Catch Me If You Can (Love's Command)

by Billi Jean

  A shout from across the baggage claim startled her into breaking eye contact. At the same time, she released the hold she had on him and took off running before he could reach his feet.

  “Dare? Dare? Check the fuck in, man!”

  Dare jumped into action and almost caught her, but his fingertips merely brushed her backpack and she was gone into the mingling mess of busy travelers. He chased, not sure why he’d just blown his cover, let alone let her get the drop on him so easily.

  “She’s on the run. South exit.”

  “What the fuck? You broke—”

  “I fucked up. She spotted me. Send men to the south exit and just let me catch her.”

  “Absolutely not. Stand down, Scott. No contact. Absolutely—”

  “Shit!” Dare burst through the nearest set of double doors, turned in a circle, but didn’t spot her. The street was empty except for cars and people walking to the parking area. The sidewalk was full of passengers being picked up, but not one of them wore a baggy sweatshirt and a purple backpack. No one was running. There was a ton of black, silky hair, but not one of them was his Asian princess.

  “Shit!”

  “Status?” Tazz demanded.

  “She’s gone.” He spun around to face the doors he’d just burst through. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted black hair like silk partially hiding a delicate profile and her bright backpack.

  “Got her!”

  She’d changed to a white blouse, and dark business jacket and pencil skirt, but he recognized her. How the hell she’d done the switch he had no idea. There’d been two, possibly three minutes, but in that time she’d transformed herself from college student home on break to sexy Wall Street broker.

  If she’d drawn eyes in the hoodie, she nearly stunned him in the skirt. A woman like that should never wear anything else, he decided, memorizing every rounded curve of her backside, then woke the hell up when he realized why he had such an amazing view of her lush ass.

  She was ducking into a cab.

  “She’s on the go.” He tore off after her, hailing the black SUV parked farther back. Tazz roared up to the curb seconds later.

  “Yellow cab number three four five eight. Follow, now!” he muttered as soon as he shut the door.

  “What were you thinking? Are you certain that was her? How did she change so quickly?”

  “Hell if I know, just go!”

  “The damn directive was to follow,” Tazz growled but hauled the SUV after her. “Follow, don’t—”

  “I fucking know. Just drive or I will!”

  Tazz shot him a frown, but Dare ignored it and concentrated on the woman in the cab.

  He knew her. She was familiar—so close to coming into focus, he could taste it. Of all the women he’d met in his lifetime, she just might be the one he couldn’t walk away from once he caught her. He shot the thought down, feeling his heart skip a beat. But the idea wouldn’t go away because she was someone.

  Something close to hope shot through his chest. Was she the woman from the desert? Could she be?

  * * * *

  Kylie turned in her seat and winced when she saw the big, black SUV.

  She had a tail.

  How did you screw this up so badly, Ky? A day into this nightmare and already I might fail. This should have been an easy in, easy out. It had been too, until the drop dead gorgeous agent had distracted her.

  Really, I just need to get laid.

  If only that was the answer. But yeah, it all boiled down to that, didn’t it? She’d been single for so long, she’d forgotten what it was like to have a man show interest in her.

  And what did you do the moment you saw a man you like? You got sidetracked by him.

  It wasn’t acceptable.

  They were nearly close enough for her to see the outline of two men in the front seat. Instead of them falling behind in the traffic, they were gaining on her. Turning back around, she told the driver to get her to the other side of town as quickly as possible and if he lost the Americans behind them, she’d throw in an extra ten thousand RBM. The driver glanced at her once, then put his foot down so hard she would have flown backwards if she hadn’t been expecting it. No one could out maneuver a Chinese taxi driver. Even in Korea.

  He grinned back at her, revealing stained and missing teeth when the SUV fell out of sight. She told him not to count on it being so easy, and true enough, seconds later, the SUV showed up again, barreling through three lanes of traffic to gain on them.

  The driver took one look in his rear-view mirror and took a corner hard enough to make the tires squeal.

  She ignored the drive and concentrated on turning her backpack inside out to create a red leather purse. She pulled a red sweater out, tugged it on, braided her hair and added red high heels. The quick change at the airport had been risky and should have worked to throw them off. This time, she couldn’t take any chances on being recognized. Not if she wanted to save her dad.

  As soon as her driver turned twice more, she withdrew money, threw it on the passenger seat, and shouted for him to take the next turn and stop. Within seconds she was out, and he was peeling away, more than happy to lead the Americans to the other side of town—without her.

  The side street was crowded with early evening shoppers and the normal flood of dinner-seeking Koreans after a long week of work. With her business suit, and dark hair off her face, she blended in easily. She ducked into the first shop selling phones and headed to the back counter to examine the offerings. Within minutes she heard horns and the roar of an engine. The SUV passed and she waited until she couldn’t hear it before she breathed easier.

  How did they find me so quickly? How many others know my father is being held for ransom?

  She’d assumed no one but Eric knew she had been sent here. But maybe if one person knew, more would know?

  If the Americans were here, they wanted to stop her.

  Several people started talking about the crazy SUV, thinking they might have been North Koreans in the vehicle. She smiled at the familiar topic. Everything bad in Korea could be blamed on the north, why not an SUV full of two obvious Americans?

  She picked up a new phone and brought it to the cashier. If only it had been the North Koreans. Americans were a problem, especially if they had wind of what she had been sent to Korea to do. Americans didn’t negotiate with terrorists, they tried to destroy them. For a bigger, stronger country that worked. For a single person, she didn’t think that would work so well. She was proof of that, wasn’t she?

  She stopped that train of thought, having accepted long ago that it hadn’t been the Americans who were to blame for her torture. It had been her torturers who were responsible for their actions, no other.

  Besides, she reminded herself, taking her change from the cashier and heading outside into the cooler, fresher air, she had to deliver the formula to the men who had her father, or her father would die. She took her change from the cashier and headed out the outside to the cooler, fresher air. There was no one else. Eric had assured her that her father lived. He’d sworn he’d seen him, heard his voice, and accepted their promises that if she delivered what they wanted, her dad would live.

  The facts were startlingly clear.

  She would deliver. Not even the Americans would stop her. She’d aided them enough, and had paid dearly for doing so. Now, she would work on her own, because she’d discovered alone was the only way she could guarantee success.

  Someone had obviously discovered what they were doing. That someone had to be someone her father trusted. She knew his work with the United States government was highly classified. Even he didn’t trust them though. That’s one reason he kept his research broken up and located in different labs. He didn’t trust the Americans. Or he hadn’t. Had he changed after she’d left? Had he trusted one of them enough to seek out their aid, and now they had betrayed him?

  Or had Eric spoken to someone else other than her in an attempt to help her dad? She didn’t tru
st him. Not even the tiniest bit and having to rely on him for this—God, it drove her nuts. If someone had told her that her dad would be in danger, and that Eric Monroe would be the person she’d have to rely on…she’d have laughed her butt off.

  Why would her dad’s abductors call Eric anyway?

  The questions she’d fought to find a logical solution for on the eighteen hour flight from New York to Seoul remained unanswered. Eric had gotten angry with her for even questioning him on why they’d contacted him. She knew him well enough to know that any hint that he wasn’t as important as he thought he was would trigger his rage.

  And now he’s the only link I have to save my father.

  Save my father and keep the drug he created out of their hands. If they needed her to fetch his extensive work on genetics, then he wasn’t giving them the information. In her mind, no one should have the information, worse, no one should use it. At least until he’d perfected it.

  True, but using it on ‘volunteers’ is one reason you left, Ky.

  But not the only reason.

  Her dream of being a doctor, one that ran a small, affordable clinic for families while raising her own, disappeared behind the door she’d always hidden it behind. Her father had never approved of it, never given her wishes much consideration under the weight of saving so many with his work. But you’ve not saved anyone, Dad. You can’t even save yourself from the madness you’ve started.

  She stopped the flood of regrets with an effort. She’d had hours on the flight to try to unravel the mess her dad had landed in—and shoved her into. No one could answer her questions except the people who held her father. She couldn’t trust Eric. For all she knew—and worse, suspected—he was in on it. It was the only explanation why the kidnappers would contact a man who’d been thrown off her dad’s team for misappropriation accusations two years before. He had always wanted more. Always saw the dollar sign behind the science. Too bad he’s now your only link to your dad, Ky.

  Frustrated, she slowed that kind of emotional thinking and focused on the here and now. She needed to get the information the kidnappers had demanded, even if she never planned on giving it to them. She’d have to figure out how to stall them until she could find a way to save her dad without handing his work over, though, and she was afraid no amount of time would find a solution. She needed an army of storm troopers.

  If only.

  New phone in hand, she transferred her data as she walked quickly down the darkening street. Around her, venders stood outside in the cool weather and smoked, or talked in low voices over drinks and spicy food. She drew some looks, but she ducked into another store and managed to pick out a new set of clothing. The girls working there were more than happy to allow her to change for her ‘date’ in the dressing room. As quickly as she could, she ditched her suit jacket, red sweater and blouse for a blue and white shirt and bright yellow mini skirt with a pair of black leggings. She hid her clothes in her leather bag along with her shoes. The girls handed her a pair of cute, black combat boots to finish the look and she smiled for them like she really was going on a date, rather than into a mess she had no hope of fixing. With another line of makeup around her eyes, a bit of darker lipstick outlining her lips and her long hair tucked into a baseball cap, she bet no one, not even the snake Eric, would recognize her. A tall, drop dead gorgeous Shemar Moore look alike didn’t stand a chance.

  Two blocks down from there, stomach full of butterflies, she dialed Eric.

  If the Americans stood in her way, what would she do?

  The question went unanswered even as Eric answered.

  “Kylie! I expected your call hours ago.”

  The irritated tone of voice was like nails on a chalkboard. She’d just suffered through hours of fear, worry and confusion, all the while locked on a plane, and this man sat at his desk, probably watching porn and eating one of his healthy snacks. She kept her anger down though, and counted to ten before she said, “The flight was delayed. What have you heard from my dad?”

  “Your dad is fine as long as you get what they want,” Eric said, sounding crisp and emotionless—nothing new. “You have one week to deliver, and already you are behind schedule.”

  She fisted her free hand until her nails bit into her palm, but she managed to keep her emotions under control. Eric reminded her of a snake in many ways, but sometimes he acted like a cat toying with a mouse. He should know she wasn’t a mouse, but then, he’d always ignored what he didn’t like to admit. She forced herself to calm down so she could test him. “I’ll be there. There were some complications at the airport, but I’m on route to pick up what I need here. I want to speak to my father. Have these men call me.”

  “You know I can’t make that happen, Kylie,” Eric said.

  He sounded so condescending she shook her head. Didn’t he realize his opinion, and what he thought, didn’t concern her?

  “Make it happen, Eric. Why did they call you? You’ve never answered that for me.” She made sure not to let her anger filter into her voice, and kept her questions low, as if she still needed him. She did, too, she knew that, even if it made her sick to her stomach.

  “I didn’t want to tell you this, but he wasn’t able to speak to me the last time I communicated with his kidnappers.”

  Kylie halted so fast the people behind her bumped into her. She apologized quickly before moving on. The reason why her father couldn’t talk wasn’t lost on her. They’d hurt him. Tortured him. She shivered from her head to her toes remembering her own torture. Certainly they’d not do anything to him that would limit what he could do for them. She counted on that. She swallowed past the dryness in her throat. Was Eric lying?

  “I hope you can do this. Need I remind you that your father is depending on you?”

  She bit her lip at the threat in Eric’s voice. He could be lying, or he could be telling her the truth. She couldn’t find out, either. Not now. But she would, she would buy herself some time now and try to analyze the situation without fear and anger clouding her mind.

  Slowing her breathing, she nodded even though Eric couldn’t see her. “I will get what they want. All of it.”

  “Good, Kylie. I would hate for you to be responsible for your father’s death. You’ve done well so far. Just don’t make mistakes.”

  Like I have before, right?

  Kylie swallowed, and held in the angry response that jumped in her mind. “I will be there.”

  “See that you are. He’s counting on you.”

  The silence after that comment made her want to throw her phone.

  Did Eric sound odd then? It’s almost like he wants me to fail.

  He’d been unable to speak to her dad.

  The chill racing along her arms had nothing to do with the air around her and everything to do with the fear making her heart hurt.

  What have they done to you, Dad?

  She would have to go to Japan after this, then on to LA.

  Her doubts and fears rose up like they were going to choke her. She increased her steps until she was running, until the people made moving faster impossible without drawing too much attention. Slowing, she was forced to keep pace with the crowd even as her heart raced from the need to run.

  Minutes dragged on more like hours until finally she reached the side of town she’d headed for since landing in Seoul. Here, she’d pick up what she needed and go as straight as possible for the ferry she’d take to Japan. In Japan, they’d already arranged for her flight to the US. She just had to get there on time. Once there, she would get to her father’s lab, then on a flight to LA.

  Her father’s life depended on it.

  At the corner she stopped and waited for the cars speeding by. Even this side street was packed with drivers, none, thankfully, her Americans.

  Someone bumped her from behind. She ignored it, but seconds later, someone eased closer, then the smooth metal of a gun barrel rested against the back of her neck, sending a chill down her spine.

  “
I have someone who wishes to speak to you concerning your father,” a brisk, British accented man informed her.

  She gathered her nerve and turned her head to spot a dark-skinned, bearded man of Arab descent.

  What is going on? she thought at the same time as she heard someone yelling her name.

  Chapter Two

  “So you want to explain the screw up?” Tazz drawled. His accent, already thick, deepened when he got pissed. Right now his buddy could have scored a ten on the Texan angry scale.

  “What’s to explain,” Dare hedged. He drummed his fingers on his knee and gave Tazz a hard look. “I was supposed to stop her from leaving, wasn’t I?”

  “Like hell. You were supposed to stop her, but unseen by her.”

  “And how’s that work?” he asked, already knowing the answer, but willing to dodge the real issue for a while longer. If this woman, this Kylie Chung, was the woman who’d saved his life in the desert, and damn near driven him nuts since then with dreams of her, he wanted to know.

  “Drop a stack of luggage on her head, I don’t know! But what I damn well know is you shouldn’t let some woman get the drop on you. It can only mean one thing,” Tazz muttered.

  Dare knew what Tazz was going to say even before the dark-haired Texan opened his mouth, and half an hour ago, he would have been spot on. Dare had built a reputation for losing his concentration if a beautiful woman caught his eye, but never on a mission. And for some reason, it rubbed him the wrong way how true that had been—until a half an hour ago. Now he had one woman on the brain, the one woman who’d been bugging him forever and now might be in the same zip code.

  “So? Explain this—”

  “I’ve never let a woman get the drop on me during a mission.”

  “Yeah? That so? What was that in South America, then?”

  “Fuck you. She was the mission. It’s not my fault I got screwed by the target and almost ended up in an early grave.” It pissed him off that Tazz would even bring up that mission. The woman who’d nearly gotten him killed down there had been his cover—and acting the hot American lover had been his role. He’d not let his guard down—not more than any other man would have when his cover relied on screwing the real target’s sister—any time or anywhere she’d wanted him.