by Desiree Holt
He scrambled to his feet before he followed his more feral instincts and stripped her bare right then and there. It would be a while before that could happen.
“I’ll let you know on Monday.”
He reached out a hand and pulled her to her feet. To her credit she didn’t back off. She stood her ground and smirked, those emerald eyes flashing a challenge.
“Then we have a rematch?”
The woman had big brass balls. She might be helpful this weekend for the stakeout. Even a cougar needed sleep. Then he could send her on her way with a good bedding as a farewell gift.
“Let’s take one day at a time.”
Chapter 2
Agent Ibarra had underestimated her. He wouldn’t do it again soon. At least she prayed he wouldn’t. His cat-like reflexes proved he’d have her back when shit hit the fan. Sooner or later it would. It always did.
“Thought I was a guy, didn’t you?”
“Yep.”
“Pissed?”
“Nope.”
“Not a big conversationalist, are you?”
“Nope.”
Fine. She could do her job and forget about him when she went home. Forget all about his long-legged lope and the muscular arms he’d wrapped around her. His green eyes with the amber flecks that bored right into her. The tawny brown hair cut short like a brush. Oh, to run her hands over his mane. He moved with almost feline grace as he climbed the stairs ahead of her.
“Want to go back and I’ll let you win?” The taunt was out before she could retrieve it. Stupid feminist pride getting the better of her.
“Baby, I did win. And no, I’ll pass.”
She froze in her tracks. “Nobody calls me baby.”
“I do,” he replied, continuing without missing a beat.
She stiffened her spine. No man would make her feel like a second class citizen. Not again.
“I said,” she repeated through gritted teeth, “I will not allow you to call me baby.”
This time he stopped, stared at her for what felt like minutes, and simply nodded. “Noted.”
She released the breath she’d been holding. Standing up for herself did not come easily but she would not fall back into letting a man put her down. No man. No one, ever again.
“Well, come on, newbie. Sooner I train you, the sooner I can send you on your way.”
What had she done other than be born the wrong gender for this guy?
“Yes, sir.” She hurried up the stairs behind him.
“And don’t call me sir.”
“Understood.”
The military had been a double edged sword. The discipline and the challenge had built up her self-esteem but when she’d blown out a knee and put on weight, they’d pushed her out. They didn’t say she was fat but she couldn’t do PT until her knee fully healed and a desk job was all they offered her. No way. She wanted the action, wanted the adventure, the unknown. The danger.
Who knew the danger would come in her own home?
“Stop daydreaming, Anderson.”
“Sir. Sorry, umm. What should I call you?” She followed him through the doors back to the squad room they started in.
“Just Ibarra.”
“Yes, si- Ibarra.” Breaking habits was hard but necessary. Letting go of the past was hard. She’d do it. Had to start a new life. She’d thought it would be as Ibarra’s partner busting drug dealers but if he wasn’t the one, so be it.
“Sit there.”
He shrugged at an empty desk adjacent to his as he sank into his leather chair.
Her chair was a wood chair she’d seen in almost every bank she’d ever been in. Some schools and offices, too. All the others in the room were identical to hers. Except his. What earned him special treatment?
The desktop lacked any supplies or computer. What was she supposed to do?
“Anderson, get me some coffee.”
She couldn’t have heard him correctly. Being her first day, should she go along with his request or buck his authority in front of all the other agents? She couldn’t set the precedent of fetching his coffee, or any other man’s, she leaned toward him, and whispered, “I don’t think that’s in my job description.”
He hadn’t been looking at her before, just jotting in a file. His pen stopped moving and he swiveled to face her. He rolled his chair over to hers, his glare piercing right through her.
“Are you always this much a pain in the ass or am I a special case?”
“Agent Ibarra, I am not your secretary and not your wife. I respectfully refuse to serve you coffee.”
He sat back and tapped his forehead with his finger. “You refuse, you say?”
“Yes.”
“So if I told you I wanted to give you something to do, since you don’t have a computer and no case files as yet to complete, what would you say?”
“I’d say I still don’t want to get you coffee.” Though it made perfect sense.
“Fine.” He stood tall over her and huffed. “I’ll get my own damn coffee.”
Great. She may have made a tactical error. Appeasing him after surprising him with her hand-to-hand skills might have made some inroads. Now, she may have not only burned the bridge but blown it to hell and back.
While he was gone, she glanced through a couple of the files on his desk. Special K was the common thread along with teens who’d OD’d or been busted with it. Most of the case files weren’t assigned to Ibarra. What was his interest?
“Bitchy and nosy.”
“When necessary.” Great. Three for three. She shouldn’t have been snooping, she just wanted to get started.
“First, keep your hands to yourself.” He handed her a mug of surprisingly fresh brew. “I hope you take it black.”
Relief washed through her. This day might turn out okay.
“Thank you. I will today.” She sipped, splashed a bit on the corner of her mouth in her haste to diffuse the tension she’d created. She licked at the coffee drops, conscious of his intense male gaze as she did. Heat burst in low in her belly and she remembered his rock hard reaction pressed into her abdomen when he’d pinned her to the mat. In another time and place, they’d be explosive together. Not now, not ever as co-workers. She’d been made the fool too many times and learned her lesson the violent way. This tall, sexy, and surly male was on her “don’t” list. Not that she was in a hurry to jump back into the quagmire of dating.
He slunk into his chair, the springs groaning a bit with his solid mass as he leaned back to glare at her. An antique perhaps and a possession that meant enough to him to use every day? Or an effort to distance himself from the fray since it was his way or the highway?
“Max short for Maxine?”
“Yes.” Two could play at his game.
“MP in the military. Why MP?” You mean, why not a nurse or administrative assistant? She bit back the retort before it popped out. He watched her like an oncology researcher observes a rat injected with an experimental cancer cure.
“My dad was Army, mom was a deputy for a while. Guess I was destined for it.”
His gaze never wavered but looking away would make her appear weak. Vulnerable.
“What case did you investigate that left the biggest scar?”
Wow, he didn’t pull punches. And he didn’t mean physical scar. Maybe this was a test to see how honest she’d be with him. Or maybe to find out what made her tick. Whatever it took to move ahead with her life, she’d do. “It would be the domestic abuse case. Cases. Too many to count. Every time men—and women—returned from deployment and couldn’t handle the transition, we’d get the calls.” She dug her nails into her palm, using the pain to subdue the weakness tearing at her inside.
She’d said enough. She’d reveal more but only if he asked. And only about her cases.
Did the man never blink? Fidgeting showed anxiety but she had to shift in her chair to release some of her nervous energy. She crossed her legs to mask the movement but it was like he read and interpreted every word of her
body language. Had he studied as a profiler too or was that natural talent making her squirm under his scrutiny? Must be handy interrogating suspects.
“K-9 unit?”
“Yes.”
The answer displeased him. He scowled at her. “Would you care to elaborate?”
“I worked with a drug sniffing dog with a city police force.”
Maybe he was used to women bubbling forth with information. She wasn’t one of those women. He’d have to get used to it. At least until he sent her on her way.
“Fine. And SRO?”
“I transitioned to School Resource Officer working in the local high school to educate kids about drugs and working with my shepherd Bear to identify and remove them from the schools.”
Grief churned and gnawed in her throat but she swallowed it back. Managing to maintain eye contact, she knew she’d revealed a tell. Was it the hitch in her breath or flared nostrils as she sucked in a deeper breath? Would he go for the kill now that he’d seen her open wound?
He glanced down at her file, though he didn’t need to. He was giving her a break, being merciful which didn’t seem to be part of his character. Taking the opportunity to rebuild her defenses, she forced herself to relax. After this, they’d get to work and put her ugliness behind her. What a lie! The ugliness lived inside her, she knew that, but she’d fake it until she made it go away. Somehow. She’d never let another partner down.
“What made you jump from LEO to DEA?”
“Getting to the drugs before the kids could. Most kids are experimenting. Reduce the supply of readily available drugs, less kids getting hooked or hurt. Simple math.”
This time the tell was his. Clenched jaw, more tightly clenched fist. Muscles in his neck stood out like thick cords as he swallowed. She’d hit a nerve without even aiming. Did they share the same mission?
Abruptly he stood, the chair rolling back and clanking against the desk behind his. “Come on, newbie. Got a jacket? It gets cold at night.”
Guess she’d passed the test. For now. But had she jumped out of the frying pan and into the fire?
Chapter 3
The trainee shivered next to him in the cold truck but didn’t complain. They’d been there for hours, enough to let the engine cool completely. In fact, she was so quiet, she might be sleeping.
“Anderson.” His hoarse whisper sounded more like a shout after such a prolonged silence.
“Yes?”
Her instant answer proved him wrong.
“Just checking.”
“K.”
The trainee was an enigma. Women were soft and warm and pliable. This one was prickly and tough as any man he knew. So far. She may break, she’d shown her soft spot this afternoon.
His cat senses picked up the cracking branch a mile away. It wasn’t his kind, cougars were too careful than that. Killing meant survival and careless steps alerted prey. Humans moving quickly. Raising his night vision goggles, he surveyed the rise in the distance.
“Teenagers or drug runners?”
“Not sure yet.”
She fell silent but her muscled had tensed.
“Relax, tonight is reconnaissance. Figure what we’re working against then make a plan.”
Alone, he’d have shifted into his cougar form and stalked the prey, getting closer than he’d ever be able to as a DEA agent. Though he was stealthy, cougars hunted like phantoms, striking from close range on unsuspecting prey.
Tonight, he’d let the trainee take the glasses and watch while he caught a few z’s. See what she was made of.
He handed over the NVG’s and pulled down the brim of his ball cap, slumping down in his seat. With his eyes closed, her scent intensified in the closed cab. Images of her beneath him returned, only this time she was naked. Solid muscle and dangerous curves made for a deadly concoction. He’d never met a woman who could take him down physically. One who challenged his authority and his concept of female inferiority?
Women were to be nurtured and protected. Men were the warriors and breadwinners and conquerors. She was messing with the natural order of things.
Why did she have to smell so damn appealing? Delicious. He wanted to lick her. Everywhere.
It was too damn long since he’d mated. He’d find Fiona tomorrow and expend the sexual energy building between him and Anderson. Not that Fiona had the newbie’s Rita Hayworth body. But she was a friend with benefits who didn’t mind a no strings attached roll in the sack every once in a while.
His cougar longed to prowl free as well. Maybe he’d go take a piss, let his cat out, then he’d come back less restless.
With a flick of the switch, he toggled the automatic interior light above them off and opened the door. Anderson said nothing, didn’t lower the goggles. He added a point to her column. So far, so good. For a woman.
Step by silent step, he moved into a stand of pines. In shadows, he stripped and relaxed to let the change take him. Prickling on the nerves and aching in the bones were the worst of the shift now. Years had lessened the transition to a few seconds of discomfort.
He stifled the satisfied growl rumbling in his throat. Relieving himself as a cat would mark this as his territory and ward off other animals, safeguarding them from the drug runners who didn’t give a shit about humans or wildlife.
Bastards. He could easily rip one apart but if there were more than one, he wouldn’t have a chance. This he’d have to do as a DEA agent. If he found the son-of-a-bitch who drugged and raped his sister, the law wouldn’t stop him from disemboweling the scum. With a trot he weaved through the trees to the rise above the pickup. He had his pickup painted the same color as the park service with a magnetic sign he slapped on when he came in for surveillance. The drug dealers now used his sacred range to smuggle poison. They crossed a fatal line.
He scaled the tallest tree, easily reaching twenty feet with his strength and claws. A couple carrying suitcases moved toward the truck. Heavy from the way they kept switching hands. Had to be drugs. Who carries suitcases into park wilderness on foot?
Did the newbie see them? He couldn’t see the vehicle through the branches. No noise indicated doors opening or shutting. Damn, had she fallen asleep?
Scraping the bark off the tree from his hasty descent, he clamored to reach the truck before the couple could. They’d certainly be carrying weapons with such valuable cargo. He scrambled through the brush, making more noise than he had in years. He needed to move more quietly as the activity below had silenced all the animals’ nighttime songs. Did the stupid trainee know the danger closing in? A truck would make their travels easier and less conspicuous.
He slowed his approach, crouching to evaluate the situation. The truck’s hood was open and Anderson’s back was against the driver’s side door with a gun to her head. What had she been doing? What the hell kind of training did she get at the academy? Lessons in stupidity?
“What do you want? Here you can take the truck if you can get it running.” The agent’s voice trembled.
What the fuck was wrong with his truck? She hadn’t turned the engine over. He’d have heard it.
“What’s wrong with it?” the woman asked, the hand holding the gun to Anderson’s head shaking. She’s high or scared, neither was a good situation for the newbie.
The man grunted. “Give me the keys, bitch.”
“Okay, okay.” She looked at the woman holding her hostage. “They’re in the ignition. I need to open the door.”
The distraction would give him an opening to take down the man. He hoped Anderson could handle herself with the woman.
He shifted back to human form, found his pants and dragged them on. No time for shirt or boots. He crept behind the man, keeping low and praying the accomplice was high and not nervous. A twitchy trigger finger could get his partner killed for her stupidity.
Anderson’s voice rang from the cab along with the jingle of the keys. “Oops, dropped them on the floor. Just a second. I’m getting them.”
This was h
is opportunity. He sprang, wrapping his arm around the man’s neck, cutting off his airflow. The man sagged unconscious in seconds but the noise had alerted the woman.
“Hector. Where are you?”
Thud, then another accompanied by a moan. God help him, Anderson better be the one standing when he got round the hood.
She was cuffing the female.
“Where’s your shirt?”
Damn good question.
“Got hot. Took off the boots to sneak up when I saw you’d gotten yourself into trouble.” He strode off to find the rest of his discarded clothing. Quickly pulling on the boots and shirt, he jogged back. Hector was sitting in the bed of the truck, cuffed and zip-tied to one of the cargo anchors. A suitcase lay open on the ground next to the female perp full of what looked like cocaine. The woman leaned against the tire, begging for leniency, while Anderson casually dusted off her clothing as if this were old hat to her.
Grudging admiration creeped in and he hid the smile with a taunt. “Now how the hell am I going to find their source?”
“Impersonate them?”
Oh, hell no. She could hold her own with these two amateurs but with the big boys he might have to go wild and she couldn’t be any part of that. No one at the agency knew his other side and no one ever could.
Especially not this she-cat who took unnecessary risks. Of course, that’s what everyone said about him.
Chapter 4
“Impersonate this couple. It’s perfect. You and Anderson.”
Ibarra and the director’s voices were low but audible and the window into the office made privacy impossible.
“You’re joking.” Her training agent made no attempt to hide his contempt or disapproval. He knew she was within earshot so his subtle increase in volume was definitely for her benefit.
Director Mann’s expression turned to stone. “I’m not and you underestimate Anderson. Make it happen. Today.”
Shit was about to hit the fan. The boss forcing her idea that Ibarra had already hot down would now make her life hell.
“Fine. She ships out in a couple of days anyway. If she makes it.”