“Don’t care much for the décor. But I saw the sign for an indoor pool. Len, you have a red bikini? Maybe the gift shop will have one in your size.”
Len heard Ed laugh beneath his breath. Had he been any other boss than Ed she’d have been furious. But they both knew Royal was just trying to lighten the mood. “I’ll tell you what, Royal…once we’ve got this bastard after Ed, I’ll wear a red bikini—as long as you wear a pink one.”
“If that’s what it takes…”
***
The director worked on paperwork for a few hours after they checked into their room. There were two double beds, and a couch. They moved the couch to better block the door, and it was left unsaid that Ed would take the bed in the center.
Not that Royal had any intention of sleeping for many hours. He’d let Jasmine rest first—she was starting to look little and droopy. After she was rested he’d get a few hours’ rest himself.
She seemed ok with that and he waited for her to take a shower.
He ordered dinner for all of them, and kept Ed out of the line of sight when it was delivered.
Royal spent most of the night focused on the five names in the file, trying to eliminate some of them. Len rested, as soon as they were finished eating. Royal kept his attention on the papers in front of him.
On the details of the lives and careers of men he’d worked with for over two years. Men he knew, men he respected. It left a dirty taste in his mouth.
He worked on the case until the early hours of the morning, but the dawn brought with it no clear answers.
They’d just have to wait until the traitor revealed himself. Somehow.
Len woke an hour after dawn, and Royal enjoyed watching the way the woman looked.
That had been something else he’d thought about through the night.
Jasmine Len was someone he wanted to get to know a hell of a lot better.
She sat up in the bed, and the blanket fell back, revealing a simple black T-shirt with FBI emblazoned across her nice breasts.
Royal took one look at that chest and knew immediately she wasn’t wearing a bra. That idea had his mouth going dry.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so attracted to a woman so quickly. Yes, he flirted. Yes, he’d dated quite a few women over the last five years, but those dates had slowed considerably in the last year.
It wasn’t completely out of the realm of possibility that he deserved the reputation he had of being a player, but he’d made damned certain not to hurt the women involved. He’d always been upfront about his expectations.
But something about Jasmine Len felt different.
He wasn’t sure what to think about that.
Chapter Twelve
IT took Len a moment to realize where she was. And who was with her. She looked over at the second bed. It was easy to recognize Ed—they’d shared a hotel room a time or two, especially when he was under a security detail. He trusted her to watch his back; she knew he didn’t offer that acceptance to many others.
But they weren’t the only ones in the room.
Royal was watching her, looking strong and sexy and good—and just a little bit rumpled.
No wonder so many women talked about how absolutely—what was the word Yolanda from custodial had used?—yummy Dakon Royal was.
He smiled at her, flashing dimples and a beautiful, perfectly white smile. “Good morning. It’s a beautiful day in southern Indiana. I’ve mapped out a good route to get us home. But I’m exhausted. You up for driving again?”
“I think I can handle half the ride. Or Ed can drive. While I watch the road.” She stood, then threw the comforter back over the bed. “Why didn’t you wake me?”
“I was wide awake. And I knew you needed to rest.”
“I don’t need coddled, Royal.”
“Never said you did. But one of us needed to be rested today, and I was too wired. Figured why wake you? And I went over the files. And over and over them.”
“Nothing stands out. All of the men in that stack are white men in their late forties early fifties. All meet the same size requirements as the one in Ed’s garage.”
“And there was nothing distinguishing about the guy at all? No southern accent, no phrasing, nothing that stood out to you.”
“No. On that note, we can probably rule out Roger Stephenson.”
“Why?”
“His accent. There’s a slight twist to his words at the end. The guy in the garage didn’t have that. And removing it isn’t something easy to do.”
“So that leaves four. Whiler, Clemmons, Fowler and Gannan.”
“Not Gannan. He’s been out of the state for two weeks. His brother died, in Florida. And he has a trace of an old speech impediment that the guy in the garage didn’t have.”
“I see. I’m sorry to hear that about Gannan’s brother. I met him once.”
“He’d been ill for a long time. So, three.” She tried to ignore the look in his eyes, but it wasn’t working. She knew exactly where his attention was focused anyway. “Dakon…” She purred the word, then got a tiny thrill at the surprise in his demon dark eyes. “Dakon…if you keep looking where you’re looking I’m going to superglue your eyes shut first chance I get…”
He laughed, a rich sound that made her feel a tingle in places she really shouldn’t. “Baby, if you want to get that close to me, I can’t guarantee what will happen. There won’t be any glue involved, either.”
She wanted to quip back at him, but for some reason the words stuck in her throat.
When had she last enjoyed herself so much?
Len rarely flirted. She’d never been good at that kind of thing—not even when not working. She’d studied her way through high school, and had been tunnel-visioned on her career plans through college and since.
She could fake it, but with a man like Dakon Royal she knew she couldn’t keep the farce up for very long.
But a part of her wasn’t certain she wanted to. “I’m going to go take a shower. Be warned—waking Ed isn’t always a smart thing to do.”
“What’s next on his itinerary?”
“It’s eight now. He’s got a three o’clock with Brown from I.A. That’s all we scheduled for today.”
“We’ll have plenty of time to make that.”
“I…” There was a knowing look in his eyes, wasn’t there? One that said he knew exactly how unsettled she felt. How things seemed different between them in the bright morning. “Excuse me.”
“Of course. And Jasmine?” He stood and approached her. Dropped warm hands on her shoulders. “We’ll get coffee when we get back to St. Louis. Or grab a plate of nachos at Smokey’s. Just talk. Become friends. Nothing that says we can’t be friends, is there?”
She shook her head, feeling like a stupid teenage girl with her first crush—a crush on the popular boy who would never really look at her.
And that made her feel even more ridiculous. She didn’t lack in confidence; she knew she was physically attractive, successful at her job, well-respected by everyone who mattered to her, and tried her best to make good decisions. But this guy somehow made her forget all of that.
She wasn’t sure that was such a good thing.
What kind of sane woman wanted a man who made her so confused?
Chapter Thirteen
DAKON knew what she was thinking, and it had him forcing himself to resist grabbing her and kissing her. Only the knowledge that she’d probably club him upside the head if he even tried, had him controlling himself.
His cell broke the silence between them and had the older man shifting on the bed.
Ed Dennis was a clear reminder that they weren’t exactly in a position to act on the attraction that Dakon had no intention of hiding. But once they caught the guy responsible for what was going on, he would press his case with Len.
What could a friendly beer between the two fo them hurt? She was free to use the just-friends card at any time. Or even the just-colleagues one. D
akon just wanted to get a handle on the beautiful and intriguing Agent Len that he’d probably been stupid to overlook before.
He didn’t see anything wrong with that.
He grabbed his cell.
Ed Dennis’s daughter Georgia. Dakon accepted the call. “George. Hey.”
“Where’re my father and Len?”
She skipped right over the niceties, but Dakon didn’t mind. He heard the fear in his friend’s voice. And she was probably the only woman he was so close to where he’d never had a romantic interest.
He’d held her hand and filled her with beer and pickles on the first anniversary of her fiancé’s death. He and their unit chief Mal Brockman had somehow puzzled out the instructions for her son Mattie’s swing set when her father had been unavailable.
She was like a sister to him. Or a really close cousin.
“Your old man is still sleeping, sweetie. And Len is about to take a shower.”
“She’s safe?” There was definite worry now.
She? He’d have thought she would ask about her father first.
“Yes. Line of sight. Why?” Dakon wrapped a hand around Jasmine’s arm when she would have walked right by him. “Something she should be concerned about?”
“Len’s desk was searched early this morning. And her landlady called me when she couldn’t find Len. The team flew in early this morning once the weather cleared.”
“Why’d Len’s landlady call you?” He tightened his hold around her arm and pulled her closer. She was so short he could easily rest his chin on her head. Her attention had sharpened and she was leaning toward him, trying to listen in to his phone. He shifted, giving her room cuddled against his chest. His hand rested on her back, and he absently played with the black strands tickling his fingers.
She felt so damned soft. In all the right places.
He listened to his teammate as she listed the details of why she’d called them so early.
What she said had him shifting his original thinking on the case. On the threat. “George. You get Mal, meet us at the Illinois line. We need to talk.”
He disconnected the call and looked down at the woman in his arms. He kissed her nose—shocking the hell out of both of them.
“Royal, what happened?” Her eyes were worried. And that bothered him.
“Someone searched your home, and your personal vehicle. Your landlady was knocked over when the guy ran by her. But she managed to scratch him, or something. Georgia is having Ritchison in Forensics run it for her. Quietly. I’m not sure how much we can trust him.”
“If Georgia asks, he’ll do it. He’s a bit sweet on her, and on Ana.”
“Most of the guys we know are into one or the other of those two.” Because they were truly beautiful women. Much like the one in his arms.
“Was Gretta hurt? She’s a friend.”
“More like hopping mad, according to Georgia.”
“Was anything taken?” Her voice was tight, and her hands wrapped around the cotton of his shirt.
“No. Georgia and Mal are meeting us at the Illinois line as soon as we can get there. Better wake the director.”
“You need some sleep.”
“I’ll sleep while you drive.”
Dennis sat up and looked around. Royal filled him in on the changed situation, and Dennis agreed. They moved quickly, getting dressed, checking out—it was nothing they hadn’t done a thousand times before in the jobs they all had. None of them really spoke, either.
Royal settled into the back seat, knowing that while he’d rest his eyes, there was no way in hell he was going to sleep.
Not with what he was mulling over in his head.
Something Georgia had said made things just a little bit clearer.
Chapter Fourteen
LEN drove most of the way. They reached the Illinois border after two and a half hours, sticking mostly to state highways and round about ways. Royal was quiet in the backseat but she knew the man wasn’t sleeping. Ed was just as quiet.
It gave Len time to think.
They pulled into Lawrenceville and Ed texted his daughter. “They’re waiting at the McDonalds.”
“Give me directions.” She followed his instructions and maneuvered the vehicle into the restaurant parking. She recognized the handsome dark-haired man and Ed’s daughter Georgia where they waited inside Agent Brockman’s personal vehicle.
She parked next to them, while Ed woke Royal.
Georgia hugged her when she got out of the car. “I’m glad you were with Dad.”
“What’s going on? Royal wasn’t entirely clear.”
“Someone broke into your apartment. Your landlady knew you were out of town and she went to investigate. With a ball bat,” Malachi Brockman said. “She was lucky she wasn’t hurt.”
Len would make a point of calling her friend later. Gretta was one of the few non-FBI friends she had in this city. The idea that the other woman may have been injured worried her. “She’s ok, then?”
“She managed to scratch the guy across the arm. We’ve got it being processed now. I put my father’s name on it; and I took it to a friend at the police station in your district, Jasmine,” Georgia said. “Just in case. He’s going to call me soon with results.”
Royal stepped up behind Len, and placed a hand casually on her shoulder. She tried not to stiffen and pull away. Georgia and Malachi were both extremely perceptive people—both were profilers—and she knew Georgia at least would see how nervous Royal was making her.
And they both knew Royal really well. They’d know he was…
She made herself think different thoughts. Fast.
“I think we need to reevaluate,” Royal said. “I’m not so sure the deputy director is the only target.”
“What makes you say that? The attack was in his garage.”
“It was. But you were with him. I think the focus has shifted to both of you. Something was said yesterday. You know the specifics of almost every person in the St. Louis field office. That means you have probably seen the reason behind these attacks. And someone searched your desk, and now your home. That means something. Director Dennis’s office wasn’t touched. But yours was. And I’m assuming it’s just as difficult to get into your office as it is his. I’ve been in that part of the building, and I’ve evaluated the security a time or two myself.”
“So what are you thinking, Agent Royal?”
“I’m thinking we bait a trap.”
“How?” Len looked over her shoulder at him. He wasn’t quite as tall as Malachi Brockman, but his shoulders were just as wide. And he was just as muscled—if not more so. His skin was several shades darker, and he had a small trace of beard stubble growing on his chin, whereas Agent Brockman was clean shaven. But they were both highly gorgeous men.
Attention getting, most definitely.
“Len and I will take a different route. And we’ll let it be known we have the director and are heading through Cape Girardeau. See if we can’t flush the traitor out.”
“I’m not so certain I want to use Len as bait,” Ed said.
But Len understood what Royal was getting at. “It’s part of the job, Ed. And I’ll be fine. Royal and I are both federal agents who know how to take care of ourselves.”
“I think we kick ass,” Royal squeezed her shoulder. “And we’ll get the rest of our team involved. Have them split up and tail the three possibles. One will head this way, I’m sure of it. Breaking in to Len’s place was a sign of desperation. And we’re not going to figure out why until we know the who.”
“I think it will work.”
She watched Ed for a moment, knowing he had to agree or they couldn’t go forward. And she knew why he was hesitating—because he was overprotective of the few people he let into his life. The people he cared about—they were his world. And she was lucky enough to be one of them. “Ed—I trust Royal. He’ll keep us both safe. And I’ll do the same. We need to catch this guy. Before everything we’ve worked for these past
months crashes and burns around us.”
Chapter Fifteen
SHE was looking at him with a piercing expression in her hazel eyes. Royal knew it, but he avoided saying anything until she pulled the car back out onto the road.
“You know this will work.”
“I hope so. And I think you’re right—if someone is after both me and Ed, I want him coming this way. Then we’ll do what it is we have to do.”
“So do you mean it?”
“What?”
“When you said you trust me?”
“Professionally.”
“Ah, come on. You know it’s more than that.” Royal smiled at her. They had several hours’ of drive time left—quiet time, just the two of them. Other than the fact that they were trying to draw out a traitor, he couldn’t think of anything better than being alone—even in a car—with a beautiful woman he found infinitely attractive. “You know you find me the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen.”
“Someone has a high opinion of himself.”
But she was teasing, and they both knew it.
They spent most of the next hour talking—about anything and everything. Including classic literature. She preferred the more adventurous—he liked the more sociologically based. But they both enjoyed reading more than watching television, going to the mountains rather than the tropics, and relaxing away from people.
She had a cabin she’d purchased four years earlier in the south of Tennessee. He went camping every year in the same region.
He’d never enjoyed his time alone with a woman—while clothed—more.
They stopped for lunch in Cape Girardeau; they were enjoying themselves, but neither of them had forgotten the true purpose of them being so south of St. Louis.
For the trap to work, they had to be found first.
Beginning: A PAVAD Prequel Novella (PAVAD: FBI Romantic Suspense) Page 4