by Trish Loye
His eyes narrowed just slightly, his only warning. He rushed her, probably hoping to catch her off guard, but she’d been expecting it. She spun to the side, sending a punch at his head. She missed, but he didn’t. The force of his blow to her ribs made her stagger as pain lit through her. It had been the same spot the bike had hit. She couldn’t help but let out a little yelp.
“I don’t want to do this, Sutton.” But he didn’t drop out of his fighting stance.
Damn it. She had to be faster.
The door was at her back but she wouldn’t make it one step unless she took him out, and the only way to do that was with trickery. She couldn’t pretend to be hurt to lure him close or into making a mistake. He was too smart for that.
A plan came to mind, just as he attacked again. She managed to block the strike to her head, dodge the kick and whirl away again, but she didn’t focus on trying to hit back. Even the adrenaline of the fight couldn’t completely cover the aches that suffused her body. She wouldn’t last long and what she was about to do was a huge gamble.
Please let him not have changed too much.
Her back was to the bed now. She had nowhere to go but forward. She lashed out with a strong roundhouse. He didn’t move back, but into it. Shit. He caught her leg. In defense, she hooked her foot behind his back and yanked him closer, right into her fist. He ducked his chin at the last second and her blow glanced off his cheek. He continued his momentum and plowed her backward right onto the bed, landing on top of her. With her leg hooked behind him, he ended up between her thighs, keeping one high with his arm. In that position, no matter how much she struggled, she couldn’t roll him off her. She growled and glared, so frustrated she could spit. She struck both sides of his head at once. He cursed and reared up, grabbing her forearms and slamming them into the bed.
“Are you done?” he snarled.
“Never.” She would never give up. And she was glad he was angry. It matched her anger. He’d always been able to make her spitting mad, and it was long past time to return the favor.
She had one leg free and she pulled it up. All it did was settle Ryan more firmly between her legs. She hated that her body responded to him in that position, but this had been the man she’d spent night after exhilarating night with for years. Her body remembered. Her body wanted. And from the feel of hardness pressing at her core, his body wanted too.
She pressed her lips together. But her mind didn’t want.
“Give up,” Ryan said. “I don’t want to take you in in cuffs. You know I’ll win whatever fight we—”
She kissed him.
His lips were firm against hers, denying her a response.
At first.
She kept kissing him. Using her lips, her tongue to seduce Ryan. Her Ryan. His scent. The feel of him on top of her. It was her Ryan. She might never have another chance, so she gave herself over to it, kissing him as if it were the last time. And it would be, of that she had no doubt. So she put her heart into it.
His lips softened and his mouth parted with a groan that sent heat ripping through her. He took over the kiss, his tongue sweeping inside her mouth, and she reveled in the sheer dominance of it. He released one of her hands and dragged his down her arm and then into her hair, where he cradled her head, angling it for greater possession.
She almost lost her wits as she tumbled after him down a path of desire. Her freed hand had a mind of its own, wandering over his broad back, touching the solid bands of muscle there, before sliding down farther. She cupped his hard ass and squeezed. He growled in response and yanked her head back, breaking the kiss.
“I still have to bring you in.”
“I know.” She kissed him again. Just one more kiss. She hadn’t planned for this, for being sucked into wanting again, for the ache that only he filled.
He still held one of her hands. She squeezed his fingers with hers, relishing the contact. Her other hand roamed up over his back again, luxuriating in his strength. His lips, tender one moment, bruising with intensity the next, continued to distract her. Her heart thundered and she wanted, needed, to lose herself.
She moaned and stretched both hands overhead, touching the slatted headboard of the bed. One of his hands followed, as if to drag hers back to him, while his other hand found her breast and molded it in his palm. Heat flared in her and she sucked in a breath.
Focus!
She only had one chance. The zip tie she’d slid from his back pocket easily slipped around his wrist and it took less than a second for her to secure it to the headboard. He no longer held her legs. She used one to swing up and against his neck, pushing him back and off-balance. She rolled hard to the side, out from under him, and off the bed.
He roared and lunged after her, but stopped short because of the hand she’d zip-tied to the bed.
“Let me go,” he said quietly but with more menace than a stalking serial killer.
She grabbed her pack and slid it on her shoulders. “That is so not going to happen.”
He slumped on the bed, but she wasn’t fooled. He was far from being a victim. “Did you even mean it?”
The kiss. He was talking about the kiss. She stared at him. He raised his head and his gaze made her take a step back, before she remembered herself.
“Did you mean it?” he asked again, the steel in his voice undeniable.
How the hell was she supposed to answer that? It had been a ploy to get to the zip ties that he always kept in his back pocket. If she told him she’d almost lost herself in his kiss, he’d just use it against her. She couldn’t trust him.
“You always keep your zip ties in your back pocket,” she said. “Maybe you should try not to be so predictable.”
His dark eyes turned predatory. “This isn’t going to end well for you, Sutton.”
She tilted her head as she surveyed him. “Is that some sort of threat?”
He scowled. “You don’t know what you’re up against.”
This statement made her smile. She’d worked for the CIA and with special ops for close to fifteen years. She knew exactly what she was up against.
“Don’t follow me.” She then grinned. “Oh wait. You can’t.”
Pissing him off would only make him hunt her harder, but she embraced the challenge. She laughed as she slammed the condo door behind her.
Ryan listened to Sutton’s laughter as she exited the condo. He hadn’t expected that kiss. It had almost derailed him. Lust surged in him at the memory. He’d known seeing Sutton would be a shock, but kissing her…
Sutton had always been his weakness. He couldn’t think straight with her around. It had made working with her when she’d been attached to his team a bit hellish at first, but both of them knew how to keep it professional when on a mission. It was when the mission was over that his brain leaked out his ears.
As it had done during that kiss. He lay back against the pillow for just a moment to savor the feeling of her hands roaming his skin, her body under his and her mouth against his. Damn. He wanted her.
But it wasn’t to be. And it would only interfere with his mission to bring her in safely. Why the fuck wouldn’t she trust him to help her? He put that thought aside for later. Enough time had passed. Sutton wasn’t coming back.
He grabbed the knife strapped to his ankle and cut the zip tie. Then he pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed a number.
“You’ve reached Lexi’s Pizza Palace. What can I do for you?”
He stifled his chuckle. No need to encourage her. “The bug has been planted. Have you got her?”
A pause while the woman did whatever magic she did with her computer. “Yes, sir. She’s lit up like a Christmas tree. You’ll be able to find her anywhere now.”
He smiled. Point for him. “Excellent.”
“Oh, and boss?” Lexi said. “There’s a big, mean-looking dude here who’s looking for you.”
“Dante?” It had to be.
“Yup. I told him to park it until you got back, but he’s making the men
nervous.”
That made him chuckle. Dante did look like a MMA fighter, but his looks hid his brilliant mind. “How about you and Mack?”
“Nah. We’re good. Mack is fine with him, so I am too. She’s a good judge of character.”
“Okay, I’m on my way back now. Keep the trace on McRaven going. Let me know if she does anything interesting.”
“Copy that.”
Ryan’s smile stayed with him as he traveled back to DHS. He couldn’t wait until he saw the look on Sutton’s face when he tracked her down.
7
Sutton walked a half mile before catching a cab. The address was on the other side of town, an apartment in a lower middle-class area. She had the cab let her out a block from the building and did her own recon of the perimeter before she entered the building.
The apartment on the third floor wasn’t the luxury condo she’d just left by any means. It had a bed, a couch, and a TV. There was a six-pack of beer in the fridge and canned food in the cupboard. She opened a tin of ravioli and heated it on the stove while she searched the rest of the cupboards. An extensive first-aid kit sat in the hallway closet, along with a gun locker and spare ammo.
There was shampoo and soap in the bathroom, along with a towel. And that meant more to her than any high-rise view at the moment. She went back to the kitchen and debated a beer, but decided against it. With how tired she was at the moment, one beer could compromise her reactions. She ate the ravioli out of the pot while she flipped through the news channels on TV. Nothing important, or rather nothing about her. She washed her pot when she’d finished and trudged to the bathroom, grabbing the first-aid kit on the way.
The hot shower felt divine and she gave herself extra time, letting the heat soothe her aching muscles. She wiped the fog off the mirror with part of her towel. Bruises decorated her body, as if the warm water had brought them all to the surface. She grimaced as she touched the particularly large one on her ribs.
Nothing broken. A few scrapes deep enough to need antiseptic salve and a bandage, but nothing she couldn’t handle. She unzipped the med kit and got to work.
She hissed as she redressed the slice on her forearm. All in all, she was doing pretty good for tangling with a killer, almost getting blown up, and fighting with Ryan. She left the kit in the bathroom, suspecting she’d need it again before this was over, and walked to the bedroom naked.
The sheets felt scratchy against her skin, but that didn’t stop her from sleep.
When she woke a few hours later, her mind was refreshed, if not her body. She groaned as she rolled from the bed, her muscles stiff and aching. Although she knew she was as strong as she used to be, she just didn’t recover as fast anymore. When this was over, she was seriously going to consider retiring from active missions.
She threw on underwear and a T-shirt and began to go through a series of stretches to warm her muscles and limber up. Her thoughts ranged far and wide while she did. Energy started to sing through her. She felt more alive this morning than she had since Anna had died, or maybe even before.
And how much of that feeling was due to tangling with a certain SEAL commander again?
She had no answer. Or rather she did, but she didn’t want to face it and focused on stretching instead. Finally, she sighed and faced the truth. One of the things that made Sutton such a good agent was her ability to see through lies, even those she told herself.
She sank into warrior pose and closed her eyes, but not her mind.
Ryan could make her lose focus like no one else on this planet. Sutton needed to work around him in order to solve this case. She wished she could trust his offer of help. He would be a powerful ally, but unfortunately he worked for the DHS. And, right now, they thought she was the enemy. They wouldn’t give her a chance to defend herself.
She finished her stretches and got dressed, brushing out her hair and putting on clean clothes from her pack. She was used to working alone as a field agent. This wasn’t any different, she told herself. Her mission was to find a traitor and a killer. And hopefully prove her innocence at the same time.
The next step in that mission was to figure out what Mark had been working on. Why had he been killed? She found a pad of paper and a pen in one of the kitchen drawers and hunkered down on the couch to make a mind map of what she knew.
She wrote Mark’s and Costa’s name on the paper. Then List of Agents under Costa’s name.
Had Mark known about Costa stealing the list? Is that why he’d been killed? Or had he been involved? A pang of grief for her former friend hit her. Mark had been a good man. He didn’t deserve her suspicions, or to die the way he had.
She pushed away the grief. It wasn’t helping.
Mark had been a good man. She needed to work on that presumption. And it would make his last phone call to her make sense. He’d been asking for help.
She rubbed her temples. Something about the message niggled at her memory. Her phone and the message had been destroyed in the explosion. She took several deep breaths and tried to recall his exact words.
He’d asked for help. He’d been at...at his grandfather’s grave. She frowned. What had he been doing there? She searched her memory. He’d asked for help and hadn’t known who to trust. And...and if she ever needed answers...
A thought struck her hard and she sat up straight. He’d told her if she needed answers, she should go to the grave. Her excitement picked up. She’d bet that he’d left information there for her. Mark had totally been sneaky that way.
But Mark was from Seattle. Where would his grandfather be buried in DC? “Come on, Mark. Give me a damn hint.”
She tapped her fingers on the notepad. What did she know of Mark’s family? Unfortunately, not a lot. But Mark had come from a military family.
She slapped her palm on the notepad in triumph. His grandfather had died in WWII. And that grandfather would have a gravesite in Arlington Cemetery.
Excitement bounced in her like it had won the lottery. Time for a field trip.
Outside, she walked to the nearest subway stop. She pulled a new burner phone from her pack and punched in a number. She was right on the steps to the subway if she needed a quick getaway.
“Sutton?” Amelia answered. “I’m glad you called.”
“I just wanted to let you know I’m okay.” She heard muted conversations in the background.
“Give me one minute.” Amelia didn’t say anything but Sutton could tell by the background noise that she was moving. The background noise dimmed to almost nothing. “Okay, I’m in an interrogation room. No one can overhear me. I assume you want information.”
“If you can.” She did not want to get her sister in trouble.
“Okay, I don’t know much,” Amelia said quickly. “The DHS took all our files. They’re telling us to be on the lookout for you and that you’re the prime suspect.”
Sutton gripped the phone hard. “Did the police find anything to help prove my innocence?”
Amelia hummed. “I believe they found some piece of evidence of a second suspect at the scene.”
“What evidence?”
“A print. But it could be from a maid for all we know at this point.”
It had to be the killer. “What happened to the print?”
“All evidence was sent to DHS. I won’t be much help anymore. We’ve been pulled from the case and have only been told to search for you. Shouldn’t you turn yourself in?”
Sutton couldn’t quite explain the feeling. “I think I’m being framed. Someone planted evidence on my laptop.”
“Sounds like an inside job,” Amelia said.
“Yes.” But who? Sutton wanted to pull her hair out.
“What’s the plan?” Amelia said.
“I’m on a lead.” She didn’t want to explain it over the phone to Amelia. “See if you can track down that print, but don’t get yourself into trouble.”
Amelia made a noise of dissent. “I serve justice, not a DHS suit who tries to give me
orders.”
“You always were a rebel.”
Amelia chuckled. “You somewhere safe?”
“Enough. But don’t worry, I’m going to lay low.”
“Good,” Amelia said. “But stay away from the subways. The facial recognition software has been programed with your face. If a camera catches you, then we’ll know.”
Sutton began walking away from the subway stop. “Thanks for the tip.”
“Stay safe, sis.”
“You too.” Sutton hung up. She was a long way from safe.
“What’s she doing now?” Ryan asked when he walked into his HQ. He’d stopped at his hotel briefly to change his clothes before coming back, safe in the knowledge his team would let him know as soon as Sutton was on the move.
“She’s still at the apartment,” Lexi said.
“Do we have eyes on?”
“Tony is watching from street level. And Phil has the back. She hasn’t left yet, sir.”
“Good.” He poured himself a coffee from the pot and wondered, yet again, what the hell Sutton McRaven was doing.
“Ryan.”
The deep voice made Ryan turn and then he grinned. Dante Marchetti stood there in jeans and a leather jacket. His tattoo peeked out of the collar of his T-shirt. He’d shaved his head. No wonder he made the guys nervous. With his muscles and the scruff on his face, he looked like a bike gang leader. “Dante. It’s good to see you. How’s your mom?”
Dante gave a small smile. “She’s good. The Marchettis have been amazing about reaching out to her.” Dante’s father had died young, leaving Dante and his mother alone. They’d lost touch with the large Italian Marchetti family until Dante was a teenager and Ryan was already in the navy. But they’d been welcomed back with open arms.
“I’ve read the reports,” Dante said. “Tell me what I can do.”
Ryan gave him a rundown on what had happened so far.
“You think she’s innocent,” Dante said.
Ryan just nodded. Was he letting his emotions rule him? Did he just want Sutton to be innocent? She’d looked so shocked when he’d told her of the files they’d found, but then, she was CIA and knew better than most how to play people. And she knew him, knew how to play him. Her kiss had shown that.
