Sinful Deception (Covert Affairs Book 3)

by Jordan,Skye

  Her mind searched for answers. Cedro must have run the border again, agreed to some desperate arrangement to make payment when he got here. She scanned her bank accounts, then friends she might be able to borrow money from. “H-how much?”

  “Twenty grand.”

  Disbelief clouded her mind. “Twenty—?”

  “You heard me. And we want it. Now.”

  “I— I— We—” What could she say? She didn’t have it. She knew Cedro didn’t have it. Had no idea how they could get it. “Why?”

  “Why doesn’t matter. What matters is he owes. And that he betrayed us. Either you find your brother and tell us where he is…” The man leaned closed, reached back, and fisted Tova’s hair, jerking her head hard. Pain crawled over her scalp, and she cried out. “Or you’ll be the one to pay for his debt, chica.”

  * * * * *

  Marcus turned onto Sugarman Lane with squealing tires and jerked to a stop where all the cop cars were clustered on the corner. He’d had too much time to think on his way over—thirty excruciating minutes to imagine all that could have happened to Tova. What might be happening to Tova right this minute. What could still happen to Tova.

  He jumped out of the truck and jogged toward the house where cops huddled near the door. These were multimillion dollar homes, which didn’t fit with Tova’s rendition of money problems—roommate or not.

  “Who’s in charge?” he yelled before he’d even reached the sidewalk.

  “Brooks,” one of the cops near the door called inside. “Lucero’s here.”

  Zoe Brooks had been Marcus’s teammate on the line until a few months before, when she’d transferred into investigations at Immigrations and Customs Enforcement, a branch of Department of Homeland Security. He’d called her as soon as he’d left his house to ask her for help with the local authorities and extra resources for Tova’s case. But he hadn’t expected Zoe to come herself.

  She met Marcus in the foyer, and he pulled her into a hug. She wore jeans, a T-shirt, and running shoes. She was young and pretty, and one of the toughest agents he’d ever worked with. He’d trusted her with his life on numerous occasions.

  “What are you doing here?” He pulled away, holding her by the arms.

  “It turns out Tova Sorensen’s brother, Cedro Sorensen, has popped up on our radar as a two-time loser at the border.” She glanced around and lowered her voice. “I may have dirtied up that information just a touch to give us an in. That and a busy night for the locals allowed us to play.”

  Marcus didn’t know what to think about Tova anymore. “Sorensen’s not American?”

  Zoe tilted her head toward the hall, indicating she wanted to talk privately. When they’d stepped several yards away from the others and into a darkened living room, Zoe kept her voice low. “You’ve stumbled onto quite a mishmash here, my friend. Cedro Sorensen is a Mexican national.”

  He slapped a hand to his forehead. “Tova? Fuck, is she American?”

  Zoe rested a hand on his arm and gave him a gentle squeeze. “Tova is American. The only American in the family. They were born to the same parents—one Mexican, one Swedish, but Tova was born in San Ysidero, Cedro in Tijuana.”

  The turmoil that must exist in her family instantly filled Marcus’s mind.

  “We contacted Tova’s parents in Mexico, who say they haven’t heard from Cedro in a week, and they’re credible.” Zoe released his arm and started down the hall, “Come on back here with me.”

  As they walked down a hardwood-floored hallway, Zoe said, “The house is owned by a Kelly Burton, male, thirty-three. He inherited the house from his mother when she died two years ago. He’s a flight attendant for Delta, and he’s currently in Arizona on a layover. Comes home tomorrow. He confirmed that Tova is his roommate and that she house-sits and cat-sits for him when he’s out of town. She works nights at Studio Diner and attends UCSD.”

  He relaxed a little. “That all lines up with what she told me.”

  Zoe and Marcus donned gloves and booties handed over by one of the cops standing at the door, then stepped into a room—Tova’s room. He recognized it from the videos. But seeing it, standing in it, seemed…surreal. The reality of it put a whole different spin on the situation. Before this, Tova had been an infatuation, an intangible fantasy, no more real than a clear daydream. Now, she was real. Flesh-and-blood real. And his infatuation with her seemed to morph into true affection.

  “Clay,” Zoe said to the crime scene tech dusting for prints, “can we have a few minutes?”

  “Sure.” He lifted his dark head from inspecting the surface of the hardwood floor, nodded to Marcus, and exited the room.

  Marcus couldn’t take his gaze off the blood smears on the polished hardwood floor. Couldn’t pull his mind from the sight of the object—he still didn’t know what it had been—hitting Tova’s shoulder or hearing her cry out.

  “Marcus?”

  He refocused on Zoe and wiped sweat from his forehead. “What?”

  She licked her lips, glanced around the room, and Marcus’s gaze followed—to the stripper pole, to her open closet where sexy costumes and lingerie hung, to the webcam, to the sparkling heels at their feet. “When you called and said she was a friend, I didn’t question you. But…how, exactly, do you know Tova?”

  Marcus wiped his face with both hands. “I met her online.”

  “Like a chat room?”

  Fuuuuuuck. He rubbed his eyes. “Sort of.”

  He took a deep breath and explained how they’d met.

  Zoe’s lips twisted; her brow furrowed. She pressed the clipboard in her hands to her chest and crossed her arms over the top. “I’ve known you a long time, Marcus. This”—she gestured with one hand to the room—“isn’t you. You can’t even approach a woman at a bar. You always wait for them to make the first move. The guys had to virtually drag you to a strip club for a bachelor’s party, for God’s sake.”

  He wasn’t about to waste time trying to explain why he thought Tova was different. “You’re right, it’s not me. I’ve been working a lot, haven’t had time to date, which I suck at anyway. Trigger suggested… Never mind. I was just trying it out.”

  “There’s your first mistake—taking advice from Trigger on women,” she said. “But I have heard about the work. I talked to Trig two weeks ago. He says you’re still working like a dog, even after they’ve got the new guy trained.”

  He held up his hands and fought to hold on to his patience. “Zoe, I appreciate your concern. I do. But right now, I need to focus on Tova—”

  “Everything that can be done to find Tova is being done. And this confirms what Trigger was telling me when he said you haven’t been yourself for months. I’m really worried about you. We both know everyone’s safety is compromised when one person pushes himself too hard. Trigger says you’re obsessed with arrests, that you’re taking chances with your safety. He’s even gone as far as to say you’ve become reckless in order to get the takedown.”

  “Really?” He planted his hands on his hips. “This coming from a woman whose last assignment ended with a smuggler’s gun in her face?”

  “Maybe that’s why it’s coming from me. We both took Cody’s death hard. We both drove ourselves harder after his death. I found a way out before it killed me. I want that for you too.”

  “I know, Zoe. I know.” Marcus blew out a breath, raked both hands through his hair, and paced Tova’s room. Her bedroom window faced the street that intersected Sugarman. “Do we have any leads?”

  “Uniforms are still canvassing, but initial reports from the neighbors say the vehicle is a dark-colored, four-door sedan, most likely a Toyota, with a very loud muffler—not the smartest kidnappers in the bunch. But no license plates, so your descriptions of the attackers are the best we’re going to get.”

  “Fuck.” Marcus folded his arms and stood at the window, fighting to keep horrible visions of what might be happening to Tova out of his head.

  At the end of the block, a small sedan t
urned the corner onto the side street. Not a cop cruiser. Then it took a sharp, jerky U-turn and squealed as it took off again. “What the—”

  His words cut off at the sight of a shadow moving in the dark. Rolling into the pool of yellow cast by the streetlight. Before it reached the edge of the light, Marcus recognized the size and shape of a bound and gagged body.

  “Tova.” He’d turned and run before his brain had fully engaged.

  “It’s them,” he yelled as he darted down the hall and out the front door, pulling his weapon from the holster at his hip. To the cops he left behind on the lawn, he called, “Suspects headed West on La Jolla Scenic. Small dark sedan. Go after them, dammit.”

  Marcus bolted out the door and down the street. The few seconds it took to reach Tova seemed to stretch and expand, his gaze soaking in the terrifying sight of her still in the flood of harsh yellow. His mind pinged to the way the asphalt jarred his body, unlike the dirt on the Mesa. He prayed she was still alive. Hoped they hadn’t raped her. Terrified of seeing the damage they’d done.

  Then he was there. His heart in the pit of his stomach. Holstering his weapon. Falling to his knees. Turning her toward him by the shoulders. Scanning her face, her sweatshirt, her legs for major injuries. Blood smeared her cheek and chin. Her hands were bound behind her, duct tape around her ankles and covering her mouth.

  “Oh God, Tova.” He pushed her hair off her face. “Tova.”

  Zoe crouched on the other side of Tova and pressed a hand to her carotid. Three units whipped down the street, lights and sirens blaring.

  Zoe glanced at Marcus and gave him a solid nod. “Strong.”

  “Thank God.” Everything in his chest released. He tugged gently, slowly at the tape over her mouth. Her head rolled side to side. “Tova, honey, wake up.”

  Her eyelashes fluttered, then opened, and she twisted away from Marcus. “No! Let me go!”

  “Tova, it’s Marcus.” He held her as gently as he could while trying to keep her from tearing away. “You’re okay. It’s Marcus. You’re safe.”

  She stilled, and her gaze focused on his face, terrified, her chest heaving, body shaking. “M-Marcus?”

  “Hey.” He forced a smile and stroked her cheek. “Not the best way to meet for the first time, right?”

  She whimpered, pushed to her knees, and flung herself at him.

  He caught her, wrapped her in his arms, buried his face in her hair, and let gratitude swamp him. “Hey, baby, it’s okay now.”

  Her whole body shook. She was small and fit, and she smelled amazing, a seductive, floral scent. He indulged with his face tucked to the side of her head, whispering, “You’re okay, baby. It’s over.”

  Zoe cut the binding from her hands, and as soon as they were free, Tova threw her arms around Marcus’s neck and clung. The curves of her sweet, warm body molded to him. Her hands clawed into his hair, her face pressed against his neck, her hot breath swept over his skin.

  And for that brief moment, he was in heaven.

  Seven

  Tova’s brain wasn’t working right. All she could do was cling to Marcus. God, he felt so good, so warm, so solid, so safe. She never wanted to leave the circle of his arms.

  “Don’t let me go,” she whispered against his skin, voice shaking. “Please, don’t let me go.”

  Now that the ordeal was over, her adrenaline had crashed, and she couldn’t stop trembling.

  He pushed to his feet, and Tova locked on to him like a monkey, arms at his neck, legs around his hips. Still, she couldn’t get close enough. She knew there were other people here, maybe—probably—people he knew, but she just couldn’t let go.

  “I’ve got you,” he murmured, holding her tight. “You’re okay now.”

  He carried her all the way to the house, his sexy, deep voice smoothing away all the tight ripples along her nerves. His hair was short and baby soft. She might not have gotten a look at his body, but it damn well felt like warm granite against her own. And hell, he smelled like 100 percent man.

  Nothing like a little distraction to chase terror away.

  By the time he took the stairs to the front porch and sat down on the sofa in the living room, Tova felt like she’d found a sliver of her sanity. She kept her head buried against his shoulder, peeking over her arm only enough to see where they were going. He sat, sinking into the sofa’s cushions. Tova shifted tighter into his lap. Fisted one hand in his hair, one in the back of his shirt. She had to be choking him, but he didn’t complain.

  “When she’s settled,” a female voice said, “we should get her checked out by a medic. I’m going to check on the pursuit.”

  Then silence closed in, the voices and footsteps distant.

  Her heart kept up a relentless beat in her ears. “Oh my God.” She wasn’t sure how many times she’d repeated that phrase between the time she’d thrown herself at him in the street and now. Close to a thousand, minimum. “You feel so good.” She squeezed her eyes tight against the burn of tears. “Thank you for coming.”

  “Honey,” he said, his voice warm, compassionate, but serious. “Did they hurt you? Do you need a hospital?”

  She shook her head as shivers continued to rack her body. Marcus pulled a blanket from the back of the sofa, curving it around her shoulders. Her world righted and stopped spinning. The trauma was over. She was safe. Marcus was here. Everything was okay.

  Tova let the tension flow from her body.

  “I—I’m okay.” Her mind drifted over her body, noting pain, but found more pleasure at every place she and Marcus intersected. The trauma was over. She was safe. Relatively unharmed. Freaking lucky. Yeah, she was okay. Slowly, she released her rabid hold on him. “They just banged me around some. Pansy sonsofbitches…” She choked out the last in a weak laugh, then sucked air through a tight throat. “They just…tried to scare me. I’m fine.”

  “Did you hit your head when you came out of the car?” he asked, his fingers gently massaging her scalp through her hair.

  “I…don’t think so.” His touch released tension all along her head and neck. “But you can do that as long as you want.”

  She shifted her face against his neck, and the day’s beard growth scratched her lips, cheek, and chin. Mmm, what a delicious sensation. It had been so long… She drew in a breath of him, rich and male. One that opened a door of heat between her legs. She pursed her lips against the skin there.

  He groaned and shifted beneath her. A substantial bulge rubbed between her legs, and Tova caught her breath.

  “Baby,” Marcus whispered, the sound pained and harsh, “I think you’re going to have to move a little… You feel way too good right here.”

  She didn’t want to move, but she lifted her head and slid back on his thighs. She pushed the hair from her eyes and looked at Marcus, really looked at him, for the first time. Her gaze traveled over his face, forehead to chin, back, then did it again. And, Christ, he was…hot. The kind of hot that knotted Tova’s belly. Jet-black hair cut short, deep-set eyes as dark as his hair, brows like heavy slashes of midnight, full lips surrounded with a day’s worth of black stubble. All fitted in a triangular face that created masculine hollows of his cheeks.

  “God,” she breathed. “You’re…gorgeous.”

  Marcus burst out laughing, and, hell, his entire face lit up. He pulled her close for another hug, ran his hands down her back. “I think you’re still a little dazed. Let reality sink in and take another look.”

  She pushed off his chest, taking him all in, and realized for the first time that he was still in uniform—something dark, brown or olive green—including his badge, belt, weapon…everything. Dirty, mussed, shirttail half-untucked.

  She tugged the loose tail of his shirt up, revealing a T-shirt that she pushed away to expose his abs. They were lean and hard, and she felt nerves rumble in. Marcus was way more man than she’d ever had before. “Oh, wow. This whole…badge-and-gun-and-six-pack thing you’ve got going…is totally hot.”

  “B
aby…” He laughed a groan, pulling her hands away by the wrists. “We have a lot to talk about, with a lot of people. Then we’ll revisit this—if you still want to.”

  Oh hell. The little bubble of relief she’d drifted into popped. She might be stressed, even wigged, but she was still in her right mind—he was gorgeous, and his body was a temple. So why in the hell had he been surfing sexcams? She glanced down and turned his left hand.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “Looking for a wedding band. A man like you is never single.”

  A smirk lifted one side of his mouth. Tova’s stomach did that flop-and-fold thing it hadn’t done in so long she’d forgotten how it felt. “Honey, I’m not—”

  “How’s she doing?” A woman walked in. She looked about Tova’s age, maybe a little older, wearing jeans, a T-shirt, and a jacket with an ICE emblem on the left chest and the words Agent Brooks on the right.

  Tova rolled off Marcus’s lap, let go of his hands, and slid hers under her thighs. “I’m fine. ICE? Isn’t that Immigration?”

  The woman smiled and sat on an ottoman nearby. When she shifted, leaning her elbows on her knees, Marcus made a similar move, threading his fingers together and eyeing Tova, causing a stir in her belly.

  “Yes. Immigration and Customs Enforcement investigations,” she said. “I’m Zoe Brooks. Marcus and I used to work together at Border Patrol.”

  Cold shot through Tova. “Border Patrol. What…why…?” Her gaze shot to Marcus. “You said you were a—”

  Before she got the word “cop” out, her gaze slid to his shoulder, where a round patch spelled out US Border Control.

  “I’m a Border cop.”

  A sick, hot sensation flooded Tova’s gut. “Like…like the ones that chase people back into Mexico?”

  Marcus didn’t seem to notice the nervous break in her voice as he made a vague side-to-side motion with his head. “Yes and no. There’s a little more to it than that.”