The Agent

by Herkness, Nancy

  A hand mirror just like the lavender-framed ones she used in her salon lay on the driver’s seat. The reflective glass was webbed with cracks and a few of the smaller fragments lay on the leather seat.

  “Did you leave that there?” Tully asked, his voice harsh from behind her.

  “No!” she said as fear clawed at her chest. “How did he get into my car?” She swung around to look at Tully. “We were in the salon the whole time. Why didn’t we hear the car alarm?”

  He took her by the shoulders and gently shifted her away from the open door before he inspected the lock. “First, are you sure you locked the car?”

  “I always lock it.” But it was so automatic, she didn’t remember doing it this time in particular. “Pam was here, so she would have noticed if I hadn’t.”

  “Did you use your key fob to lock it?”

  “Yes, of course. How else would I do it?”

  Tully leaned into the car and snapped some photos with his phone. “He probably had a code reader and picked up your code when you pressed the button on your fob.”

  “It’s that easy? Why do we bother to have locks?” Her stalker had been inside her car. A shudder ran through her at the violation.

  “If you lock the car manually, they can’t steal the code.” He straightened. “There won’t be any prints, but I’m going to call one of my investigators to double-check. He had to touch more than one surface to plant the mirror there.” He used his elbow to close the door. “Go ahead and lock it again.”

  She hit the button on the fob and the car beeped at her.

  “Let’s get you out of here,” he said, putting his arm around her and guiding her to his hulking black SUV.

  He held her hand to help her up the high step into the car. It was hard to let go of him once she slid onto the black leather seat. After he closed the door, the silence in the car seemed thick and ominous. Yet when he opened the driver’s door, the normal, everyday sounds of cars and birds and rustling leaves made her sense of being trapped in a bad dream even worse.

  He must have felt her tension, because he turned to her. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” she lied. “I just hate the idea that the stalker was in my car. It gives me the willies.”

  He reached across the console to squeeze her hand where it clutched her purse. “He knows that. Our car becomes an extension of our bodies, so he’s deliberately invaded your personal space.”

  “He’s also made a mockery of my idea that locks will keep him away.” There. She’d said it. She felt helpless in the face of her tormenter.

  “Car locks are easy,” Tully said, his fingers still wrapped around hers. “He can’t get past your home and salon security systems like that.”

  “I place more confidence in you and Pam,” she said.

  He smiled in a way that flooded her with heat because it wasn’t just an “I will protect you because that’s my job” smile. It was an “I will protect you because I lust after you” smile. That worked even better to chase away her terror.

  He released her hand but kept his eyes on her face. “Don’t freak out but I’m going to take my gun out of its safe. As a precaution. Nothing more.”

  She nodded and he pressed his thumb to a square set into the console, where a lid lifted and folded down. He reached into the opening and extracted a dull black handgun, pulling back the slide and checking something before he set it back in the safe, leaving the lid open.

  “That makes it seem scarier,” Natalie said. The gun added a third presence in the car.

  “I don’t expect to need it,” Tully said, bringing the engine to life with a rumble. “It’s just a habit from my FBI days.”

  As he deftly maneuvered the big SUV onto the street, Natalie tried to wrap her mind around the strangeness of her life. Her car broken into, a broken mirror left as a threat, a loaded gun stowed within a few inches of her hand. How the hell had this happened?

  Her hands began to tremble, so she fisted them around the straps of her handbag. “I don’t want to live this way,” she said. “We have to find him and stop him.”

  “We will.” Tully’s tone was grim but steely. “Trust me.” A muscle ticked in his jaw.

  She did trust him, but she felt like the shards of broken glass in her car were slicing through her, leaving an open wound of fear. It was a different intensity from the daily grinding trepidation of living with Matt. What wasn’t different was the strain of never knowing when the next shock would occur. The constant tension wound her shoulders and neck into a knot of nerves.

  “Have you had any luck tracking Regina Van Houten? I’m a little worried about her.”

  “We found a used-car dealer in Pennsylvania who sold her a junker for cash several days ago but nothing after that. She’s done a good job of disappearing.”

  Natalie had helped with that, cutting Regina’s long, thick blonde hair into a nondescript style and dying it an unremarkable brown. What was hard to disguise was her height since she stood close to six feet tall. She’d practiced slouching while she stayed with Natalie.

  “I wonder if she has friends in Nebraska who she might go to,” Natalie said.

  “That’s a long drive. You really changed her appearance, by the way. The only reason the car dealer remembered her was because she had the same kind of designer handbag his wife wanted for her birthday.”

  “Damn! I told her not to use that Gucci bag but she wouldn’t leave it behind,” Natalie said. “She said it was the first piece of designer anything she’d ever owned. But I feel better hearing your pro can’t find her. That means she’s safe from her husband.”

  He threw her a sharp look. “Don’t assume that. Her husband knows far more about her than we do. He may have a better idea of where to look. How bad was he to her?”

  “Awful. I offered her my guest room when I saw bruises on her wrists, but she didn’t take me up on it for a couple of months. She left when Dobs dragged her to the top of the stairs and threatened to throw her down them and then claim she’d fallen. He said no one would question his version of the story.” Natalie grimaced. “He kept her isolated, only socializing with his little circle of friends, so she figured he might get away with it.”

  His knuckles went white as he gripped the steering wheel. “I hate domestic abuse. It’s hard to prove even when you know damn well it’s happening.”

  Natalie looked down at the tense shape her hands had twisted into. It was even worse when you didn’t realize you were being abused until it was almost too late.

  “Sorry,” Tully said, glancing down at her pretzeled fingers. “I didn’t mean to hit so close to home.”

  “No apology necessary. That’s behind me.” But it never was. She still questioned her judgment. Including about Tully.

  He swung the car into her driveway and stopped. “Let me have your keys so I can check the house.”

  She unhooked the keys from the ring in her purse and handed them to him. “The alarm code is 2-5-9-5-8.”

  Then Tully did something that sent a shock through her. He took the gun out of the safe.

  Chapter 9

  As soon as Tully exited the car, the locks clicked shut with a beep. Natalie watched him tuck the terrifying gun into the back of his jeans and stride past the front porch steps, his head swiveling as he scanned the surroundings. Watching him do his job with such expert intensity, she felt that familiar deep, primitive pull low in her belly. It twined with the fear, leaving her slightly breathless.

  When he disappeared around the corner, she surveyed her house too. There was no stark rectangle of white paper visible on the porch, so she breathed more easily. Of course, now the stalker was leaving objects, so his latest gift might be on the back patio or tucked behind the screen door. But Tully would find it first and that would lessen the shock for her.

  He came around the garage and mouthed, “All good,” before he walked onto the porch, his jeans stretching tight over the muscles of his thighs as he climbed the steps. He
examined the porch thoroughly before he pulled her keys out of his pocket and disappeared inside the house.

  She felt exposed and vulnerable in the car, despite the locked doors. She was almost afraid to look around for fear the stalker would loom up at one of the windows.

  To break her own tension, she spoke out loud. “It would be good if the stalker showed up. Then Tully could catch him and stop the torment.”

  The sound of her voice steadied her. As did imagining Tully searching every room in the house to make sure she was safe. Until Tully walked back onto the porch with that smooth panther’s stride of his, looking hard and fearless and sexy as hell. Desire overlapped dread, so she couldn’t tell which one had a stronger hold on her.

  She closed her eyes as she remembered how his big masculine hand had looked splayed on top of her velvet comforter.

  Desire overwhelmed all else, sending a bolt of arousal through her body.

  When he opened her car door, she wanted to hurl herself into his arms, to wrap herself in his strength and warmth. Instead, she took his hand to climb down from the SUV as though his presence was merely a convenience.

  “The house appears undisturbed,” he said. “Not surprising, since he was focused on the salon and your car today.”

  “I’d ask how he knows so much about my routine, but it’s not hard for someone to figure it out.” She made a wry face. “I don’t vary it much. Or ever.” She liked her predictable schedule. The salon gave her plenty of social interaction, after which she could retreat to the serenity of her quiet house to recharge.

  He held the front door for her. “Exactly the opposite of what we advise our high-profile clients to do. They take different routes to work every day in different vehicles. They leave and come home at variable times. Predictability is a kidnapper’s—and a stalker’s—best friend.”

  “I’d hate to be that rich and famous,” she said, dropping her purse on the foyer table while he locked the door. “Alice says even you and your partners take certain precautions.”

  He placed her laptop case beside her purse. “Mostly because I’m professionally paranoid. And in some cases, I’ve been right.”

  She’d just been making conversation until his hands were free. As he turned away from the foyer, she stepped into him so their bodies touched from knee to chest and skimmed her fingers up the ridged muscles of his arms and over his shoulders to tangle in the rough silk of his hair.

  His eyes lit up as she lifted her face and tried to tug his head downward. But he stood straight with his arms at his sides again.

  “Nat, I know we started something back at the salon, but I need to make sure I’m not taking advantage of what’s going on.” He cupped her shoulders to move her a few inches away from him. “Fear activates the fight-or-flight instinct. If you can’t fight and you can’t flee, the energy has to go somewhere.”

  If she hadn’t felt him harden against her before he pushed her away, she might have considered this a rejection. “I know what I want,” she said, feathering her fingers along the rim of his ear. “I’ve known since we danced the two-step at the wedding.”

  His eyebrows went up. “You hid it well.”

  Because she had been battling against it with every ounce of her common sense. “I needed to be sure of who you are.”

  “Sweetheart, you don’t know anything about me.” Shadows dimmed the blaze of his eyes.

  “I know enough to do this.” She stood on the tiptoes of her ballerina flats and managed to reach his lips, flicking her tongue along the lower curve of the bottom one.

  With a deep groan, he yanked her against him and lowered his mouth to hers. She felt like dry tinder touched by a torch as flames seared through her, turning liquid between her thighs.

  He wrapped one arm around her shoulders and banded the other across her waist so that she felt engulfed by his body. Her nipples hardened against his chest, the pressure sending exquisite sensation sizzling along her nerves. She could smell the clean cotton of his shirt, the woodsy scent of his soap, and the deeply masculine tang of arousal on his skin.

  He slid a hand up her back to tilt her head so he could kiss the soft spot behind her ear before he blew a breath on it. She arched into him as a delicious tingle danced over her skin. When her pelvis pushed into his erection, he moaned her name before he splayed his other hand over her butt and sank his fingers into the soft flesh to hold her hard against him.

  She bent her knee and skimmed it up the outside of his thigh to press herself against the length of his cock outlined by the denim of his jeans. “The sofa,” she gasped as sparks shimmered through her belly.

  “The bed. I want to do this right.” He tugged the gun out of his waistband and placed it on the table beside her purse. Even the grim reminder of her stalker couldn’t dim her desire.

  Hooking one hand under her thigh, he lifted it higher. She took the hint and hopped so he could catch her other leg and bring it around his waist. Locking her ankles behind his back, she wound her arms around his neck to hold on as he headed for the stairs.

  “Are you sure you can carry me up a whole flight of stairs?” she asked as he planted his boot on the first step.

  “I could jog up the stairs with you, but I don’t want to make you nervous.” He squeezed her thigh as he walked steadily upward, his lips curling into a cocky smile.

  “Am I supposed to swoon now?”

  “That would be damn inconvenient since I want you awake and responsive for what I’m planning next.”

  Anticipation bubbled through her like champagne. “Then don’t be so manly.”

  He took one step past the top of the stairs before he locked eyes with her. “I’m pretty sure manly is a requirement here.”

  “Good point. Keep moving, cowboy.” She tightened her legs around his waist and he started toward her bedroom.

  “I’m tempted to make a bad pun about riding, but I don’t want to ruin the mood,” he said.

  The mental image of her astride his naked body made her hiss in a breath of anticipation. “I think you just improved my mood.”

  He strode through the door and laid her down across the bed, bracing his hands on either side of her shoulders so that his biceps swelled under his T-shirt. He stood between her thighs and stared down at her. “God, you’re amazing.”

  She reached up to brush her fingers over his short-cropped hair, wishing it were longer so she could better feel the texture of it. “I want to feel amazing,” she said, dropping her hands to unbutton her blouse.

  He took one of her wrists and tugged it away. “That’s my job.”

  “I’m just trying to move things along.” The ache between her legs intensified as her craving to feel his hands on her built with every touch.

  He put one knee on the bed beside her hip, his weight making the mattress dip. “Some things need time. This is one.” He slipped his fingers around her rib cage so that his thumbs rested on her nipples. He began to stroke in slow circles, moving the silk of her blouse over the lace of her bra with an exquisite friction that made her arch up for more. The man knew what he was doing and she appreciated that.

  “Beautiful,” he breathed as her nipples hardened to points of need.

  He increased the pressure and she gasped as electric desire shot down to her belly. Then his fingers were at her buttons, swiftly opening the blouse and easing her bra up to expose her breasts. He leaned down to suck one sensitized nipple into his mouth while he cupped the other in his big hand. She grabbed fistfuls of the quilt as the heat and the wet and the suction on her skin twisted the coil of longing tight inside her.

  “More,” she begged, pushing her breast farther into his mouth.

  He let her feel just the slightest scrape of his teeth—adding an edge of intensity to the sensations ricocheting through her—before he skimmed his hand down to the top of her thighs. She gave him enough room to work his fingers down where she wanted them and then she rocked her hips into his hand. He rubbed hard, his strength comp
ressing the denim against her throbbing clit.

  “Yes! Yes! Yes!” she breathed as everything fed into the pinpoint of pure longing deep down in her body. He pulled on her nipple with his mouth and wedged his hand tighter against her and then she exploded into orgasm, bowing up from the bed as her muscles and nerves convulsed with the power of her release. Then she convulsed again and a third time before she collapsed back down onto the bed, delicious aftershocks shivering through her.

  When she opened her eyes, Tully was lying on his side next to her, his head propped on one hand, looking down at her with a bemused smile quirking the corners of his lips.

  “You’ll have to go slowly with the next one,” she said. “That one couldn’t wait.”

  “It’s good to take the edge off.” He leaned over to kiss her. “And that was very, very hot.”

  She could feel his erection against her hip, so she believed him. She smiled and reached up to trace the scar in his eyebrow while satisfaction hummed through her lax body. “Where did that come from? Chasing bad guys?”

  The corners of his eyes crinkled. “Falling off a horse when I was thirteen. I hit a fence post on the way down.”

  “Ouch.” She saw a jagged patch of scar tissue she hadn’t noticed before low on the side of his neck. She touched it. “And this one?”

  He grimaced. “That was from a bad guy.”

  She followed the edges with her fingertip. “Not a bullet, I hope.”

  “A broken bottle. Surprising what a good weapon that makes.” He took her hand and kissed her palm. “I should warn you that there are a few more under my clothes.”

  “I’m not surprised, given what you do for a living.” She slid her hand under his T-shirt, running her palm over his abdomen before she gave him a siren smile. “I’d like to find out where the rest of them are.”

  “All you have to do is ask.” Using those impressive abdominal muscles, he curled his body up just enough to get his back off the bed, crossed his arms in front of him, and yanked his shirt up over his head before he settled back onto his side.

  His chest was lightly furred with brown hair that arrowed down to his waistband. His abs were ridged exactly like a washboard, and he had those sexy indentations that came around each hip before swooping toward his groin.