Seduced by Blood

by Laurie London

  “Well, they’re idiots.” He had the sudden urge to find out everyone who thought she was guilty and pound his fist into their faces. “For one thing, I don’t believe you’re capable of doing something like that.”

  “They talked about bringing me before a tribunal, you know.”

  “Yes, I do.” And he knew just who was responsible for that—the prick of a CO down there.

  “Then you’ll also know that they believed that I’d left my post, which in turn left Ian vulnerable.”

  “Bullshit lies.” He eyed another hymnal but refrained from kicking it. “I know Dax Sturgeon and how he operates. He was new to the region at the time, eager to establish his influence and power. You were a means to that end. I’ve had many run-ins with him myself.”

  Gripping the table, she eyed the candles in front of her and for a moment, Santiago thought she might send them flying with a flick of her hand. At least he would, if he were her.

  “I don’t know why I’m even telling you this,” she mumbled under her breath. “I don’t talk about what happened with anyone. It’s in the past and best forgotten.”

  A strange sensation welled up inside him that he couldn’t quite identify. He felt suddenly protective of her and had the urge to make things right in her world. “You’re telling me because you can sense that I care and that I truly believe you.”

  “Ha. You care about me? You’ve got a funny way of showing it. Why should I take you seriously? You’ve probably got an agenda just like Sturgeon did.”

  Santiago did have an agenda, but she knew exactly what it was. “For one thing,” he said quietly, “I knew Ian.”

  Her head jerked up. “And you didn’t say anything to me?”

  He shrugged, tried to brush off her prickly stare. “I didn’t think it was important. We met when we were both part of the Madrid Seven, a private mercenary group.”

  The fact was, they were very different people. Whereas Santiago was not afraid of hard work, Ian was always looking for the easy way out. But the guy had a big heart and had been very generous. He had a much larger stipend from his family and would often cover Santiago’s expenses when they went out to the inns for a tankard of ale and to dally under a few skirts.

  “He and I hung out back in the day. We caroused together and commiserated about our lot in life. I suppose it’s because we came from very similar family backgrounds—our fathers were both assholes—and intuitively we understood what it was like to be in each other’s shoes. I’d have to imagine that he loved you very much.”

  He paused, expecting her to agree quietly. It wouldn’t surprise him to see a tear trickle down her face.

  Instead, she quickly blew out the candles in front of her, sending thin spirals of smoke drifting up to the ceiling. Walking around the perimeter, she blew out the rest of the candles, saving the ones nearest to him for last.

  He rubbed a hand over his close-cropped hair and searched for something to say to make her change her mind. If she didn’t agree, he wasn’t sure what other options he had. This was the best one—he didn’t want to settle for anything less. A seed of desperation crept into his gut.

  “Look, Roxy. I honestly think you’re the best person for this job. My people are suffering and as much as it kills me to admit this, I…I may not have the ability to help them.” God, he hated admitting he was weak, but what other choice did he have? “My style is too confrontational. The traitor would see my motives a mile away. You…you’re subtle, smart, and people instantly gravitate toward you. I know it’s not the ideal situation—masquerading as lovers—but it sets up your cover beautifully. You may be our only hope to get to the bottom of this as quickly and as quietly as possible without risking more lives.”

  She turned to face him, her gauzy dress swirling around her. “Okay,” she said, her golden eyes blazing, “when do we leave?”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  ROXY HADN’T REALIZED she’d dozed off until Santiago pulled out one of her earbuds. She rubbed her eyes and looked around. They were sitting at a red light, the city streets deserted. Straight ahead of them, on the other side of the intersection, was a nondescript building. “Where are we?”

  “Fresno,” he said without skipping a beat.

  Smart-ass. “Okay, dumb question. I guess I wasn’t expecting to get to Seattle so soon.” She should’ve known the relaxation music would knock her out. Santiago had taken several calls during the drive, so rather than listen to him chew out yet another person, she put on her headphones and promptly fell asleep.

  “What can I say, I’m an efficient driver.”

  She’d been expecting the drive from the Canadian border to Seattle to take at least three hours. How the hell had he made it in two? “Either that or an insane one.” On second thought, maybe she didn’t want to know.

  He revved the Corvette’s engine, twice, and it roared loudly as if answering. Either that or it was announcing, “We’re here.”

  Subtlety clearly wasn’t one of his strong points. What was it with men and their cars? A guy who drove a vintage sports car like this must like the attention he got from people. The looks. The admiration. The jealousy. Looking at the retro instrument panel and hearing the powerful drone of the engine, she had to admit it was a pretty sweet ride.

  “You ready?”

  She looked at him, confused.

  “The cloaking device. It’s set to maximum.”

  “Oh, thanks for the heads-up.” Most Guardian offices were kept cloaked, especially ones located in the cities. She gathered the length of her hair back with a hand. “Okay. Ready.”

  Santiago punched the accelerator and the sports car jumped forward, thrusting Roxy deep into the leather seat. The tiny hairs on her arms tingled when they hit the invisible shield surrounding the building. A split second later, bolts of electricity snapped around them, lighting up the outside of the car with a rainbow of colors. The brick of the building’s facade morphed into a parking garage entrance and the car plunged inside.

  “Whew. You weren’t kidding about that being set high,” she said as he pulled into an empty parking space next to a jacked-up pickup truck. Her hair still felt slightly lifted from her scalp. She did her best to smooth down the errant locks and rubbed her hands over her arms.

  “They had some problems here a while back so we beefed up everything, implemented a lot of changes.”

  She grabbed the bag near her feet. Good thing she packed lightly. The storage in this car was roughly the size of a dog. A small one.

  “Roxanne, you’ll need to—”

  “Hold on,” she said, her hand on the door. “If you want the charade to be as realistic as possible, you’d better start calling me Roxy like my friends do.”

  “We’re not friends though, we’re lovers.”

  The way he said it, as if it were a fact and not a charade, sent shivers up and down her spine. The good kind of shivers. The kind that made you want to take off your clothes and wrap your body around his. “Same difference.”

  Lovers. A vision of a naked Santiago flashed in her mind, sparking a warmth in her belly that quickly heated her insides. She had to admit, taking him as a lover would be pretty spectacular. To stroke her hands over his powerful muscles as he moved inside her. To press her nose to his flesh and drag his scent into her lungs. Would he be as commanding in bed as he was out of it? Despite her years at the Academy surrounded by the kinds of men she wanted to be attracted to—thoughtful and intelligent men, those who weighed their decisions carefully and were driven by logic, not their emotion—she was still hopelessly drawn to these rough, brash, military types. Was he one of those men who would take what he needed from a woman, assuming it was the same thing she needed? Would her teeth sink easily into his vein or would she have to bite down a little harder and force her way in? She had a feeling that anything involving Santiago wouldn’t be easy. No doubt, he tasted as good as he looked. Her gums tingled imagining it.

  Hell, what was she thinking? She took a deep br
eath to clear out these crazy thoughts. Blood sharing wasn’t all that common during sex and it usually happened between committed couples, not casual acquaintances. Except for that botched tryst with another instructor at the Academy, Ian was the only man she’d shared blood with. So why she was thinking of it with Santiago was beyond her comprehension. Too bad she couldn’t blame it on being in a drunken stupor, but she was as sober as a preacher’s wife on Sunday morning.

  They exited the car and the shock of cold thankfully jolted her out of la-la land, chilling her libido. She did not need to be thinking of the man this way. He’d already made it clear that he was not interested in her.

  “Here.” Santiago must’ve noticed her shivering because he took off his leather jacket and held it out to her.

  “I’m fine.”

  “No, you’re not. You’re from Florida.”

  A laugh bubbled from her throat at his unintended slight.

  “You know what I mean.” Amusement danced in his eyes. “Take it.”

  When she didn’t immediately grab it from him, he draped the coat over her shoulders anyway. The warmth was heavenly. The smell, too. Sandalwood and cedar and a touch of something else that she couldn’t quite identify. It was nice though. She pulled the lapel tightly around her.

  As they went through the series of security checkpoints where several guards were standing duty, Santiago kept his hand on the small of her back, like a lover would. When he removed it to stand before the optical scanners right before the main doors to the field office opened, she felt cold again. His hand was like a comforting heater, warming her from the outside in.

  The reinforced steel door slid open and as they stepped through, it closed with a heavy thud behind them. All the field offices she’d visited had fairly tight security, but this had to be the tightest. She hummed a few bars of the Get Smart theme song.

  Santiago headed for the conveyor belt to pick up his scanned weapons. She, on the other hand, had none. He didn’t think it would play well into their scheme of things if she had weapons on her. When she’d called him on it, his only reply was that she was just a girlfriend, not an agent, and girlfriends didn’t carry weapons.

  Ha. We’ll see about that.

  A young man wearing a freshly starched uniform stood at attention near a bank of closed circuit monitors showing various locations throughout the complex. A woman walking down a hall. A dark-haired man in a kitchen. Two people leaning against a doorway with white workout towels tossed over their shoulders.

  Santiago leaned casually on the receptionist desk and smiled. “Kato, thanks for the tip last week. I won a couple hundred bucks on that horse.”

  The young man beamed. “You’re welcome, sir. I told you Hot Cha Cha was looking good.”

  “Who you picking for the Mile?”

  “I haven’t decided yet. Pee Diddly has been running well lately, but then so has Make Me A Winner, but it’ll depend on the track conditions. If it’s muddy, then I’m looking at Slew Or Don’t. His daddy was a mudder and those other two are girlie-men when it comes to a sloppy, wet track. Sir.”

  “Pee Diddly, Make Me A Winner and…what’s the last one? Yes Or No?”

  “Slew Or Don’t.” Kato tried to hide a smile, but that one dimple on the left side of his mouth gave him away. “How about if I email it to you like I did last time?”

  “That’d be perfect.”

  Santiago turned toward her and lifted a brow in an unasked question.

  She wasn’t picking up any strange vibes from Kato other than nervousness at being around the CO, so she subtly shook her head. One down. How many dozens more to go? And that was only counting those who worked at the field office. It didn’t count the people who’d be attending the awards banquet.

  Santiago motioned her toward the open elevator. Once inside, he pushed an unmarked button on the panel, but she couldn’t tell if they were going up or down. She assumed down because she knew the Seattle field office was located in a portion of Underground Seattle, but she couldn’t be sure.

  Santiago leaned down close to her ear. She started to take a half step backward but his arm shot out and held her close. Her hips were practically grinding against his. “Security cameras,” he explained. If she turned her head slightly right now, her lips would meet his. “Have you decided on a last name yet?”

  “I still think that’s unnecessary. Who cares that you’re ‘dating’ Roxanne Reynolds?”

  “I know you haven’t met anyone here, but who knows if someone looks into your background once they meet you?” His breath was hot against her cheek. “Your storied reputation at Tracker Academy might put the traitor on edge. I want you to simply be a pretty face. Someone who asks wide-eyed, innocent questions. Can you do that?”

  She bristled at his patronizing tone, but she was here now, so what choice did she have? “I don’t agree with you. I think it’s ridiculous, but this is your mission, so whatever you say goes.”

  When he pulled away from her slightly, she detected a satisfied look in his eye. As though he knew she’d eventually cave to his demands if he pushed her hard enough. What a sore winner. If only agreeing with him wasn’t so painful.

  “Just make it easy, a name that we can both remember.”

  “Why? Do you have a bad memory?”

  “I don’t want some damned complicated Eastern European or Polish name. If it’s hard to pronounce, it’ll be hard to remember, so keep it vanilla. Something like Smith or Jones.”

  She ground her teeth together and could feel her nostrils flare. Her mother was Polish. “I’ll make sure it’s easy enough that your simple mind can retain it.”

  He chuckled and gave her a kiss on the cheek as if he truly enjoyed her put-down. Sure, it was just for the cameras but a tiny part inside—a lonely, stupid, achy part—wished it were real. That they were so familiar with each other that good-natured teasing and a peck on the cheek were as common as holding hands.

  “That’s my girl.”

  She stared at him, unblinking for a moment as his words sank in. Had he really seriously just called her a girl? Her nails dug into the palms of her hands and those feelings fled like Harrison Ford in The Fugitive. So much for fantasizing about Santiago in bed. Right now, all she wanted was to turn that infuriating smile of his into a look of shock.

  Just you wait. Next time I’ll be doing the smiling.

  “Me and my pea brain thank you.”

  The elevator stopped soundlessly and the doors opened with a whoosh. She bent to pick up her luggage, but he beat her to it and hefted the strap over his shoulder. Okay fine. It was the whole chivalrous boyfriend thing, so she folded her arms and let him.

  He gave her a strange look, one of confusion or possibly disbelief.

  “What?” she asked. Did he expect her to protest? Think she wouldn’t want to accept his help after being insulted like that?

  “It’s so lightweight.”

  “Yeah, and your point is?”

  “You don’t have much inside.” Then, lowering his voice he said, “We could be here for several weeks.”

  “I travel lightly, what can I say?”

  “And did you think to bring something to wear to the banquet? It’s formal attire, you know.”

  She hadn’t thought about that. Clothes weren’t a huge priority for her. She liked looking good but it didn’t dawn on her to spend a lot of time worrying about it. She was as low maintenance as they came, preferring very little makeup and her yoga attire over tight clothes and skyscraper heels. Besides, what appropriate clothes she had were down in Florida. She hadn’t planned on attending any fancy affairs while she was here. “I…ah…”

  “Just as I suspected. I’ll arrange to take you shopping at nightfall tomorrow.”

  Arrange? As in have someone take her so that he can foot the bill? Nope. Not happening. Even for the purposes of this charade, she was not a kept woman. She took her independence seriously and she didn’t wanted to feel indebted to this man for anything, whet
her he held it over her head or not. Carrying her bag was one thing. Buying her clothes was another.

  A large table with a huge bouquet of fresh flowers stood straight ahead of them in the foyer. The corridor stretched out on both sides and Santiago hesitated.

  “Lost?”

  “No, just deciding whether to head to my suite of rooms first or whether I should take you into the offices.”

  “What would a romantic couple do?”

  He looked at her and smiled. “Good point.”

  They walked down the empty corridor in silence, the lights clicking on and off as they passed various motion sensors. How far down were his rooms anyway? she wondered after a few minutes. It felt as if they’d walked ten miles already. After climbing a half-flight of stairs and rounding another corner, he stopped. Finally. Just like the outside of the building, the door was unremarkable.

  His rooms were done in a masculine forest-green with old-fashioned English paintings of horses and dogs on the walls. God, the guy really did love animals. In one corner was a comfortable reading nook with two leather wing chairs you could sink into, a brass-bound chest that served as a coffee table and a shelf of books—collectors’ editions given the fancy bindings—behind them. Santiago really was a reader? For some reason, he didn’t strike her as having the patience to actually sit down and open a book, let alone read one from cover to cover. He seemed the type who would read a few pages—maybe a chapter or two—then give up to go do something he felt was more important. Unlike her colleague at the Academy who read anything he could get his hands on and could quote just about anything ever written, Santiago possessed none of these characteristics. She figured the books in his region office were just for show.

  A huge, dark hardwood bed, covered in sumptuous green linens and pillows, stood proudly on the far side of the room. Not far from it stood a door.

  Was her room through there? Santiago had referred to his suite of rooms—plural. She didn’t care about sleeping in his office on a rollaway cot or fold-out couch. They’d have to coordinate the use of the bathroom, however. Even if there was another one nearby, it’d look very out of character if she stumbled out of bed and down the hall to use it.