Trap, Secure: Navy SEAL Security

by Carol Ericson

  Her nostrils flared at the sour smell coming from the table. Vomit streamed down the front of Sergio’s chest and puddled on the table in front of him.

  Stepping back, Randi covered her nose and mouth and gave a muffled cry. “Gage.”

  He crouched beside Sergio, pressing his fingers against his neck and peering into his bulging eyes.

  “Sergio’s dead.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Looks like a drug overdose.” The doctor closed Sergio’s eyes with a sweep of his hand.

  Mrs. Bloom had collapsed at another table. “Maybe I should’ve allowed him to see her.”

  Randi had her arm around Mrs. Bloom, murmuring comforting words, even though the glassiness of Mrs. Bloom’s eyes reflected her own shock at the turn of events.

  At least Sergio had OD’d in the right place. Hospital orderlies were already loading up his body on a stretcher to take him to the morgue.

  Gage would be interested in that autopsy report.

  He pulled up a chair to Mrs. Bloom’s table. “Sergio was Jessica’s boyfriend?”

  “Ex-boyfriend. They broke up a few months ago, and that’s exactly why.” She pointed to the stretcher being wheeled out of the cafeteria. “He had a drug problem. Jessica had had enough.”

  “He’d been here before to see her?” Randi clasped Mrs. Bloom’s pale, veined hand.

  “Every minute of every day since she had the accident. I wouldn’t allow him to see her. I thought... I thought if Jessica could really hear us, she’d be upset if Sergio came.”

  “You probably did the right thing. What Sergio chose to do is not your fault.”

  Mrs. Bloom put a hand to her eyes. “How did you know who he was? How did you two find him?”

  “He left a note for Randi. Told her he had information for her. How do you think he found out about Randi’s memory loss?”

  “He probably got it from the nurses, charmed it out of them. If there was one thing Sergio had, it was charm. Jessica found him irresistible.” Mrs. Bloom massaged her temples. “I suppose I should’ve thought of that myself. If you were looking for information about yourself, Miranda, Sergio probably would’ve known more about your recent activities than I would. Jessica probably would’ve told him about you, maybe even what you’d been doing in Colombia after your grandmother died. Selfish of me not to think of that.”

  “Please, you have enough to think about. I’d like to visit Jessica tomorrow again if I could.”

  “She’d like that. Just don’t tell her about Sergio.”

  “Of course not.”

  After they finished speaking to the police and had seen Mrs. Bloom to her car, Gage slumped in the driver’s seat of the rental car. “They got to him.”

  Randi closed her eyes. “I was afraid you were going to say that.”

  “You knew it, too. I could see it in your face.”

  Her eyes flew open and she peered out the window into the dark. “They were at the hospital. They were watching Sergio, watching us. They knew he’d left that note for me. They don’t want me to remember.”

  “Then they’re out of luck.” Gage set his jaw and threw the car into reverse. “It starts tonight and it will continue tomorrow with Elle. You’re going to remember everything, and I’m going to keep you safe until you do.”

  And then what? Would the U.S. government detain her as an accomplice? He couldn’t keep her from Prospero forever. Once she remembered her relationship with Zendaris, she’d have no protection from the law. Even Gage couldn’t guarantee that.

  Gage took a circuitous route back to the hotel, making sure nobody followed them. As soon as they hit the hotel room, he fired up the laptop.

  He brought it to the bed and positioned it in his lap as he typed in “Miranda Lewis.” He turned to Randi who’d curled up beside him. “Are you ready?”

  She nodded and he clicked Search.

  They filtered through a few social network sites and a singer before getting a hit at Rice University.

  “Here we go.” Gage tapped the screen. “Miranda Lewis, graduate student and teaching assistant in Latin-American literature.”

  “So that’s the connection between me and Jessica. Is there any bio info on me?”

  “Not much. Some publications, some poetry and your academic credentials. At least we know you’re not a stripper.”

  She punched him in the arm. “Nothing about Colombia.”

  “Just that you’re of Colombian heritage, but we already knew that. Your mother was Colombian, and you went down there with your grandmother. You must’ve been there about four years because that’s when everything stops here at Rice.”

  “So my parents are dead. I have some useless degree in Latin-American literature, and I’m a published poet. But why did I stay in Colombia after my grandmother died? What was I doing at Zendaris’s compound?”

  “Jessica Lehman and Sergio Cortez could’ve told us that.”

  “And one’s in a coma and one’s dead.”

  “Zendaris is a man of the arts. We know that. In addition to arms dealing, he’s been known to deal in stolen art. He’s probably a lover of poetry, as well. Maybe that’s how you met.”

  “Why would an American graduate student and poetess take up with an arms dealer? And why would he take up with me?”

  “Maybe you didn’t know what he was until it was too late. And as far as Zendaris wanting you? That’s easy.” He closed the computer and shoved it off his lap. “You’re the most desirable woman I’ve ever met.”

  He didn’t tell her she was the only woman who didn’t know about his money and family connections. Is that what made her so desirable?

  She placed her hand flat on his stomach. “Tomorrow might be too late for us, Gage. Will you still want me if you discover I’m in league with Zendaris? His lover? His partner in every way? Will you still want me when I’m rotting in some federal prison or interrogation room?”

  “I don’t know, Randi.” He rolled to his side. “I only know I want you right now.”

  “Then take me.”

  He traced the line of her jaw with the tip of his finger. “I’m wondering if this is all fate, meeting you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “For a man who’s always had to wonder if a woman was more interested in his money and family pedigree than him, meeting a woman with no memory and no knowledge of his background is priceless. And then there’s your name.”

  “Randi?”

  “Miranda. The founder of Prospero, Jack Coburn, is a Shakespeare buff. In The Tempest, Miranda is the wizard Prospero’s daughter.”

  Her hand inched beneath his shirt and her fingernails trailed across his bare skin. “Then it’s meant to be. I’m the daughter of Prospero.”

  He couldn’t stop now even if he wanted to. He shut out all the voices, that of Coburn, of Elle, of his own conscience and enveloped Randi in his arms.

  If that’s all it took to break through Gage’s defenses, she wished she would’ve remembered her full name sooner.

  She drank in his kiss, and yanked up his T-shirt to explore the hard ridges and grooves of his chest with her hands. He shivered as she skimmed his nipple with her palm.

  He grabbed the edge of her sweater and tugged. She broke away from his lips only long enough for him to pull the sweater over her head.

  He unclasped her bra without looking. There must’ve been a lot of women interested in his money and power for him to be that practiced. She didn’t care.

  When her bare chest met his, she could’ve sworn she heard a sizzle. She felt it, anyway, right down to her toes.

  Between the two of them, they managed to shimmy out of their jeans.

  Their hands and mouths became more frenzied. It was as if a giant clock ticked over her head. Did Gage hear it, too?

  She’d come on to him before and had been smacked down. This had to be all him. If he couldn’t get over the notion tonight that she just might be Zendaris’s girlfriend—ex-girlfriend—he neve
r would. They may never have this opportunity again, but he had to realize it and want it.

  She shifted onto her back, and his hands never lost connection with her body. He skimmed his fingers down her sides and over her hips, hooking the elastic band of her panties and pulling them off.

  His eyes kindled with a blue flame, and he pressed a kiss against the base of her throat. She’d wanted to remain cool and detached, but he must feel the wild beat of her pulse.

  “You’re so beautiful, every inch of you.”

  She ran a hand across his shoulders despite herself. How could she resist all this gorgeous masculinity hovering over her, as if ready to devour her? “Thank you, but it’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”

  “That other time doesn’t count.” He cupped her breasts and planted another kiss between them. “I was rescuing you.”

  “When aren’t you rescuing me?” She shivered as his kisses continued down to her belly.

  He looked up, a grin spreading across his face. “When I’m making love to you.”

  Really? Because it felt as if he were rescuing her again. She had nothing and nobody except this man, and his need of her filled a void.

  His trail of kisses headed farther south, and she gasped her pleasure. His hands opened her thighs, and his tongue plunged inside of her.

  She raised her pelvis to escape the exquisite torture just for a moment, but her position only facilitated his tender assault.

  His hands curved around her bottom to steady her undulating hips. As he drove her closer and closer to the edge, she dug her fingers into his thick hair, urging him on now. But he needed no urging, no instructions. He knew exactly what to do, exactly how to touch her, exactly how to love her.

  Her toes tingled and a delicious warmth coursed through her body. She cried out as a wave of pleasure crashed over her, dragged her under and crashed again. And the name on her lips as her passion took control of her mind and body?

  “Gage. Gage.”

  There was no other. He was her first and her only.

  “At your service.” He rose, kneeling between her legs, his briefs barely sufficient to contain his erection.

  “No fair.” She lifted her head, her arms stretching forward. “Why do you still have even one scrap of clothing on?”

  “You didn’t seem that interested in seeing—” he coughed “—the rest of me.”

  “I was distracted.” She sat up and lunged for his underwear, yanking them down his hips where they twined around his muscled thighs.

  She cupped him in her hands and blew out a breath. “Talk about beautiful.”

  He snorted. “It’s not a museum piece.”

  “Patience.” She stroked the length of him, and he uttered a guttural noise deep in his throat. She teased him with fluttering touches, skimming with her fingernails and dabbing with her tongue, until he began pumping his hips.

  Then she took him in her mouth, his tight flesh smooth against her lips. His fingers tangled her hair as he hissed, “Yess.”

  Just when she thought he’d explode, he pulled away from her. “I want you, Randi, in every way.”

  He pulled his briefs off and tossed them onto the floor. He then leaned over the side of the bed and searched the pockets of his jeans. He raised his hand, a foil package between two fingers.

  “I stole a condom from Jessica’s apartment. Do you think I’m despicable?”

  She swung off the bed and padded to her handbag hanging over the back of a chair. She dipped into the side pocket and withdrew an identical foil packet. “If you are, then I am.”

  When she returned to the bed, he wrapped his arms around her and then they fell onto the mattress together. Their kiss lasted longer than it should have with their naked bodies pressed against each other.

  Randi didn’t feel the same urgency that she’d felt when they’d started on this path tonight. She knew Gage wouldn’t stop now, couldn’t stop any more than she could, and it had nothing to do with his physical urges. For some reason, he needed her just as much as she needed him.

  She didn’t want to analyze it, and once he entered her, she couldn’t. All rational thought had seeped away, had been sucked away by that last kiss.

  Wrapping her legs around his hips as he drove into her, only one thought pierced through the fog of sensations that clouded her brain—they still had another condom.

  * * *

  A SHARP RAP on the door shot through Randi’s chest, and the adrenaline started pumping. Could that be room service? Had Gage ordered breakfast?

  She didn’t have to roll over to see if Gage was up. One heavy arm draped across her body and warm, bare skin pressed against her back.

  “Gage. Someone’s at the door.”

  She’d whispered the words, but he shot up as if she’d screamed them in his ear.

  Another knock at the door had him bounding from the bed. He pressed his eye to the peephole and swore.

  He swung back toward the room, clutching his hair, his gaze bouncing from the floor littered with clothing, to the disheveled bed, to Randi, gathering the covers to her chest.

  “Who is it, Gage?”

  Whoever it was knocked again and called out. “Gage, are you awake?”

  A woman’s voice. It must be the psychiatrist, Elle. Is that why Gage was so panicked?

  He leaned both hands against the door as if barricading it. “I’m here. Just a minute.”

  Then he walked back toward the bed, plucking his clothes from the floor along the way. “Get dressed. It’s Elle.”

  Randi clenched her teeth and stepped into her panties and jeans. She stuffed her arms into her sweater and popped her head through the neck.

  Gage had pulled on his jeans and dragged his T-shirt over his head. He yanked the bedspread over the bed and smoothed out a few bulges.

  “Go—” his head swiveled around the room “—look at the computer.”

  Smoothing his hands over his hair, he released the chain on the door and pulled it open. “Elle, great to see you here. Thanks for coming.”

  He wrapped his arms around a tall woman with gleaming blond hair, and then pulled her into the room. “You’re early. Room not ready yet?”

  Her blue eyes tracked to Randi, standing foolishly next to the laptop trying to boot it up, then to the bed, and back to Gage.

  “Oh, my God. You slept with her, didn’t you?” She pushed away from Gage and stamped a booted foot.

  Randi slammed down the laptop and wedged her hands on her hips. “Is this your wife, Gage? Is Elle your wife?”

  Two pairs of identical bright blue eyes stared at her.

  “My wife?”

  Elle pressed a hand to her forehead. “Oh, God, no. Gage is my twin brother.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Gage snapped his mouth shut. His wife? Is that what she’d been thinking all along? Surely he’d told Randi Elle was his sister? What other doctor would he trust with a mission this important?

  But now his sister knew he’d bedded her patient. And he’d never live it down.

  “Your twin sister?” Randi strode forward with her hand outstretched. “It’s so nice to meet you, Elle. Or should I call you Dr. Booker?”

  “Call me Elle, and it’s Dr. Fonesca. I’m married, and if David ever found out that I helped you with your...subterfuge, Gage, he’d divorce me.”

  Relieved to have the spotlight off him and his misdeeds, Gage laughed. “If he hasn’t divorced you yet, I doubt helping your twin in need would push him over the edge.”

  Still gripping Randi’s hand, Elle had backed her up to the bed and nudged her to sit down. She brushed Randi’s hair from her forehead and inspected the scabbed-over injury. “Yeah, except David knows when you have a problem, there’s usually danger attached to it.”

  “There’s obviously some risk involved, Elle, but I’ll keep you safe.”

  “You always do.” She pointed to the suitcase she’d dropped by the door. “Dig in there and bring me my medical bag.”

>   “I think Randi’s physical wounds are healing nicely. It’s her psychological wound we’re hoping you can fix.” He opened the black leather bag and placed it on the bed next to Randi.

  “I can tell you’re really concerned about Randi’s psychological well-being.” She clicked on a penlight and shined it in Randi’s eyes. “Randi, why don’t you take the bandage off your arm, shower and then I’ll take a look at everything from top to bottom.”

  Randi raised her brows at him and he nodded. At least his sister planned to lay into him in private.

  Randi grabbed some clean clothes from her bag and clutched them to her chest at the bathroom door. “Don’t be too hard on him, Elle. I was a willing participant.”

  When the bathroom door shut, Elle rounded on him. “Are you out of your mind? How could you sleep with a woman in her condition? Not only does she have amnesia, she’s an important witness in a huge international case, a witness you stole from the CIA.”

  “Whoa.” Gage made a cross with his two index fingers and held them in front of him. “Where did you hear that?”

  “Where do you think? Dad called me.”

  Gage crossed his arms and puffed out his chest. “What did he say?”

  “He’d heard from some crony that you’d snatched an important witness away from a secure CIA compound in Central America. That you’d jeopardized national security and the relations between U.S. covert groups. And you did this, why? Because you wanted to play house with her in some hotel room in Houston?”

  “Are you done?”

  Elle took a turn around the room, clutching her blond hair into a ponytail. “What am I supposed to think, Gage? I know you’re a ladies’ man, but this is ridiculous.”

  Pain sliced through his temple, and he ground it out with the heel of his hand. The old man had been the only one who could ever drive a wedge between him and his sister. And he tried constantly.

  “You know me better than that, Elle. That CIA compound in Central America planned to use Randi in the most vile way. Do you want to know what they were going to do to her?”

  “No.” She covered her ears like she used to do when they were kids. “You and Dad keep that stuff between yourselves. I don’t want to hear the gory details.”