by Dawn Ryder
Of course, such a skill must be handy when he carried a gun around.
There was a flash of light off the blade of a pocketknife. Mercer wielded it expertly, flicking it out and slipping the tip of it beneath the ribbed cuff of her pants. A quick jerk of his wrist cut the fabric and he kept going until he reached her knee.
“It looks like we’re both members of the ‘lucky’ club today.”
Their host returned, a sort of beat-up-looking tackle box in one hand. “Glad to hear she isn’t going to bleed all over my garage and leave me with the chore of disposing of her carcass. It’s a little harder to buy bags of lye in this state. Not enough farms.”
Zoe gasped, unable to contain her horror.
“Relax, Zoe. If Vitus were serious, he’d have told me it was my job to haul away your body,” Mercer said ruefully.
“Seems fair enough. You showed up with her.”
Vitus dropped the box near Mercer and hooked his hands back into his waistband. He’d shrugged into a shirt but hadn’t bothered to button it.
“I thought you were working a case.”
Mercer opened the box and lifted the top tray so it exposed all the ones beneath it. He searched out what he wanted before answering.
“She was my target,” Mercer answered.
Zoe narrowed her eyes. “Only because you’re stupid enough to doubt my family.”
There was a soft snort from their host. “You pulled a real gem, Mercer. Almost makes me sorry I wasn’t available. I enjoy feisty women.”
Mercer smeared something that stung like hell over the open gash in her skin. She dug her hands into the padded chair seat.
“A little warning would be nice,” she groused while a wave of pain sent her vision black for a few seconds. When she could see clearly once more, she found herself being studied by Vitus. The blue of his eyes reminded her of Saxon but the long hair seemed in direct conflict to the team leader’s clean-cut look. Still, the resemblance was uncanny. It was in the shape of his jaw and cheekbones, too.
“Are you related to Saxon?” she asked out of impulse. She felt the need to prove she wasn’t so intimidated she wouldn’t voice what was on her mind. And that she wasn’t slow on the uptake.
“Half brother. Which means I didn’t inherit the stick up my ass.”
She smiled, unable to help herself. Mercer began binding her leg, which sent another dull shaft of agony through her.
“Saxon has the right goal, even if he sometimes has to dig a little to get at the truth.”
Suspicion still coated Mercer’s words. Zoe looked down at him to find his dark eyes focused on her. Conflict flickered in those dark orbs, and she discovered a similar feeling twisting her gut.
Maybe tonight was a clever ploy to regain her trust.
She shivered, her emotions too tender to deal with the idea.
“She looks a little shocky. Better bring her into the house,” Vitus muttered casually, as if they weren’t talking about a gunshot wound.
Mercer offered her a hand. Zoe looked at it suspiciously before placing hers in it. Maybe he was just trying to worm his way back into her confidence. If that was so, she needed to learn to play the game better than he did. Her family honor was on the line.
Vitus led them through a darkened section of the garage, but it didn’t smell musty. The garage was clean, every corner and shelf. There was an entire wall of tools, Peg-Board running up the wall, and every single item was in order and shiny, a contrast with the exterior of the house.
They walked through the backyard and up to a single door that led into the house. Every window was covered by dark curtains, making the place look as inviting as a tomb.
Inside was a different matter.
The scent of coffee lingered in the kitchen, a pot of dark java resting inside a coffeemaker. No white plastic model appliance for Vitus; this one was stainless steel. The countertops were granite, and there wasn’t a speck of grease or a crumb in sight, only a ceramic mug.
“You know your way around, Mercer. Tuck her into bed and come see me.”
Zoe frowned. “You have some things in common with your brother.”
Vitus turned to consider her. “Yeah, I like staying alive.” His attention lowered to her newly bandaged leg. “Something you seem to have a little challenge with at the moment.” He winked at her. “Don’t worry, darlin’, you’ve come to the right man.”
Mercer slid an arm around her waist, moving her forward while his buddy offered her a grin that was sexy as hell.
“She came in with me.”
Vitus shrugged. “I can handle sharing.” His lips thinned, taking on a sexual look that made her mouth go dry. “I wonder if she can.”
“Don’t,” Mercer snapped.
Vitus grinned, looking completely unrepentant. If anything, the man appeared to be offering her a dare. Mercer steered her away and through an open bedroom door.
“He’s testing you. Trying to see how well you deal with stress.”
“Lovely,” she muttered, trying to decide why Mercer was so full of informative comments all of a sudden. Suspicion wrapped around her like a blanket while she watched him take care of her personal comfort.
Mercer pulled a drawer open and rummaged around for a moment before pulling out a pair of sweatpants. “It looked to me like you were mesmerized by the idea of a ménage à trois.”
She grabbed the pants from him. “And you sound kind of jealous for someone who keeps calling me a target.”
She went into a small bathroom and shut the door on him. When she emerged with the sweatpants on, Mercer was leaning against the iron footrail of the double bed that dominated the room.
“Someone’s got you marked as a target, Zoe. I’m your best bet for avoiding the toe tags they’ve got picked out for us.”
“You inserted yourself into this, so don’t think I’m going to feel sorry for you.”
He shrugged. “I guess if you’d rather be dead and headed for a cold-case file because the local cops have no clue why someone would want to shut you up, fine by me. Go ahead and keep nursing that injured pride because I got into your bed.” He pegged her with a hard stare. “It wasn’t one-sided, baby. Not even close.”
He was smug.
But right.
She leaned against the wall. “I appreciate your help tonight.” She had to force each word out. Acceptance flickered in his eyes briefly.
“There’re some painkillers on the bedside table.” A glass of water was waiting for her, too.
“You’re the one who keeps calling me a target. How the hell do you expect that to make me feel?” She crossed in front of him, hating how much effort it took.
His hand snaked out and captured her wrist. “Maybe I’m having trouble deciding which side you’re on, Zoe. Are you really so clean, or has your father taught you more than your innocent eyes tell me?”
He bent her arm at just the right angle to keep her close.
Too close for her comfort, because it allowed her to feel his warmth. His scent teased her senses, unleashing a need to lean on him, actually reach up and kiss him. Part of her really wanted to take shelter in his embrace, just for a bit anyway.
“Damn it, Zoe.” He turned her around and gave her a push that landed her on her butt on the bed. It bounced slightly but didn’t give so much as a faint creak. “We’re in deep now.”
“We’re? When did this become a we thing?” She slapped his hand away from her. “I thought you just introduced me as your target. Why don’t you go call your boss and let him know where I am? You can ride off scot-free the moment you do that.”
“I should.”
Two little words had never impacted her so harshly before.
Fool.
“Well, fine by me,” she snapped.
She wanted to hurt him or at least insult him. But there was a flicker of heat in his eyes that stopped her from continuing. She recognized that flame. It wasn’t something she might explain her way around, either. It touch
ed her, deep down inside where instinct ruled. Arousal flared up in all the spots he’d made tingle so intensely.
She was a damn fool, all right.
“That part of the operation is over.” There was a hard certainty in his voice.
“Oh, great. Thanks for sharing that bit with me.”
He leaned over and hooked her around the waist with one solid arm. With a quick motion he had her secured against his body, not even a millimeter between them to help her maintain any level of composure. Her senses went into overdrive, soaking up every delightful sensation.
“You’re welcome, Zoe.” He cupped her nape, not even granting her the freedom to turn away. She wanted to. The need to hide was strong.
But there was something else, too, enjoyment of his strength and the demand his imprisoning embrace conveyed. His confidence offered shelter from the fear of the unknown.
“And since we’re past the business stage of this relationship, I’d like to enter into the next stage with very clear intentions.”
“I don’t—”
His mouth cut her off, sealing her protest beneath a kiss that was as demanding as his embrace promised. She withered, unable to remain still. Pleasure ripped into her, shredding every reason she had to ignore how much she enjoyed his lips sliding across hers.
It was too pleasurable for rational thought …
She made a soft sound of protest, one she didn’t fully understand, but it gained her no mercy. Instead his lips pressed hers to open, his tongue teasing her lower lip and sending enough delight across her nerve endings to draw a gasp from her.
Mercer took instant advantage, thrusting his tongue deep. She shivered, her passage heating and begging for a hard thrust, too. It was so deeply sexual, so intense, she gripped his jacket lapels, wanting him closer. There was too much sensation filling her to remain still and her hunger became consuming. She kissed him back, meeting his demand with high expectation. For a moment the kiss flared hot enough to be called a firestorm, their mouths moving in perfect rhythm.
“I’m here to stay, baby. Get used to me.”
Mercer captured a wrist and pulled her arm straight down. She heard a tiny click and felt the cold kiss of metal against her skin.
“Are you serious?”
Her thoughts were still muddled with arousal. She didn’t want to think about anything beyond the need twisting inside her. But the guy had handcuffed her.
Mercer surveyed her with a determined glint in his eyes. “I’m making sure you don’t do something stupid while I’m talking to Vitus.”
She looked down and stared at the set of handcuffs binding her to the iron headboard. The elegant swirls of leaves suddenly lost their serenity as she recognized just how solid it was.
“I’ll be back,” he muttered on the way to the door.
“Stay gone, I don’t need you back to mess with me. Just leave the key,” she insisted.
He turned around in a motion that instantly reminded her of how deadly he might be. For some reason she kept forgetting.
Like while he was kissing her …
“Where are you going to go, Zoe?” He came back toward her, stopping close enough for her to touch him. She wasn’t sure if his aim was to intimidate her or challenge her. In any case, she wasn’t taking it. She shot him a hard look, making it clear she wasn’t backing down. Mercer didn’t care for it. He braced his hands on the footrail of the bed.
“Who do you trust now, if not me? I don’t need you sliding out the window because you get some notion into your head that the police are somehow your friends. Saxon’s superior signed the order for us to move in on you. Remember that before you go thinking any branch of law enforcement is going to be interested in helping you clear your name.”
“That sounds like a bunch of bullshit designed to keep me clinging to you like a lost kitten.” She wasn’t helping herself get free by asking, but there was something about his boldness that demanded she stand up to him with the same brass-balls attitude. “Regular cops aren’t as insane as you and Saxon. They actually recognize a civilian when they see one. One call to my dad and I will be fine.”
His eyes flashed with warning.
“The information is moving through your computers. If the local cops dig up that trail, they might decide to charge you.”
“That’s bullshit!”
“Is it?” His voice turned deadly calm. “If the guilty party disappears into the night, leaving your computer with evidence on it, what’s to stop them from deciding you’re guilty? We’ve got nothing on Tim and everything on you. If you and I were dead on that hallway floor, the report would have my name listed as your partner. Why do you think the bullets started flying the moment we were together?”
He might be right.
She hated him for it but … he might be right.
“What have you got then, Zoe?” he said, digging into her while she was undecided.
Zoe shut her mouth, desperately trying to think of a logical argument. She was trapped, a noose tightening around her neck. He had her. That was the long and short of it.
Mercer nodded. “You’re pissed but you’re not stupid. That’s something I like about you, Zoe. Feeling emotion for you stirring inside me isn’t something I like. You were my target and I won’t apologize for how we met. It was my duty.”
“So take these things off me and let me take care of myself. Go back to your team and wait for the next set of orders that include whoring yourself out for the good of the team.”
He surprised her by grinning. “You care about me, too.”
“Not that … deeply.” It was the best denial she could manage without flat-out lying. It did bug her that he’d wormed his way into her bed on assignment, and the idea of him going to another target turned her stomach. “Should I trust you? I mean, really?” She detested how wounded she sounded. Where was her temper when she needed it?
He shrugged, leaning against the bedroom door instead of opening it. “Why don’t you think about that while I’m gone. But I’ll tell you this, Zoe: Your chances of beating this thing without me are pretty low.”
“Words like that lose their charm when coming on the heels of you handcuffing me.”
He grinned again, too damn smug for her taste. “Like I said, Zoe, your chances are better with me because I know how to play dirty, and the man responsible for selling intel is definitely playing for keeps. Go against him without me and you’ll earn that toe tag he wants to tie on you. He’s left enough of a trail on your email accounts to get the powers that be to believe you’re the guilty party—and if you’re dead, there won’t be any argument. That’s his plan. Don’t doubt it.”
His lips pressed into a hard line, all traces of amusement fading from his eyes. “I enjoyed being in your bed, Zoe, and it goes deeper than the mission plan.”
He turned and pulled the door open while she was stunned into silence. She ended up staring at the closed door, still trying to think of a good retort. Sitting on the bed was the best she could do. The pain pills drew a suspicious look from her while she battled to decide what she wanted to believe.
Was Mercer someone she should trust? Or should she suspect Saxon of planning the sniper attack? One thing she’d noticed was that Saxon and his team were all deadly serious when it came to carrying out their mission.
Shooting at them wouldn’t be too far a stretch. Not if it drove her back into Mercer’s arms. Cultivated trust between them.
But that left her handcuffed and at the mercy of a man she didn’t know.
Shit.
* * *
“Where is the Magnus girl?” Tyler asked the second Saxon picked up the phone.
Saxon was used to his superior’s direct attitude when it came to calls. No greeting, just cut to the point. “Running from the bad guys.”
“I need her brought in.” Tyler laid down his order. “Immediately. I want that hard drive decoded. Use any means necessary to get her cooperation.”
The line went dead.
It was a coldhearted order. One Saxon wasn’t unfamiliar with receiving. The game they were playing paid out in blood. So a lot of the time the only way to win was by spilling blood on the other side. Nothing was amiss or abnormal, and yet he leaned back in his chair trying to decide what was bugging him.
Tyler Martin had been his superior for years. Questioning the man went against the grain. But it was still there, chewing on his insides, combining with the scar that was left from the way Tyler had handled his brother Vitus.
That was a wound that still leaked resentment, as well as causing misgivings about Tyler’s command style. Maybe that was all it was. A specter rising up from a situation Saxon felt was handled unfairly. If so, he’d have to get over it.
Life wasn’t fair.
CHAPTER FOUR
“Do you know what you’re doing?”
Vitus was leaning against the kitchen counter, his fingers wrapped around a mug of coffee. He still hadn’t buttoned up his shirt, and his hair was only tucked partially behind his ears. He looked lazy, but anyone who knew the man understood the deadly power hidden beneath the blasé exterior. His hair was growing out, sort of a calendar, marking the amount of time he’d been off special assignment.
Mercer didn’t care for how much he noticed that detail or how great an impact it made. Vitus had been one of the best and he’d been taken down for nothing more than one man’s pride. Or maybe one woman’s. It was still unclear whether it had been Congressman Jeb Ryland or his daughter Damascus who had wanted vengeance when their relationship soured. Frankly, Mercer didn’t give a shit. Stripping a man like Vitus of his shield over a roll in the hay was low. Plenty of special assignments included them. Living on the edge drove people together in a quest to keep in touch with life.
A fact that also just might be influencing his own thinking, but he honestly didn’t give a crap. He was sticking close to Zoe and that was the end of the discussion.
Mercer walked over to the coffeemaker and poured himself a measure before turning to face his buddy. “Tell me again, Vitus, why is it you haven’t signed back on with Saxon?”