Before leaving the stall, he flushed the toilet one more time, just to be safe. He also shoved the expensive purse back into the gift box. The thing was worth something and would impress a woman. His target, maybe? No telling if and when he might need it for some reason.
Gathering his things, he moved out to the sink and washed his hands. He then splashed a good dousing of water on his face to wake him up and refresh him from the long journey, so far, and the one ahead of him. According to the information from X29, his flight left in thirty-two minutes. American Airlines from SFO to JFK in New York, leaving from Gate A11 in the International terminal. The information from X29 revealed this Ms. Hunt with a seat in coach, over the wing in an exit row. Shit, did she know something the rest of them didn’t?
His thought was to somehow arrange it for her to be bumped up to first class where the seat next to him might appear empty to the random eye, but had been purchased by The Company for just such use. Besides, Nick hated sitting in the back thanks to his extra-long legs. Most aircraft weren’t designed for anyone over six feet.
Nick dried his hands and hoisted his bags back up onto his shoulder—the left one and good one. The right one still had a bit of shrapnel embedded in his muscle as a result of a dirty bomb attack on a Hummer-cade he was part of from Kandahar to Kabul three years ago. At the time, his own pain meant nothing as he and another member of their unit fought to save the life of their driver who’d lost both of his legs and his eyes in the explosion. Nineteen years, away from Meridian, Mississippi for the first time, and his life ended on a dusty road in the Middle East. Not a good day for the U.S. of A.
Those assignments for the Army had always been life or death. Working for The Company, Nick had more control. Take this assignment. It was simple enough, although he knew to never underestimate anything. Jobs like these had the potential of going off the rails. There were so many unknowns especially now that he was trying to keep a target alive. The more the human factor was involved, the more dangerous and complicated the mission.
First things first, though. He needed to get over to Gate A11 and start scoping the waiting area for Nicole Hunt.
Which reminded him… he hadn’t even checked out the pictures on his burner phone that had been added to the camera gallery to make it appear as if it were some random person’s personal phone. He needed to get a good look at her face, memorize it, and know who he was searching for once he got to the gate. He certainly wanted to follow her moves before she made it onto the plane, see if she called anyone, did anything suspicious, bought anything out of the ordinary.
The standard operating procedure from The Company was to doctor up photos of the mark and the agent together—in this case, Nick—so it would appear as if they were friends or close family members. That way, it allowed operatives to keep their target’s visual on hand without drawing any suspicion.
Taking deep strides, Nick crossed the main hallway of the International Terminal, grateful he’d dealt with Customs in China before taking his long flight. All he had to do now was get to the gate, find Nicole Hunt, and set his plan in action. As simple as the job was, it must have been pretty serious to call for his departure from China on the heels of this last job. Nick wasn’t the only operative in the field, and although he liked staying busy, it didn’t make sense they put him on this assignment so quickly. They could have easily used someone else. Whatever the reason, he would be alert and vigilant. No sense reading between the lines. He had a job to do.
Crossing into Terminal A, a large group of tall, male, athletes wearing blue and white track suits cut in front of him, nearly marching together toward their gate. He stepped aside so they could pass and so he could finally pull up the pictures of Nicole Hunt on his cell phone.
As soon as he opened the app and clicked past pictures of a dog, some guys fishing, and few political memes, a deep laugh bubbled up from the pit of his stomach. The woman in the first picture he pulled up was soft and beautiful with dark chocolate eyes, golden-highlighted brown hair as if she’d been out in the sun a lot, and a full, rosy mouth he’d already seen up close. Lips he’d already been taken by, hypnotized by, even, and his body had reacted to the thought of having his way with her for the sake of his sexual frustration.
For the woman staring back at him, this Nicole Hunt he was out to find, watch, gather information on—but to eventually protect, or kill?—was none other than the sexy short woman he’d bumped into outside the Coach store.
She was his target.
She was the one in trouble.
She was on the run.
And, dammit, she was the one who’d made his neglected cock throb at the mere touch of his hand on her arm.
Are you fucking kidding me? What are the chances?
He shook his head at the clear joke the universe was playing on him.
Nicole Hunt. Nerdy programmer. Honors graduate from Stanford University. Daughter of Brigadier General Harlan Hunt, USAF (Ret.), mother deceased, and a notation of a “closed subject” in her file, not accessible for his clearance level.
Nicole Hunt. The troublemaker who’d caused someone of great importance to want to know her whereabouts and her every move. The woman smart enough to know something risky was up and double-hoofed it out of town. Or, was that part of her plan… if she had one?
Goddammit, the thoughts swirled around in his head like a Tilt-a-Whirl at the county fair. Yet, there she was, standing off to the side at Gate A11, chewing on her forefinger and shifting her eyes around nervously.
Yeah, Nicole Hunt, as sexy as she was, well, the woman definitely was up to something.
It was Nick’s job to find out what the almighty hell it was exactly.
12
Nick
Nick watched Nicole from a safe distance. She sort of slunk into the background, crouched down in her seat and almost folded into herself as she waited for her flight to start boarding. Her eyes shifted left and right, seemingly aware of her surroundings. Ironically, though, her gaze hadn’t landed on him since their chance encounter in front of the Coach store. Then again, he knew how to remain unnoticed. It was his specialty.
What were the odds of them having interaction before actually meeting, before he’d had the opportunity to even know she was the one he’d be trailing? Shit like that didn’t just happen. She’d been placed in his path. Not that he thought some divine hand was at play, moving them around like human chess pieces. Still, he couldn’t deny running into her had done something to him. All of a sudden, the question wasn’t just whether or not he had done his job, but how he could stay on this particular job watching Nicole for a while longer.
Which was all kinds of fucked up.
One of the reasons he had agreed to work for The Company following his discharge from the Army was he could almost be his own boss with no ties to anything and wouldn’t have someone waiting and worrying at home. As it was, he was frequently in harm’s way, though it was usually one of his own doing—like the warehouse fire. Thankfully, he hadn’t taken the contractor position he’d been offered. A well-known defense contractor requested him by name for a mission in Afghanistan. He’d served there before, but this assignment would have been a contracted/civilian role. They even offered him three times his highest Army pay, but he turned it down anyway. That sort of job wasn’t for him. He’d run the risk of becoming a statistic from a random rebel attack. Hell, even the freaking cold in the mountains that nearly froze his balls off the first time he’d experienced it.
No thanks. The Company might have some secretive dealings, but Nick always felt safe, protected, but most of all, calling the shots.
And, he’d do that now for Nicole Hunt. He’d see this through to whatever end came of it.
Goddamn, she was gorgeous. Not your typical flashy looker, rather subtle… natural… in a sexy sort of just climbed out of bed and tugged on her guy’s clothes sort of way not knowing how much her lack of overt girly-ness turned him on.
His groin ached at the
image in his mind. His fingers sifting through her thick hair. Her voice, a tinge on the smoky side, a bit scratchy from having screamed out his name from pure ecstasy.
He shook his head to physically snap out of it. Nicole Hunt was a target. A mark. Nothing more.
In spite of his self-warnings, he couldn’t help wondering who might miss her while she slipped away from the Bay area. Was there a boyfriend? A fiancé? A friend with benefits? Well, no, because it would have been in the dossier he’d read earlier. Still, someone as stunning—and apparently smart and successful—as Nicole Hunt would unquestionably have people concerned for her safety.
He remembered reading about her father, a retired Air Force officer and conjectured whether or not Nicole was going to be with him. The record showed he currently lived alone in a golf course community in Scottsdale. Nicole’s mother, Anna, had died a dozen years ago, with a note on the file that further information into her cause of death was “classified.” Was it a result of something the general had been working on?
Poor Nicole. She’d have lost her mother when she was… twelve. A bit older than Nick was when it happened in his world. Still, he knew what it was to lose the woman who’d brought you into this world. Peeking over at Nicole, he wondered if she’d been close to her mother, was their relationship good, was it a happy childhood?
His thoughts shifted to his own adolescence which was out of the ordinary, because no matter the assignment, Nick was always able to keep his own feelings, judgments, and his past out of it. Not right now, though. His youthful years had been filled with shuffling about and never really being in one place for too long or even with one family for more than a year – except the Martins. They were the only people he’d consider family now, though he’d been away for what felt like forever.
It had been some time since Nick had been on US soil. As he waited to be called onto his flight to New York’s JFK, he wondered whether this assignment would be long enough to allow him to check in with his adoptive parents. He hadn’t seen them in a few years, and although they were used to his constant traveling, even he kind of missed them. They were always hopeful he’d respond to their love that the possibility of becoming closer as a family, even for someone as damaged as he was.
His father had been career military—Special Forces, as well—and had served in Vietnam and the beginning of Desert Storm. Norwood Taylor, though, had suffered through years of sickness related to exposure to Agent Orange and he succumbed to terminal cancer. It had consumed his body when Nick was only four years old. Nick’s mother, Julia, so distraught over losing her husband and the love of her life, joined him in death a month to the day thanks to an overdose of sleeping pills. Her heartbreak for her husband was more than the love she had for the life they’d brought into the world together. Nick had been a ward of the state, bounced around from foster home to foster home until the Martins, Sara-Fay, and Henry, simple folks who owned and worked a mom and pop winery in upstate New York, took him in and raised him as their own.
They’d tried to teach him the love of the land, the smell and feel of the earth between your fingers, and the mixing and science behind growing the grapes, but he had a higher calling… to follow the path of his birth father into the Army, to serve his country, and to succeed more than his father and somehow, on some level, make him proud.
Nick couldn’t do anything about his family issues, nor did he care to. It was what it was. He refused to get stuck in his own head, imagining what could have been or where he might have ended up if things had been different. His mother gave him up for adoption all those years ago, and no amount of wishing or wondering would change that. He had closed himself off since then, and had even rejected his adoptive parents’ desperate attempts to love him like their own son. By then, it was too late for anyone to steer his wounded soul in the right direction. His past made him a machine, born, groomed, and trained for the purpose of completing his assigned missions through meticulous planning and the ability to adapt to the most inhospitable situations.
As he hung back watching her, he realized Nicole Hunt was one smart, observant piece of ass. She noticed what other people would have ignored. Without looking, she avoided a suitcase that rolled into her path at the last second, dodged an older couple who stopped short in front of her, and effortlessly picked up a passport and boarding pass that fell as someone walked by, almost as though she had a bird’s eye view of everything around her. And, she did it all with a coffee in her hand. This took more than attention to one’s surroundings.
It took training.
Fuck.
She had probably made him already.
He leaned back more into the column where three others gathered with their phones plugged in charging on the one outlet that was available. He noticed she found a remote seat in the gate area and made herself almost seem small… invisible.
He wished he’d had more information on this woman. There was something in her history which had prepared her to hide in plain sight, navigate prying eyes, and disappear the way she was doing right now. Nick chalked it up to her father’s work experience. Military brats—from any branch of service—pretty much got the benefit of years of preparation without the need for basic training or military service themselves. Osmosis from the structured and dutiful parent. Perhaps some of her father’s instincts rubbed off on her, because it was obvious she hadn’t done time in the military.
He glimpsed across the airport to where Nicole sat, eyes glued to her phone. He hoped she wasn’t doing anything stupid like posting on social media or corresponding via text or email with anyone. If she weren't using a burner phone, like him, then anyone looking for her would be able to trace the signal to her known cell phone number. He paced across to the other side of the terminal into the waiting area for their flight, crossing behind her to get a view of what she was doing. He snickered, but kept walking, as he noted she was engaged in a heated battle of some sort of phone app game. Everyone had their stress relief, so it was a relief to know she was still as incognito as she was hoping to be here at the airport.
Lingering to observe her a bit, he watched as she shucked off her light jacket. She stood up to wrench her arms out of it more successfully. She wore a simple black tank top and tight-fitting jeans that hugged every curve of her ass and cover her sexy legs that went on for miles, even though she was shorter in stature. Her shoulders and arms were bare for the moment, probably because this part of the terminal was warmer than other parts. Her skin was tanned and slightly muscular, like she went to the gym or ran or biked without much fanfare. He couldn’t stand those women who constantly bragged and commented about their gym routine, how much Pilates they did, or what their trainer told them to do. Nicole Hunt simply did and let her body do the talking for her.
Even though he was certain she hadn’t dressed this way to draw prying eyes to her, he couldn’t turn away. He’d felt the heat radiating from her when he brushed her arm earlier, almost an invitation for more.
She wadded up her jacket and bent over to cram it into her bag that sat on the chair next to her. The action gave him a glorious view of her ass and the tightness of it. He felt his Adam’s apple dip down and back up as he gulped hard at the image before him. It didn’t help when she straightened back up and stretched her firm arms over her head, and then moved her hands to scoop up her long tresses into a messy bun on the top of her head, securing it with an elastic she wore on her right wrist. The motion was one of the sexiest things he’d seen in a very long time, and he actually had a physical reaction when his stomach flexed and his cock tightened.
Damn.
Underestimating this woman was a big fucking mistake.
13
Nick
Nick had to keep a watchful eye on this one. He observed her as she retook her seat, picked up the coffee cup next to her, and returned to her game as if she had no freaking clue what she had done to his libido. For all he knew, she had an inkling she was being watched, so she was pulling out wo
manly stops to distract whoever was out to track her down.
He licked his lips and cleared his throat slightly to clear the erotic image of her legs wrapped around his waist, and all that hair of hers fanned out on his pillow as he fucked her into submission. Nothing had affected him like this in a while, and he wished he could chalk it up to sleep deprivation and the need for extra caffeine.
But that would be fooling himself.
A wave of nervous energy passed over him, providing the much-needed reminder that he was still on the job. That assignment included getting on the plane and following her out of the San Fran area. Hopefully, by then, they’d shake off most of the men on her tail.
Nicole was smart to use SFO Airport instead of leaving out of the one in San Jose, which was closer to her residence. It was clever, but not enough. He was able to find her because The Company knew where she was and what she was up to. And if they could track her movements, others could as well. Although, he would do everything in his power to keep them away from her if they got too close. The Company hadn’t given him that task. For now, according to Nick’s handler, Nick was supposed to keep an eye on her, but something about Nicole brought out a primal urge inside him. He had to protect her. Which was potentially dangerous for them both. Assignments changed all the time. The Company could just as easily ask him to eliminate her. And the Company got whatever it wanted.
Protection Page 7