Hard Target

by Tibby Armstrong

  “I—Jesus, Ryan… What?” She couldn’t have heard that correctly.

  Simon slunk into the kitchen. With an expression on his face that said he’d like nothing better than to redirect the topic of conversation. Günter, hand extended in solidarity, met Ryan near the table.

  “I’m Günter Faust, Simon’s business partner. And this is my…our…er…”

  “Jenny Ainsley, Günter’s girlfriend and company research assistant,” Jenny finished for the flummoxed man.

  “Actually, she’s an accountant.” Günter dropped Ryan’s hand to jab his thumb at Jenny whose expression narrowed dangerously. “And my girlfriend! Definitely my girlfriend.”

  “Not an accountant,” Jenny muttered, her tea mug muffling her words as she sipped.

  “Do you have a projector?” Ryan’s motions as he withdrew equipment from his bag were tight and jerky, the only sign he was still angry.

  Alex kept quiet though his revelation gnawed at her. Had Simon done something tonight without her knowledge? Or was Ryan fomenting discord between them to test her loyalties?

  Simon returned to the main meeting area. “Projector. Display.”

  An image of the document open on Simon’s laptop sprang to life on a monitor that had previously been showing a muted talking head at CNN. Alex eyed Simon carefully as he adjusted a setting on the device. The jump of the pulse point near his ear gave him away as stressed, while the hard set of his jaw highlighted his anger. Muscles from the back of his neck down the line of the arm he used to direct the mouse pointer appeared rigid—rock hard and unyielding. His movements came in tugs and jerks, not the easy grace he normally exhibited. Two times she’d seen him like this and both were when she knew he’d been apprehended in a crime.

  She’d finally decided to ask him about Ryan’s accusation when Ryan pointed to Simon’s laptop. “Mind if I…?”

  Simon gave a magnanimous sweep of his hand, sarcasm dripping from his fingertips so vividly Alex wondered why toxic green vapor trails didn’t follow. She closed her mouth and decided to let Ryan put on his dog and pony show. Undoubtedly he’d tell her what she needed to know when the time came.

  “So…” Ryan began to insert a USB device into Simon’s laptop.

  A blur of motion preceded Ryan’s arm jerking upward. The agent flew from his chair so fast Alex almost didn’t have a chance to observe Simon’s actions. A sweep of Simon’s legs had Ryan on his face, the arm attached to the hand holding the USB device in a painful-looking chicken wing. Simon pressed his knee to the middle of Ryan’s back and pried the agent’s fingers open.

  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Not even winded, Simon growled the question.

  Alex gaped at him, not recognizing the man before her. Seething anger rolled off him in palpable waves. If he’d had a gun, she knew the muzzle would’ve been pointed at Ryan’s head. As if the idea came to her through a fog, she realized the guy facedown on the carpet was her partner, friend, and an FBI agent. And her ex-boyfriend had just assaulted him after possibly betraying her by stealing her password and hacking into classified files. Just like he’d been accused of doing six years ago…

  Body and reflex awakening before her addled brain, Alex executed a kick that sent Simon sprawling to the side. She launched herself on him, pinning him in the same move he’d used on Ryan, and pried FBI property from his fingertips. Apparently not caring if she dislocated his shoulder, Simon bucked upward, unseating her. They both bounded to their feet at the same time. Facing off, breathing hard, they glared at one another.

  “What the hell was that about?” she practically shouted, thoroughly tired of his erratic behavior.

  “Trying to set me up again?” Simon curled his lip at her fist holding the USB drive. He appeared as angry and unapproachable as he’d ever been. As if they’d made absolutely no progress toward trusting each other over the past several days.

  Alex uncurled her palm to reveal the shiny red drive in her hand. She’d shown him who’d set him up, but part of him still believed she’d had something to do with it. Somewhere behind her, Ryan brushed himself off and watched them carefully. Every instinct within her said he had her back. Just like she should’ve had Simon’s six years ago. Dropping the USB to the table, Alex turned to find Günter looking at her pityingly, Jenny half horrified and half admiring.

  “We should spar sometime,” Jenny said, apparently trying to break the tension, but cringing as she realized she’d just made it worse.

  “Sure.” Alex strode into the powder room.

  Leaning forward, clutching the edge of the vanity, she stared into the mirror and wondered what Simon saw in her, if he saw anything at all. Dark eyes upturned at the corners, blinked. Her mouth the color of red berries, maybe a little too wide, stood out against her ultra-pale skin. Unkempt ribbons of hair hung around her shoulders, curling loosely at the ends. She ran her fingers through the mass, realizing she’d never fixed it after sex with Simon. Her hand stilled.

  Sex with Simon… Things hadn’t really felt right between them since she’d said I love you. Red mottled her cheeks at the remembrance. They never should have slept together. It emotionally unbalanced them both. Maybe she should say no the next time? But how did she know there’d even be a next time?

  She hated relationships. All those pheromones running around, unbalancing logic and muddying reality. She couldn’t see up for down or true for false right now. Yet she knew if she weren’t currently experiencing the emotional equivalent of a triple-loop rollercoaster, she’d be able to cut through the bullshit and be exactly what Simon and this case needed.

  Pushing away from the counter, she rummaged in the drawers for a hairbrush but came up empty. No matter. They’d all seen the sex snarls. She didn’t need to hide them now. Just like she didn’t need to hide her feelings from Simon any longer. Either he returned them or he didn’t. She’d live through either scenario, but if she were going down she’d rather go down fighting.

  “So.” She entered the room, shoulders squared. “Explain yourself.”

  Simon faced the window. Alex studied his expression in the reflection.

  “I won’t let you set me up again.” He didn’t turn around as he spoke, his gaze distant as he stared out over Central Park.

  “I never set you up and you know it.” She wanted to smack him. Truly. “What Ryan said about my password? Was that true?”

  “I won’t do anything to jeopardize my sister’s life.” The statement hung in the air. Alex said nothing and Simon closed his eyes. “Downing demanded intel on the security for the president’s visit. Intel I’m about to transfer to him, after you help me adjust it to throw him off track. I was waiting for you to return.”

  His palms fell from where he braced them against the glass, and he turned. Dispassionate, without remorse, he stared her down.

  “He hacked into the Bureau, Alex.” Ryan said. “He lied to you. Again.”

  Alex spun to face her partner.

  “I got that, Ryan.” She took a deep breath, trying to think the situation through. “I just got my ass handed to me by the AD for putting my nose in this. He told me in not so many words that they have the situation under control and are fully aware of the ramifications of what Downing’s up to. I have to believe he knew this was coming too.”

  “Do you have my back?” Simon asked. “Or not?”

  “Simon, this isn’t a question of having your back. This is a case of national security on a monumental level. I hear you about your sister, but…damn you. Did you have to do this to me? To us? Again?” He moved toward her. She pressed her fingertips to her temples and shook her head. “Just give me a minute all right?”

  “I don’t have a fucking minute!” He pointed to the clock, which read 8:55 p.m.

  Knowing this was a test she couldn’t afford to fail, Alex colored in the answer bubble for option C on a wing and a prayer. “Fine. Let’s do it. But if you ever do this to me again…”

  She let the vague threat
hang in the air. Simon let out a huff. Anger spiked, but she clamped down on it, knowing she needed to keep a clear head.

  “I trust your judgment,” Ryan said. “But I do hope you know what you’re doing.”

  “Let’s do this,” she said.

  Simon met her at the table. Side by side, they accessed the files he’d downloaded while Ryan stood behind them, a silent, disapproving presence. They modified the documents to conceal several vulnerable locations on the building blueprints and to disguise a couple Secret Service patrols. Alex knew later she’d be hurt and more than a little broken by Simon’s near betrayal, but for now she allowed herself to just get the job done.

  Three minutes later, they hit transmit and watched the data upload to Downing’s servers. The file finished transferring as the red digits on the clock turned to 8:59 p.m. Green tingeing his complexion, Simon pushed away from the table and went to the kitchen for a glass of water.

  “How are we gonna do this thing and get the five of us inside tomorrow night?” Ryan asked.

  “Five of us?” The question came from Simon.

  “Günter, Jenny, me, you and Ryan,” Alex answered.

  “There is no we.” With thin lips, Günter stared at her. He’d been so quiet during the transaction, Alex had almost forgotten his presence. “Jenny is staying out of this.”

  “I am not.” Jenny jutted her chin. “And I know exactly how to get us inside. There’s a donor event tomorrow night.”

  Ryan, who’d taken up a position at the conference table, tapped away at one of the laptops. “We need access.”

  “That’s easy enough. My brother was invited. Though he turned it down.” All heads swiveled to focus on Jenny and she grinned wide.

  She really was a pretty woman. Given the look of pride and love Simon bestowed on her she’d have been a good fit for him. Jealousy stabbing at her middle, Alex forced herself to sit. “Do you think we can convince David to go?”

  “David is my priority if he goes in, you know that, Jenny.” Günter, his jaw and fists clenched, was the picture of masculine frustration. “How can I watch you both and Simon?”

  “I don’t need watching, Gun, and neither does David,” Jenny answered. “Just let it go.”

  Scowl deepening, Günter crossed his arms over his chest.

  “So…” Alex tucked one foot beneath her. “We’re agreed that using David’s influence, we can probably get at least Simon and Gun inside?”

  “I have no problem with that part of the plan.” Günter leaned toward her. “I have the problem with Jenny being involved.”

  Jenny squeezed Gun’s hand. “You’ll need a date.”

  “I’ll be there as security.” Günter glared at his girlfriend.

  “You know you don’t like to be conspicuous.” Jenny smiled indulgently. “Bring me as your date.”

  “Let’s figure out the rest of the plan,” Alex interjected when Gun’s skin turned from English pale to a sunburned fuchsia in a half second.

  “How do we get the frame inside?” Ryan flicked through the MoMA blueprints on the laptop, sending white flashes of light through the room until he came to the one with the gallery housing the Picasso.

  “I think we stick with the original plan.” Simon’s quietly voiced thoughts focused Alex’s attention on him. He inspected a climbing harness for damage as he spoke. “Alex lowers the frame first to the roof. Then rappels down.”

  “But the alarms will be live,” Ryan said. “How will you get her inside?”

  “That’s the easy part.” Simon glanced Ryan’s way, then back down. “It’s getting the time to make the switch after the alarms go off that’ll be tricky.”

  “A fire,” Alex said.

  “A what?” Simon dropped the harness onto a chair and brushed his hands together.

  “We set off the fire alarm after I come in the terrace entrance. Clear the building of everyone except us.”

  “But the fire barriers will come down,” Simon said.

  Alex nodded, knowing he was getting the picture now and probably not liking it very much.

  “We’ll be trapped with the evidence,” he pointed out.

  “The evidence will be long gone.”

  “How?”

  “We’ll place something under the barrier, holding it open until we’re finished.” Alex kept her voice calm and quiet, knowing the next part of her plan wouldn’t go over very well. “The fire department will take five to ten minutes to get there and won’t make it to the upper floors for another five or ten. Ryan should have enough time to get the frame out.”

  “He gets to ferry it out?” Simon jabbed an accusatory finger in Ryan’s direction. “And I get to what? Stick around as the welcoming party for the cops?”

  Index fingers steepled to his lips, Ryan listened patiently as if Simon hadn’t spoken. Tongue-tied on the next part of her plan, Alex didn’t answer right off.

  “You want him?” Simon stood. “Fine! You can have him.”

  He was jealous? Simon stalked away and Alex shot out her hand to grab his wrist, bringing him up short.

  “Simon…” She cleared her throat. “I need you to be, you know, having illicit sex with me when the cops show up. The guards will remember us from last time. It’s perfect. We have a reputation.”

  For a horrible moment the snarl didn’t fall from his face and Alex thought he might jerk away from her. Then he blinked, and the mask morphed to something a little more wary.

  “Pretend,” he said.

  “What?” Alex frowned, sure she misunderstood him.

  “Pretend sex.”

  Emotion, that bitch of a mistress, ground the gears of her brain to a clattering, shattering halt. Alex let her hand fall away from Simon’s wrist.

  “Yes. Of course.” She cleared her throat. “I mean, we don’t have to do it for real.”

  “Alex.” Simon moved to stand directly in front of her. “Look at me.”

  Her nostrils flared against a stinging inhale, but she finally tossed back her head. “What?”

  “I might be good, and you might be better than every wet dream I’ve had since age fourteen, but…” Simon blushed and raked a hand through his hair. “I can’t get it up under that much stress. Knowing we’re both about to be arrested.”

  He let his hand drop to his side, his voice catching on the last word, and she realized this would be a major sacrifice for him. The FBI could get him out of it by the end of the evening, but he’d still have to go through the motions of being fingerprinted, having his mug shot taken, and spending some hours behind bars. It might even hit the papers and affect his and Günter’s business.

  Ryan shifted in his chair. “So we’re agreed?”

  Simon faced the room. “Yeah. I’ll do it.”

  “You don’t need Jenny,” Günter noted, a little too gleeful.

  “You need a date,” Alex reminded him, and he actually bared his teeth at her. She winked at Jenny in solidarity. Jenny grinned.

  “Someone still has to ask David,” Ryan pointed out.

  “I’ll do it.” Jenny pushed away from the table, the casters on her chair squeaking a little.

  As Jenny left, Simon sat, taking his glasses from his shirt pocket and folding them into his fist before pressing his head into the sofa cushion behind him. Eyes closed, mouth drawn, worry creasing his brow, he appeared the picture of stress. The security flat door clicked softly and Alex realized both Gun and Ryan had left.

  “All this time…” He opened his eyes, regret written in every line of his weary features. “We could’ve been so good together.”

  She inhaled deep. “Simon…”

  He stood. “Let’s get some sleep, Alexandra.”

  Hours later, Alex blinked against the darkness of the security flat’s bedroom. She lay so close to the edge she couldn’t sleep for fear of falling off. A memory of Simon in shackles, being led into the courtroom, arms bound before him, feet shuffling, surfaced. She remembered how the orange jumpsuit emphasized all
the wrong hues in his complexion and cringed as she made a connection she should’ve made hours ago. He was scared of tomorrow night. Of reliving his arrest and a past of which she reminded him. Sensing he was awake too, she didn’t dare move closer to the center of the bed.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered on impulse.

  “I know.” He rolled farther away. “Get some sleep.”

  Closing her eyes, she drifted into a broken sleep filled with shattered dreams. Eight hours later, his place swept for listening devices and coming up clean, they made breakfast in Simon’s apartment. Though the tension remained, like an old married couple, they moved past each other in the tiny kitchen with a rhythm she’d forgotten they once possessed. Their bodies knew one another with a magnetic intimacy that kept them revolving around each other with sure-footed movements.

  Plates, coffee mugs, eggs, toast, jam—each item in their breakfast agenda appeared without comment from either of them. She knew he liked his eggs scrambled. He knew she enjoyed her toast just this side of overdone. No butter on his. The scrape of a knife against her piece as he liberally slathered raspberry jam. They slurped coffee and tea. Read the paper.

  A text message chimed on his phone and he lifted the device from the table. “Jenny convinced David to go along with everything.”

  “Good.” Alex searched his face, hoping to find some indication there of the connection they’d shared.

  He cleared his throat. “Shower?”

  Her cheeks heated when an image of him naked, water streaming down his chest in a waterfall to his hard, wide cock, sprang to her mind’s eye.

  Knowing he hadn’t issued an invitation, she said, “You can go first.”

  Simon nodded and pushed away from the table. The cotton fabric of his striped pajama bottoms clung intimately to his tautly muscled ass. Transfixed, she watched him walk toward the sleeping area. Without knowing how, she found herself standing nearby, watching as, back to her, he stripped off his pants and reached for his robe. Catching her stare in a mirror, Simon halted mid-motion. A funny tumbling feeling hit Alex’s stomach as her self-control slipped from her grasp and began a freefall descent out of sight.