The Agent's Proposition

by Stone, Lyn

  “The villa? May I see the rest of it?”

  He nodded. “Of course. This way.”

  They walked back through the nondescript living room to the open door leading off of it. He flipped on a light switch. “My bedroom,” he said as she peered through the doorway.

  The room was as nondescript as the rest of the place. It contained a double bed with a rumpled beige duvet, a lime green chair and a cheap-looking armoire. No way was she setting foot in there.

  She backed away and headed for the other room. “So what is this? Guest quarters?” She opened the door herself and looked inside.

  “The office,” he replied.

  She sensed anxiety. No wonder.

  This was a much smaller room, outfitted with a futon, a straight chair and a simple desk holding a lamp and a laptop. He had turned the laptop off and closed it, she noted. Was that the famous instrument he used to threaten half a country?

  “You must not do much work here,” she said with a smile and a shrug. “One would expect something more elaborate for conducting a business.”

  “I am not a businessman as such,” he admitted. “I am more of a consultant, one might say.”

  “Ah, I see.” Tess backed out of the room. “Is that all there is here?”

  “Except for the terrace out back and the gardens. That way leads down to the private dock. Are you ready?”

  He seemed eager to leave. Or maybe eager to get to her yacht and consume that champagne and caviar she had mentioned. And her, too, of course.

  “I’m ready,” she said.

  “For anything?” he asked. Then he grabbed her by the shoulders and kissed her soundly on the mouth.

  Tess fought the urge to knee him and break his nose. Instead, she kissed him back, then pulled away, laughing. “I can see this is going to be a wild night in Tropez!”

  “You know it, bebe!”

  He took her hand and led her outside, closing the door behind her. She noticed he had left the lights on inside and started to question that, but decided that the rich wouldn’t worry about anything as paltry as the electric bill.

  He kept an arm around her as they descended the steps that led down to the dock. She saw his boat bobbing gently. It was a motor craft, not more than fifteen feet long. Similar to the one they had seen the man on the beach use earlier, if not the very same one. Tess wished they had caught him then.

  She prayed Cameron would already be on the Jezebel, waiting for them. Not that she couldn’t handle Selim herself, but she wanted to get this over with.

  Suddenly an arm locked around her neck and jerked her away from Selim. Tess reacted automatically, kicking the assailant’s knee with her heel and bending forward, but he stood firm, choking off her airway.

  She had dropped her phone when he grabbed her, but hoped Cameron was still listening in and could hear the scuffle. “Let…me…go!” she screeched. Tess tried everything she knew to break the hold, but he was well trained. And very strong.

  “Stop!” Selim cried, leaping to her defense and beating at the man with his fists.

  “Shut up, you fool! She was watching you in the club. She followed. You know what that means.” The guttural voice matched the roughness with which the assailant handled her.

  Another man, the one Selim had met with in the club, approached then, and Tess stopped fighting. She was outmatched in strength, and this new guy had a weapon. Best to play meek until she could figure a way out of this. Men underestimating her had always proved her most effective weapon.

  “Get her back inside,” the second man ordered. “Selim, there will be a penalty for trying to evade us. You know that.” He held a gun on Selim.

  “She’s just a girl I met. We were going to have drinks and party a little. Let her go. I already did what I was told to do,” replied Selim.

  The man shook his head. “The woman is here to find you. We must deal with her and change your location.” He motioned for Selim to precede him back up the steps to the villa. Strong-arm still had her in a choke hold and pushed her along behind the other two.

  Tess focused on keeping her feet on the ground, no small task when she was nearly lifted off them with every step. Release came so quickly, she fell to her knees.

  Sucking in a deep breath, she wheeled around to attack, but saw her attacker tumbling down the stone steps to the landing.

  A shot rang out. Selim dashed across the terrace as two men near Tess struggled over the gun.

  She recognized Cameron immediately and trusted he would prevail. She kicked off her shoes, took off after Selim and tackled him just as he rounded the side of the villa.

  She heard another shot and prayed Cameron was on top of things. She was. The tight-fitting dress had ripped up one side, baring her leg nearly to her waist. She straddled Selim’s back, bent one of his arms behind him and was reaching for the other when Cameron arrived to help.

  “You okay, Tess?” he demanded.

  “Super,” she gasped, getting her breath back.

  “Get up off of him. If he runs, I’ll kill him. You hear that, Selim?”

  Selim nodded frantically. He was hyperventilating, and when he rolled over, Tess saw he was weeping.

  “Get up,” Cameron ordered. “We’ve got to get rid of those two in case someone heard the shots.” He handed Tess a nine millimeter. “Shoot him if he runs again. One more shot won’t matter that much.”

  She motioned for Selim to follow Cameron as they returned to the steps. The white-haired man lay staring at the night sky, his features ghostly in the moonlight.

  Selim gasped. “Is he…”

  “Dead as a mackerel,” Cameron muttered as he hurried down the steps and knelt to check the other one.

  Tess followed, pushing Selim along in front of her.

  “This one’s done for, too,” Cameron said. “Let’s dump them in the bay. We’ll be long gone before they’re found.”

  “You can’t do that!” Tess exclaimed.

  “Right by myself if I have to, but I’d appreciate some help. Selim, get over here and give me a hand.”

  “No! I cannot!” Selim thundered.

  “Shoot him, Tess.”

  Chapter 9

  “Wait!” Selim cried, throwing up his hands. “I’ll do it.”

  Tess huffed out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Things were moving too fast. This wasn’t right. She knew she ought to protest again, but couldn’t think of an alternative plan. Cameron looked perfectly calm and in control, as if he’d done this sort of thing before. Had he?

  Good as his word, Selim rushed to take the man’s feet. Cameron lifted the man by his hefty shoulders, and they carried the body between them to the dock.

  “Swing him a couple of times so he won’t get tangled up in the pilings,” Cameron ordered.

  Selim complied.

  Tess took the opportunity to locate her cell phone and recover her shoes. She quickly texted Mercier and sent him the photo of the man, now dead, that she’d taken in the club. She didn’t explain all that had happened. There would be time for that aboard the yacht.

  They had just dumped a body in the bay! How was she supposed to word that when she reported it?

  “Now the other one.” Cameron took the steps two at a time, and Selim scrambled to follow. As soon as they had dispatched White Hair, Cameron motioned them back to the villa.

  Tess had to admit she was impressed in spite of the fact that she disapproved of the disposal of the bodies.

  Cameron paused as they entered the doorway, and cradled her neck with his hand. “How’s the windpipe?”

  She touched the back of his hand and rasped, “No real damage. You all right?”

  He winced. “Yeah, a little shook up. Didn’t realize I was that out of shape. Haven’t done any hand-to-hand in a while.”

  “You did fine,” she said. He’d done better than fine. She’d probably be dead by now if he hadn’t shown up when he did and if he hadn’t done what he’d done.

&n
bsp; Selim was leaning over the sink in the kitchen, being sick. Tess almost felt sorry for him. He had pleaded for her life and had actually tried to get Strong-arm to free her.

  Cameron raised his eyebrows and sighed loud and long. “Well, this screws with Plan A. You guard the pip-squeak while I get his computer. We’ll drive back to the marina and get him on board. If you have to shoot him, go for the knees. I want him alive until I find out who’s running him.”

  “I will go with you,” Selim said, wiping his mouth with a dish towel. “I cannot stay here.”

  “Definitely not an option,” Cameron assured him and strolled on into the living room, leaving Tess to do as ordered.

  She pointed with the gun and Selim followed Cameron.

  In a few moments Cameron came out of the office with Selim’s cased laptop, the webbed strap slung over one shoulder.

  Selim groaned when he saw it but didn’t offer any other protest. Tess felt his sense of futility and apprehension. She was a little apprehensive herself.

  She had aided the other agents on cases before, but this was the first time she had actually participated in the capture of a felon. So far this collar had been extremely unorthodox. Cameron was unorthodox, to say the very least.

  She wondered what Selim’s interrogation would be like and how Cameron would go about it.

  They were soon on their way in the Mercedes, which Cameron had parked down the drive when he had followed them in. Tess rode in the backseat with Selim, the weapon still trained on him. He appeared perfectly willing to go with them, but she would have employed the same trick herself until an opportunity to escape presented itself.

  When they reached the marina, Cameron got out first, opened Tess’s door and held out his hand. “Give me the gun. It will be in my pocket, trained on you, Selim. You’d better pretend to be happy about boarding.” Then Cameron looked at Tess. “Your dress is ripped up the side, and your hair’s a mess. Sure you’re okay?”

  “I’m sure.” No point admitting how unsteady she felt and that the two glasses of wine had nothing to do with it. She removed the hairpins, combed through her hair with her fingers and straightened herself up as best she could.

  They proceeded to the marina and boarded without any problems. There were other people partying on the boats nearby. Two guys waved from the deck of one docked nearest the Jezebel. Tess smiled and waved back.

  Cameron pushed Selim down onto the lounge in the saloon as soon as they were below deck. “We know you are involved in the threat to shut down the power grid on the East Coast of America. Will you cooperate and answer our questions truthfully?”

  Selim shook his head, avoiding looking at either one of them. “I do not understand any of this. You have the wrong person.”

  “I have your computer and enough evidence on it and from other sources to earn you a death sentence for terrorism,” Cameron responded. “Unless you help us by naming any coconspirators and details of plans and methods to be used by yourself or by anyone else.”

  “I know American law. You have to give me rights,” Selim said, but with more fear than defiance in his voice.

  “You’ll soon see what my rights as a mercenary are. I make my own since I’m not bound by any oaths,” Cameron said, his tone ominous.

  He locked Selim in the forward cabin, warned him to keep quiet or face the consequences, and went directly to the bar.

  Tess noted that Cameron had reversed the handle mechanism on the forward cabin door so that it locked from the outside, rather than from within. When had he done that? Talk about prepared. He had thought of everything.

  He poured two shots of brandy and handed one to Tess. “Here, settle your nerves. It’ll be good for your throat, too.”

  “You know I should have read him his rights. Anything you get out of him won’t be admissible in court after that threat.”

  “I’m not interested in any future court case, damn it! I want the person who got him into this and anyone else they’ve hired besides Selim. I won’t get that playing by the rules and neither will you.”

  Tess nodded. She noticed her hand was shaking as she took the glass from him.

  He traced her neck with one finger and squinted. “Probably bruise up by morning,” he muttered. “Sorry I took so long to get to you. I was inside, looking for evidence, when I heard the attack.”

  “Thank God you were still around,” she said, taking a sip of the brandy, feeling the burn as it coated her throat. “I thought you’d be on your way back here.”

  He smiled. “I figured you could handle the boy until I got aboard, but I would have been right behind you.”

  “I’m sorry you had to kill,” she murmured, taking another swallow, feeling the slow burn as it went down.

  “The beefy one crushed his skull on the steps as he fell. All I did was box his ears to make him release you and yank the back of his coat to make him fall. The other one went down hard, though. Had me going for a minute there.”

  “Are you all right with it?” she asked, concerned but also curious. She had never had to use ultimate force and wondered if she would be as complacent about it as Cameron seemed to be. “It was you or him.”

  He nodded and tossed back his own brandy. “It was him or both of us, so no regrets.”

  “Thank you, Cameron,” she whispered.

  “No problem,” he replied, sliding his hand to the back of her neck and kissing her gently.

  Tess realized all she had been missing. Had she been overcompensating for her parents’ lack of rules all these years?

  When had her hands slid inside his jacket and embraced him? His body felt taut and hot beneath her palms. He moved against her, and she responded eagerly, with no hesitation. Hadn’t she decided not to do this again? Where was her resolve? Did agents normally behave this way on assignment?

  It was so hard to know what was normal. Or if she even wanted to be normal. This felt so good, so right. At least it did at the moment. She sighed when he broke the kiss and nuzzled her ear, so overwhelmed she almost missed what he was saying.

  “I was afraid I’d lose you, Tess,” he whispered. “Terrified.”

  Tess closed her eyes and found his mouth again, seeking the pleasure she had denied herself for so long. He groaned and lifted her off her feet, their bodies still locked in a full-length kiss. She vaguely resisted when he released her and led her to the master cabin.

  “Let’s get you out of that dress,” he said, raking it off her shoulders.

  She didn’t care what his motives were at the moment. It didn’t matter that they were on a mission, that a perp was on board who needed questioning. Nothing mattered but how his hands felt on her, how the silk slithered off her like a false skin of propriety and how desire welled up inside her to obliterate everything else in her mind.

  “My God, your knees!” he exclaimed.

  For a second, Tess thought it was a lusty compliment, but he pushed her back onto the berth and began examining them in earnest.

  The cold rush of reason returned. She was sitting on the mattress, a puddle of blue silk around her ankles, wearing nothing but a demi bra, a thong, killer shoes and a fake tan. “What?” she gasped, crossing her arms over her chest.

  “You’ve wrecked your knees, and they’re still bleeding,” he said as he stood up. “I’ll get the first-aid kit.”

  She wanted to scream. Did the man have superhuman control, or what? How did he turn it off like that? Her entire body was quaking, and he looked cool as a cucumber.

  She stared at his crotch and groaned at the mental analogy. Quite a cucumber it was, too. Maybe he couldn’t turn it off entirely.

  A deep breath or two and she accepted the inevitable. He had lapsed into doctor mode. Unfortunately, it wasn’t to be the sort of playing doctor she wished for at that moment. “For the best. It’s for the best,” she muttered to herself.

  He disappeared to get the kit, and she knew she ought to retrieve a robe or something. Modesty didn’t seem all that cri
tical, though, so she stayed right where she was until he returned.

  Cameron stopped in the doorway, holding a large plastic box by the handle. “You look a little shocky,” he muttered. “Better get you warmed up.”

  “I was getting pretty warm,” she admitted with a wry laugh. She reached back to gather the lightly quilted bedspread and drag it over her shoulders. Maybe, just maybe, she was more in control than he was. “There. Better?”

  He set down the first-aid kit beside her feet and went into the head. In a moment he returned with a wet cloth and towel.

  “You want me to do that?” she asked politely.

  “No. I can see better how to clean them up than you can. Just sit back and relax.”

  Yeah, right. Relax. But she did as he ordered and liked it, too. She couldn’t remember a time when anyone had taken care of her, worried about skinned knees and whether she was warm enough. It felt almost as good as having him want her. But not quite.

  Tess knew they would make love again; she was certain of it. And she wouldn’t let the old Tess talk her out of it, either.

  Apparently, Cameron was the one with the reservations now, using any old excuse to back out. Maybe he felt he had created something he couldn’t control.

  Maybe he had.

  Cameron tended her scraped knees, cleaning and applying ointment and Band-Aids where they were needed. The scratches weren’t actually that bad, but the sight of her bleeding even a little bit had sobered him immediately.

  Tess was a virtual innocent, not a seasoned partner he could fool around with and forget as soon as the op was over. And what about the fact that he was already so involved he couldn’t forget her even if he tried? She would expect some kind of continuing relationship, he was already halfway convinced he should offer that, and he couldn’t afford to.

  She didn’t need a washed-up operative whose best deal from here on out would probably be fishing for a living. He didn’t put much stock in the job offer from Mercier. Tess would go far in intelligence once she made her bones and got a little experience under her belt. So far, she’d done well, much better than he’d expected. He knew, of course, that Mercier would never have sent her in the first place if she didn’t have what it took.