by Debra Webb
“You look like hell, North,” Lucas said by way of greeting.
She noticed the Webcam then and knew that, for all intents and purposes, they were face-to-face. She plopped down on a chair directly across from the screen and accompanying camera. “Feel like it, too.”
“Tell me what you’ve got.”
Before Tasha launched into a detailed report of the events since making contact with her target, she needed to get one thing out of the way.
“Something isn’t right with this guy,” she said, confusion lining her brow. She could feel it but couldn’t quite label it.
“You mean something besides his being a sociopath?” Maverick ventured.
She nodded. “Yeah. Something besides that.”
“Give us a profile on how he lives,” Lucas said, setting the direction of the briefing. “Maverick has already told me where he lives and a brief summary of the neighborhood, but what did you see inside?”
“Not much at first. The lights were out when he took me in and he locked me in the basement until this morning.”
Lucas frowned. “Locked you in the basement?”
“Shackled me to a cot down there. The cot was bolted to the concrete floor. There was no way to escape. I had my doubts as to whether or not I’d see the light of day ever again.” She sighed wearily. “I can’t be the first person he’s held prisoner down there. His preparations were too well thought out.”
“That’s why we couldn’t get your signal back,” Maverick concluded. “I’m certain he had a jammer in his vehicle, but after that I couldn’t be sure what happened. He stashed you underground, that explains it. You had me worried for a while.”
She nodded. She’d been a little worried herself. “This morning he brought me back upstairs. I didn’t get a good look around, but the place looked fully furnished with the usual household goods. I imagine his private space was on the second floor. I didn’t get that far.”
“Do you think you made enough of an impression to see him again?” Lucas wanted to know. He was watching her closely, assessing her state after her first encounter with the target.
She moved her hands over her face and through her hair. “I think so. Maybe. It’s difficult to tell. He’s so guarded.” She looked directly at Lucas then, or at least at his image. “There’s something wrong with this guy, Lucas. Something really wrong.”
“Anything you picked up on could be helpful. I’ve got a profiler standing by.”
She nodded. “It’s more than just the fact that he kills for a living, obviously.” She tried to think how to label it…but nothing that came to mind felt accurate. “He’s deeply troubled. I got the distinct impression that he’s not afraid of anything, death included.” She shrugged. “It’s weird. It was nearly impossible to get any kind of reaction out of him. It’s like he blocks all emotion. Doesn’t feel a thing. And the scars.” She shook her head as she thought of the marks on his body. “I’ve never seen so many. He’s had it rough at some point. But the lack of emotion was the biggest thing I noticed. I could scarcely get a reaction out of him at all.”
Ramon lifted a skeptical brow and eyed her skimpy attire. “Are you sure he isn’t dead?”
A pained laugh burst from her. “Oh, no. He’s very much alive…just buried somehow.”
“What about prints?” Maverick tossed into the conversation. “We could ID this guy if he’s in the system.”
Lucas nodded. “Possibly, but we’ve run his picture through the system and didn’t find anything. Still, there’s always the possibility that he’s had his appearance altered. Did he give you a name?”
“Seth.” Tasha tugged off first one boot, then the other. She reached into her right boot for her cell phone, handling it carefully. “He handled the boots and the phone.”
Maverick and Ramon took custody of the items.
“I don’t think that’s his real name, though. Not that I expected to get the real thing,” Tasha said to Lucas. “But I studied Egyptian mythology as an elective in college. Seth was a sort of dark god, a slayer. The irony of it is too coincidental I think.”
Lucas nodded his agreement. “We’ll see what we can find on the name Seth. It may be an alias he’s used before.”
“What now?” she asked Lucas, then glanced at the two men who served as her backup.
“Now we wait,” Lucas announced.
That felt like such a waste of time. Tasha spread her hands in a gesture of uncertainty. “Maybe I should have tried to plant some sort of tracking device on him. He could be meeting with the guy who hired him right now and you can’t allow a tail to get close enough to find out.” She didn’t want Lucas disappointed in her performance and he certainly hadn’t given her any real reason to think he was pleased at this point.
Maverick spoke up first. “No way, little lady. This guy’s a pro. He’d have found it, known you were the one who planted it, and that would have been the end of that, if you get my drift.”
She nodded. The end of her, no doubt. “You’re right. It just feels like I should have done more. He has my number, but who knows if he’ll call.”
“You got a lot farther than we expected for a first encounter,” Lucas said pointedly. “And you’re alive to tell about it. He’ll call.”
She supposed that was close enough to a pat on the back. And she sure as hell hoped he was right.
There was only one thing she could do now.
Wait.
CHAPTER 15
Tasha moaned softly as the steam rose around her. It felt so good to just soak for a while. She’d taken a shower after her debrief this morning, then a power nap that lasted for three hours. But this…this was pure luxury. She needed this. Her muscles loosened…relaxed as the heat chased away the stress and soreness. It might just take hours to soothe all the kinks and stiffness.
She apparently had the time. He hadn’t called.
Her eyes opened and she lay there, her gaze searching for anything in the foggy room to focus on. She didn’t want to think about him…not yet. Draping her arms along the sides of the tub, she forced his image away.
But not quickly enough. An entirely different kind of heat coiled inside her. She cursed herself for allowing it. He was a killer…the enemy. And yet, somehow he’d gotten to her on a level over which she had no control. It was totally unbelievable. She tried hard to pinpoint the precise root of the feeling. It wasn’t sympathy. There was a definite physical attraction, despite his lack of personality. But that wasn’t such a big deal. As Ramon would say, she wasn’t dead. Any woman breathing would be attracted to Seth on a physical level. But she could handle that. He was an assassin…a very dangerous man…a bad guy…the enemy. Taking him down wouldn’t be a problem.
That last thought echoed hollowly. “Shit,” she muttered. This couldn’t happen. She’d just met the guy. Taking him down was her mission…but something felt wrong.
How could she even think about screwing up this badly? She shook her head slowly from side to side. This was the opportunity of a lifetime. Lucas Camp had come to her! She couldn’t let anything get in the way. Why the hell had she chosen psychology for her major, anyway? If she hadn’t, maybe then she wouldn’t have bothered looking beneath the surface.
She scrubbed a hand over her face and cursed herself again. This wasn’t about what made the guy tick. This was about stopping a killer—a hired assassin—before he accomplished his mission. Her primary goal, outside seeing that he didn’t accomplish his, was making the connection between him and the man who hired him. Nothing else mattered. All those scars… The overwhelming feeling that he was as much a victim as those he hunted was of no consequence.
He would be stopped, one way or another. And so would the man who’d hired him. Lucas’s intentions were crystal clear. He wanted this guy dead. Tasha felt it all the way to her
bones. It was personal somehow.
A knock at the front door jerked her from her troubling thoughts. Water sloshed as she pushed upright. Her heart kicked into a faster rhythm.
She shifted to her feet, the steam rising off her skin, and stepped out of the tub onto the fluffy bath mat. Shouldering into the robe without bothering to towel dry, she reached for her weapon next.
As she padded down the short hall, her bare feet leaving a trail of water, she chambered a round in the weapon Maverick had given her. Another knock rattled the hinges as she crossed the living room. She peered through the peephole, her heart pounding, and saw Maverick.
Heaving a relieved sigh, she shook off the tension and opened the door. “What’s up?”
Maverick stepped inside, and she closed the door behind him. “Just wanted you to know that we lifted his prints from your cell phone but they were useless.” He passed the phone back to her.
A frown nagged at her forehead. “He wasn’t in the system?” The guy was clearly a high-end professional, getting caught wouldn’t be in keeping with his skill level. And unless he’d been caught and charged with some crime, he wouldn’t be in any system.
He shook his head and handed her the boots she’d worn last night. “Can’t tell. There’s too much alteration, not enough legible lines to go for a match.”
“He doesn’t intend to be ID’d.” This just kept getting better and better. Seth was really on top of his game. He’d had his fingerprints altered.
“It’s professional work, too, not a homemade job.”
That’s why she hadn’t felt any particular roughness when he’d touched her. This wasn’t a hack job to alter any prints he’d leave behind, this was one of those cutting-edge “escape clinic” laser jobs. Very expensive, very cleverly done. Either Seth or the man he worked for knew how to remain anonymous.
“If he calls,” she offered, “I can try and get a look around his place. See what I can find.”
Maverick nodded. “Just be careful.” He looked at her a moment before he continued. “Lucas would like you to try and get a DNA sample. We don’t know how much good it’ll do, but it’s another avenue of identification.”
The various ways a sample could be obtained flashed quickly through her mind. “All right.”
Maverick looked away briefly before adding, “You know a shed hair won’t get us what we need. If you could lift his toothbrush or razor, assuming it’s not the electric type, that would be better.”
She nodded. “Got it.”
“Just be careful, North.” Maverick shook his head, his expression cluttered with more concern than she would have expected from a man of his background. “You’re right when you said there’s something off about this guy. He worries me more than most I’ve run across in my time. Lucas said the same thing.”
At least she wasn’t the only one picking up those vibes. “Don’t worry, I’ve got it under control.”
That was a flat-out lie, but he didn’t need to know it. In the event that he was fishing for Lucas, she wasn’t about to give him any information that could discredit her in any way.
“I’ll be right downstairs.” He glanced at her robe. “Don’t forget to put another patch in place.”
“Will do.”
When he’d gone, she retraced her damp path to the bathroom, drained the tub and cleaned up the mess she’d made. She set her weapon aside, reached into the medicine cabinet and got the box that contained the patches. To anyone else they looked like a simple birth control prescription. Lucas’s people covered every base. If her target decided to check her out, he’d find nothing that would suggest she wasn’t who she said she was. They’d even furnished the second bedroom of the apartment, complete with young, female wardrobe, to give the illusion of a roommate.
Tasha pressed the patch into place and checked out her reflection. The bruise on her cheek was pretty much gone now, and her lip was way better. A dab of makeup and she’d be good to go. Her side was still a little tender, but not so bad.
The firm knock on her front door made her jump. Damn, she was edgy. Forgetting her appearance for the moment she strode back into the living room. What did Maverick want now?
She opened the door without bothering to check the peephole.
Her target filled the doorway, those piercing blue eyes covered by dark shades.
For one second she was sure she had to be imagining things, but she blinked and he was still there.
He removed the concealing eyewear and focused that fierce gaze on her. “Ask me in.”
A shiver raced across her skin as much from the sound of his deep voice as from those eyes. She summoned a semblance of control and stepped back, opening the door wide. “Come on in.”
He reached down and picked up a bag she hadn’t noticed since she was too busy staring at those unsettling eyes. Idiot, she railed silently. Details. She wasn’t supposed to miss any.
Once he’d stepped inside, he closed and locked the door behind him. That move should have set her on edge but didn’t. Maverick and Ramon would be watching. Her apartment was rigged for surveillance. Seth looked at her, surveyed her lack of proper attire and then settled his gaze on hers. “I have a job for you.”
For just a second it kind of annoyed her that she found not a glimmer of approval in his eyes. She was standing there naked but for the robe, and he didn’t even notice. God knew that she’d absorbed every damned detail about him. Black T-shirt beneath a pale blue cotton button-up shirt. The telltale bulge of the weapon he wore, well-fitting jeans and those made-for-traction ankle boots. If she hadn’t enjoyed the perusal so much she could have chalked it up to merely being part of her job. But the heat funneling beneath her belly button made a liar out of her. She pushed the disturbing sensation away.
“What kind of job?”
“You need money, right?” He said this as he surveyed what he could see of her apartment. It was a nice enough place and wasn’t the reason he asked the question. She remembered telling him that she didn’t have a job yet and was pretty much broke from coughing up her share of the rent.
“Yeah, I need money,” she said bluntly. “But not badly enough to do anything illegal.” She looked him up and down, pausing briefly at his crotch. She looked away just as quickly. Either the guy stayed aroused all the time or he was extremely well endowed. Why she would notice and why it would have such an effect was beyond her. What the hell was wrong with her?
“There’s nothing to worry about.” He offered her the shopping bag he carried. “Put this on.”
Still trying to read his expression, which was impossible, she accepted the bag that turned out to be a good deal heavier than it looked. Inside was a brown uniform. “What’s this?” Her senses moved to a higher state of alert. Even folded up as it was she recognized the delivery-service getup.
“I’d like you to make a delivery for me. It’s very simple.”
“What kind of delivery?”
When he looked at her this time, there was no way to miss his impatience. That he allowed her to see the emotion surprised her and served as a warning at the same time.
“Don’t ask so many questions.”
She shrugged and headed to the bedroom with the bag in hand. For a second or two she allowed the elation of his return to bolster the nagging worry over where this might be headed. For the moment he was back, and that was all that mattered.
Moving quickly, she dragged on a pair of panties and a bra. Surprisingly the uniform was a good fit. Maybe he’d noticed more than he’d let on. The weight in the bag was the shoes. He’d thought of everything.
She brushed her hair and pulled it up with a claw clip, grabbed her purse and sunglasses and readied for whatever the hell he had in mind.
He waited right where she’d left him. Maverick and Ramon would know whether he’d looked a
round. She would find out later.
Seth scrutinized her from head to toe. “Perfect.”
“Why not just have the package delivered in the usual manner?” she asked as they exited her apartment.
“I have my reasons.”
She locked her door and followed him to the stairs. Fourteen floors, either the guy had a phobia where elevators were concerned or he didn’t want to get trapped in one in case he had to make a run for it.
He didn’t speak again even after they were in his SUV and headed into city traffic, which was no big surprise. He only spoke when he had something to say or she forced a response out of him. She occupied herself with attempting to determine their destination.
A few minutes later he parked in the lot of a large office building right off the Magnificent Mile, Chicago’s main street of shops, restaurants and ritzy office buildings.
He reached into the back seat and picked up a package. Eight-by-ten, she estimated. Wrapped in a plain brown paper. Addressed to… She leaned toward him slightly to read the name and address.
The name slammed into her with all the force of a runaway train.
Victoria Colby.
She was his mark.
“You know…” Calm, stay calm. She forced her heart rate back to a normal pace and focused on slowing her respiration. She couldn’t let him see that she recognized the name. “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea.”
He nodded toward the building. “Fourth floor. The elevator opens right into the Colby Agency lobby,” he went on as if she’d said nothing. “Ask for Victoria Colby. Don’t let anyone else sign for the package except her. Do you understand?”
She moistened her suddenly dry lips. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she realized that he’d just said more to her at one time than any other time since they’d met. “What’s in the package? You’re sure—”
“Go.” He pushed the package and an electronic clipboard toward her and pressed her with a gaze that warned her not to argue. “Now.”