Sky's Lark
Page 6
Standing, he ambled to her side before pulling her into a strong hug. "You better. Call me each day and keep your head down."
"I will. Promise." She lifted to brush a kiss across his cheek. "Don't work too hard. According to Mom, you're supposed to be finding a wife and giving her some grandkids."
He rolled his eyes. "Don't you start, too."
With a giggle, she strode from the room.
When she returned home from the impromptu meeting with her youngest brother, Lark automatically locked the door behind her. She was still antsy with a high-profile criminal placing a fortune in bounty on her head.
Normally, she handled stress well, blowing off the small stuff, absorbing the adrenaline rush, and relishing the revved-up feeling as she met the challenges involved with a dangerous mission. However, this situation proved completely different. She held very little control over when or where the bad guys might strike; the battlefront could be anywhere. From her apartment to a corner restaurant, any moment could turn to hell in a hand basket with absolutely no warning. Those fears kept her on high alert, unable to sleep at night, and weighed her shoulders down with worry.
Her brother was concerned. She'd read the hallmarks clearly on his boyish face, lines replacing his typical grin, his eyes sharp and overly bright instead of the usual mischievous twinkling. At least he'd agreed with her findings and intuition when it came to the identity of the mole and promised to pull strings in order to get a judge to sign a search warrant as soon as possible, enough to confiscate Thomas's computer along with the other two men Lark suspected to be involved.
She strode quickly into the bedroom after depositing her purse on the dining room table, only to slide to a halt just inside the doorway. No, she didn't have a note this time. Instead, she found a tall, dark-toned man sitting on her bed, the very same one that had demanded a kiss for her freedom a few nights before. Her heart sped even as her breathing seized.
His hands rested at his sides as deep brown eyes caught and held her gaze. In the light streaming through her window, she verified his physique, noting the large mass of muscles filling out a long-sleeved black T-shirt. Blue jeans and plain tennis shoes completed the package.
"We meet again." His soft voice carried easily across the small space, sending her nerves to firing and the hair on the back of her neck to standing at attention.
What in the hell did that mean? Did he recognize her and decide to drag her in for the hefty reward? Or was he the guardian angel, intent upon giving her a heads-up in order to avoid a shortened lifespan? "So we do. Now get out." Crossing her arms across her chest, she glared down at him, determined to put every ounce of intimidation into her voice and body language.
The corners of his mouth twitched. "No can do. Besides, we have a problem."
"We?"
"Yes, we." He remained seated, his large body no less imposing despite his lower physical position.
"You've got two minutes to say your piece before I drag your ass out of my apartment."
A full grin appeared on his chiseled face, replacing dark shadows of fatigue with amusement. "You can try. But I have a feeling you want to hear this."
She sighed and waved her arms. "Fine. Out with it already."
"Seems there's another player after the bounty on your head. Someone that can and will find you."
She forced herself to stand steady to show that his words didn't affect her. "I figure half the city is after me. So what?"
He shook his head. "No. I was given three days to find you, but someone else notified my overseer that he knows you personally and will easily pick you up by tomorrow."
"And you are?"
"Bryce. My friends call me Sky. Undercover cop presently infiltrated into Santora's main drug-dealing gang."
She watched him with newfound interest and appreciation. He was the one who had risked life and limb to leave notes in a small wooden box on her dresser. The rest of his words tumbled through her numb brain. Undercover cop. That beat thug any day of the week. "I'm Lark, in case you wondered."
His gaze roamed over her body before settling once more on her face. "It fits you."
She snorted.
"You find the mole?"
The change of topic unbalanced her for a beat. "No solid evidence, but I'm working on it."
He cursed under his breath before standing to slide closer, moving with the ease and grace of a natural predator.
She held her ground. "He's got tough safeguards on his computer. It's going to take time to find a way around them."
"Time we don't have. Like I said, there's an addition to the party that promises to snatch you up and deliver you like a Christmas turkey to Santora at his base operation." He ran his hand through his dark hair.
"You have a name?" She watched him carefully, trying to decide if she should trust him completely and throw caution to the wind to fess up her findings and gut feelings or keep her mouth shut in case he falsely represented himself. Maybe he was working for the criminal side of the law instead of hers.
"No. The right-hand man didn't say who made the claim, only that someone did." He tilted his head and paused before tossing out another pitch. "Don't believe me?"
She shrugged. "Maybe, but not enough to bet my life on it." Trust, like respect, had to be earned. Too many times she'd seen someone suffer because they placed faith in the wrong person. In her line of work, harsh consequences followed, not the least of which entailed death and not always fast or painless, either.
* * * *
Bryce watched the play of emotions across the little blonde's face, searching for any indication of her thoughts. He would give her credit for bravery, caution, and sheer guts, but if she didn't lose the stubborn streak fast, he would be forced to take matters into his own hands and damn the fallout. Most women by now would be frantic, begging him to package her up and deliver her somewhere far away from potential harm. Just his luck to be stuck with Wonder Woman who dared him and every other man to bring it on.
The curvy, petite body combined with an overabundance of confidence set his blood to racing and dick to hardening, but neither of them had the luxury for such thoughts, not when the equivalent of Armageddon stood at her doorstep. Maybe afterward, if they survived, he could explore those dips and valleys further, gain another tasty kiss from the spirited beauty as he climbed astride for a hot and fast ride. He didn't doubt for a second that she would give as good as she got, not with her take-charge attitude. Together they would set the sheets on fire.
If you survive, dumbass. The inner voice sternly scolded enough to return his attention to the matter at hand.
"Okay, one of us has to take the first step. Let's try this." He puffed out a breath before tossing caution to the wind. "If you need someone to vouch for me, I'll give you the name of my supervisor in Rocky Hill. Anyone there can vouch for me. Or, if you prefer, I imagine you have your own contacts. Call one and run my information."
She pinned him with her gaze. A moment later, she snapped open her phone and meandered to stand beside her window as she waited for an answer. "Night. Lark. Can you run a name for me real quick? Bryce… what's your last name, Bryce?"
"Winters," he answered, barely refraining from rolling his eyes. But he had to give her credit. Only the smart and careful survived in a world filled with secrets and violence. Trusting the wrong person landed more than one person underground with a tombstone marking the site.
"Winters. Bryce Winters, nickname Sky," she spoke softly into the phone, leaning a hip against the wall. Turning, she glanced at him over her shoulder. "Why Sky?"
"I'm originally from Montana. Big Sky Country."
"Oh. Makes sense." She rotated once more, this time peering through the glass as she held the small pink phone up against her ear.
Bryce felt the tension before he heard her near silent gasp.
"Oh, shit."
Springing to his feet, he joined her at the window, keeping to the fringes out of habit. "What is it?"
"Your mole?" At her nod, Bryce scrambled into action. Grabbing her arm, he tugged. "He's come for you. We've got to be gone by the time he hits the floor because he's not dumb enough to simply walk away when no one answers the door."
Lark dug her feet in and yanked loose from his grasp, only to hit the floor on her knees. A brief second later, she pulled a large, black duffel from under her bed, slung it over her shoulder, and hurried to the living area. She picked up her purse midstride, opened the door and held it open for Bryce as she reset the lock.
He quickly scanned the hallway before scooting toward the far stairs, placing his bets that Thomas would opt for the elevators or the nearest stairs. Lark followed hot on his heels, shuttling by him as he held the door to the stairway open. Without pausing, they jogged down to the ground floor. Once again, he checked the area before gesturing for Lark to follow him.
Moments later, they pulled out of the parking lot in Bryce's charcoal gray rental sedan, Lark still on hold with her contact.
"He's safe? That's great to know. By the way, we have a situation." She went on to explain what happened.
Bryce listened in on the one-sided conversation, curiosity eating at him. Who was the guy that she confided in? A supervisor? A friend? Another agent?
Right then that was the least of his concerns. He needed to focus on a new plan, one that involved keeping her out of the hands of the rogue DEA agent presently on a drug cartel's payroll and alive without blowing his cover until he found enough evidence to convict everyone tied to the illegal drug operation.
It wouldn't take long for Thomas to realize that Lark had flown the coop. Once, maybe twice he could visit and find her gone, but certainly not more until he realized she'd hit the highway. Once he sounded the alarm, every thug in the territory would be on the lookout for her. His position might hold steady for two more days. After that, if he failed to bring her in, more than his loyalty would be questioned, especially if someone happened to catch sight of him before the clock ran out.
He headed south with no real destination in mind, but they had to be away from the vicinity for long enough to come up with a plan of action. Unfortunately, his normally sharp mind spun its wheels in the mud without producing a single idea of how to get his butt out of such a mess.
Chapter 12
"Keep your phone handy and call me immediately if anything changes," Night ordered. "I'm going to make some calls, come up with a plan, then call you back."
"Yes, sir." She had filled him in on the latest happening as soon as he answered the phone. More than once, she swore she heard his back teeth grinding over the connection.
He clicked off.
Lark closed the phone, her mind scrambling with the sudden influx of information and major downturn in the operation. Night verified that Bryce not only spoke the truth about his position, but assured her that he could handle himself almost as well as any Wind Warrior. That fact sent a small surge of hope for their current situation and her expectations in a potential mate rolling through her thoughts. Finally, a hunk who possessed the high moral qualities she demanded along with a sharp mind and quick wit. The combination would set her heart beating and hormones racing at any other time.
Unfortunately, the time wasn't now. Not with them on the run and a traitor breaking and entering into her apartment in hopes of catching her and turning her over to a wealthy, cruel drug kingpin. She didn't believe he wanted to see her once more to politely ask her to explain why she tried to unman him that night. Not his style. More like he'd beat her to a pulp then get down to business.
"Going to tell me who you were talking to?"
Turning, she appraised Bryce, seeing him in new light, a more favorable hue than before. His chiseled features showed generations of intermixing among pretty young couples, his dark complexion, dark eyes, and the nearly black hair hinting at a Hispanic background. His height and broad frame covered with muscles told a story of some intermixing with Caucasian blood to give the length of bone. The man's toned physique seemed to be the result of frequent exercise in an effort to stay in decent shape. If he spent time at donut shops like most cops, he must stick with black coffee. She'd glimpsed his bravery before, his ingenuity in getting the warning notes to her, and now saw the bright spark of intelligence in those dark eyes.
"My boss," she answered with a shrug.
"You called the fucking DEA? Are you nuts? What if the mole has him on retainer, too?" Bryce clenched the steering wheel, his knuckles whitening under the strain.
She snorted. "I'm not that stupid, Rambo. First of all, although I still work for the DEA on a contractual basis, I walked away a month ago to go freelance."
"Freelance?" He spared her a glance before returning his attention to the road.
"Private sector security. Top secret, but a damned good group. Think black ops, but higher pay, more flexibility and freedom, and a ton of new toys to play with."
He slowed the vehicle, pulling into a parking space at a busy supermarket. Turning the engine off, he turned to face her. "You're involved in black ops missions?"
"Uh, yeah. That's what I just said." Most men reacted with the same dazed amazement when learning she spent years with the military only to leave for a federal officer job.
He whistled low. "Damn. No wonder you stuck your nose in the air and threatened to kick my ass for demanding a kiss."
A slow grin appeared on her face. "Oh, that wasn't a threat, it was a promise. I can and will kick your ass if you try something stupid like that again."
His smile matched hers. "Baby, I imagine most men underestimate you, but I can say with certainty, you can try, but you won't win with me."
She rolled her eyes. "Arrogance to go with those dimples?"
"You know it." He chuckled.
Lark liked the sound of his laugh, deep and full, sincere and contagious. The bantering heated her blood and sent her low belly somersaulting, a preamble to outright lust on her part. For the first time in forever, she'd found a quality man who could hold his own, not only with her, but with the five overbearing males in her family. Few men fit that bill and she intended to hold onto this one as long as she could. Which, under the circumstances, might only be two days if something didn't tilt the scales in their favor. Flirtation would have to wait.
"Okay. Back to the matter at hand…"
"You identified the mole?"
She nodded. "Thomas. I know it and everything points to him, but I don't have any proof. Someone is working on that for me right now, trying to get copies of signatures on certain documents. Even those aren't enough to make the case, though. His financial records are under lock and key, meaning he's hiding something big, but it'll take a software genius to break through the blockades. He's got a couple of others under his direction that are more than likely in cahoots. But, again, I can't prove anything and he's got the money to hire big-time lawyers that will have the charges thrown out in an hour."
"I knew Santora had some high-profile manager under his thumb, but no name ever came out. Like you, I don't have hard evidence, only hearsay and my gut. I've been climbing the ladder in the local group for over a month. They gave me the job of tracking you down, thus my ability to warn you. However, that whole job just went to hell with Thomas closing in." He shifted in his seat, resting one long arm across the top of the steering wheel.
"That's what Night said. He's pulling the team together now."
His eyebrow arched. "For what?"
Looking down, she released a sigh, deciding to let a bit more information slip. After all, he would be walking into a fiery nightmare right beside her. "Our missions involve going in and destroying operations of the worst and most untouchable villains of the US government. While they want these guys out of commission, they prefer to avoid the dark stain on their hands afterward. We use military tactics, small equipment, and stealth to sneak into a compound then send it exploding sky high."
Leaning back, she refocused on his face. "They don't come back to haunt you if they're in the devil's hands. We've always had the authorization to destroy until Santora. The feds refused anything except capture."
"And, it's come back to bite you big time." He made it a statement.
"Yeah. The boss is pissed. He will get authorization one way or another." She nearly smiled at the image of Night yelling on the phone with his contact and demanding a relaxation of the rules of engagement.
"Hard-ass, huh?" The corners of his mouth twitched.
"Let's just say he gets the job done."
"So, we're waiting for his call, then?"
She pulled one leg up onto the seat. "Yep. Oh, before I forget, do you speak Navajo?"
His eyebrows furrowed as he blinked. "Navajo? Do I want to know?"
A fully fledged smile beamed across her face. "I hope you're one fast learner."
"Oh, hell," he muttered under his breath, sending her into a bout of laughter.
* * * *
"Single?"
"Yep. You?"
"Yes. Dating anyone?"
"No time. You?"
"No time and too many stupid un-evolved Neanderthals running around." Lark nearly giggled at the smirk on Bryce's face.
She became bored sitting in the car waiting for her boss to call back, so she started flinging out inquiries, a version of Twenty Questions. So far, he had answered and returned one with his own, stepping eagerly into the game. Both informative and entertaining, the game passed the time nicely.
"A man basher, huh?"
"Only when deserved. Unfortunately, too many deserve it." She stuck her nose in the air.
He smiled slightly. "I see. You threaten to kick every man's ass or am I just special?"
She batted her eyelashes and grinned saucily. "Pretty much. Most do an about-face and run rather than take the chance of losing to a girl."