Born to Be Bad

by Sherrilyn Kenyon

  Intrigued by her lack of humor, he'd done some checking on her background and found out exactly why she was so hard-nosed.

  "You were the studious daughter who was appalled by your mother's wild ways as she sought one more good time. While she went out at night with another 'uncle,' you stayed home, convinced that your education would buy you out of your run-down apartment and save you from being another pregnant sixteen-year-old destined for minimum-wage jobs and revolving husbands. You could only afford college through scholarships and the GI Bill, so you wrapped yourself up in textbooks while playing weekend warrior until you were recruited by the FBI." He paused to rake a meaningful look over her. "Did you ever once go out drinking in college with your friends?"

  Samantha stiffened at his eerily correct recitation of her life. It bothered her a lot more than she cared for. "Shut up, Jason."

  "Why?"

  Because he was telling the truth, and she hated him for it. Why was he able to see what she'd hidden from everyone else? No wonder he was cocky. He really could see straight into people's souls.

  "You know," she said coldly, "I think killing you might be enjoyable after all."

  Even through her anger, Jason could tell he'd struck a nerve with her. A painful one. It was a curse he'd inherited from his Romanian mother, his ability to sum up people with an unerring accuracy. His mother had blamed it on her Romany blood. Maybe some of that was true, but Jason had never really believed in any hokum.

  But in his professional life, the ability to sum people up quickly was a godsend.

  In his personal life, it sucked.

  "Sorry, Sam," he said quietly.

  She didn't respond.

  "So why do you want me dead?" he asked, trying to change the subject back to why she'd dragged him here.

  "Oh, let me count the ways. Would you like them alphabetically or placed in the order of their significance?"

  He snorted at that. "Alphabetical works for me. If I hum a few bars, would you sing it?"

  She rolled her eyes at him.

  "C'mon," he said, almost playfully. "Why am I here, chained naked to your bed? Really?"

  "Because I'm going to kill you. Really."

  There was no misreading her tone or her body language. She meant that.

  He gave her a sincere stare. "I didn't betray BAD, Sam. If I'd wanted Hunter killed, I wouldn't have rigged his car. I'd have gone for him one-on-one."

  She shrugged nonchalantly. "It makes no never mind to the ones in charge. You've compromised yourself. There's nothing to be done to salvage it."

  Was she telling the truth? "Then why did you tranq me and not kill me?"

  She gave him a nasty glare. "I couldn't leave you dead on the street. We don't make those kinds of mistakes. You're only alive until Retter gets here, and then we'll dispose of you properly."

  Jason clenched his hands. "I didn't try to kill him, Sam. You have to believe me."

  "I don't have to do a damn thing."

  Why couldn't he make them see reason? "C'mon, you know me. When have I ever gone at someone's back?"

  "London."

  "Sam!"

  Every expression on her face told him he was talking to the wall.

  Her cell phone rang. While she answered it, Jason twisted his hands, trying to find sorneway to break free of the cuffs. As a kid, he used to be able to bend his thumb in and escape...

  Unfortunately, he'd lost that talent.

  "Really?" Sam said as she narrowed her gaze on him. "Uh-huh. And you're sure about this?"

  He truly hoped she wasn't talking about his death.

  "There's no doubt? No chance for error?"

  Jason strained, trying to make out the words that were coming from the phone in a tone reminiscent of Charlie Brown's teacher.

  "All right, then. I'll do it." She hung up the phone.

  "Do what?"

  She didn't answer as she drew closer to the bed. "You really went too far this time, didn't you? Selling us out. Slumming with the enemy . . ." She clucked her tongue at him. "Tell me what I should do with you."

  "Let me go so that I can finish my assignment and prove to all of you that I'm innocent."

  "Yeah."

  Jason threw his head back and let out a disgusted sigh. What was he going to do?

  Sam left the room for a few seconds, then came back with her weapon drawn.

  Jason tensed as he realized she'd screwed the silencer onto it. For the first time in his career, he was really scared. There was no way to fight back. No way out of this one.

  "Don't, Sam. You're only going to hate yourself when you find out the truth."

  She snorted at his words. "I assure you, Banks, that'll never happen."

  Her eyes cold and empty, she aimed the gun at him. Jason refused to flinch. He'd never been a coward. If she was going to do this, then she was going to kill him with him looking her dead in the eyes.

  She didn't even blink before she squeezed the trigger. Jason sucked his breath in, waiting to feel the bite of a bullet tearing through his body.

  He didn't.

  Instead, a slow smile spread across her face. "Did you wet yourself, Banks?"

  Jason cocked his head in disbelief as her words rang in his mind. "What the fuck is this?"

  She pulled the mag clip from her back pocket and slid it into the gun. "Basically, I'm harassing you for the near fatal heart attack you gave poor Hunter in London ... and for all the other pranks you have perpetrated on the unsuspecting members of our group. Including me."

  His anger melted under a look of disgust. "Dammit, Sam! Do you know what you've done? What you interrupted tonight? I was going--"

  "To get killed," she said simply, interrupting his tantrum. "Not just by me, apparently. That was Retter on the phone a second ago. He said he'd just left one of his informants in a club, and the man had given him some interesting news. He said you were busted by your target, Banks. Big-time. Ariston found out from a plant of his in the MI-5 that you blew up a pig in Hunter's car to make it look like Hunter was dead."

  "I told you I was innocent."

  She rolled her eyes. "Retter said that you must have figured on Hunter being such a coward that he'd immediately jump the next plane home--which he did, but not before Ariston's people got a hold of his flight information. Ariston knew you hadn't betrayed the agency, and those two heifers you were leaving the club with tonight were about to take you down to his house, where they were going to fillet you into itty-bitty Jason pieces."

  Jason felt the color leave his face as he went completely still. "Are you sure?"

  Sam nodded gravely. "Retter had no doubt. If he had, he'd have told me to go ahead with my assignment." She sighed as if the thought of not killing him was more than she could bear. "Luckily you're not the only agent we have in Ariston's group. Now my mission is to hold you here until Monday, at which time Retter will construct a very real-looking death for you so that I can smuggle you out of the country."

  He shook his head in disbelief. "I can't believe I let them fool me. I'm never fooled. Not like that."

  Sam almost felt sorry for him. It hurt to be misled, especially on something that could turn out fatal. "It happens to the best of us."

  His face spoke plainly ... Not to me. "Fine, let me go"

  Sam knew that she should, but as she looked down at him, completely helpless and at her mercy, the devil crawled inside her. This was a once-in-a-life-time opportunity to pay him back for that little spy job he'd done on her. God love him, but this man had caused her endless hours of humiliation.

  Now vengeance was hers, and this little booger was going to pay...

  "Why should I? Retter said to keep you in place until Monday. Well, you're in place. What better way to make sure you don't do something stupid."

  "I'm lying here naked, Sam. I would like to get up and get dressed."

  She didn't answer. Instead, she gave him a saucy smirk as she trailed one fingernail down his perfectly tanned, bare chest. Chills sp
rang up in the wake of her caress, and to her dismay, she wasn't entirely immune to the steely feel of that body. "I don't know, but you're awfully cute lying there all nice and nekkid." She skimmed the length of that hard, six-foot-tall body with her gaze.

  In spite of herself, her mouth watered for a taste.

  He gave her a droll stare. "You know, if I did this to you, you'd have me up on sexual harassment charges."

  "Double standards are such a bitch, aren't they?"

  He didn't comment on that. "So are you going to leave me here naked for the entire weekend?"

  She shrugged again. "Why not? At least I know you can't get into any more trouble this way."

  He glowered at her, but even so she saw the underlying amusement. "You are an evil woman."

  Jason wasn't sure what to think. He really didn't like the idea of his cover blown, but spending the weekend with Sam wasn't the worst thing to ever happen to him.

  That is, if she'd let him get up and get dressed.

  "Evil to the core of my backwoods Mississippi self." She dropped a mischievous gaze down to his body and to the small lump that he wished wasn't so prominent. "You know, my mother has a theory about men ..."

  Before he could even react, she grabbed the blanket just over his erection and snatched it free from him and the bed.

  "Sam!" he snapped as he and his obvious erection from her hand on his chest were completely bared to her gaze. "What are you doing?"

  She draped the blanket over her shoulder as she took her time perusing every inch of his naked body ... and he meant every inch. Her gaze was slow and hot as she seemed to savor staring at him. As much as he hated to admit it, there was something oddly erotic about this.

  "I'm paying you back," she said with a wicked grin.

  Jason had never felt so exposed to a woman in his life. "For what?"

  "I overheard you talking to Retter eight months ago in our offices in Nashville. Do you remember?"

  He frowned even more as he tried to recall which conversation she was referring to. "I talk to him all the--" Jason hesitated as he suddenly remembered that talk. It was back when he'd flown to Nashville for a few days to rest and debrief. It'd been an entire week of freedom and while he'd been there, he'd seen...

  Oh, jeez. Had she really overheard them talking about that?

  "Yes," she said pointedly. "I know you were spying on me in the locker room while I showered."

  And it had been a most beautiful sight too. One that had haunted him ever since and had led to his dreams of her appearing to him as a water nymph out to seduce him. Though she wasn't a skinny woman or very busty, there had been something about the water sliding over the length of her tanned, athletic body that had scorched him. Even now he could see the water dripping from her breasts, see it sliding from her navel to get caught in the dark triangle between her slightly parted thighs.

  He'd dreamed of nothing since then except of parting those thighs more and seeking out the sweetest part of her body with his tongue...

  Oh, yeah, that moment had certainly been worth this little bit of embarrassment.

  Her eyes burned him with fury. "Have you any idea how embarrassing it is to know that you and Retter have discussed my attributes? I can't even look the man in the eyes now. Any more than I can show him my backside for fear he's thinking of me in the shower. Thank you so much, asshole."

  "That was an accident," he said, trying to placate her. "Joe had sent me in there to fix the light that the maintenance department kept missing."

  He could tell by her face that she didn't buy it.

  "Why didn't you tell me you were in there when you heard me enter?" she asked.

  "I was going to, but you whipped your shirt and bra off so fast I didn't have the chance, and I knew if I said something then you'd be pissed, so I--"

  "Spied on me."

  He offered her a boyish grin. "I had my eyes closed the whole time."

  She put her hands on her hips and narrowed those brown eyes on him. "Really? I believe you told Retter that I had one of the best asses you'd ever seen."

  Well, okay, so he hadn't closed his eyes even to blink ... and she did truly have one of the best asses he'd ever seen on any woman.

  "You should be flattered." He tried again to charm her. "At least I complimented you."

  That flew over her about as well as a chicken headed south for the winter. Instead of easing her temper, it only seemed to worsen it.

  "Who else have you told? Huh?"

  "No one, I swear."

  She shook her head. "And I'm supposed to believe a man who lies for a living. Yeah, right."

  He gave her his sweetest smile. "I promise, Sam. I didn't say a word to anyone else."

  Still he saw the doubt plainly etched in her face. "You are so unrepentant, aren't you? You can't even say you're sorry for being a peeping Tom. For invading my privacy!"

  Jason crossed his legs, trying to hide his erection from her. "If I said yes, would you give me my pants back now?"

  "No." She turned around and left the room.

  "Hey!" Jason snapped as he realized he was hanging out to breeze in his entirety with no way to cover himself at all. God help him if someone came into the room unannounced.

  Over and over his mind played a news clip, "American Agent Found Nude in Apartment." Laughter at eleven.

  This wasn't funny!

  "Sam! Get back in here."

  "Why?" Her voice was faint, as if she were heading out of the apartment.

  "Sam! I swear if you don't give me my clothes back, I'm going to make you pay!"

  She returned not with his clothes but with a Polaroid camera. Jason went cold in fear. The last thing he wanted was to see his Longfellow stuck on some Web site somewhere.

  Or worse ... the office bulletin board.

  "What are you doing?"

  She answered by snapping a picture of him lying bare-ass naked on the bed.

  "Sam, I swear--"

  "Don't swear, it's not nice." She took another picture, and another.

  Jason bent his leg up, hoping to block himself from her lens.

  Looking completely satisfied, Sam pulled the pictures out and set the camera aside while she held the pictures in one hand, waiting for them to develop. She took a look at the first one, then smiled coyly at him. "Bet you're wondering what I intend to do with these, huh?"

  He glared menacingly at her. "You better burn them."

  She arched a taunting brow at that. "Why? I'm thinking they'd make a wonderful addition to this gay male revue Web site I know. Besides, it's not like most of Europe hasn't already seen you naked. I hear tell you make more time than a Swiss clock factory."

  Jason growled as he tried to pull himself free.

  She drew her breath in sharply between her teeth, as if she appreciated the way his muscles were bulging. "You keep doing that, baby, and I might have to take some more."

  He growled even louder. "What is this? You know if I did this to you, you'd report me."

  Samantha decided she had tormented him enough. He really was starting to get angry, and that was the last thing she wanted.

  Besides, she fully intended to hand the pictures over to him ... eventually.

  Maybe in a year or two.

  "Calm down, Banks," she said as she slid the pictures into her back pocket. "Believe me, I wouldn't report you. I'd just hire some thugs to beat you senseless. Or shoot you myself one night when you least expected it."

  Jason cursed under his breath as she vacated the room again. Dammit!

  And then he heard a door open and close.

  Surely she hadn't left...

  He was just beginning to get really nervous when she returned a few minutes later with a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt. She dropped them over his groin before she pulled out a set of keys to unlock his handcuffs.

  He frowned at the clothing that didn't belong to him. "Where are my clothes?"

  She unlocked the cuffs. "I drove them miles away from here
and dumped them in an incinerator."

  He was aghast at that. He'd loved his leather jacket that he'd bought a few months back in Italy. No one had bugged his stuff. He was always careful to check for such things. "Good God, you're paranoid."

  She arched a brow at him. "Like you wouldn't be? For all I knew, one of Ariston's thugs was following me to try and help you before I could shoot you for real."

  Jason rolled his eyes at her as she turned around to give him her back while he dressed. "Aw, c'mon, babe, admit it. You really do love me. It killed you to think of me being dead."

  With her back to him, she scoffed. "What I love is the sight of your butt as it's walking away from me."

  Jason got off the bed. He moved toward her silently. Grabbing her, he started to spin her around, but before he could, she kicked his feet out from under him and had him on the floor, flat on his back.

  "Ow!" he said, looking up at her as she placed her small foot in the center of his chest to hold him there. "I bet you're hell on a date."

  Glaring at him, she removed her foot and moved away. "You'll never know."

  No, but he wanted to. He pushed himself to his feet and gave her a hot once-over. "So what are we going to do for the next couple of days to pass the time?"

  "I've got Parcheesi in the other room."

  "Really?" he said, giving her a playful half smile. "Ever play Strip Parcheesi?"

  She made a disgusted sound in the back of her throat. "You're such a pig."

  "Yeah, but have you ever had a pig in the blanket? They're mouthwateringly yummy."

  She wrinkled her nose at him, and for some reason he couldn't fathom, that look turned him on. "Yeah, I had one in college. It made me sick to my stomach."

  He closed the distance between them, stopping close enough to her that he could smell her sweet perfume. "Maybe that pig didn't know what he was doing. But this pig ... he knows how to curl a woman's toes."

  "I'll give you that one," she quipped. "My toes always curl away from the floor anytime I see something disgusting."

  Jason laughed. She was quick. He admired that in a woman. "So do you have a steady boyfriend, Agent Winslow?"

  "Not since I shot him for snoring. Do you snore, Agent Banks?"

  He ached to pull her into his arms, but knowing her, she'd have him back on the floor--which, if she'd join him, wouldn't be a bad thing at all. "Guess I won't be getting any sleep tonight, huh?"

  "Yeah, and not for the reason you think."

  Jason had to shake his head at that. It wasn't often anyone got the better of him, but this feisty little woman from the Deep South had his number.