by Jina Bacarr
“We have to, Pepper. It’s against Bureau policy to put witnesses in the line of fire,” Steve said, wearing his FBI hat, “including furry ones.”
“So was making love to me,” I reminded him, both of us keeping our voices to a whisper. “But that didn’t stop you.”
His eyes focused on me for a minute and then he grabbed the mother cat. “Let’s go.”
Hugging the wall, we slipped out of the room without the office manager spotting us and made our way down the hallway. I swore my shoes squeaked. We were nearly at the stairway when a milk-hungry kitten scratched my hand.
“Ye-ow!” I cried out and bumped my hip against the railing. I lost my balance and—
“Oh, shit!” I said under my breath. The room whirled around me and I saw the marble entryway looming in my face. I was dizzy, but all I could think about were the kittens. I’d never forgive myself if—
“Steve, the kittens!” I called out in a harsh whisper.
“It’s you I’m worried about, Pepper,” Steve said, hauling my ass up by my jeans waistband before I went over the railing. “The kittens have nine lives. You don’t.”
I fell into his arms, still hugging the tiny felines. I couldn’t help but stifle a cry. No one ever worried about me before.
God, it felt good.
I didn’t have time to enjoy the moment. Ms. Sims was acting like a diva behaving badly.
“Who’s there?” yelled the office manager.
She rushed out of the office and scanned the hallway but didn’t see us. She looked disheveled and bleary-eyed, every hair out of place. Catching my breath, I could see her black pencil-slim pants and high-heeled pointy shoes, her skinny butt swaying back and forth like two pomegranates.
“Be ready to move out,” Steve said, holding the wriggling mother cat. He let her go and, with a loud me-ow, she scampered across the polished floor, sending the office manager into a tirade of expletives. Who knew the woman had such a sexist vocabulary? She slammed the office door shut and went back to erasing the files from her computer.
“Go!” Steve whispered, grabbing the feline. We left the same way we came in. No guard in sight. Ms. Sims must have sent him on an errand to keep him out of her way. She didn’t trust anybody, even her own nephew. It wasn’t until we were speeding away in Steve’s old Buick, the mother cat and her kittens snuggled in my lap, that I could breathe again.
“Thanks for not abandoning them,” I told him, hugging the little furry angels close to my heart and cuddling them. Their tiny tongues licked my fingers. I closed my eyes and leaned back against the seat. I couldn’t believe my maternal instinct was so strong. And this from a girl who never knew her own mother. That thought tugged at my heart.
“All in the line of duty.” Steve squeezed my knee. “Don’t worry, Pepper,” he said, grinning. “They’ll be put into witness protection with plenty of milk and cat food.”
I put my hand on top of his and squeezed back. Nothing more needed to be said. I knew he’d find them a good home. Though Steve tried to play hardball with me, I saw the look in his eyes when he spied the defenseless cat and her brood. Tender, caring. Here was a man who’d never turn his back on the underdog.
I never doubted he’d save the mother cat and her kittens.
Not once.
What surprised me more was that he’d let it slip that he was worried about me. This coming from a street-tough, straight-talking G-man.
Oh, my.
Be still, my heart.
He didn’t mean it.
Really.
Did he?
* * *
“You and your damn doughnuts are ruining my figure, Steven.” Jordan grabbed a glazed special out of the box on his desk and bit into it.
Nice and slow.
Teasing him. A trait of hers with her male agents when they were on her “naughty boy” list. Steve had worked with her long enough to know she had something on her mind and it wasn’t doughnuts.
Or sex.
“What do you want, Jordan?” he asked, putting down his cell. He had a man keeping the eyeball on Pepper. He’d been so tied down with the Briggs case, he couldn’t do the job himself. He was worried about her. The field agent had just called in to tell him she was headed out this morning in a hurry. What she was up to now, he could only guess. She jumped into situations faster than a bunny banging on his drum. Steve ordered him not to lose her.
“Nothing except a sugar high,” she said between bites.
“Don’t tell me you’re PMS-ing,” he said, knowing she hated that. She’d been on him for days to file his report on Briggs. He couldn’t. The file was still wide-open, like a pole dancer’s legs doing a split. “This has to do with Pepper, doesn’t it?”
She paced up and down, her smart, metal-gray stilettos tapping on the warped wooden floor. Gray slacks. Black turtleneck. She maintained a professional image at all times. At least, on the surface. Underneath she simmered with a slow burn and, man, could she kick ass.
“I see you’re on a first-name basis with the mark,” Jordan said. “How’d you manage that?”
“Tradecraft.”
“Don’t lie to me, Steven. I didn’t need to see her polygraph exam to know the girl was lying to us.” She slam-dunked the half-eaten doughnut into the trash can by his desk. “You made quite an impression on her, didn’t you? Enough for her to jeopardize her freedom by hacking into her ex-company’s computer.”
“I insisted.”
“That I don’t doubt.”
“You have to admit, Jordan, the girl is a whiz kid with computers. She can decode anything and get into the most sophisticated software.” Steve explained how she’d cracked the password on the office manager’s computer. “I’ve never seen anyone with such a knack for bypassing antivirus software and finding the holes in the system.”
“Isn’t finding holes your job?” Jordan smirked. She poured herself a cup of coffee. Into his cup. Black.
He ignored her barb. “Pepper knows her way around a hard drive better than the most seasoned spymaster. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“You wouldn’t be trying to recruit her, Steven, would you?”
“Why not?” Steve said. “The Bureau could use her talents. We’re dragging our asses when it comes to corporate security. You know as well as I do, Jordan, the hackers are beating us.”
“Same old Steven. Always thinking of the Bureau first.”
She squeezed his balls through his jeans. He gritted his teeth, but he didn’t flinch. Pepper would be a good fit for the FBI if she could just get past her fears. Not let them cripple her mind. He’d seen that happen to his brother. Never felt good about himself, always had to prove something. Tom fell into a rabbit hole and never climbed out.
He didn’t want to see Pepper take her smart skills down the wrong road and end up lost and abandoned.
“You succeeded in a man’s world, Jordan,” Steve said, complimenting her. The Princeton grad had overcome a childhood with an alcoholic parent and a house with little to eat but stale cereal.
She exhaled. “It’s not easy being a female in this business. You have to work ten times harder than the men, and when you do, they call you a troublemaking bitch.” She leaned back against the doorjamb and licked her lips. “But I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Where else would I find myself surrounded by handsome men like you?”
“So why not add a little sugar to your coffee?” Steve said, sliding his chair across the floor and taking his cup back.
“I admit Pepper O’Malley fits the profile of a good agent. She’s smart, creative, adventurous. But that’s not everything, Steven. Under pressure, even the best candidate can crack.” Jordan shoved the metal trash can across the floor with the heel of her stiletto. “What makes you think she’s got what it takes?”
“Pepper is that good, Jordan. Let me prove it to you.”
“No can do. You compromised yourself by fucking her. You’re off the case.” She leaned over him so he could
get an eyeful of her full breasts, her nipples pointing through her tight sweater. Her way of keeping her power secure in her empire. “Agent Barker will take over.”
He cocked a brow. “I’ve never seen you this jealous before, Jordan.”
“I’ve never seen you take such an interest in a material witness before.” She crossed her arms over her chest in a show of authority. “The higher-ups are on my ass to wrap up this case before someone blows the whistle and the media get wind of it. I’ve got a team sitting on Briggs day and night. He’s bound to slip up.”
His cell chimed—a text. His Japanese contact. Briggs wanted to take a meeting. That gave him an idea.
“What if I promise you I can get a taped confession from Briggs that will stand up in court?” Steve said. “Will you put me back on the case?”
Jordan smirked. “Does it involve you getting into that girl’s pants?”
Steve grinned and then stuck his middle finger through the hole of a crispy, glazed, sugary, doughy delight. “Care for another doughnut?”
* * *
“You want me to do what?” I asked, adrenaline racing through me like popcorn popping outta control. I turned down a rainbow-painted path and headed toward Bongo’s Pizza Playland.
“Wear a wire,” Steve said, not missing a beat. “It’s the only way we can nail Briggs.” He was hot on my tail. I wasn’t a happy camper. I hadn’t heard from him since our Breakfast at Tiffany’s rendezvous, complete with the rescue of the cat, like in the film.
And now this?
“You’ve got to be crazy.” I didn’t care how good-looking Special Agent Steve Raines was. I was not going to jeopardize what little future I had left by letting the FBI hot-wire my bod so they could listen to everything I said. What if I said something stupid? Like how I hacked into the company computer?
Or, worse yet, admitted I’d gone all Bruce Lee and zonked a federal agent? I’d be sent to a planet far, far away faster than you could send R2-D2 to a recycling bin. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a job interview and I’m late.”
I rushed through the bright red double doors into the pizza parlor and put on my best cheesy-clown smile. I prayed Steve wouldn’t follow me. Why bother? He knew my routine. He’d had a tail on my ass all week. I wasn’t so dumb that I didn’t notice a guy with tattoos following me. Guys with tattoos never followed me.
So I wasn’t surprised when Steve showed up with his scary request. It wasn’t enough the FBI had seen me half-naked and put me through an interrogation like I’d tried to get past airport security with a double latte. Now he wanted me to play Mata Hari. I knew what happened to her, and it wasn’t pretty.
“Hi, I’m Pepper O’Malley,” I choked out, handing the balding manager my résumé. He smelled like garlic and had pepperoni stuck in his teeth. I held my breath. “I’m here for the ball-pit job.”
“You got any experience?” he asked, and then sneezed on my resume.
“Yeah, sure,” I said, unnerved. “I play with balls all the time.”
He snickered. Too late I realized what I’d said. Then he explained to me that all I had to do was keep the kids’ ball pond filled with red, blue, yellow and green hollow plastic balls. Hey, a job is a job. And you get free pizza, a programmer’s main food staple. So what if being trapped with a bunch of screaming kids in a padded cage wasn’t my dream job? A girl had to eat.
The manager stuffed my résumé into his jeans waistband and then looked me up and down while he picked his teeth. With a penknife. “Do you have good people skills, Pepper?” His eyes lingered on my breasts.
“I love kids,” I blurted out.
“She hates kids,” said a deep male voice behind me. It made my nipples hard.
Steve.
He didn’t stop there.
“She eats them for breakfast.”
“Who’s your boyfriend?” The pizza parlor manager wanted to know, staring at Steve like he wanted to put him through a sausage grinder.
“He’s not my boyfriend,” I said, my spirits sinking.
“I’m her pimp,” Steve said, and then he grabbed my arm and pulled me out of the pizza parlor. Holding me by the elbow, he steered me toward his unmarked car parked in an alley. Nobody around. Perfect for a kidnapping.
“Why did you do that?” I asked, jumping into the passenger seat rather than make a scene. I didn’t want to go downtown to the federal building a second time. “I answered a hundred online ads, and this was the only job that would talk to me.”
“Cool it, Pepper, I’ve got a better offer for you.”
“Since when did wearing a wire for the FBI pay the big bucks?”
“You’re going to be a companion girl,” he said, checking his messages on his cell.
“A what?”
“Your job is to entertain Japanese businessmen.”
My eyes bugged out. “I’m not taking off my clothes again.”
“You don’t have to. You’ll wear a recording device here.” He slipped his hand under my baby tee and cupped my breast. Okay, so he had my attention. Next, he flicked his finger under my bra strap.
Oh, that wasn’t fair. He knew I was dying for him to pinch my nipple.
“What if he gives me a bear hug and finds the wire stuck to my tits with duct tape?” I asked, trying my best not to get turned-on. I didn’t want to go down that road only to be disappointed again. I liked Steve too much to play games.
“It’s not like the old days, Pepper, when you had to wear a clunky, battery-operated recorder. Everything’s digital. The recorder is implanted in a jeweled pin.” He smiled that devil grin of his. “No one is going give you a New Jersey pat-down but me.”
He leaned over and ran his hands expertly up and down my rib cage, then between my thighs, taking time to dig his finger into my crotch. He rubbed his thumb into the tight denim cutting into me.
Pushing, probing, stroking, delicious sensations filled me up. I squirmed. So much for me not getting turned-on. It was pure hell for me not to unzip my jeans and slide them down my thighs so he could finger me.
I decided to play along. Let him try to convince me.
What did I have to lose?’
I had no intention of wearing a wire.
“How do you know Mr. Briggs will be at this fancy party?” I leaned in and ran my finger along the sexy stubble on his chin. I loved the way he touched me, made me feel good.
But I wanted more.
I didn’t want to press my luck, but I couldn’t help wishing he’d kiss me.
“He’s eager to meet my Asian contacts,” Steve said, grabbing my fingers and entwining them with his. It was a romantic gesture and one that made my bachelorette meter soar even if he was trying to con me. “There will be several pretty models at the hotel. All you have to do is follow the script I give you. There will be a surveillance team in place. We’ll move in quietly and take Briggs into custody after we get what we want.”
I pulled away. I wanted to see my ex-boss pay for what he did to me, but those old feelings of doubt lingered in my mind. Like smelly gym socks left in your tote bag. You didn’t want to open it.
“I can’t do it.”
“Pepper—”
“Mr. Briggs may be a crook, but you’re asking me to be a snitch.”
“You want to be a spy, don’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Then be one.”
He had a point. For years, I’d watched every cop and spy show on TV. Learning the lingo, imitating their moves when they kicked down doors, practicing my two-handed gun pose.
Still—
“What if I screw up?” I had to ask.
“You won’t, Pepper. I’d stake my badge on it.”
“You would?” I asked, disbelieving.
“I would.”
He tilted my head back and claimed my mouth with the most intoxicating pair of lips a girl ever knew. Burning with need, melting into me, pressing harder when I reached around his neck and held him tight. I parted my lips a
nd he entwined his tongue with mine, leaving me breathless.
If this was a bribe, bring it on.
I pressed my breasts against his muscular chest and moaned so loud I shocked myself. “Don’t stop, Steve, please don’t stop.”
He gave it to me hot and long, sweetening the moment with trails of kisses up and down my neck and then sticking his tongue into my cleavage. Tickling me, unhooking my bra. He circled my breasts, but he didn’t play with my nipples.
What the—
“Suck on my nipples, please,” I said, jiggling my breasts like a wound-up Kewpie doll.
“No.”
“You know you want to,” I teased, biting down on my lower lip. Was that me talking?
“Not until you promise to help me take down a corporate thief. A man who is a liar and a cheat.”
“Steve, I—I—”
“You can do it, Pepper.” He cupped my breasts and squeezed them.
Oh, the frustration. Whoever thought he’d resort to such torture?
Jesus, I thought I was going to die.
I begged him to bite my nipples. Twist them. Wet them with his tongue. Blow on them. Do something.
No, he said. Not until I promised to do what he asked.
I writhed about in the bucket seat of his old Buick, the split leather cracking under my butt. I was in an emotional pickle. I wanted to be a spy and when the opportunity was handed to me on a silver platter, I froze. I knew this was my defining moment. No more daydreaming about being a spy girl.
Do it or forget it.
That meant I had to let go, get over my fears, and if it took wild, passionate sex to put me over the top, then so be it. I couldn’t stand the burning in my belly another minute.
I gave in.
“Okay, Steve, I’ll wear the damn wire.”
He grinned wide. “I thought you’d see things my way.”
“Do I have a choice?” I asked, panting hard.
“No, but I do.” He bit my nipple hard, then the other, and I fell headfirst into exquisite pleasure.
Chapter Six
“Jeez, Mr. Briggs,” I muttered in a flat voice, “what a surprise seeing you here.”
“No, no, no, Pepper,” Cindy said, exhaling with a loud whoosh. “You’re too stiff. Try it again.”