by Lisa Hughey
She’d used terminology frequently employed by victims, especially when coming to grips with being manipulated.
He pressed his lips together to stop from demanding to know who’d hurt her. He felt like a caveman and he was sure if he had a club he’d be beating it against his chest and howling at the moon.
“You’re absolutely right.” He didn’t care if she was right. He’d kick the ass of anyone who hurt her. Except she’d probably kick their ass all on her own. And damned if that didn’t turn him on too.
Jesus, he was like one big walking hormone.
Resolutely he got his head back under control.
Kita said, “Have you got the letters? I’d like to take a look at them, then send copies to Jillian.”
The rest of the intel Alex had learned in the past two hours came rushing back.
Jillian Larsen was a former US Marshal. She’d been suspended for sleeping with a witness, putting the trial and the witness’s life in jeopardy. She’d been a disgrace to the Marshals and herself. If she hadn’t resigned there was a good chance a full-on investigation might have been launched. But according to the gossip he’d uncovered, the powers that be hadn’t wanted the negative publicity to blow up in the media. So they’d let her walk.
Alex’s lip curled. Jillian Larsen was the worst kind of agent. The kind who thought the rules didn’t apply to her, thought she was above the regulations, and jeopardized everyone in her path without a care for the consequences.
When she’d left the agency, she’d taken Marshall Adams with her and they’d started a PR agency. In a Venn diagram of PR and US Marshals, the intertwined circles would have very little overlap. What the hell PR had to do with their former business Alex had no idea. And he didn’t understand why the judge wanted Adams-Larsen to be involved in his protection.
He was shocked his boss was okay with giving Larsen’s agency access to the judge’s case. Keep the judge happy. That was his first and foremost directive, after keeping him safe, of course.
Kita propped her fists on her hips, bringing his attention back to her. She obviously knew her boss’s background and didn’t care.
He needed to get over the zing of attraction. He had to be extra diligent. He couldn’t afford to have Kita Kim fuck up the judge’s protection. And since he now knew what kind of agency she worked for—image consulting, ha—he had to be extra careful, guarding the judge from the threat of harm but also from the potential risk of incompetency.
Just because he wanted to throw her down on a bed and spend hours exploring her body didn’t mean he would. And just because the attraction was mutual didn’t mean it was going anywhere. Not if he had anything to say about it.
“Are you going to share copies of the threats?”
“It’s not necessary.” His need to hold on to that intelligence was a little over the top. “We’ve got the OPI, Office of Professional Intelligence, analyzing and dissecting the threats against Judge Adams. It’s possible that some of the information is classified.”
“Then give me redacted versions,” she demanded impatiently. “I want to put together some idea of what kind of crazy we’re up against.”
He repeated his earlier statement. “The Marshals have a team working on it.”
Kita cocked her hip and held out her hand. Her mouth, glossed with the color of a ripe peach, compressed into a flat line. “Not. Negotiable.”
Alex considered her for a moment. He could continue to refuse. The judge’s protection was considered a highly sensitive detail.
As he looked at the flat expression in her vivid black eyes he didn’t guess she’d have anything to add but as long as she didn’t let anyone else see them…. “You can read them in the car on the way to the judge’s residence.”
“I’m bringing my own car.”
“Not negotiable.” He threw the words back at her. “You are now under the rules and regulations of the US Marshal’s office regarding witness and high-value target protection.”
“Explain.”
“You’re with me.” Alex wasn’t crazy about this next part, but he had no choice. The judge wanted extra protection, the Marshals weren’t about to let anyone else mess up his security detail. “Permanently.”
“You mean—”
“I go everywhere the judge goes during the day.” Alex may have gotten this detail because he’d been too vocal in his disapproval of his last witness. As a result, he had a notation in his personnel file. He wasn’t about to get another. That meant he wasn’t about to break any rules, so she’d just have to suck it up. “And so do you.”
“So….”
“We’re stuck with each other.”
Chapter 7
Fuck a duck.
Kita thought she’d have a little more time to get used to being around Alex Saunders. His disapproval of her methods stung. So her inconvenient attraction was even more mystifying. Or maybe she could figure out the perpetrator after reviewing the letters, and never have to see this guy again. He certainly ran hot and cold. And her reaction to him was even more puzzling.
She might be out of practice but she knew when a guy was interested. And he’d been hotter than DC in July until suddenly a switch flipped and he’d looked at her like something stuck to the bottom of his shoe.
Whatever.
Now she had to spend every moment with him? Maybe he had a partner and they could switch.
Alex Saunders twisted his arm to glance at the watch strapped to his thick raw-boned wrist. Kita swallowed as she realized she’d been right. He was much bigger than he appeared.
She’d always had a thing for big guys.
“The judge should be done momentarily.”
She blinked, reined in her wayward thoughts. She still had to pass the judge’s approval. Which she had to do. Hannah Smith was depending on her. “Okay.”
“I’ll bring the car around.” Alex shifted his attention to Kita. “You have a weapon?”
“Of course.”
“And you’re certified to carry?”
He was starting to really piss her off. “Of course.”
Everyone at ALIAS was certified and they had to go through re-certification every three months to keep that status. Everyone on their staff was multitalented and proficient in more than one area of expertise.
“Okay. You escort the judge to the garage exit and I’ll pick you up there. We can stop at your car and get your bag. We’re headed to the judge’s co-op in the Watergate so he can dress for the fundraiser dinner.”
His autocratic tone set her nerves on edge. Kita held her tongue but it was difficult. “Yes, sir.” She fought the urge to salute.
He nodded abruptly. “Once we get to the judge’s house we can go over protocol for the evening.”
Before she could reply, the judge burst from behind the tall mahogany doors, followed by a petite redhead in a tailored navy suit. He stopped dead. The woman almost ran into the back of him before she jerked to his side and caught herself on the tips of her too-high stilettos.
The judge stared.
Kita flushed.
“It appears that I was incorrect.” His smile made her want to take a super-hot shower. Yuck. “You’ll do just fine.”
Double yuck.
The petite redhead with the perfect makeup and nails that could rip Kita’s skin to shreds glared at her as if Kita were some sort of stain on her low-cut pristine white blouse.
The judge studied her for another long minute. His still black eyebrows lowered over eyes the same shape as her pal Marsh, but that was the only similarity she’d noticed. He narrowed his gaze. “You look familiar. Have we met before?”
Kita’s pulse danced the rhumba in her throat. She’d lived next door to Marsh and his mother for years. It was possible that the judge had met her mother on one of his infrequent visits to see his son. But not Kita.
“No, sir.”
“Call me Bobby.” The judge swung his arm around her shoulders, his palm dropping dangerously low to
her breast. Kita gritted her teeth and dredged up a smile. Everything in her wanted to shove his hand away and shrug off the casual embrace.
One good stomp to his instep would likely accomplish both. And quickly.
But if she blew this assignment, she would let Hannah down. And she couldn’t do that. So she’d suck it up, and do whatever it took to make the judge happy.
Mr. Stick Up His Butt was right. They were stuck with each other. Kita hadn’t backed down from a fight since she was seventeen and she wasn’t about to start now. This time the stakes were high and she would not fail.
She would do everything in her power to make sure Hannah and those kids were safe.
She made a show of checking her weapon, casually throwing off the judge’s hand before it could start to wander.
“Vanessa, I’m done for the day.”
“You’ve got Congresswoman Nichols’s fundraiser tonight.” Something in the woman’s voice caused Kita to take another look at the assistant. But Vanessa’s face had settled into a bland, professional mask. “Do you need a car for your plus one?”
“It’s in my phone calendar, dear.” The judge didn’t even look at his assistant as he smiled at Kita. “And my date is right here.”
Vanessa nodded sharply, shot daggers at Kita. “Have a good time.” But somehow Kita thought she was really saying choke on your chicken dinner.
“Judge, I’d like to ask you some questions about the letters when we get you back to your house.”
“Don’t trouble yourself with that.” He literally patted her on the head.
“It’s no trouble.” She smiled tightly. “After all, it is my job.”
He sighed. “Then I’ll have Vanessa shoot you copies.”
After rattling off her email address, the ever-efficient but slightly hostile Vanessa forwarded the emails right away.
Kita analyzed the text on the way to the judge’s co-op.
The wording was sometimes a tad strange, as if potentially the sender spoke more than one language. A misplaced article or adjective. Nothing in the syntax jumped out to indicate a specific derivative. Although based on the judge’s nonchalant attitude toward the threats, she began to suspect there was more going on than he copped to.
Kita needed access to his email server to trace the menacing emails. Because they were online, the danger to the judge should seem less worrisome. Internet threats could be delivered from anywhere in the world, and the perpetrator could in actuality not have any close access to the judge.
You will pay for your crimes. I will not be ignored. I want to carve out your heart. While there was some gruesome wording, when she asked why he was being guarded twenty-four seven, the judge put his hand on her knee, precipitating a very strained and awkward conversation about why touching her was off-limits.
That was fun.
And yet he’d managed to distract her enough that the answer was lost. But she would get back to it.
After they arrived at his co-op, the judge went to change into formal attire, leaving her alone with Alex.
Judge Adams’s co-op was on one of the top floors of the Watergate complex. Kita bet the mortgage on his five-thousand-square-foot condo was insane.
However the building did have decent security.
Kita had suited up for the upcoming charity event. She had a knife strapped to her inner thigh, and a small caliber handgun in her sequined purse. Odds were she wouldn’t need either.
Alex handed her a small comm piece. She tried to tuck it in the shell of her ear but a strand of her hair got caught in between her ear and the device.
“Let me.” Alex’s husky rasp whispered over her ear as he bent to ease the strand from where it had gotten pinned. His warm breath brushed along her bare neck, and up close his tightly leashed power surrounded her.
His broad shoulders seemed to expand as he inhaled deeply. “Got it.”
She wanted to get something. Kita tilted her chin up so she could look him in the eye. But he was closer than she realized. So close she could see the flecks of navy and the darker ring surrounding his silvery blue eyes. The heat that he’d kept banked earlier flared to life again.
The air around them shimmered with anticipation.
Everything in her quickened, stirred, wanted. Her body seemed to instinctively ready for his touch; her lips buzzed with anticipation as his gaze dropped to her mouth. She’d eaten off all the lipstick earlier with her frustration when the judge had dodged her questions.
Alex’s hand rested on the curve where her neck met her shoulder. His palm was hot against the beat of her pulse and he stroked his fingertips along her bare collarbones. She didn’t think he was aware he was touching her but she was hyperconscious of every single fingertip and the rough callused skim of his fingers against her sensitive skin.
Her breasts swelled and her sex softened, trembling on the edge of desire as she yearned for him to bend closer and press his lips to hers.
She swayed toward him, and her breasts brushed his hard pecs. The diamond points of her nipples were ultra-sensitized through the layers of fabric that separated their chests.
God, he was so close. His breath soughed against her lips.
Her mouth dried, and she swiped her tongue over her lips for moisture in the suddenly arid room. Anticipation was like a lick of heat rising to consume them in a mutual fire.
Alex tilted his head and her eyes drifted closed.
His lips, soft, yet not, brushed hers. The contact was light, insignificant, and yet the moment was fraught with sexual tension. They hovered on the edge, one slight move could tip them together or apart. Kita couldn’t stand it. She nipped his bottom lip.
The tension broke and they surged against each other, the attraction mutual and intense. His palms surrounded her ribcage, and she lifted her hands and gripped his forearms, holding tight to the leashed power in his hard muscles. Her body tingled with arousal.
He held her tightly, keeping them a short distance apart. The press of his mouth was more forceful this time but still exploratory. With each brush of his lips he advanced, pressing a kiss to the corners of her mouth, then swirled his tongue over her lips.
Kita’s mouth parted, letting him in. She met the next sweep of his tongue with hers, the intimate contact like an electrical zap.
He pushed his tongue inside as hers tangled with his. Their lips fused, as he dove into the kiss. Eager, skilled, he played her mouth like a virtuoso. Unwilling to break for air, they dueled for supremacy.
His muscles were rock hard beneath her hands. She wanted to twine around him and get as close as possible but even through the intense, powerful kiss, he held her slightly away from him. Not letting their bodies touch.
Until his erection brushed against her belly.
Kita moaned. Softly, deeply.
The mechanical click of a lock, and the sound of a door being opened, shot through her brain. They jumped apart. Alex had his weapon out. Kita reached for her knife, chest heaving, heart thundering. Until the judge’s slow, deliberate footsteps sounded from the hallway that led to the bedrooms.
She straightened, pressed the flat of her palm against her lips in a deliberate move, as if she could wipe away the erotic, mesmerizing minutes.
Alex quickly holstered his weapon. His hooded gaze hid whatever he was feeling but he turned away from her quickly. He pretended an excessive interest in the sweeping view of the Potomac river, dismissing her without a flicker of acknowledgement that the kiss even happened.
Kita lifted her chin. Fuck him.
She retrieved her gloss from her purse and hastily applied a new layer of coral stain to her lips.
The judge strode into the room just as she dropped the tube into her small clutch. His shiny tuxedo shoes halted, and he squinted at the two of them standing twenty feet apart. Kita knew her lips were likely puffy, but that couldn’t be helped.
The judge assessed Alex, then Kita. His eyes narrowed. “Let’s go.”
They hadn’t fool
ed him at all. And he was not happy.
Chapter 8
On the judge’s arm, Kita roamed the Top of the Hay banquet room, at the exclusive downtown DC Hotel.
The L-shaped room only held about three hundred and fifty people, not including the servers. The French doors were open to the terrace, and the illuminated White House glowed in the backdrop of the early fall sunset.
Alex had chosen chauffeur duty, sticking with the judge’s limo so that no one could tamper with it. The threats were vague enough that a car bomb had to remain on the list as a potential way to off the guy. You won’t see me coming. Had so many connotations and possibilities.
Although it did give them a clue. Whether it was valid or not. Won’t see me coming indicated a single perpetrator. So they needed to concentrate on an individual rather than a group who might be upset with Judge Adams or one of his rulings.
Kita wondered if Alex had picked limo duty so he wouldn’t have to work close to her. A momentary stab of hurt surprised her. Then pissed her off. She didn’t care if Alex freaking Saunders didn’t want to spend time in her company.
His partner, Sheppard Gaffney, was at the fundraiser somewhere. Kita had yet to meet him in person, but they were connected through their comm pieces.
“Remember, your job is to scan for anyone out of the ordinary or with an unhealthy interest in the judge. Point them out and Shep will handle the physical protection aspect.”
Kita resisted the urge to roll her eyes. He’d quoted the Marshal’s manual no less than five times while they’d gone over the plan for tonight. She seriously wondered if he slept with the damn thing.
And there was a place she shouldn’t go. Alex in bed. His black hair tousled and day-old stubble roughening his cheeks and highlighting his mouth. That perpetual guardedness stripped away.
But more than that, an insidious attraction slithered through her like a snake through the garden. She didn’t like it. For the most part, men left her cold. Sure, she had male friends, but with the exception of Marsh, she was never quite at ease around them. She knew it was because of her background, but she didn’t really care. Most men tended to let you down. Actually most people tended to let you down.
