by Diana Duncan
Isabel sidled closer, trailing scarlet nails down his cheek and across his lips. “You have such a tempting mouth, Dallas. I have wanted to kiss you all night.” She flung herself at him, wrapped her arms around his neck and planted a liplock that would do a piranha proud.
Tingling foreboding he usually only felt just before a tornado hit rippled up Dallas’ spine. Goose bumps prickled his skin, and every hair on his body stood on end.
“Señorita,” Mia’s icy voice said from behind them. “I hate to interrupt your international goodwill effort. But I’d appreciate it if you’d stop pawing my husband like he’s hanging on the clearance rack at Macy’s.”
Chapter 7
Dallas’ heartbeat punched into overdrive as he peeled Isabel off him. Not friggin’ possible.
She was supposed to be fifteen hundred miles across the country.
He turned to see Mia staring up at him, arms folded, her glower blacker than the midnight sky. She’d changed into her wedding dress, presumably so she could infiltrate the party.
“This is your wife?” Isabel stabbed Mia with a venomous glare. “You need to teach her some manners.” She wheeled and flounced back into the country club.
“Emily Post for the morally-challenged,” Mia gritted.
Dallas had—barely—enough presence of mind to shut off his mic before he spoke. “What the hell are you doing here?” Gripping his wife’s upper arm, he towed her through the garden, across the lawn, and around the side of a large potting shed. He let her go, pivoted to face her. “And what the hell happened to Zane?”
Her chin angled up. “I found a loophole. No thanks to you.”
“Damn it, I told him to— I’m gonna bust his balls.”
“Good luck with that. He’s handcuffed and locked in a VIP restroom in the Phoenix airport.”
“What? How did you manage to get the jump on Wolfe?”
“Easy. While we were waiting in the terminal to change planes, I very convincingly ‘got sick.’ He took off the cuffs and helped me into the bathroom. I knocked him out, cuffed his arms around the john, bound his ankles with his belt, and gagged him with his tie. Then I jammed the door lock from the outside and taped up an ‘out of order’ sign.”
Dallas closed his eyes, then immediately snapped them open. Closing his eyes around Mia wasn’t smart. “Anything else I should know?”
“I took his wallet to pay my way back. And borrowed his cell phone. Oh, and his gun is in a dumpster outside the terminal—minus the clip, which is in a different dumpster.”
Jesus, Zane would be livid. “Are you insane?” He stabbed his fingers through his hair. “No, don’t bother. Rhetorical question.”
“Me?” She advanced on him, eyes liquid fire in her pale face. “Where do you get off handcuffing and extraditing me like I’m a wanted felon?”
Fury whipped through him. “You’re in deep over your head, and walking around with a neon target pinned to your back. But apparently that doesn’t faze you. I’m busting my ass trying to keep you alive—and that gets your tail in a knot.” He backed her against the shed. “If keeping you safe means sequestering you until this is over with, so be it.”
She shoved him hard enough to make him stagger. “You can’t hold me hostage, it’s against the law.”
“I’m your husband, I’m responsible for you.”
“No,” she shouted. “I’m responsible for me.”
“You think you’re a tough little cookie, don’t you? Well let me enlighten you, Mia. These people grind tough cookies into crumbs. Everything I’ve done is for your protection, including sending you away.” He scowled at her. “But you keep getting in my way, just keep turning up like a bad penny.”
Hurt creased her face. Her mouth wobbled. Then she spun and stalked across the lawn in the opposite direction toward the parking lot.
Aw, hell. He jogged to catch up. “Mia, stop.”
She walked faster. “I’m not exactly thrilled to have you underfoot, either. You stay out of my way.”
“Mia.” Harnessing his rare lash of temper, Dallas softened his voice. “That was out of line, and I apologize. Stop and talk to me.”
She slowed. Eventually halted. Dallas waited through a long, uncertain pause.
When she turned around, anger still stiffened her body and hurt pinched her features, but she wasn’t afraid.
Relief washed over him. Although she could’ve hardly failed to see his rage, Mia trusted him not to hit her. Progress.
Moisture sheened her eyes in the moonlight. “I thought, maybe … after we talked and ate and laughed, and almost …” She inhaled sharply. “… in Vegas …” Her lips trembled again. “But you only pretended to be attracted to me, pretended to care—so you could betray me.”
“I don’t kiss women I’m not attracted to. I definitely don’t—” Lose control, drag them to the floor and strip their clothes off.
He flung out his hands. “I do care, dammit! Way more than I should … although God only knows why.” He shook his head. “I was sending you to my family’s ranch in Tyler. I want you to stay with them until this is over.”
“Y-you were … Your family?” For a moment, she appeared stunned. “I am not going to Texas. Not going anywhere. Deal with it.”
Dallas grasped her upper arms and hauled her close. “You want me to deal with it after the Esteban cartel’s wet work team butchers you?” He bent down, got right in her face. “When the savage fuckers gang-rape and torture you first to make you spill what you know … and then just keep carving you up, piece by bloody piece, because it’s their idea of fun?”
She blanched parchment white. Even her lips drained of color. “If … why—” She swallowed hard. “If they’re so ruthless, so evil, why are you working for them?”
He released her and took a step back. Pull your act together, McQuade, before you say something you’ll regret. Breathing rapidly, he looked at her. “I have my reasons.”
“Tell me. Make me understand, Dallas.”
“It’s … complicated.”
“Fine.” Mia planted her hands on her hips. “Now you listen to me. You have no concept of my capabilities. How strong I am. Or what they’ve already stolen from me.”
“All right, make me understand.”
“I …” Another swallow. “I can’t.”
He clenched his jaw. “Then you’re going to the ranch in Tyler.”
“Argh!” Mia paced in an agitated circle. “If you try to kidnap me again, I swear, I will find a way to escape, and I’ll have you arrested! I’ll do whatever’s necessary in order to put these monsters away. I will take back my life.”
Goddamn it. Trying to talk logic into Mia Linden was more impossible than swimming upstream the Rio Grande. He was drowning, fast. And from what he knew about his not-so-biddable bride, she wasn’t going to throw him a lifeline.
After sacrificing his entire future … after investing blood, sweat, and over half an endless, agonizing decade courting Montoya’s trust, Dallas couldn’t afford the chance she’d attract attention to him. Or follow through on her threat to alert local law enforcement. With the goal line finally in sight, he couldn’t allow her to sack his endgame.
He was out of options.
Except one.
The credo he lived by: Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.
Enormous risk, but what choice did he have? At least he’d know where she was and what she was doing. “Mia.” He banked his anger. Dropped his voice. “We can help each other. Our objectives aren’t … mutually exclusive.”
Because she was sharp, it didn’t take long. She gasped. “Oh my God!” she whispered. “Dallas … you … you’re not working for Montoya. You’re working against him!”
“Let’s just say I have unfinished business with him, too.” He flexed too-tight shoulders. “There is a solution to our impasse.”
“I’m not running off. I’m not hiding out and trusting you to wrap up this ‘business’—whatever it entails.”
“Yeah, I get that. So stay. And we do this together.”
She blinked at him. “Together?”
“As in partner up. Pool intel, pool assets.”
“No. No freakin’ way. Satan will be hosting the Ice Capades first.” Shaking her head, she backed away. “I don’t need you. I don’t need anyone. I’m doing fine by myself.”
“Really. You’ve accomplished exactly what, so far?” His eyes narrowed. “Your solitary crusade working out real well for you, is it … Mrs. Dallas McQuade?”
She jolted. Froze.
“Think about it. Are you willing to continue to endanger both our lives? Risk neither of us succeeding because we keep thwarting each other?”
Mia’s formidable focus arrowed on him, wariness evident in every taut line.
“My company has finances, specialized equipment, and contacts and resources you can only wish for. You’re an intelligent woman, surely you see the benefits.” Dallas held her gaze. “Either we work together, or we work at cross purposes. Maybe fatally.”
She stared at him for an eternity … while he watched the battle storming in her eyes.
Her teeth worried her lower lip. “I don’t—”
“Mia, asking for help doesn’t make you weak. It means you’re wise enough to know your limitations.” He lifted a brow. “Hell, darlin’, even the Green Hornet has Kato watching his back.”
C’mon, be the shrewd strategist I know you are, Mia Linden. Don’t make me have to hold you prisoner against your will.
Her forehead furrowed. Then she inhaled again. “Convincing rebuttal. Okay, but can I be Kato—the original, not the remake? I’ve always had a secret thing for Bruce Lee.”
Laughter burst out of him. “Welcome to the team. But let’s get one thing perfectly clear from the get-go: I’m in charge. You follow my orders.”
Her eyebrows shot into her hairline. “Oh, you did not just go there.”
“I have seniority. I’ve invested five years here, five before that. You’ve logged mere months.”
“Ten y—? Doesn’t matter, forget it. I do not blindly obey orders like a good little soldier.”
“Huh, if you did, I’d probably suffer a major myocardial infarction.”
“Ha, ha. Hollywood’s desperate for comedy writers, and yet you’re a security specialist … go figure.”
She cocked her head. “Seriously, you might have more experience with certain elements of this case, but I’ve also got inside knowledge of Grayson’s firm, and specialized skills you lack. If we do this, it’s as full partners, or not at all.”
He’d been letting temper—and testosterone—make too many recent decisions. A smart tactician learned from his mistakes. Used every resource at his disposal. He stuck out his hand. “Partners. Share and share alike. Deal?”
Mia accepted his handshake “This is a binding verbal contract.”
Without warning, one slender hand locked onto his wrist, and Mia stepped away from him, tugging his arm straight. Quickly applying rotating pressure to his now-vulnerable elbow, she forced him to bend, and then used his own startled momentum to flip him as easily as she would a flapjack.
He slammed flat on his back on the lawn, the air exploding out of his lungs. Wheezing, he lay staring up at her.
She planted her sneaker on his chest and dusted off her palms. “I’m not a fragile fairytale princess, McQuade. We’re in this fifty-fifty … don’t you forget it.”
Dallas coughed, grinned. “Not likely to.”
Mia’s saucy grin flashed in return. A lightning spear of desire forked through him, his cock instantly surging to jackhammering hard. He wanted to tumble her onto the grass and take her until neither of them could walk.
He groaned. How could this woman make him crazy, furious, and so damned smoking hot that he spontaneously combusted? Grudging admiration for her persistence and ingenuity warred with the urge to throttle her.
If he didn’t watch his step, she’d have him lassoed and hog-tied.
A distinct pungent cigar odor and the murmur of approaching accented voices snapped his senses to alert. Adrenaline spiked. He’d never be able to explain this!
He grabbed Mia’s ankle, yanked her off-balance and pulled her down on top of him. Wrapping his arms around her, he rolled, capturing her mouth with his.
Trapped beneath Dallas’ solid, heavy body Mia froze. But again, he didn’t force the kiss on her. He held her with carefully tempered strength while his talented mouth nibbled, invited hers to play. His tongue flirted, withdrew. Twice more. Then he gave her another brief, heady taste.
When disappointment whispered from her lips, he teased her with quick unsatisfying strokes of hot silk, until she let out a frustrated moan and tangled her fingers in his hair to urge him closer.
His big hands cupped her face, his satin tongue gliding deep into her mouth. The flavor of him rushed through her, as hot and rich as dark chocolate espresso. His strength, his scent—his dangerously addictive taste—short-circuited all reason.
Heat radiated from him, penetrated their clothing … and pressed against her breasts, his heart slammed in his chest. A jolt of recognition electrified Mia. Her body knew him. Her heart wanted him.
The emotional embers still smoldering from their confrontation erupted into flames. She gripped his shoulders, arching her hips into the thick ridge of his erection, thrilled when a tremor shuddered through him. Shock-waves rippled inside her and shimmered into lightning strikes of pleasure. A sweet, burning ache flooded Mia’s limbs, pooling low and heavy between her thighs. Her breasts tingled, nipples tight. She rubbed them against the hard planes of his chest, and he groaned into her mouth.
“Señor Dallas?” Esteban’s low inquiry shattered the aching intimacy.
Dallas tore his mouth from hers like he’d been stung. His intent gaze clung to her mouth for a heartbeat before flicking to her eyes. His pupils were dilated, his irises brilliant cobalt flames. He slowly licked his lower lip.
Stunned speechless, Mia looked up past Dallas at Esteban Montoya’s astonished expression. Carlos stood to one side and slightly behind him, square face impassive.
Mia’s sensual high crashed, plummeting her back to earth.
“What are you doing out here on the lawn, Señor Dallas?” Esteban asked. “Is that your wife?”
Gasping, every muscle rigid, Dallas’ throat worked. He croaked something unintelligible. Cleared his throat. “Sure hope so, or I’m in deep shinola.”
Esteban chuckled. “I thought Señora McQuade was unable to attend?”
Dallas pushed off her. He stood, reached down to grasp her hand and tug her onto her feet beside him. His arm possessively encircled her waist. “She surprised me, sir. Caught me off-guard.”
Dallas wasn’t the only one thrown off-balance. Once again, he’d ensnared her with his sinful mouth and skillful hands.
Belated, horrified realization whammied Mia. Dallas had heard Esteban coming and kissed her to prevent awkward questions about why she’d knocked down her husband and had her foot planted on his chest.
Just more counterfeit affection.
“Our reunion got … a tad carried away,” Dallas continued. “I apologize. It won’t happen again.”
Esteban’s eyes crinkled as he puffed a glowing cigar. “I am not so ancient that I do not remember the passion of young love.”
Passion … undeniably. Love? Mia concentrated on evening out her breathing. Hah, not even in the equation.
“Unacceptable conduct while I’m on the clock,” Dallas insisted. “We should all get back inside, where it’s more secure.”
Esteban waved his cigar. “I am stealing a moment to indulge while Soledad is occupied. Carlos will see to my welfare. Señor Dallas, as of now, you’re off duty for the next several days to spend time with your wife.” Montoya offered Mia a jovial wink. “Escort her into the celebration, partake of the food, the wine, the music. Enjoy what remains of the evening together. That is a direct order.”
/> “Yes, sir.” Taut frustration thrummed beneath Dallas’ pleasant acquiescence as he gallantly offered his arm. “Mrs. McQuade.” Mia was sure only she heard the cynical edge.
They headed back toward the clubhouse without speaking.
“Oh, Señor and Señora,” Esteban called.
Dallas stiffened, turned. “Sir?”
“Please be my guests at brunch tomorrow. Eleven-thirty.”
Mia smiled. Yes! Unholy wedlock was already paying off.
She could hear Dallas’ back teeth grinding. “Thank you. We’d be honored.”
When they’d walked out of sight and hearing of the two men, Dallas halted, pointed at her. “Don’t move a muscle.” He yanked out his phone and called Phoenix airport security to arrange for Zane’s release.
Then he silently ushered her into the warmth and commotion and light of the crowded party.
“Is this an open bar, Hubby? I could use some fortification.”
His big, capable hand on the small of her back guided her through the murmuring throng to the bar. “Ditto, Mrs. McQuade.”
“Stop calling me that,” she hissed.
A sardonic brow arched as he handed her a crystal flute brimming with golden bubbly. “Just obeying orders to eat, drink, and be falsely married.”
“I’m not any happier about it than you.”
“Better check out the seat of your pants. I’m pretty sure they’re smoking more than Esteban’s stogie.”
Okay, so she had schemed for months for the opportunity to access Montoya’s mansion … without daring to even hope she’d engage her opponent on such a personal level. “If we’re going to succeed, we need to honor our treaty,” she said far more calmly than she felt. “Constant sparring is futile and counterproductive.”
Dallas considered her over the rim of his flute. “Sustained. Smarter to battle the enemy, and not waste our time and energy knocking heads.”
She clinked her flute on his. “To collusion.”
He raised his glass in a salute. “To victory.” Watching her with that mesmerizing intensity, he drained his champagne in one long, deliberate swallow.