Born to Be Bad

by Sherrilyn Kenyon

  "Well then, I guess I'll just limp over this way and pout for a while."

  "Yeah" she said, "you do that."

  As he started to move, Jason heard something strange outside. It sounded like someone coming up the stairs.

  Sam cocked her head.

  "You hear that?" he whispered.

  She nodded. She pulled a gun from an ankle holster and handed it to him before she drew the weapon from the small of her back.

  "No one knows we're here," she whispered back.

  "Maybe it's another tenant coming home." But even he knew that was bullshit. It sounded like at least two people, maybe more, and they were coming up the stairs in a way that sounded like someone trying to be quiet. Stealthy. More than that it sounded like someone who knew exactly where they were going, and that place was their door.

  Sam bounded away from him, to crouch to the side of the bedroom door frame as Jason made his way over toward the window that led to the balcony outside.

  He'd just reached it when something hit the front door. Hard. Two seconds later, gunshots exploded as the people outside fired into the door.

  "Sam!" he shouted.

  She was already darting toward him as the people in the hallway outside kicked the front door open.

  Infrared sights danced eerily through the dim light, seeking a target.

  "Kill them!" a tall blond shouted in German. "Leave no survivors!"

  This was about to get ugly.

  Chapter 3

  Sam was less than happy as she saw the men rushing forward to kill them. And who could blame her? Being shot dead would ruin even the best of days.

  Jason flung open the window as he opened fire on the men. She ducked shrapnel and flying bullets. He grabbed her from behind and pushed her toward the iron balcony and fire escape. Not one to argue with sound thinking, she squeezed off a couple of rounds before jumping outside.

  As she headed for the roof, Jason grabbed her from behind. "Down, woman, not up. There's no place to go that way."

  "They'll be waiting for us on the street." "Trust me, they'll be waiting for us on the roof." Before she could argue, he jumped on the fire escape ladder and took the express ride to hell as it rattled, then slammed onto the pavement below. How he managed to keep his grip and not jar his bones, she couldn't imagine.

  Bullets ricocheted past her.

  So much for her plan of running to the roof. Gripping her weapon, she started down the ladder after him. She heard more gunfire on the street below.

  By the time she reached Jason, there were three bodies on the ground, and he was checking the clip on a much larger weapon than the one she'd handed him. It was obvious he'd stolen it from one of the dead bad guys.

  "No offense," he said, slamming the clip back into the handle of the new gun, "your backup weapon is for Girl Scouts. But this"--he slid a bullet into the chamber--"is the weapon of champions. Now I can do some serious damage."

  Before she could respond, bullets exploded around them. She turned and fired a round that caught a man on the fire escape. He groaned before he flipped over and fell to the alley not far away from them.

  "Into the car," Jason said before he skidded over the hood to the driver's side.

  "I don't have keys."

  "Don't need no keys." He shot through the glass, then opened the door and got into the car. She gasped in protest, but it was too late. He'd already killed her little smart roadster rental. He leaned over to unlock her side.

  By the time Sam was in, he'd already hot-wired the car. "I don't think I want to know how you came by that talent, especially when it concerns a European make."

  "No, you don't," he said as he started forward under a barrage of gunfire.

  The bullets sparked off the hood, but luckily missed shattering the windshield.

  Sam ducked low as they went flying down the dark streets with no lights on.

  "Damn," Jason said in a low tone as he shifted gears.

  "What?"

  "They're chasing us, and I have a feeling that their car is faster than this one. I swear I had a faster go-cart when I was ten." He snatched the wheel, making a drastic right-hand turn. "Don't you people have homes?"

  Sam pulled herself upright to see the black Mercedes chasing them. She lowered her window to fire at them, hoping she could hit their radiator.

  It didn't work.

  And Jason was right. They were closing in.

  "Do they have to build reliable cars?" she said from between clenched teeth as she ejected her empty mag. She glanced over at Jason. "You didn't happen to grab any spare ammo, did you?"

  He handed her his gun.

  Sam started to use it, then thought better of it. "Better to save this in case they catch us."

  "Good point."

  He turned around another corner so fast that she swore the car was on two wheels. She twisted in the seat and grabbed the seat belt. "Where did you learn to drive? The state fair?"

  "Yeah. I love bumper cars. They taught me everything I need to know about New York City and Rome driving. Best of all, it taught me how to survive it."

  Sam held her hands up over her face as they went crashing through a street vendor's cart. "That's real nice, Indiana Jones. Hope he didn't need that to feed his family or anything."

  "Excuse me," Jason snapped at her. "I'm in the middle of a car chase here. Can you leave the sarcasm for later?"

  Maybe, but sarcasm was how she coped.

  Sam frowned as she heard the other car open fire on them. She braced herself, half expecting to feel a bullet in her back at any second.

  "That's what I wanted..."Jason's voice was filled with dark glee.

  She looked to see a v-e-r-y narrow arched tunnel in front of them. Her eyes widened as she took in the size of their car versus the size of the tunnel. "We won't fit."

  "We'll fit."

  "We. Won't. Fit!" she screamed as he flew into it.

  Her heart pounded in terror as she prepared for impact.

  It didn't come.

  They did lose the side-view mirror, but other than that, they came through unscathed. Sam crossed herself, even though she wasn't Catholic.

  The sound of twisting metal filled the air. Sam turned to see the car that was chasing them get lodged fully in the narrow arch. Luckily it had trapped them, so they couldn't even open the car doors to shoot.

  "Wa-hoo!" she shouted, punching the roof of their little smart roadster. "You know Jace, I could actually kiss you for that."

  He flashed a wicked grin at her. "Hang on to that thought, and I'll collect later. Right now, we need to find someplace safe to hide."

  She couldn't agree more. They also needed someplace where they could rearm themselves, which in Germany wasn't exactly easy. "There's a little two-bedroom inn on the outskirts of the city, toward Wedding. We should be safe there."

  "You sure?"

  "Yeah. The owner is related to Retter. I've stayed there a couple of times in the past."

  Jason slowed down as he headed toward the northwest of Berlin, away from their "friends." "What I want to know is how the hell they found us."

  Sam nodded. "That makes two of us. I took your clothes halfway to Poland before I burned them. Maybe they backtracked to the apartment after finding them, since the clothes had paused there."

  He scoffed at her reasoning. "Trust me, they're not that smart."

  "Then how do you explain it?"

  "I don't know. Maybe we have a leak."

  It was possible. "Speaking of leaks, Mr. Double Agent, that was really mean, what you did to Hunter in London. He won't even leave his Brentwood house now for fear of another car exploding on him."

  Jason made a noise of complete disgust. "Please. I only picked him to target for my attack because I knew Mr. Prep-School-High-Brow has that damned remote that starts the car to warm it while he's still inside, drinking his coffee. God forbid, Hunter ever have a cold ass. He's the only agent I knew for sure wouldn't get caught in the blast."

&n
bsp; Sam had to force herself not to laugh at his description of Hunter. The man did love to lord his superior breeding over all of them, and Jason was right--there was no way Hunter would manually start his own car. "Maybe, but you had Joe riled about it."

  Jason shrugged. "He'll get over it... especially if I end up killed."

  "That's not funny."

  "No," Jason agreed as his handsome face sobered, "it isn't. The object isn't to die for your country, it's to make the other poor slob die for his."

  There was a quote she hadn't heard in a long time. "Thank you, General Patton."

  He arched a brow at her words as if they impressed him. "You know the good general?"

  "My mother's favorite movie. I've watched it a billion times as a kid. I swear I've seen George C. Scott more than I have my own father."

  Grinning at her, Jason slowed as they passed a German police car. Sam watched them cautiously until they were out of sight. Even though they worked with several German groups, she had to be careful. BAD wasn't officially sanctioned by the American government. They worked outside the parameters that guided the other agencies.

  If they were caught, they were on their own. There was no diplomatic immunity or leniency to be had for them. Essentially, mother America would turn her back on them and leave them to rot. It was a risk they all understood, and one they each agreed to. None of them would have it any other way.

  She looked at Jason as he navigated the streets like a pro. The streetlights cut interesting shadows across his handsome face. His jaw was set, and she could see the skill and determination in his eyes.

  It was just the two of them now.

  "I think we need to call Retter," she said, "and let him know we're on the move. I wouldn't want him to turn up at the apartment and get blitzed or shot or something."

  He nodded before he turned down a street that led in the opposite direction from the one they were headed, just in case the bad guys were looking for them. For all they knew, the men after them could have Retter's cell phone tapped.

  Jason scanned the street. "I'll look for a hotel with a lobby. We can catch a pay phone there."

  He was right. She couldn't use her cell phone either. If the ones after them had a GPS trace, they could pinpoint them in a heartbeat.

  It was strange; she'd never given Jason much credit for sense. Around the office he'd always been a jokester who was constantly playing pranks on the others.

  But in the field...

  He was truly capable. Frighteningly so. No wonder Joe had recruited him from the Marines.

  "You know," she said slowly, "it's weird seeing you with your game face on."

  That familiar grin curved his lips, and she had to admit, he could be incredibly gorgeous like that. There was just something about him that was so delectable she could eat him with a spoon. "Didn't think I could manage one, did you?"

  "Not really."

  He laughed. "Yeah, I know. It's part of my camouflage. You lure the enemy into dismissing you as a crackpot, then they don't watch you so closely. It makes taking them by surprise a whole lot easier."

  She definitely had to give him credit there. "I never thought about it like that."

  Jason whipped the tiny car in between two others in front of a small hotel. He checked behind them to make sure no one was following them before he got out.

  Sam joined him on the street, then followed him into the lobby. They found the pay phones across from the front desk. Jason stood with his back to her, to guard their position.

  Out of habit she reached for her credit card, only to remember that if the bad guys knew who they were, they'd be able to trace it to the hotel.

  Grimacing, she shoved it back into her pocket and pulled out a few euros. "I need change."

  He took the money from her. "I'll get it."

  She waited while Jason went to the desk to exchange it. His German was flawless as he charmed the older woman working the desk. The woman absolutely preened before him.

  "Danke, Schatz," he said, winking at the clerk before he headed back toward Sam.

  Not sure if she should be offended by his flirting or not, Sam shook her head at him. He was hopeless. How could she ever take him seriously? He was always on the make.

  She took the change from him and dialed Retter's cell.

  He picked up on the third ring.

  "Hola, mi amigo," she said, using a phrase they had set up in advance to let the person on the other end know they were in trouble and they might be bugged.

  "Hi, Bella," he said in that deep, even tone of his, using one of her aliases. "Did the hunters find their quarry?"

  "Ran them right out of the hole."

  "Damn," Retter growled. "Did both rabbits make it?"

  "Yeah. At least for the moment. But you know how bolt-holes go ..."

  "No place like family, huh?"

  She had to smile at his intuitiveness. There were times when she swore that man was psychic. "Exactly."

  "Okay. I've got some stuff here to work on. You see to the rabbit and make sure it doesn't die on us."

  "You got it. Hasta la vista."

  "Buenas noches."

  Sam hung up the phone and turned around. "All right," she said to Jason. "He knows where we're going."

  "Good." Jason reached out and brushed a stray strand of hair back from her face. His green eyes were sizzling as they scorched her with heat. "By the way, do you know how sexy you sound when you speak Spanish?"

  There he went again. The man really couldn't help himself. "Oh, please."

  He actually managed to look slightly offended. "No, I'm serious. It really turns me on ..."

  "Yeah, right. Please tell me what doesn't turn you on. I think I need it by the bucketful."

  Jason stood back as Sam led the way out of the hotel. What she didn't suspect was that he was deadly serious. He didn't know what it was about her, but she lured him like Parthenope lured Odysseus--now there was an obscure metaphor left from one too many days spent in college.

  It wasn't easy to think straight while he was this hard for her. Of course it would help if she didn't smell so damn good. He didn't know what perfume she wore, but if the military bottled it and sprayed it over the male troops, it could be a potent distraction.

  It was all he could do not to pull her to him and just take a deep breath in her hair. Oh, yeah, he was losing it for a woman who would rather shoot him than look at him.

  What was wrong with him?

  Shaking his head to clear it, he headed to the driver's side of the car as she got in.

  "We're going to need to ditch the car," she said as he joined her inside.

  "I know, but we should be safe for a short while in it. Our friends don't strike me as the kind to call the cops to report it stolen."

  "It's not their car," she said. "It was my rental. But if they found our safe house, they probably know about this car too."

  "Oh." He headed back toward Wedding. "Good point."

  All of a sudden, and for no apparent reason, Sam started laughing.

  "What?" Jason asked, completely confused by what she found humorous in their current situation.

  Had the woman snapped a wheel?

  "Nothing," she said, trying to sober. "It's really stupid."

  "Most things in life are, but if it's worth laughing at, I'd like to hear it. God knows I could use a laugh after the night I've had."

  She drew a deep breath. "Yeah, I guess you could. It's not often you get shot, drugged, photographed, skinned of your clothing, and then chased, is it?"

  "Well, now that you put it that way . . ." He winked at her.

  She rolled her eyes before she answered his earlier questions. "I was just thinking of this stupid thing my mother used to say whenever things went wrong."

  "And that is?"

  "Where are we going and tell why am I in this handbasket again?"

  Jason laughed at the polite twist on the old saying. "I think I like your mom."

  "Yeah, and s
he would love you. My mom has a thing for good-looking guys."

  His heart skipped a beat at her disclosure. Could it be that she might actually find him attractive? "You think I'm good-looking?"

  Her face turned to stone. "Only when I see you in pictures . . ." But she couldn't hold that look. It melted under a devilish smile that melted him. "And naked, humiliated, and handcuffed to my bed."

  Jason cringed at the reminder, even though a part of him liked this teasing side of her. Around the office she was always so stern and serious. He'd never guessed that she had a fun side to her. "You know, they say turnabout is fair play."

  She gave him a daring stare. "And I say try it and die."

  He gave her a hot once-over before he wagged his eyebrows at her. "I think you'd be worth a little death and dismemberment."

  Sam had to force herself not to react to that deliberate baiting--at least not outwardly. Inwardly she was a lot more affected than she liked.

  If only she could take him seriously--but Jason wasn't the type of guy to have a monogamous relationship. In fact, she hadn't even known him to date. He was the classic guy who didn't want anyone or anything to tie him down. And she wasn't the kind of woman who dated casually. Too many years watching her mother flit from man to man had left her jaded. She wanted more from a relationship than naked, sweaty sex.

  Not that anything was particularly wrong with naked, sweaty sex, but unlike her mother, she wanted a guy who would be there for the long haul. One who wouldn't head for the door at the first sign of daylight or trouble.

  "Those are famous last words, Agent Banks. Shall I pull out the knife and test the theory of whether you're willing to die or not?"

  He shook his head at her. "You don't let any guy next to you, do you?"

  "Sure I do. I keep my gun under my pillow and cuddle him every night."

  "Wouldn't you rather cuddle something that could hold you back?"

  Jason waited for a smart-ass comeback, but for once he didn't get one. He glanced to the left to see Sam staring out at the road as if she were lost in thought.

  There was a sad air around her that let him know he'd gone too far again. Damn. Why was it he kept putting his foot in his mouth where she was concerned?

  "I'm sorry, Sam," he said quickly. "I didn't mean to strike another nerve."

  She gave him a sideways look. "I didn't think men could be so perceptive."

  "Considering I live and die by subtle signs, I learned to read body language a long time ago." Jason reached over and squeezed her hand. "Thanks, by the way."