface of the water. The muffled sound told her they were using silencers.
That was to her benefit. Silencers decreased the accuracy of every shot and lessened the range. Still, they weren’t in the clear just yet.
She grabbed for the rocks. Scrambled through the darkness. Bumped her knee on a boulder. Cursed. Move! Move!
Burrowing into the waist-deep grass, she crawled forward. Faster. Pushed harder. She needed as much distance as possible.
Shots pinged on the rocks.
She zigzagged to avoid any stray shots that made it this far.
J.T. scrambled alongside her.
He was breathing hard.
They had to stay close to the ground until they reached the next row of warehouses. Even though she was relatively certain they were out of range at this point, she wasn’t taking any risks.
And she wasn’t slowing down. J.T. had to keep up.
The splat of a bullet hitting the ground next to her had her rolling left. Maybe they weren’t completely out of range.
She bumped J.T. He grunted.
His injured arm. Damn it.
She could apologize later.
Half a dozen more yards.
Almost in the clear.
As she reached the cover of the alley between the first two warehouses, she tensed.
Silence.
She glanced back at the dock.
Deserted.
The enemy was on the move.
Time to run.
Her car was parked another block down.
Pushing to her feet, she sprinted forward. The wet bag dragged at her shoulder. Her soggy shoes weighed down her feet.
She ignored both.
By the time she reached the lot where her car was parked, she had dug the keys from her pocket and clicked the fob.
Seconds later she was behind the wheel.
She hit the ignition as J.T. collapsed into the passenger seat.
Tires squealed as she spun out of the parking slot.
“What the hell did you do to me?”
From the corner of her eye she watched him shake his head in an attempt to clear it.
He wouldn’t be happy when she told him about the tranquilizer.
She’d needed him cooperative; otherwise no plan would work. A drug-induced state of unconsciousness had been the fastest and most efficient method to ensure his continued solidarity.
“I can’t really talk right now.” She weaved into the right lane as the street widened to four lanes. What she needed was traffic. It was Saturday night—shouldn’t be that difficult to find as soon as they were out of the old warehouse district.
A glance in the rearview mirror warned that their unwanted company had caught up.
Sensing her tension, J.T. turned to peer over his left shoulder.
“I hope you have a plan B.”
She shot him a look. “There’s always plan G.” Then she pulled the Glock out of her waistband.
Cutting the steering wheel left, she slid between two vehicles. Veering then to the right, she put several cars between hers and the enemy.
She was betting they wouldn’t pull out the firepower in the open like this, but a woman could never be too sure when it came to an unknown enemy.
Deep blending was the way to go.
Two traffic lights ahead the marquis of a movie theater provided exactly the opportunity she was looking for.
The digital numbers of the dashboard’s clock indicated it was just past midnight. Perfect timing. The late movie would be purging its audience into the crowd of teenagers who liked hanging out in the parking lot.
Plenty of cover for blending in.
She took a hard right onto the property that sported a twelve-screen theater, numerous fastfood hot spots and a chain superstore. Speeding across the lot, she selected a lane of parking slots. Pulling in as close to the theater entrance as possible, she shut off the engine and reached for her door.
“Let’s go.”
Thankfully he didn’t argue.
Rounding the hoo
d of her car, she shoved the Glock into her bag, then wrapped her arm around J.T.’s and merged into the milling crowd.
With her free hand she finger combed her long hair. It was soaked, as were her clothes. Her shoes squished with every step. The kids she bumped into noticed, gave her the death ray.
They just didn’t know.
As she and J.T. moved in closer to the building, she grabbed a baseball cap from an innocent bystander. The crowd made it easy. The kid who owned the cap had made it even easier by stuffing it bill first into his waistband at the small of his back.
Pushing through the loitering crowd, Eve made her way to the side of the building next to the main entrance, pushed J.T. against the wall and dropped her bag to the ground. She peeled off her T-shirt and let it join her bag on the pavement.
His gaze instantly zeroed in on her breasts, where the camisole she wore had glued to her skin like an extra layer. A zing of desire shot through her veins.
Not the time.
With a flick of her wrist, she twisted her hair up and clamped the cap atop the blond mass.
“They’re coming,” J.T. muttered as he gazed at some point beyond her.
“Yeah, I know.” She planted her palms against the wall on either side of him and leaned in. “Keep your eyes open. Let me know when they’re inside.”
Then she planted her lips on his.
Chapter Four
Two weeks.
Fourteen days and nights. J.T. had yearned to feel her lips against his…had ached to touch her…to hold her.
He forgot all about her order. His eyes closed. His arms went around her. The move was pure instinct.
He’d fallen so fast, had loved her so damned much.
But that had been before.
Before she’d stood him up on the most important day of their lives.
His eyes opened.
Fury firmed his resolve.
She tensed, sensing his change.
He clutched her waist. Pushed her a few inches away.
“Who the hell are you?” he muttered, his voice thick with the need throttling through his body.
“Did they go inside?”
He blinked. Her focus was on the now…the situation. He should have known he was the only one affected by the meshing of lips.
Stupid, J.T. Truly stupid.