Exchange of Fire

by P. A. DePaul

  “What the fuck, Sandra?”

  “I warned you repeatedly. Now you can see why I knocked you out and tried to get you to stay away. I didn’t want you involved in this.”

  “I don’t see anything! If these supposed ‘mystery men’”—he held his hands up like quotes—“know so much about you, then they’d know you work for me. They’d have found me anyway to locate you when you disappeared. Am I right?”

  Her gut knotted at the truthfulness of his words.

  “I’ll take your silence as an affirmative.”

  They pulled into one end of a circular driveway and stopped at the peak. The house bisecting the land was a beautiful, sprawling rancher. Gorgeous wood and stone made up the facade.

  “What a fabulous place,” she breathed, instantly falling in love with it. “It’s so peaceful.”

  He pulled the keys from the ignition and opened the door. “It belonged to my parents before they retired to Florida and sold it to me.” He marched around the front, and she hopped out to meet him.

  The melodic songs from the crickets filled the air as a warm breeze filtered under her sweaty polo. The hum of a motorcycle invaded the tranquil scene, but even that sounded muted through the dense trees around her.

  She already knew how Grady obtained ownership of the house, and pretty much every other major detail in his life, but figured she didn’t need to reveal that bombshell quite yet.

  They entered the house in silence. Oh, wow. The floor plan was open with a cathedral ceiling, leaving plenty of space for the light from the spotlights to shine through the expansive windows filling the entire back wall. She bet in the daytime the view was spectacular. A faint scent of furniture polish hit her nose as if he had cleaned recently.

  He stopped at a plush L-shaped couch and pivoted. “So what’s your plan?”

  Just like that, the spell was broken.

  “We go underground.”

  “I’m assuming you don’t mean that literally.”

  “Unless you know of bunker in the mountains that still has an Internet connection, no.”

  “What’s so important about the Internet? You jonesing for a sale?”

  “Ha. Ha. I need to jump on a message board.”

  He crossed his arms; the position just served to show off his biceps. She suspected that’s why he did it so much. He leaned on the back of the couch. “And?”

  “And don’t worry about it yet. I really need you to pack. I’ll raid your kitchen for nonperishables.”

  He didn’t budge.

  Damn. The first part of the evening she couldn’t convince him to go away. Now she couldn’t convince him to stay by her side for his own protection? What the hell? “Time is not on our side here. We gotta go.”

  He dropped his arms and stalked forward. She held her ground. Just watching him move closer had her adrenaline pumping and her skin tingling in anticipation. He stopped inches away, his height looming above her. So not the time to notice how full and inviting his lips were. Nor the time to breathe in his addicting scent and instantly be ready for him.

  His gaze darkened as it captured hers. He raised a hand and traced a finger down her cheek. “Since you’ve made it clear time is of the essence . . .” he said, his voice low and husky.

  Her heart skipped a beat. Damn her for that statement.

  “I’ll make this brief.” He leaned down until he was a breath away from her mouth.

  Her lungs stopped working.

  “Why don’t we call the cops?”

  Huh?

  “Since I found you outside of your apartment, I’ve been caught up in a whirlwind that had me lying to two friends who could help.”

  Her brain was loath to switch gears from its fantasies to process his actual words, but it was starting to catch up despite his proximity to her lips.

  He continued his gruff words. “What makes you so set against their help?” He straightened and held her gaze. “I have to be honest, you’re sounding a little on the paranoid side.”

  “Paranoid,” she repeated flatly, the sudden distance from his mouth helping to clear her head. “A gunman chasing us through the streets is a delusion, huh?”

  His lips thinned. “No, but he chased us. I’ve yet to hear about a them this guy works for.”

  Even though she didn’t blame him for his doubts, to hear them voiced out loud stung. She could respect him for asking logical questions because she had to face it, she wasn’t giving him anything to go on. “Trust me” was only going to get so far, and apparently that meant to his front door.

  “I get it, Grady. I’ve been asking for a lot and not giving anything in return.” She sighed. “We can’t go to your friends because I don’t want them hurt. I promise to tell you what I can, but I need for you to bear with me a little while longer.”

  They held each other’s gaze. She could read nothing in his expression, making her heart wring. Normally he was so easygoing and simple to read. Guess she was getting introduced to the other side of Casper Grady, military man.

  “I’m only going to go along with this for so long, then it’s time you come clean.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “I think I might know somewhere we can go.”

  “Is it connected to you?”

  “Sort of.”

  “Then forget it.”

  “What I mean is, I have a Marine buddy who got called back overseas, and he owns a place up in the mountains.”

  “How do you know about it?”

  “I helped build it. It’s remote and not well known.”

  “It gets Internet?”

  “He’s not a hermit or anything. He just likes his privacy. I’ve got the codes to use the wireless signal.”

  “Good. Grab your stuff.”

  ***

  Carlos shut the French doors of his Miami home and strolled across the cement patio. He trod past the shallow end of the pool and hit send on his cell phone. Waves from the ocean crashed against the surf, and a light breeze flipped his silk shirt’s collar against his chin.

  “Hey, Tío.”

  “Emilio,” Carlos replied, watching a ship’s running lights move across the dark water. “I’m growing very impatient with the lack of progress your professor has made in identifying the woman in the video.”

  A slight catch reverberated in his nephew’s voice as he answered. “I’m sorry, Tío. I’ll check back in with him as soon as we hang up.”

  “See that you do. And be sure to let him know that it would be advantageous for him to speed the process up.”

  “He assured me when we last spoke that his contact is working on it,” Emilio rushed to say. “In the meantime, I did as you asked and made a still shot of the puta and cleaned it up as best I could.”

  “Did you send it to the regional heads of our drug trade network in the US?”

  “Yes, Tío. They got it this morning.”

  “Good. Between your contact and our dealers, we should have this bitch in our hands very soon. And I will personally be the one to interrogate her.”

  Chapter 11

  The SBG operative steered his bike as close to the edge of the road as possible and stopped. With no shoulder to use, pausing on the mountainous stretch at night would normally be suicide, but since he had been following Wraith from Grady’s house he hadn’t seen another vehicle for miles.

  The Bluetooth molded to his ear started its persistent buzzing again. He tapped the connection button on his phone. “Hello.”

  “I’m here.”

  “You made good time,” the operative said after glimpsing the clock on his phone.

  “Found a flight I was able to badge my way on.”

  The SBG operative laughed at his fellow assassin’s confession of using one of their many false IDs. “I’m going to text you the coordinates of where I’m currently stopped. Find a pickup truck and meet me.”

  “Should I ask about the reason for the truck?”

  “Nothing over-the-top this time. My bike’s
too loud. Wraith’s headed deeper into the Blue Ridge Mountains, and I don’t want to tip her off before we’ve coordinated our plan to invade her hideout.”

  ***

  “You won’t find the key under there,” Grady’s masculine voice stated from behind her. Sandra jumped and dropped the rubber mat with SEMPER FI in block letters scrolled across the front.

  Those were the first words spoken during the entire hour-long trip into the mountains. At first she was loath to say anything for fear he would begin asking questions she had no idea how to answer. But as the silence stretched, the tension rose with it. By the time they pulled onto the long dirt path, she was ready to run from the car. The air was thick with unspoken words and an undercurrent that had her envisioning straddling his lap and riding him into a release.

  He stepped around her and fit the key protruding from his hand into the lock. “He’s not stupid enough to leave a spare anywhere on the property.”

  All righty then. Implication: She was stupid for looking for one.

  He pushed the door open and stepped inside. She grabbed a box of canned food off the porch of the beautiful log cabin and followed. The first room that greeted her was an open living room decorated in a Native American motif. The colors in the rug covering the hardwood floor were as breathtaking as the design was intricate. The artwork adorning the walls was so authentic and beautiful, she could spend hours studying the details and still not see it all. A stone fireplace made up one entire wall with a stained wooden mantel. On the mantel were sculptures and wood carvings she itched to discover.

  “This is beautiful,” she breathed, swiveling her head to take it all in.

  “Guess I never mentioned he’s a full-blooded Cherokee.”

  She snapped her head in his direction. “Seriously? All this is real?”

  He bobbed his head. “Pretty much. The whole house is done up like this.”

  “Wow.” She set the box by the couch and put her hands on her hips. She loved the peace the room gave her.

  He dropped his olive-green bag and computer satchel near the opening leading to the kitchen and turned to study her. His eyes raked from the top of her head down to her shoes, lingering on her breasts and hips.

  Guess the gloves are off. The inspection was so blatant, chills raced along her arms. It seemed as if he was no longer hiding his attraction to her.

  The same tension from the car crept into the room, causing her body temperature to rise with each passing second.

  “Spill it,” he finally demanded.

  “Spill what?” she asked. Damn, her voice sounded a little on the husky side.

  He crossed his arms. “Don’t be coy. The trashed apartment, questioning me on stealth, then the James Bond skulking through the town of Ridge Creek while being shot at.” He waited a beat. “You’re not really from Ohio, are you?”

  She stayed mute. Damn. Damn. Damn. She was not ready for this conversation.

  “Is anything from your résumé true?”

  She licked her lips. “Why would you ask that?”

  His crystal-blue eyes narrowed.

  Yeah, she was stalling. He wasn’t a dumb jarhead. The man owned a very successful business, for Christsake. She eyed his mutinous stance. Little waves quivered in her stomach at the way the polo hugged his expansive chest and his jeans sat just right on his hips. Shit, even the way he scowled at her now radiated tough masculinity. Her normal “off-limits” pep talk shattered at the sight, never to be recovered again. I’m in trouble.

  He dropped his arms and stalked forward. She held her ground. Just watching him move closer felt like foreplay. He stopped inches away, his height looming above her own five-six frame.

  Her mind blitzed, totally abandoning her.

  “Do you take me for an idiot?” he asked in a low, silky voice.

  His addicting scent, now sharper and more vivid since their run, encompassed her, making her even more attuned to his presence. She swallowed and tried to remember why he asked the question. Please lean down and kiss me. What did he ask? Kiss me. She should try to answer. “No?”

  His eyebrow raised. “You asking or answering?” He lifted a hand and gently swiped a lock of hair behind her ear. Fire exploded along her skin at the contact. Her eyes flew to his lips and watched in fascination as they continued to form words. Kiss me, damn it. How could he not be affected like she was? Her body was beyond primed for him.

  “Where did you work after college?” he continued.

  “Hmm?” This was worse than any interrogation technique she had endured in training. Her muddled mind was focused only on relieving the ache growing in her core.

  He dipped his head and whispered, “After college, where did you go?”

  “College?” Oh, God, why were they still talking? “After? Kansas. Training.”

  “I see,” he answered.

  He did? How could he? Her unfocused eyes were absorbed in the smolder she found in his irises. She pressed her hand against his, holding it to her face. Electricity danced under her fingertips as fire erupted beneath his palm. His gaze narrowed and searched hers, smoke filling his eyes. Come on, kiss me. Show me you want this too. Her breath caught at the rush of lust mirrored back to her just as he closed the distance.

  The second his lips touched hers, she ignited. She crushed her mouth to his and parted her lips. He needed no more incentive than that. He cradled her face in both of his hands and tilted his head. His tongue darted inside and she greedily accepted it. When his tongue retreated, she followed and melted at the taste inside his mouth.

  For months they had been dancing around this moment. The suspense of wondering if she could allow it to happen and if he’d still be interested when she did made it all the more explosive.

  Someone moaned. Probably her. Holy moly, could he kiss. This was such a bad idea, but she couldn’t get up the gumption to give a damn.

  She ran her palms up his forearms and squeezed his rock-hard biceps. Hot damn, did that turn her on. She flattened her body against his.

  He groaned and molded his very noticeable bulge against her stomach while she smoothed her hands down his back. Defined muscles rippled everywhere she touched. Sexy.

  He pulled his mouth away and kissed along her jaw. She sucked in a much needed breath and angled her head for him to continue his path.

  “Tell me,” he whispered between kisses, “is that where you got the knife?”

  “Knife?” What the hell was he talking about? Better yet, why was he talking at all?

  Goose bumps flared at the skin-on-skin contact from his hand when he reached under her polo and swept it toward her lower back. He pulled her forward, pressing his erection into her. A tremor stole through her abdomen and into her core at the promise of receiving his hard length.

  “The blade you had out earlier.” He burrowed under her shirt with his other hand and slid his fingers up her rib cage. Her eyes about crossed at the overwhelming anticipation as he edged near her bra. Just when she thought she’d go mad from waiting, his palm enveloped her breast. “You got that in training?” He tweaked her nipple through the fabric and a rush of moisture pooled between her thighs.

  “Oh God, do that again,” she uttered, her voice so raspy, she barely recognized it.

  He complied while whispering against her lobe, “Knife part of training?”

  Desperate need raced through her. “No. Gift from Talon.”

  He yanked her shirt up and thrust her cup below her breast. He licked the distended bud, and she dropped her head back. Thank God he had all those arm muscles, because they were the only things holding her up. His tongue alternately swirled around the areola and flicked the peak. She moaned, sliding her hands into his hair. The sexy surfer curls were just as silky as she imagined.

  He drew back and blew on it. “Talon an old boyfriend?”

  She shivered from the air against the moisture and trembled when he dove forward to suck the nipple again. “What? No. Teammate.”

  He kissed
his way back up, claiming her mouth. She didn’t hold back. He met her passion and added fuel by unleashing his own. A bomb could have exploded outside and she wouldn’t care. Just as long as he didn’t stop. He took a step back and kept her melded to him. He twisted them around and slowly sank to the couch. She didn’t break the kiss as she kneeled on the cushions to straddle him. To have his bulge now rubbing against her core almost had her coming.

  He broke the kiss and cupped her ass in his big hands. Almost as if they were thinking the same thoughts, he ground his erection into her and began stroking her most sensitive area. The friction from her panties and jeans increased the tension. He bent his head and kissed her still exposed nipple. The tension coiled higher.

  “So, you went to training in Kansas after college,” he whispered against her breast, “and met Talon, who became a teammate, and he gave you the knife, right?”

  The intensity ratcheted up, but the fog in her brain began to clear. Talon. Knife. Teammate. The words rattled in her mind. Talon. Teammate. Kansas. Her eyes flew open. Oh God. What did she do?

  She jumped off his lap and slapped a hand over her mouth as she gazed down at him. Daggone, the man was fine sitting there unabashed as he returned her hot stare. His cock looked like it was going to burst from his jeans, and his chest heaved with his labored breathing.

  He rested his forearms against his thick thighs and cleared his throat. “None of that was on your résumé. So I’ll ask again. Is anything on it true?”

  Shit! She scanned the living room.

  “Try it.”

  Her eyes flew back to his. The smoldering passion in his irises promised retribution. “I may not have trained in clandestine operations at a CIA facility, but I do know how to keep you here.”

  Fuck. He was completely wrong in his assumption about the CIA, but not about the type of training. She lifted her chin and raised an eyebrow. “Conspiracy theory much?”