Dangerous Lies

by Claudia Shelton

  “You can always grow your hair long again.” Cat laid the scissors back in their place and closed the drawer with a little more force than needed. “Dead is dead.”

  Liz fought to intensify her pragmatic image of being a grown-up about this whole mess. Of being in complete control. Of being able to confront anything life threw at her. Of not being worried about her father. After all, none of this was her fault.

  During the past ten years, she’d worked hard to never doubt herself. Now, this whole scenario was affecting the rope of confidence she’d built string by string, thread by thread, braid by braid. If she wasn’t careful, her life might—had already begun to—unravel.

  Putting her doubt defenses back in place, she reassumed her mask of competence. “You and Mitch sure like to scare a person with your warnings.”

  “I hope you never have to find out how true they are. Now, go try on those clothes.” Cat’s tone held no space for noncompliance. “I saw the can of mace on your key chain last night. Do you carry other protection when you’re on magazine assignments?”

  “I know how to put someone on the ground. And I know how to shoot a gun.”

  “Good. Do you own a gun?”

  “No.” Liz nabbed the bright green bikini from the stack of clothes sitting on the chair. She convinced herself she was trying on that specific one because the color made her feel happy, made her feel strong, made her feel like she could handle anything that came her way. Not because Mitch had continued to hold the top in his hands after rummaging through the clothes on the bed.

  Heading to the bathroom, she added a pair of shorts and fun-in-the-sun T-shirts from the bed. If she were in as much danger as Mitch implied, trying on clothes seemed trivial to squabble over. At least this was keeping her focus off worrying about her father. “This should be enough.”

  Cat smiled. “Let me see how that swimsuit turns out.”

  Ten minutes later, Liz exited the bathroom and dropped the clothes on the bed. “These clothes all fit. You did well, Cat.” Liz eyed herself in the full-length mirror in the corner of the room. “What do you think about this bikini?”

  Cat glanced out the open doorway, then motioned Liz to stand behind her. “Stay quiet.”

  Shouts and running footsteps sounded from down the hallway, then Mitch burst into the room. Gun drawn. Expression fierce. What had been all-business blue eyes were now steeled with determination and gray as battleship metal.

  He’d changed clothes and added equipment, too. A black, formfitting, compression shirt hugged the outline of his muscular chest, his trim waist, and hardened biceps, while black Neoprene shorts stretched tight on his thighs. A sheathed knife was strapped against his leg, and a gun holster hung empty on his shoulder. Dark athletic shoes completed the look.

  For a split second, he stopped, his gaze drawn to hers. He scanned her body in a once-over before he blinked. “Drake upgraded you to OPAQUE protection. You’ve got thirty seconds to get dressed.”

  As if they’d done this drill a million times, Cat drew her gun and took up a position by the window. “Are they here?”

  “Closing fast. Drake’s got a crew coming in from offshore to help.”

  The words upgraded and OPAQUE triggered stone-still panic inside Liz. She couldn’t move. Couldn’t focus. Couldn’t understand what was happening. “Is who here?”

  “Coercion Ten,” Cat calmly said, inching her gun behind the drapery as she peered outside.

  “Who are they?” Liz asked.

  Her peripheral vision caught sight of the man from the Mariner’s parking lot standing guard outside her open bedroom door. Mitch had said his name was Keith. He’d been the backup, the one who’d followed them to the house in his own vehicle.

  “I said get dressed.” Mitched focused his gun on the door to the master bath. “You’ve got fifteen seconds before some mighty bad men burst through the front door.”

  Something inside her clicked.

  She was a prime-time target. Wasting time.

  She regrouped and moved to get dressed. The bikini would have to do as undies, so she grabbed a pair of shorts from the pile of clothing on the bed and pulled them on. Then tossed on one of the darker color T-shirts. “Ready.”

  “Shoes? Tie-on. Something you can run in.” Mitch didn’t even glance in her direction.

  Shoes. Of course, she needed shoes. She spied a pair of tennis shoes under a chair, slipped them on, and double tied them tight. Maybe this was all a drill. She hoped so, because her heart was racing like an amplified bass beat at a dance club.

  Mitch turned and pulled her close beside him. “You don’t leave my side. Got it?”

  She nodded. “Is this real?”

  “Damn real. Stay behind me. Move when I move.” He headed to the doorway as Keith ran toward the other side of the house.

  “Are we going in the panic room?”

  “No. We’ve got to get the hell out of here.”

  “Wouldn’t that be the safest place?”

  “CT personnel carry explosives. They’ll blow it wide open if they have to.” He paused for a moment, tilting his head as if to listen. “I would.”

  Outside, gunshots rang out. Some silenced and blunt-sounding with their thuds. Some not. The shots were close. Closer than she could imagine.

  Another wet-suit-clad man as tall and broad and muscled as Mitch appeared at the end of the hall and stopped them with a raised hand. His eyes narrowed as he focused the gun in his other hand on them. Provoked or not, he appeared ready to shoot.

  Mitch whirled, taking her to the floor beneath him, and covered her with his body. She realized he’d put himself between her and a surefire bullet.

  “Incoming!” Cat yelled.

  Glass shattering back in the bedroom was all it took for the man at the end of the hall to come running in their direction. Gun arm straight and pointed. His focus intense and deadly.

  “Stay down.” Mitch pointed his gun at the oncoming man then shielded her even more with the brace of his arm in front of her face.

  “I’ve got them!” the man shouted. “I’ve got them.”

  Gunfire erupted. Grunts and screams echoed through the air. Then, quiet. Only quiet.

  Mitch hadn’t moved since the first gunshot.

  Chapter Five

  Gunshots had stopped. Yelling had stopped. Pounding footsteps had stopped.

  Still, Mitch didn’t flinch one muscle. He continued to pace his breaths, in and out, in and out. Slow and shallow to a point a casual glance wouldn’t pick up any sign of life. Appearing dead to the enemy was a learned skill. One he’d mastered.

  At least he had Liz tucked nice and neat beneath him. All he had to do was wait for the all clear.

  A tiny, breathy grunt from Liz reminded him to stay braced on one of his forearms and knees. His other hand kept a tight grip on his gun. He needed to be close enough to shield her, but he also had to give her space to breathe. There was a fine line between tricking the enemy and squashing the client.

  Time was wasting.

  What was taking so long for the all clear from one of his team members?

  She sighed, turning her head enough that her coconut-scented hair tickled his neck. Not what he needed.

  The image of her in the green bikini flashed through his mind. Quite a change from the jeans and loafers look she’d worn when he picked her up. Who knew she had curves? Nice curves, to boot. Ones that filled out the swimsuit in all the right places. Tight abs. Toned arms. Long legs.

  The corner of his mouth quirked. Long legs in jeans didn’t come close to long legs in a swimsuit.

  Beneath him, she began to move. Slow at first, evidently trying to raise her shoulders. First one, then the other. He didn’t budge. She wiggled her hips. Wiggled her butt. Little moves at first. Then, she all out shoved into his groin. And wiggled from side to side.

  Mitch’s body slowly betrayed him. First, the adrenaline rush of a heart pounding shootout. Now, for the first time in his entire career, th
e realization he was attracted to his client, which hit with the intensity of his first HALO night jump during SEAL training. Scary as hell. Painful was more the word for this predicament.

  His dick had decided to play the game. Hard-on and Neoprene did not make for comfort.

  In the future, he’d need to watch himself around her. Attraction was unprofessional—could damn well get you killed, too. For now, he focused on cold, the Artic, snowpack, avalanche, ice, icicles, icebergs, ice caps—falling head first into ice cold freezing water.

  “Stop moving.” He gritted his teeth as he spoke the barely there words.

  She instantly stopped. “You’re alive.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I thought you were dead.”

  “Not yet.”

  She tried to turn over. “I was trying to get out from under you.”

  “Shhhhh. Quiet.” Ice water. Ice water. Ice water.

  “I was just trying to explain.” She wiggled back to her original spot then gave another tiny, breathy grunt.

  Or was that a moan? He lost all concept of the ice-water scenario. “Liz. Please be still.”

  “Why are you so—” She froze. Shifted her backside up slightly. Raised her head. Bumped his chest. Then, hugged the floor. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  “Shhhhh.”

  Footsteps started down the hallway behind them.

  “All clear,” OPAQUE agent Josh Slater shouted.

  Mitch scrambled to his feet and stepped behind the closest chair. All he’d need for a lifetime of embarrassment would be one of the team members figuring out his quandary.

  Liz pushed herself up. “What the hell did you think you were doing?”

  “I told you to stop wiggling.” He slashed his forearm out in front of him. “You didn’t.”

  The disgusted expression on her face as she walked in his direction said he must have insulted her prim and proper decorum.

  “So, you plan to blame…that”—she braced her hands on her hips as she scanned her eyes to his groin—”on me? Not hardly.”

  He pointed his finger at her. “Give it a rest. Can you honestly say it was all my fault?”

  “I. Thought. You. Were. Dead.”

  He deliberately quirked the side of his mouth as he leaned into her personal space. “Not. Hardly.”

  Her eyes rounded as she folded her fingers into a soft fist and screeched, then turned to walk away. Instead, she bumped into Josh. Screamed. And, like a windup toy being released from its hold, bolted to Mitch.

  “Shoot him. Shoot him.” She placed her hand against his shoulder.

  He rolled his shoulder backward, nudging her away. “I gotta admit there are days I’d like to, but he’s one of the good guys.”

  “I’m Josh Slater, ma’am. I work for Drake.” Josh nodded then chuckled deep in his throat as he glanced at Mitch. “Wiggling?”

  Mitch glared at his friend. “Don’t even go there.”

  “Oh, I already went.” Josh raised his eyebrows. “Now, if you two are finished with your little spat, you might want to question this crash-through-the-window lowlife.”

  Cat pushed a limping man in front of her down the hallway toward the great room.

  The guy stumbled, catching himself with his shoulder against the wall. His pallor was as green as the lizard imprinted on the front of his shirt. “Hey, take it easy. I think you broke my leg.”

  “I sure hope so. You tried to kill me.” Cat shoved him forward again.

  Mitch’s relief that they’d taken one alive cleared all thoughts of anything else. With a little luck, there might be a chance to gain more info on how Liz’s father had come back on Coercion Ten’s radar. He made eye contact with the limping jerk, then, to really get the man’s attention, he rolled his fingers in and out of a fist as he crossed the room.

  Coming to a toe-to-toe stop in front of the man, Mitch snarled as he popped his fist into the other palm. “Well, what have we got here?”

  “He’s the one who crashed through the window in the bedroom. Got off a shot at Cat before she put him on the floor.” Josh positioned himself by the French doors leading to the patio outside the great room. “He’s right, though. I heard the bone crack. Bet anything he’s gonna need a doctor.”

  Mitch forcefully braced his forearm against the wall beside the man’s head. Leaned to within an inch of the man’s nose. “Well, this may be your lucky day, Lizard Breath.”

  The man tried to keep the dilated pupils of his eyes focused straight ahead. “Wh-why’s that?”

  “Well, you see, we’ve got doctors on staff. Won’t take me a second to call a doc in.”

  “So, call him. I’m hurting bad.”

  “Sure thing…as soon as you tell me who you work for.” Preying on a suspect’s fears didn’t set well with Mitch. But neither did someone trying to snatch his client. “Of course, Cat could splint that bone for you.”

  Lizard Breath visibly leaned away from her.

  He glanced toward the man’s leg. Shook his head. “My advice is to go with the doc. He’s always got those good meds to take the pain away. And, Cat…well, she’s not always a gentle touch. Know what I mean?”

  “I…uh…” The artery in the man’s neck pulsed beats at well above a hundred. Breaths twenty-five, or more, per minute.

  Keith walked in the door leading a man wearing a red T-shirt with his hands cuffed behind his back. The guy was covered in sand, with a trickle of blood trailing from the corner of his eye socket.

  Mitch turned his attention back to the man standing in front of him. “Make up your mind, Lizard Breath. I got someplace to be.”

  “Don’t you say a word,” the handcuffed man shouted from across the room.

  Threateningly, Mitch stalked toward the newcomer then stopped halfway there. “I’ll be with you in a minute.”

  Off to the side, Liz kept her serious expression, but she’d put the sofa between herself and the guy who’d yelled.

  “I ain’t afraid of you.” The man spit in his direction. “You’ll get yours when them other guys get here.”

  Mitch stomped back to the hallway then slammed his fist against the wall next to Lizard Breath’s head. The wall shook. “Who the hell do you work for?”

  Lizard Breath wobbled on his one good leg then pointed at the loudmouth across the room. “He said we’d make some quick money if we—”

  “I said shut up,” the guy yelled as he struggled to get away.

  Josh stepped aside as Keith pushed open the patio door and yanked the yelling man outside. “I’ll be back as soon as I cuff him to the patio post.”

  “Secure him in the master bath. Wouldn’t want a stray gator to eat our suspect.” Of course, if Mitch didn’t get the answers he needed soon, a stray gator would be the least of the man’s worries. For now, though, Mitch stayed focused on the guy with the bad leg. “I’m getting tired of waiting. What were you supposed to do?”

  Lizard Breath didn’t say a word.

  This was taking way too much valuable time, so Mitch decided to speed things up. “Cat, come over here and see what you can do about this man’s leg.”

  She took a couple of steps in their direction.

  “No. I’ll tell you anything you want.”

  The corner of Cat’s mouth twitched in a stifled smile.

  Lizard Breath’s shoulders sagged. “Word on the street is that there’s money to be made on that lady.” He pointed toward Liz. “All we gotta do is hold her till the Coercion-something dudes get here.”

  “Then what?” Mitch asked.

  “I don’t know. Said they’d take care of her after that.” Lizard Breath moaned as he shifted his weight to his damaged leg. “Now, what about that doc?”

  Two more answers. Mitch needed only a couple more answers to know how serious this case had become. He took his phone out as he leaned against the wall. Time to play the nice guy routine. “Sure thing. By the way, do you happen to know how much the lady’s worth to these dudes?”

&n
bsp; “Fifty thousand bucks.”

  Damn. That was a serious chunk. “Any stipulations on dead or alive?”

  “Alive. Of course, they didn’t say anything about roughing her up a bit.” The man waggled his eyebrows and grinned.

  Mitch jabbed his elbow, hard and straight, into the man’s ribs. Reactively, Cat caught the man before he fell to the floor. From across the room, Liz sucked in an audible breath.

  “These two are a dead end. They wouldn’t know Coercion Ten if it walked up and bit them.” He pushed a button on his phone, and Drake answered on the first ring. “We’ve got two live, in custody. Contact the FBI to pick them up. They’re nothing but a pair of local slimeballs out to make a quick buck.”

  He gave a quick report, wondering what Drake wasn’t telling him. Or, worse yet, what OPAQUE hadn’t found out so far. This case had rapidly gone from a typical security shadow to OPAQUE level.

  Why the hell did CT have a bounty on Liz’s head? A lot of things weren’t adding up.

  “Hey, send a doc. One of the men’s got a busted knee.” He ended the call.

  Keith walked back into the room after depositing the other thug in the bathroom. “Everything under control?”

  “For now.” Mitch couldn’t shake the shiver on the back of his shoulders. Never a good sign. “Keith, you and Cat reacquaint Lizard Breath with his friend. Then monitor the property’s security panel.”

  “On it,” Cat said, as Keith nudged the guy down the hallway.

  Liz had eased herself onto the sofa. Her elbows were braced on top of her knees. Head bent into the palms of her hands. There’d been no way to keep her from hearing the remarks, but that was nothing compared to where this case might take them. He’d hoped she’d be strong. Right now, she looked a little pale.

  He walked over and nudged his leg against her arm. “You okay?”

  She didn’t look up. “Why am I worth so much money?”

  “When Coercion Ten wants people to do something for them, and they refuse, they kidnap someone of importance to the person, and…” How could he word this without destroying what courage she had left? “They—”