Blacklisted: Blacklist Operations Book #1

by Lauren Devane

  “I hate you.” Sophie slumped, defeated, against the doorframe. He dropped his hand from her neck and took her shoulders gently, steering her back to the bed.

  “You’ll hate me more before this trip is over,” he predicted. She couldn’t find any joy or malice in the words. He sounded tired.

  Once she was sitting complacently on the bed, Aidan rifled through one of his black bags and pulled out a pair of handcuffs. “Unless these are on your gorgeous wrists, I’m not going to sleep.’

  Sophie felt a smirk surface from nowhere. “I don’t trust you enough for handcuffs.”

  His face hardened. “This isn’t a game. Give me your wrist.”

  She held her arms in her lap, feeling for all the world like a sullen child refusing to honor a reasonable request. Once Aidan realized she wasn’t going to give in, he sighed, knelt before her, and snapped her right wrist into the cuff. He attached the remaining cuff to his left wrist.

  “You’re going to be fine, in case you’re wondering,” he said once he’d positioned himself next to her on the bed. “They cleaned out the head wound and it’s not bad at all. Since you didn’t die outright, you’re probably okay.”

  “Too bad for you,” she muttered. “Would have taken some problems off your hands.”

  “I don’t want you dead,” he said softly.

  “Thanks for the car accident, by the way,” she said, ignoring his comment. “I can’t think of a more reasonable way of punishing me for asking where we’re going.” Now that she was thinking about it, the whole situation rankled. In a sick way, she understood what he’d done in the hotel. He needed information and sought it through pain. This time, there had been no reason beyond his pleasure and her punishment.

  “There was a goat.” It was the last thing she expected Aidan to say.

  “What?”

  “A goat. When I looked back at the road, I saw it sitting there. I should have hit it, but…”

  “You didn’t do this on purpose?” Her free hand gestured to the bandaged cut on her head.

  “No,” he said, shaking his head. “I won’t hurt you for being annoying.” His obvious irritation gave her a small measure of joy.

  Sophie didn’t speak for a few minutes, just looked at his face. Dark purple shadows had gathered under his eyes and he looked almost gaunt. Now that she was studying him, she realized that his knuckles were split and swollen. “I think I could use a little more sleep,” she said, even though she wasn’t tired.

  Aidan nodded and laid down next to her. She moved toward the edge of the bed, but his fingers wrapped around her wrist to stop her. “The cuffs will be more comfortable if we stay close.”

  The boat rocked softly under them and the heat of his body lulled Sophie into complacency. Once his breathing was steady and slow, she let herself drift into sleep.

  She woke alone hours later, wondering whether the light that came through the window was from the moon or an electric lamp in the corridor. The cabin was small, two square windows covered with half-opened blinds that looked out at the railing above the dark, choppy sea.

  The sheets under her were rough against the back of her legs. Sophie tried to twist around, but her arm was caught over her head. Aidan had slipped his own wrist free of the handcuffs and left the room, left her alone in the dark. She slumped back against the crinkly pillow and took long, shallow breaths, trying to calm herself.

  Though she’d found herself in small, dark places more than once in her life, they still closed in on her. The tight, anxious feeling was worse if she was alone.

  Closing her eyes, she counted her breaths and focused on the rise and fall of her ribcage. When she no longer felt the dark pressing in, terrible and tangible, she distracted herself by planning her upcoming semester. The long summer hadn’t lent itself to academic pursuits and her lecture schedule still wasn’t done.

  Before she could finish, a key turned in the lock and Aidan entered with a tray of food. Instantly her mouth started to water. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d gone more than 24 hours without eating.

  Setting the tray on the side table that was bolted to the floor, he flipped on the light. “Sit up,” he said, popping a straw out of its paper case.

  Sophie struggled uptight until she was able to cross her legs under her body and sit with her back against the headboard. He uncovered the dish on the tray and waves of fragrant steam rolled out to reveal tomato soup, thick and red in a white bowl. Herbs floated on top of it and a wedge of thick, brown bread rested behind the bowl.

  Aidan dipped a spoon into the bowl, stirred and then lifted it to her lips.

  Accepting the offering without a fight, Sophie closed her eyes and moaned as the hot liquid slid down her throat and settled into her aching stomach. It was delicious, creamy and not at all like thin, watery soup from a can. When she opened her eyes, Aidan was staring at her. His eyes had sharpened and his pupils dilated.

  Sophie blushed and shifted, realizing how she must have sounded.

  “I can feed myself,” she insisted, reaching to take the spoon.

  “I think I’d just as soon not arm you with hot liquid, thanks,” Aidan said, dipping the spoon back in and bringing it to her lips again. She scowled, but didn’t protest. The soup was too good to miss out on.

  Aidan gave her another bite, hoping that Sophie didn’t notice the massive erection that hardened when she’d moaned.

  Undressing her had been torture. As soon as the captain and his wife had left, cautioning Aidan to keep the head wound clean, he’d been faced with the choice of whether to disrobe her while she slept. Ultimately it seemed like she’d be more comfortable.

  He thought about the mission when he pulled Sophie’s t-shirt over her smooth stomach. It wasn’t enough to keep out the inappropriate thoughts, like how he wanted to slide his hand into her pants and bring her to a climax. All the passion and fire that lit behind her eyes would be his for those wild moments when she was riding his fingers, tongue or cock.

  But he kept himself rigidly apart from her, putting the t-shirt aside, pulling off her shoes and socks, and then unbuttoning her jeans. When his busted knuckles swept over the pink panties that separated his gaze from her perfect pussy, his body had tightened even more. It was agony not to touch her.

  But he slid the pants off and then tucked her under the sheets. Aidan knew that he should have slept, but instead he just watched her, finding comfort in the rise and fall of her chest.

  “Aidan,” she asked after swallowing a spoonful of soup, “can you at least tell me when we might get to the place you’re taking me? I’m not sure how long I slept or even how long we’ve been on the boat.” She looked at her lap and her shining hair fell in front of her face. “If you could just tell me that, I’d be satisfied. I won’t ask any more questions.”

  He fed her another bite, considering the request. When he broke off a piece of bread and brought it to her lips, she opened gratefully and chewed. “You slept for almost an entire day. I worried you wouldn’t wake up.”

  “I have a splitting headache,” she admitted, swallowing the bread and opening her mouth for more soup. Her lips were plump and pink, perfect for kissing.

  “We’ll get you some medicine when we reach the mainland,” he said. “The ones in my luggage aren’t meant for headaches and with the possible concussion, I didn’t want to give you anything too strong. The captain didn’t understand my request, and his wife—whose English is better—won’t come near me.”

  “Why?”

  He sighed. “When I walked onto the ship, you were in my arms with dried blood on your face and in your hair. She screamed that I killed you.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah. It was fucking awful. She made a huge scene and I thought we’d be denied entry. But her husband calmed her down, and took a bribe to keep us on board.”

  “Nice that she cared,” Sophie said, a weak smile on her face.

  “I think she was worried that you’d die on the boat and
there would be questions. An operation like this can’t afford that.”

  “Oh.” Aidan wished he hadn’t spoken, because her tone was disheartened and he hated to hear it. “How much longer will we be on the boat?”

  “We’ll be in Iran in another day,” he admitted. “We’ll have at least a week in the car after that. You really need to rest.” Sophie automatically shrank from him when he stood abruptly, he noticed with a pang. Hatred at himself for hurting her swam through his veins. Aidan gathered the dishes in silence, then crossed to the door and turned off the light.

  “Wait,” she squeaked when light from the breezeway flooded in. “Can you please leave the light on this time? I…I don’t like the dark.”

  He stared at Sophie for a minute, intent on her hands, as if he was comparing one to the other, assessing the damage he’d done to her fingers. His eyes ran up over her face where the bruises had gathered like rainclouds in ugly shades of purple and black around her eyes. Minutes passed while Aidan stared at her, lost in thought, and she met his gaze with tired eyes.

  When he shook his head and turned to leave again, she whimpered. Swallowed hard. He stopped and turned around again.

  “You really aren’t Veronica, are you?” he asked, staring at Sophie’s shaking form on the bed.

  “I’m not,” she said, using her free hand to wipe the tears gathering in her eyes. “Please, just let me go and I’ll never tell anyone.”

  “I can’t,” he said. “I just can’t.”

  Before he left, he turned on the light and looked at her one more time. She was so pale and delicate alone in the big bed. Aidan slammed the door and locked it behind him.

  Chapter Seven

  Another day passed while he spent time out on the deck and she rested. Though she was loathe to admit it, Sophie needed the break from movement. It gave her head time to clear after being slammed into the dash in the accident.

  He came by twice more to feed her hot, spicy soups that burned her throat and soothed her stomach. Neither of them had much to say. Whenever he entered, Sophie would look anywhere but at him. While he fed her, she kept her gaze trained on the wall and accepted the food without a word of condemnation or thanks.

  For the last two days, he’d been trying to get in touch with Oliver. Sarah, Oliver’s secretary, blocked Aidan at every turn. First Oliver was in transit, then he was in a meeting and couldn’t be disturbed. “You know, Aidan,” she said the sixth time he’d called, “he’s an important man and he can’t just pick up every time you ring.”

  “I know, Sarah.” No matter how much time passed, she still made him feel like the bruised up rookie that Oliver had brought into Second Division four years ago.

  “I’ve left him messages telling him to call you. Interrupting my day every three hours isn’t making him call you back any faster.”

  “I’m sorry, Sarah.” Aidan scowled, but didn’t let his frustration seep into his tone.

  “Are you hurt?” Her voice took on a motherly mien. “Caleb came into the office and asked about you. He’s leaving for Japan in the fall. Something with the Inagawa oyabun.”

  “Last I heard, that guy was on our side.”

  “He is,” Sarah replied, and he could almost hear her filing her nails. “I think it’s more Oliver hiring you boys out to do some damage control for him.”

  “Tell Caleb I’ll tag along if you see him before I do.”

  “I almost certainly will,” she said tartly. “Bye, Aidan.”

  “Sarah, wait.”

  “Yes.”

  “If Caleb comes back in, ask him to get in touch. I know he’s still in deep cover, but if he made it into the office, he should be able to call.”

  “Got it,” she said.

  “Thanks.” The call disconnected and Aidan wondered if he could leverage his help with the Yakuza against Caleb’s help with Sophie. Every moment he was stuck with the prim college girl, he was losing ground on Veronica and the package.

  He needed to get Sophie into Iran without her causing a scene on the docks. The problem weighed on his mind, because he no longer held Adele’s life over her head as leverage. Plus, he’d been too solicitous of her the last few days. Aidan was sure she knew that he didn’t want her dead—the threat had lost its power.

  A screaming blonde trying to tear away from him wasn’t going to be something the police could overlook. He sighed and watched the clouds part, letting sun stream through to sparkle on the water. Though he knew now that she wasn’t the right woman, he still couldn’t let her go until he got the okay from Oliver. That meant he needed a way to get her to the new car.

  Global disaster was imminent and he was stuck on a raft with a bunch of small time conmen. Frustration ripped through him and he wondered again why Oliver had sent him after Veronica now. He’d argued with his boss, explaining that the only place he needed to be was tracking down another way to stop Synthesis from being released.

  No, Oliver had insisted. They had to get Veronica and retake the information she’d stolen.

  Aidan gripped the railing and thought he could almost make out the shore in the distance. He just didn’t know if he had enough time.

  Sophie had been trying to keep track of the endless moments that passed while she laid on the lumpy mattress, wishing for a book. When Aidan fed her, she stole glimpses of his watch, trying to orient herself. Couldn’t be more than six hours before they’d reach port. And when they did, she was going to run.

  Leaving with him seemed logical when she was drunk, scared and injured in her hotel room, but now she was acutely aware of just how at his mercy she was. Whatever his endgame—whatever her intentions—she couldn’t stomach it.

  The worst thing that ever happened to me, she thought with a wince, was two years ago. That night still haunted her dreams, was burned into the back of her eyes every time she closed them. This situation wouldn’t even be a blip two months after she was away from him. It didn’t compare.

  She stirred, wanting to speak to him, and fluttered her eyes as she pushed them open. Aidan wasn’t fooled by her charade, she could tell, but he stayed silent and didn’t mock her. Sophie wiggled her hips, then stretched as best she could.

  “Are we there yet?” She smiled when his lips turned down in a glower.

  “I thought there weren’t going to be any more questions.”

  “I thought I was going to have a nice vacation with my friend, not get kidnapped by a psycho who can’t tell one girl from another. We all make mistakes.”

  “We’ll get there when we get there,” Aidan said, settling back into the chair. Salt air reminded her of Dubai and her thoughts drifted to Adele, who was probably already on her way home.

  “Where are we getting a car?” He didn’t respond, and Sophie sighed. “Can you please uncuff me and take me for a walk? My legs feel funny.” He’d only let her be free in the bathroom, and only because there was nowhere else to go.

  “No.”

  She considered and rejected begging. Aidan didn’t like it when she laid down and looked whipped. His eyes lit when she fought back.

  “Do you want something to eat before we dock?” he asked. “We probably won’t be able to get provisions for a day or two.”

  “I could use more soup,” she said softly.

  Sophie didn’t want to be too friendly, because he’d know that she was on the verge of making a break for it. Of course he had to be expecting her to try to get away. Unless he saw her as broken, with the dark bruises, puffy lip and wound just below her headline.

  So she’d eat the soup and then she’d throw herself into the arms of a friendly police officer and beg for help. She’d be en route to where she was needed before he had a chance to react.

  Aidan ladled a scoop of clam chowder into a bowl, disappointed that it wasn’t something Sophie would like. She’d mentioned earlier that week that she only liked salmon and shrimp, that the rest of the ocean was a cesspool.

  He’d finally come up with a way to get her off th
e ship and to the car, but by the time she was sitting beside him and heading north to London, she’d hate him again. The quiet truce between them for the last few days had been a relief. One dark spot was that she’d almost entirely stopped talking and he’d found that he actually liked to hear her thoughts. He liked her company.

  Aidan hated to lose it again.

  His interest in her life was a red flag that he needed to clear before moving forward. From the first moment he’d looked at her clearly, he’d felt something.

  Nothing huge—not then—not enough to keep him from executing her if Oliver ordered him to. But she’d raged at him and pressed herself against him in the lobby, moaned against his mouth. To save her friend, he reminded himself. Just to save her friend and not because she wanted him.

  Still, she’d moaned in his arms and looked dazed when she pulled away. And it was a hell of a kiss.

  The bowl of chowder warmed his hands as he walked back toward their room. More than a week in the car with Sophie would be unbearable if she didn’t speak except to ask questions he couldn’t answer.

  She just didn’t understand, he thought, frustrated. If he let her go and she said something to the wrong person, it was all over. Her adopted father’s organization would scatter, change call signs and codes. Then Aidan wouldn’t be able to stop the Synthesis Agenda

  A lot of people would die. He wasn’t sure he could live with that.

  He opened the door by balancing the chowder on his forearm. Sophie’s lip was bleeding again.

  “I accidentally bit it,” she lisped.

  He set down the bowl and gently cleaned the wound with a napkin, pressing it softly against the torn flesh.

  “I didn’t mean to bust your lip,” he said before he could stop himself.

  “I’m sorry?”

  “I mean,” Aidan was already frustrated, wished he hadn’t said anything. “I didn’t think you’d see me before I grabbed you in the bathroom and then I couldn’t contain you. I was just going to grab you. Not beat you.”