by Trish Loye
“Could be anyone then.”
She moved to the door and checked the peephole. Four men dressed in street clothes and carrying handguns stood outside.
She leapt back and waved Ryan away. They found cover, her crouched beside the wall and Ryan flat out behind the couch, only the tip of his Sig Sauer and a small slice of his head visible.
The door burst open.
An object landed with a thud.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Light flashed and smoke filled the room. A standard flash-bang. She peered through the smoke, not letting the noise bother her.
They came in silent and smooth. One. Two. Three. They moved in well-trained unison. These weren’t common street thugs. The fourth didn’t come in.
They’d have to take care of him later. She sighted the first one but didn’t pull the trigger. What if these were innocent DHS operatives? Men who’d been told Sutton was a target, and were just following orders.
There would be no reasoning with them, but Sutton couldn’t make herself pull the trigger.
A tattoo on the lead man caught her eye. Cyrillic Russian writing crawled across his hand and forearm. She couldn’t read it from her position but there was no way a US friendly would have Russian writing tattooed on himself.
She pulled the trigger. Ryan did, too, within a split second after her. Two of the men dropped to the floor and lay still. The third man leapt back into the hallway. She could hear them speaking Russian outside.
Ryan edged out and caught her eye. He motioned to the balcony. She shook her head. If they went out that way, then they’d be defenseless while they climbed; why had he even thought of it? He frowned at her. And then she realized he wanted her to leave without him. She shook her head again. They’d figure out another way.
“Sutton. Get out while you can.”
Anger burned in her—at him, at the situation. “I’m not leaving you to face this alone.”
“I’m not alone,” he said. “I have backup coming.”
“Compromised backup,” she snarled. “You won’t know if they’re here to kill you until it’s too late.”
Shots sounded in the hallway. A gurgling scream preceded a thud. More shots and the sound of pounding feet. The smoke had cleared while everything went on.
She caught Ryan’s gaze when he stood. She shook her head at him and motioned him back under cover. He couldn’t trust his team, but apparently the stubborn man had decided he could.
A woman’s voice called from the hallway. “Boss? You in there?”
“Here,” Ryan said curtly.
The woman with dark curly hair and creamy brown skin came in, weapon in her hand, but lowered. In the hall beyond, a muscled, tattooed, mean-looking son-of-a-bitch had his back to them, his head swiveling as he watched both ends of the hall.
Sutton stepped in front of the woman, her Glock leveled on her. “Don’t fucking move.”
The woman squeaked, but didn’t move. “Boss?”
“Sutton, it’s okay. She’s my backup.”
“They’re part of your team?” Sutton let her doubt and suspicion coat her voice.
“Yes, but she’s FBI. I trust her.”
Sutton studied the woman a moment. Her stance was relaxed but her grip on her weapon was secure. “She’s your hacker?”
“Yes.”
“And the guy in the hallway?”
“My cousin, Dante. Please don’t shoot him.”
“I’d really appreciate that,” Dante said without turning around.
“Lower your weapon, Sutts. We don’t have time for this.”
She sniffed and slid her weapon back into the holster. “We need to leave. Grab the bodies and haul them in here,” she told the woman.
The woman’s eyes narrowed and she looked at Ryan. Ryan nodded and the woman stepped out to haul the bodies inside. Ryan slid around Sutton to help. Sutton didn’t feel compelled to. She moved to the first two bodies, took pictures of their slack faces and went through their pockets.
Nothing on them, but both bodies had tattoos that she took pictures of. More of the Cyrillic writing. She lifted the short sleeve of one man and discovered a tattoo of a fist holding an AK-47 with a red star behind it. She snapped a picture. “Someone at DHS or the CIA is working with the Russians.”
Lexi gasped and dropped the body she was dragging. “What?”
“We’ll explain later,” Ryan said, moving the deadweight farther into the apartment. “Let’s move.”
“First, get rid of your cells,” Sutton said.
Ryan tossed his into the living room and at a nod from Ryan, so did Lexi. Dante shrugged and did the same. Sutton closed the apartment door behind them. They took the stairs to the ground floor.
“Does the car have a GPS locator on it?”
“Of course,” Lexi said.
“Public transit it is,” Sutton said.
9
Ryan scanned the internet cafe that Lexi had directed them to. They’d jogged a few blocks beyond the apartment building and caught a cab. Lexi knew the city and had given this address to the cab.
Dante stood watch outside while the three of them entered. Inside the café, the smell of incense competed with fresh brewed coffee. Rickety tables and chairs sat beside worn padded armchairs. No chair matched any other, giving the place the look of a giant garage sale.
“Security?” Ryan checked the walls and ceiling for cameras.
“None. Don’t worry,” Lexi said. “This place is full of conspiracy theorists and anarchists. There’s no way any of them would cooperate with any government.” She stopped in front of Sutton. “Why don’t you give me the laptop and you can order coffees while I crack the encryption?”
Ryan could see Sutton tense. She hated relying on others. “Come on, Sutton. We talked about this on the way here. She’s our best shot at seeing what’s on that flash drive.”
Sutton grumbled something low, probably something obscene, and handed over the laptop.
Lexi grinned. “I’d love a chai latte, thanks.”
Ryan stepped between them before Sutton hauled off and hit the younger woman. It was like watching a puppy tease a wolf. If Sutton decided to bite, he wasn’t sure there’d be anything left of Lexi. Lexi must have realized it too, because her eyes widened and she took a step back.
“I’ll just be over there.” She pointed over her shoulder before she went to find a seat.
“Stop scaring her, Sunshine.”
Sutton’s lips twisted but he swore he could see humor in her eyes before she turned away. “Coffee?” she asked.
“Please.”
She went to wait in line while he moved closer to the door and chose a table where he had a clear view of the street, of the café, and Lexi, who worked intently on the laptop. The street wasn’t too busy. It was an area just outside of downtown.
Sutton dropped off a drink for Lexi before winding her way between tables toward him. Something about the way her hips moved made him think of earlier, when she’d stood mostly naked before him. He’d gone hard instantly.
Time had been good to her. She was just a little taller than average, leanly muscled, with creamy golden skin that beckoned his touch. Her breasts, neither large nor small, seemed to him the perfect size. Her curves dipped in at the waist and then flared over her hips. Hips he wanted to grab so he could kiss and lick his way down...
Fuck. He was hard again.
He looked away from her and out the window. He had to control himself. This wasn’t the time or place. They may never have a time or place again.
“So now that you believe me, what’s our next step?” Sutton asked when she slid onto the chair across from him.
“I didn’t say I believed you.” He believed Sutton wasn’t the murderer, but he had no proof she was completely innocent.
She tensed and a flash of something...maybe dismay, maybe hurt…tightened her features, but then she smoothed her face. Her eyes fired heat-seeking missiles at him. “What the actual
fuck, Marchetti? You know I would never kill my friend.”
“I don’t think you killed Mark,” he said. Sutton wasn’t a cold-blooded killer, unlike some in the CIA. Or at least he prayed she hadn’t changed that much. But the files being found on her work laptop...were they a frame job? Or was she a traitor?
Some of his misgivings must have shown on his face, because though she sat back as if relaxed, her lips twisted. “You aren’t sure if I’m involved with whatever’s on the flash drive.”
“Let’s just wait and see if Lexi can crack it.”
Neither spoke for a few minutes. His jaw started to ache where he clenched it. The stiff tension between them was his fault.
Sutton crossed her arms. “What happens if you decide I’m guilty of something? If you bring me in, then whoever’s after the flash drive will have a great opportunity to kill me.”
“I’ve been thinking about that. I need a safe place for you while I go back to the DHS.”
She rolled her eyes and huffed a breath. “A safe place? You just don’t want me to run. Are you even going to look for Mark’s killer?”
“My only job is to find you.”
Her eyes widened. “Are you serious? You’re going to just hand me over? Then what? Job’s done, you can go back to your damn beach house?”
“Stop jumping to conclusions,” he snapped. “I’m not going to turn you over.”
“Not yet,” she sneered. Her gaze moved beyond him to study the room and the street beyond.
“If you run,” he said softly, “I will find you and I will turn you over.”
Her lip curled. “You can try.”
This wasn’t going the way he wanted it to. He scrubbed a hand over his face before taking a sip of his coffee. Dark roast with the perfect amount of cream. She’d remembered.
Tension radiated off her. Usually she held her emotions so tight even he’d had a hard time seeing through her mask when they’d been lovers. Now, she seemed almost fragile.
“Is this an act?” he asked, his voice curt and harsh. The thought of her lying about her vulnerability infuriated him.
She stiffened. “What?”
“You pretending...” He waved a hand toward her. “That you’re hurt and...vulnerable.”
Her eyes dropped, even as her lips pressed together. When she lifted her gaze, the cold, calculating CIA agent he remembered looked back at him. His heart squeezed just a little at the loss of the other Sutton, but that woman wasn’t real, he reminded himself. He’d found that out the hard way years ago.
“There’s the woman I remember,” he said quietly.
The skin around her eyes tightened and if he didn’t know her, he’d swear he’d hurt her with those words. But this was Sutton McRaven, famous for her armor and her lethalness.
“I won’t be locked away while you try to decide if I’m innocent or guilty.” Her voice had the professional edge he remembered when she interrogated prisoners. Hard, cold, deadly sharp. She’d never spoken to him using it.
His muscles tensed and he forced himself to relax. He could subdue her if he had to, but not before their struggle alerted the authorities to their presence, and then he’d be forced to bring her into DHS. And that was something he wanted to avoid until he had all the facts. He glanced at Lexi, who tapped keys and frowned at the laptop. It didn’t look like she was making a lot of progress.
“What do you suggest?” He turned back to Sutton.
She paused a moment, as if he’d surprised her with his question. She arched a brow. “We both continue the search for the killer. It would be beneficial if we could share information.”
Could he trust her? His heart said yes, even though she’d hurt him so many years ago. He decided his heart wasn’t reliable where Sutton was concerned.
Sutton set her coffee down and placed her hands in her lap where he couldn’t see them. She watched him and he watched her, just as carefully. Her breathing was even and controlled, her gaze steady, her lips relaxed, but there was still that tightness around her eyes, like some kind of emotion was trying to break through her skin.
“You can trust me,” she said quietly. “I need to be cleared in order to go back to living my life. I’m the one who should be wondering if I can trust you.”
He sipped his coffee, not because he wanted it, but to show that he didn’t care that he couldn’t see her hands and whether or not they were going for a weapon. “What you say makes sense.” He set the coffee down and leaned forward. “I trust that you want to clear your name and will do whatever you need to accomplish that. I have no idea why you would trust me, beyond the fact that you once trusted me with your heart and your life. You can trust me again.”
“I have to trust you with my life,” she said. And the unspoken words reverberated between them. She’d never trust him with her heart again. Her face revealed nothing of her emotions, if she was even feeling anything at all. Part of him despaired at the idea that this meant nothing to her, or rather, that he meant nothing to her. The urge to pull her into his arms and kiss the CIA mask away almost overwhelmed him. He gritted his teeth and picked up his coffee again.
“Look,” she said. “I can see that you’re not happy about working with me. Well, I feel the same. I don’t totally trust you, but we need each other.”
He shook his head. “You need me more than I need you.”
A frustrated grimace crossed her face for a split second before she continued.
“If we share information,” she said, “how do I know that you’re not just going to hand it over to DHS?”
How could he convince her that he wouldn’t double-cross her? Especially when he wasn’t sure he could trust her? If this had been the consulting firm, they’d just sign a legal and binding contract and whether he liked the person or not, he was working with them.
He wondered whether it would work. “Hire me,” he said.
She started. “What?”
He’d surprised a reaction out of her and that almost made him smile, but he held it in, knowing she’d misinterpret it.
“If you hire me as a consultant, then I work for you.”
She huffed a breath. “Seriously? How would that help us?”
“A simple contract between the two of us.”
“And the terms of this contract?”
“We share all information.”
“Okay,” she said slowly. “And you do not turn me over to the authorities.”
“Of course,” he said.
“And we share our plans with each other.”
He held up a hand. “But we both must agree to the plan before we implement it.”
She hesitated a moment. “Fine. Agreed.”
He couldn’t hide his smile for what came next. “Since you’re hiring me, we’ve got to figure out payment.”
She shifted in her seat and then her face became blank, though her gaze remained a brilliant steely gray-green. Would he ever see it darken with desire to the color of a forest again? Sutton glanced at Lexi, obviously evaluating whether his help was worth it. It made him want to laugh.
“I don’t have a lot of money.”
“I don’t want money.” His voice had been too low, too rough. He was showing his hand.
A tremor went through her before she stopped it. “What do you want?” she said, her words launched like missiles at him.
Visions of their time together assailed him, the times before they’d broken up, before he’d asked her to marry him, before she’d left his life. He wanted that back. But he couldn’t ask for that.
“I want a picture of my beach.” He gave a one-shouldered shrug. “I saw the picture in your bedroom. I want something like that, but taken at night. With the moon out.” He half wondered where these crazy demands were coming from. But he didn’t want the picture from her wall, he realized. He wanted her to come to his beach house. Even for just a day.
She blinked multiple times, but didn’t say anything for long seconds. “I would have to go to your b
each.”
“You can come for a weekend. Take as many photos as you like.” Crap. Had he sounded too eager?
“A...weekend.” She said the word as if she were testing it for explosives.
He nodded, as though this were a sane plan. “Come to my beach house, just to hang out, relax, and take pictures. Just something that two...friends would do.”
“We’re not friends.”
“We were once.”
Again, it took her so long to speak he feared he’d lost her.
“So in order to have you help me, I have to pay you with a picture of your beach.”
“A new picture. Not the one in your bedroom.”
She sat back in her chair and her eyes narrowed. “What are the stakes?”
“What do you mean, stakes?”
“There’s no reason to follow a contract unless there’s a consequence if you break it. I sure as hell won’t be able to sue you if you break a contract with me so you can hand me over to the DHS. What are the penalties if we break the contract?”
All sorts of possibilities raced through his head. Most of them dirty. What he wanted was a night of wild sex with Sutton. He’d craved it ever since he’d heard her voice on the phone. “Why would we even follow through with these consequences?”
Her lips twisted. “Because you’re supposed to be honorable and keep your word.”
He opened his mouth and her face twisted into an angry snarl that a mountain lion would envy. “If you question my honor, then we are done.” She said the words quietly but the steel in them rammed his chest hard.
He said the only thing he could. “I trust you. What do you want my consequence to be if I breach the contract?”
She gave him a big fat fake smile. “You have to sell me your beach house...for a dollar.”
His jaw dropped. Was this woman put on the planet just to drive him insane? He’d saved for years to buy that house. He narrowed his eyes, studying her. Two could play this game. “Fine.”
“What do you want from me?” Her voice held a superior lilt that made him itch to get the upper hand. And he would.
“If you withhold information, or make a plan without me, then you have to marry me.”
