by Radclyffe
hell do you do this on a regular basis?”
Evyn laughed softly. “I don’t. I’m protection, remember?”
“Yes, but you’ve been in the field too.”
“I never did much undercover.” Evyn slid her hand around Wes’s
waist and tapped the transmitter. “Come on, let’s get this thing off you.
We need to debrief—get your impressions. We can only get so much
from the audio.”
“Why did Roberts want me to come back here instead of reporting
directly to her at the White House?” Wes unbuttoned her shirt and
pulled her tank up. “Do you really think someone might’ve followed
me from Jennifer’s?”
“No sense taking a chance. This way, to anyone watching, you
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finished your date and went home. Anyone following would assume
you were in for the night.”
“Hell of a date,” Wes muttered.
Evyn carefully loosened the adhesive and removed the transmitter.
“What’s your impression?”
Wes sat on one of the bar stools facing out into the living room
and propped her elbows on the counter behind her. “She sent a lot of
mixed signals. She might have been trying to seduce me, but she was
also trolling for information.”
“What kind of information?”
“Mostly about Len. She’s a medical person. Sudden death is
something we’re familiar with. But she pushed a little bit where he was
concerned—maybe trying to see if we suspected foul play.”
“That makes sense if she was party to his death.”
“But why would she have wanted to get rid of him? Someone
would take his place—if not someone from the outside like me, one of
the other docs from the inside.”
“My working theory,” Evyn said, securing the transmitter in her
jacket pocket, “is that Len started to suspect her. Maybe he overheard
something. We’ll probably never know, but for some reason, they
wanted him out of the way.”
“Then I’m no threat.”
“Not unless she thinks you suspect something too,” Evyn said
quietly. “When you’ve killed once, it gets easier—at least for some
people.”
Evyn’s eyes were cloudy, troubled. Wes took her hand and pulled
her closer. “What’s wrong?”
“Sitting in that van listening to you with her—knowing you were
too far away for me to get you…” Evyn cupped Wes’s face and kissed
her. “Made me crazy.”
Wes’s pulse soared. Her whole life had been geared toward taking
care of others—she’d learned to be self-sufficient, learned to stand
alone. She’d never been so critically important to anyone before. Evyn
made her feel like she mattered—right now, in this moment—more
than anything else in Evyn’s world. She looped her arms around Evyn’s
waist and pulled her in tight between her thighs. “I’m sorry if it was
hard for you.”
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Evyn rested her forehead against Wes’s. “I knew you could handle
yourself—don’t get me wrong.”
“I think we both know we can do our jobs, no matter what.”
“I do. I believe that. But part of me, the part I shoved away a long
time ago so I could focus on getting where I wanted to get, that part was
just a little bit scared.”
“I suppose every time you’re away, in potential danger, I’ll be a
little bit scared too.” Wes kissed her. “But I’ll be damn proud too.”
“Wes,” Evyn murmured, sliding her mouth over Wes’s, kissing
her throat. “I should tell you—”
“Yes?” Wes arched her neck, gave more of herself to Evyn’s
mouth. “What?”
Evyn groaned, her hands trembling on Wes’s shoulders. “I’m
falling in love with you.”
Wes slipped her fingers into Evyn’s hair, drawing her mouth tighter
to her skin, wanting the heat of Evyn’s mouth searing her flesh. “I’m so
glad. Because I’m in love with you.”
Evyn shuddered. “I’m not making love to you again until we’re
in a bed.”
“I don’t have plants or a cat,” Wes whispered, “but I’ve got clean
sheets.”
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chapter thirty-One
Cam turned the bathroom light off before she opened the door
and walked quietly back into the bedroom. The room was
filled with a soft gray haze marking the transition between moonlight
and sunrise, that in-between time when night was all but gone and the
day not yet born—when reality dispelled the last lingering dreams.
She found the clothes she’d left out the night before and pulled on
underwear, pants, and a shirt. She slid her ID into her back pocket and
clipped her badge to her belt on her right hip next to her holster. Sheets
rustled behind her and she turned as Blair sat up in bed. “Been awake
long?”“A few minutes,” Blair said. “I like watching you dress almost as
much as I like watching you undress.”
Laughing, Cam sat on the side of the bed and stroked Blair’s leg
through the sheets. Blair was wearing another one of her old T-shirts—
this one with JJRTC stenciled across the chest. A few holes peppered
the front—spots she’d snagged running through the woods on one of
her training exercises. She leaned down and kissed Blair. “It’s pretty
early yet. Are you going to stay up?”
“I’ve gotten spoiled these last few weeks, having you around.
Knowing you weren’t going to be out in the field.”
“I need to be there for this.” Cam settled on the bed, swung around
until her back was against the headboard, and settled Blair against her
side. She kissed her temple. In her new job with Homeland Security,
she was riding a desk most of the time. She was a hands-on supervisor,
though, and sometimes she needed to be in the field. “Your father’s
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safety is our number one priority, but this kind of incident has the
potential to terrify the nation. We’ll stop it—I promise. But media
containment is almost as vital.”
Blair nodded. “I know. Which is why you’re leading the team
yourself and limiting the number of people who know the details.”
“Yes.” She’d put agents from the Washington field office on
Jennifer Pattee the night before after Daniels and Block left to
follow Captain Masters home. The other agents only knew they were
maintaining surveillance on a person of interest and didn’t need to
know more. The intercept this morning had to be carried out by a
small, select team in the know, and she needed to be there to assure the
details of the plan weren’t made public. Knowledge of a threat could
be almost as dangerous as the event itself.
“I’m not even going to ask how dangerous you think this might
be,” Blair said, running her fingers over the buttons on Cam’s shirt.
“I already know. And I understand why you have to do this. Just be
careful.”
“I will be. I’ll call you as soon as I can, but it might be a whi
le.”
Blair rubbed her cheek on Cam’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about
me. Just do your job and remember, part of your job is coming back to
me.” “I won’t forget.” Cam kissed her. “It’s the best assignment I’ve
ever had.”
v
Wes judged the time to be nearing 0430. They’d need to leave soon
so Evyn could meet up with the intercept team and she could join the
surveillance team and provide medical containment if necessary. She’d
be in a van somewhere, safely observing. Evyn would be in the hot zone.
The virus, if released, would be as lethal as a bullet, although not quite
as rapid. The diner was a public place—and the agents’ body armor
would be no protection at all. She had nothing other than supportive
measures to counteract its destructive potential—no vaccine, no drugs.
Exposure could be a death sentence.
Evyn slept with her head on Wes’s shoulder. She fit into the curve
of Wes’s body as if she’d always been there. Wes stroked the slope of
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Evyn’s shoulder. Her skin was soft, warm. Her breasts were firm and
full, nestling against hers in a sensuous embrace. The brush of Evyn’s
nipple over her breast teased her clit, and she tensed with a sharp thrum
of arousal. She tightened her grip on Evyn’s shoulder and held her
closer.Evyn murmured and shifted above her, easing her leg between
Wes’s thighs. Her pelvis rocked into Wes’s and the tight knot of need
between Wes’s thighs grew. She’d come hard the night before—the first
time when Evyn had taken her with her mouth, then more slowly as
Evyn had stroked her, and now she was ready again. Cupping Evyn’s
ass in her palm, she guided Evyn’s leg to the place she needed her.
“I like waking up with you,” Evyn whispered, her lips against
Wes’s throat. She kissed her way up and tugged lightly on her earlobe.
The tiny points of pain sent pleasure streaking down Wes’s spine.
She raised her hips so her clitoris rubbed against Evyn’s thigh. “I like
sleeping with you. I like waking up with you. I like everything about
being with you.”
Evyn chuckled. “Handy, that, because I plan on being around a
lot.” “I think I’ll need you around a lot.”
Evyn propped herself up on her forearms, the first rays of morning
light breaking over her face. Her eyes were blue-gray in the dusky
dawn. “We haven’t talked about the future.”
Wes cradled Evyn’s face, scooped her fingers through her hair,
kissed her. “I want one.”
“So do I.” Evyn kissed her, exploring, teasing, tasting. She slid
deeper, claiming. “I want you. Just you. I know always sounds like a
line, but I mean it.”
Wes’s concentration faltered—gave way under the sensation of
Evyn’s mouth and hands. She pressed harder against Evyn’s thigh,
climbing faster. Too fast. Gasping, she pulled away. “I’m going to come
soon.”“Mmm—then don’t stop.”
“I want—I need—to say this first. I love you. I’ve never wanted
anyone else and I never will. Always sounds like the beginning.”
Evyn shuddered. “I never even wanted tomorrow with anyone
before. Now I want every single one of yours to be mine.”
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“They will be.” Wes’s muscles clenched and she rode the plume of
pleasure higher. “I’m sorry, I can’t…I’m coming for you.”
“Yes. For me.” Evyn scored her teeth down Wes’s neck, biting
gently. “Yes,” she breathed against Wes’s skin, hearing the startled cry
as Wes’s control unraveled. Her clitoris twitched, pulsed, thickened.
She needed to come but she held back. She needed Wes more. “Mine.
All mine. Come for me.”
Wes cried out, body shattering with pleasure. She crushed her face
to Evyn’s neck. “Yours. Yes.”
Pushing up on one arm, Evyn fumbled for Wes’s hand with the
other. She pressed Wes’s fingers between her legs. “Touch me. I need
to come for you.”
Wes stroked her, slid lower, pressed inside, and Evyn exploded
in her hand. “I love you,” Wes whispered. “No chances today, Evyn. I
can’t lose you.”
Evyn sighed and stretched, trailing her fingers down Wes’s back—
sated, supremely content. “You won’t lose me, I promise. I’m here for
the long term.”
Wes kissed her, choosing to believe for a little while longer they
could control the future.
v
Hooker opened the minifridge tucked in the corner of his motel
room and removed a small plain cardboard box the size of a ballpoint
pen case. The clear plastic vial with the screw top was nestled inside,
surrounded by a Styrofoam cut-out. A half-inch of milky white fluid
filled the end of the tube—at least it had when he’d checked it when
he’d accepted it from the woman in Georgia. He hadn’t looked at it
again. He didn’t want to look at it, he didn’t want to touch it. He wasn’t
superstitious, but he didn’t ride around with a loaded gun and the safety
off pointed at his chest, either. If all he’d been told was true, whatever
was in the tube was ten kinds of deadly dangerous. He couldn’t hand it
off soon enough.
He placed the small, narrow box in a white plastic cooler along
with a couple of cans of beer and a burrito from the minimart where
he’d gassed up the rental car he’d used to drive north the night before.
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Russo had pushed the timetable forward, and haste was never a good
idea, but Russo lived by the polls. If the numbers showed Powell
gaining in popularity, that was all that mattered to Russo—after all, he
wasn’t taking any risks. Hooker didn’t concern himself with politics—
politicians came and went as frequently as the weather shifted, and he’d
never seen that whoever held power changed things very much. Money
was the only true power, and Russo had plenty of that. He’d follow
Russo’s lead as long as the money held up.
He packed his travel bag and meticulously wiped down everything
he’d touched in the motel room, which hadn’t been much. He’d just
arrived the night before after dark in another rental car that he’d
procured with one of his aliases. He’d eaten at a fast-food place across
the highway from the motel and slept in his clothes. He’d shower at his
next stop. Satisfied that he hadn’t left anything of himself behind, he
grabbed his bag and the cooler, left his room key on the rickety table
by the door, and walked out just as the sun came up. He couldn’t finish
this job fast enough. In five hours, he’d be at the airport headed home
for Christmas Eve.
v
Jennifer stepped out of the shower and wrapped a fluffy white bath
sheet around her chest. It fell to her thighs, chasing away the slight chill
in the bathroom. The temperature had dropped again, and the old town
house let in a little of the night air through hidden cracks and crevices.
A small price to pay for its hist
oric beauty, except on mornings like
these. She hurried into her bedroom, drying herself as she went, and
dressed hastily in a navy suit, white shirt, and low dark heels. She
didn’t plan to stay very long in the diner and doubted the man, Tom,
would want to linger, either. Twenty minutes, really, ought to be enough
for two people whose only connection was a common friend to share a
cup of coffee, make small talk, and go their separate ways. She’d timed
the meeting so she’d finish up and arrive at the clinic at shift change,
when she’d slide her lunch bag into the staff refrigerator just as she did
every morning. Only today, the bag would be a little fuller. Her stomach
trembled when she thought about the next step.
She wasn’t frightened, she was excited. Proud to be the one to
ultimately carry out the mission. Her family would be proud that she
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had fulfilled her destiny—that she’d learned her lessons well and had
struck a blow for true freedom and independence. If she was very lucky
and everything went according to plan, she might even survive. But if
she didn’t, she would die knowing she’d made a difference. And after
all, that’s what she’d been born for.
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chapter thirty-twO
Wes sat in the van beside Block and two Secret Service agents
she didn’t know, watching the monitor from a camera
trained on the front of Eva’s Diner. She’d been watching patrons come
and go since 0600. Two other video feeds—from cameras above the
restroom hallway in the rear and over the kitchen door behind the
counter—revealed the interior. A directional audio receiver that Block
could reposition remotely from his control panel had been secured to
an overhead light fixture. The place was small—a long, narrow room
with eight booths against the plate glass front windows and a dozen
black-vinyl-topped stools in front of the counter. At zero-seven twenty,
almost every space was occupied.
Roberts had advised the diner owner who’d arrived to open the
place at 0530 that the team, from an unnamed federal agency, needed
surveillance to document unspecified criminal activity. The owner, a
bottle-blonde of indeterminate age, was thrilled by the whole thing and
a very good actress. She worked the counter and never once glanced at
the cameras—or at the undercover agents posing as patrons.