Calculated Risk

by Stephanie Doyle

  “Yes, but I’m a woman.”

  His brow furrowed in obvious confusion.

  “Women have been known to labor for days to give birth. Makes me think that our bodies are naturally designed to take pain. At least when we know there’s a reason for it.”

  His head tilted marginally to the left in acknowledgement.

  “And the other lesson? You said there were two.”

  He didn’t answer. He didn’t have to.

  “It’s okay. I think I’ve got that one figured out, too. Trust no one. Isn’t that CIA credo?”

  He sighed deeply and folded his arms over his chest.

  “You’re one mean and nasty badass. Want to sign my cast?”

  That seemed to startle him. She guessed he was expecting rage and howling. Accusations and maybe even a little spitting. She imagined he came to see her because, even though he wouldn’t admit it, he did feel guilty and as part of his punishment he would stand fast against her fury.

  But she wasn’t angry. Not at him. She’d learned something about herself in that gym. Something she hadn’t known before. She’d been suffering for a long time. Quinlan had just brought it to the surface. And in doing so had cleansed her.

  “This is just the beginning. Isn’t it?” she surmised.

  He took the magic marker she’d held out to him and drew the letter Q on top of the cast just under her toes.

  “Yes, it is,” he answered honestly.

  “I can take it,” she promised.

  His eyes met hers and she saw uncertainty. She didn’t blame him. Until today she hadn’t known what she was capable of.

  Now she did.

  Chapter 14

  Present

  “You’re not sleeping.”

  There was a revelation, Sabrina thought. It could have been because the sun had officially risen and while the heavy curtain kept most of the sunlight out of the room it couldn’t disguise the fact that it was day.

  But that wasn’t her problem.

  It could have been because for the past twenty minutes she’d been trying to not think about the man in bed with her and instead, had been trying to come up with a plan to avoid the goons while still managing to acquire the location of Arnold’s computer.

  In the end, she decided she could always provide Kahsan with a false address, but she couldn’t disregard the idea that if she had a chance at Arnold’s code, maybe, just maybe, she might be able to break it. Quickly. Then she would have had Kahsan assassinated and given the CIA back their missing terrorists.

  Forget getting her job back. There had to be some kind of promotion in that for her.

  “You’re breathing too loud,” she told him as an answer.

  “You should sleep now while we have the chance,” Quinlan said in reply.

  “So should you. Curious that you can’t, either, isn’t it?”

  Abruptly, he sat up and ran his fingers through his hair-a telltale sign of frustration for him.

  “Want to talk about it?” Sabrina prodded. She turned on her side toward him, her cheek resting in her palm. It was almost funny to watch his face go slightly pale at the suggestion. “Come on, why not just admit it? You can’t sleep next to me because you can’t help but remember the last time. Although I don’t recall either of us doing a whole lot of sleeping on that occasion.”

  “I’m not the one with the endless memory.”

  “Yes, but some things are unforgettable,” she teased.

  “Drop it, Bri.”

  She chuckled softly and was somewhat amazed at herself that she was able to make jokes about an event that had so radically changed her life. No, she corrected herself. It wasn’t making love to him that had changed everything. It was the day after that had rocked her world. But that event seemed very long ago. And the hurt that usually accompanied the memories had been dulled to a soft ache. Maybe it was another sign that she was growing up.

  “Okay,” she offered. “But for the record I’m not the one getting edgy.”

  “I am not edgy,” he said through clenched teeth.

  She let that go, but decided that since they weren’t going to get any sleep he might as well answer a few questions that had popped into her mind. “So you divorced the first wife,” she stated. “Was there a number two?”

  She could tell that he didn’t see the point in refusing to answer. “No.”

  “Me, either. I mean no husband.”

  “I know.”

  Sabrina nodded. “I guess that would have been in the report. It makes me curious, though, how long has the CIA been checking up on me?”

  He glanced at her over his shoulder. “Don’t assume it was anything…personal.”

  “Heaven forbid.”

  He scowled slightly. Then said, “You were…you are…important to the program, Sabrina. Despite the fact that you left-”

  “Was fired,” she corrected him.

  “While your skills make you valuable, they also make you potentially dangerous.”

  “I get it,” she muttered. “We’re back to me being a terrorist.”

  He rolled off the bed in a fluid movement, evidently preferring to stand while they talked. “It wasn’t necessarily about that. You could have been kidnapped. Forced to work against your will.”

  That made her laugh. “Have you ever known me to be forced to do anything against my will?”

  He smiled faintly. “No. Still, there were concerns. You were routinely monitored.”

  “By you?”

  “Not always, no.”

  Sabrina pressed. “But sometimes, right?”

  Somewhat reluctantly, he nodded. “When you went to Monte Carlo,” he admitted.

  “You were there?” She couldn’t keep the surprise out of her voice. All this time, she’d imagined that the split that had occurred between them had sent them in opposite directions in life. Now she’d come to find out he’d seen her. As recently as a few years ago.

  “I was in Europe at the time. You leaving the country was a concern. I was asked to check in on you.”

  He’d been so close, but he hadn’t even bothered to say…what? Hello, Sabrina. Long time no see. No, he wouldn’t have done that. As far as he knew, she hated his guts.

  She wondered when she had stopped. Certainly, before Monte Carlo.

  “I spotted you almost immediately,” he added.

  Sabrina thought back to the Monte Carlo trip. She’d targeted the most exclusive casino. Her goal had been to go in, strike quick and make a speedy exit before anyone understood what she was capable of. In Vegas she’d worn out her welcome because she’d gotten too greedy, made too much of a spectacle of herself and her talent. By the time she got to Atlantic City they were already on the lookout. She hadn’t wanted to repeat that mistake in Carlo. She’d also wanted to ensure it would be possible to come back.

  “Really? I wore a wig and tinted glasses.”

  “Ice blond. Long. I remember. You wore a short black dress and impossibly high heels. Men turned to look at you as you made your way through the tables, but you didn’t seem to notice. They couldn’t keep their eyes off you.”

  She got off the bed and circled it so that she stood directly in front of him. “And what about you? What did you think of me?”

  “I thought you looked silly,” he stated bluntly. “Like a little girl trying to play grown-up. Then you sat down at a poker table and I watched you methodically take each man at that table for every penny he had. They were furious, while you seemed slightly amused at their expense.”

  “I’ve got skills,” she quipped and leaned against the table the TV sat on. Silly. She’d been going for sexy vamp, and he thought she’d looked silly. Of course, it shouldn’t have bothered her, but she was a woman so naturally it did.

  “I wondered at the time, why not blackjack. You could easily count the cards. It wouldn’t matter how many decks they pulled from. It was a safer bet.”

  “Ah, but not as challenging. With poker there’s more than just brai
ns involved. I can calculate the odds that the cards I’m holding will result in a winning hand. Plus, I can remember every card thrown on the table. You play the odds and more often than not you’re going to win. But that’s where using my brain ends and other skills kick in. You’ve got to be able to keep your cool. And you’ve got to be able to bluff. Sometimes it all comes down to a good bluff.”

  “And you’ve got skills in that area, too.”

  Sabrina folded her arms over her chest in a defensive move. “You’re like a clock, you know that? What, do you have some internal alarm that goes off every hour reminding you not to trust me and then to tell me about it? I forgot how single-minded you can be. Let me ask you something. Did you ever trust me?” She’d been trying for sarcasm, but her last question had sounded far too sincere.

  “Trust no one,” he reminded her, quoting what she used to call the CIA credo.

  She dismissed that shallow reply and uncrossed her arms and walked toward him. “I think you did. I think you trusted me. No, I know it.”

  “You’re letting it get personal again,” he said softly.

  “That’s because it was personal.” She moved a little closer to him, invading his space. She could see the muscles in his jaw tightening. She could see that she was making him uncomfortable. She’d forgotten the pure rush of fun she always experienced whenever she was able to shake the unshakable Quinlan out of his comfort zone.

  “You hated it, too. Hated that I had gotten under your skin and you couldn’t shake me. I knew that. But you couldn’t help yourself. You let me deep inside, all the way. To a place I doubt you’d ever let your own mother go. You refused to admit it then, probably still do, that’s fine. But don’t kid yourself. Don’t think for a moment I didn’t know what was happening between us.”

  “You were nineteen years old,” he countered. “You knew nothing.”

  She stepped closer and saw that he wanted to take a step back. But he wouldn’t. The man was too stubborn for his own good. “Yes, but a nineteen-year-old genius can sometimes be wise beyond her years.”

  She put her hand on his chest, felt that it was still solid. She expected nothing less. Her hand rested over his heart and she could feel the even beat of it. Bump, bump.

  “Stop it.”

  But he didn’t remove her hand, and he didn’t step back.

  “I don’t know what it was, Q. The chemistry, the timing or just you and me. But I was different for you. And you know it. That’s why it hurt me so much when it was over. I wonder, did it hurt for you, too?”

  He didn’t answer, but she could feel the muscles under her hand tightening and, beneath her palm, his pulse picked up speed.

  “Did you miss me after I was gone?” she pressed. She’d forgotten-no, not forgotten-had blocked out the memory of his overwhelming size. She’d blocked out how good it felt to stand this close to him, to feel the heat from his body and know that here, in this position, she was safe from everything except him.

  “What did you really think when you saw me in Carlo?” she whispered. As she tilted her head up, her lips brushed against his jaw.

  Then with the lightning-fast speed she was accustomed to he pounced. He dropped his head and took her mouth. The rush of heat and pure sex stunned her. She’d had sex before him-a teaching assistant at Harvard who had gotten off on the idea of screwing a genius-and she’d had a handful of lovers since. But nothing had ever compared to Q. There was an intensity about him physically and mentally that lent itself to sex. His tongue plunged beyond her lips in a heady rhythm. And she met his ardor with equal force. This was what it was supposed to be about, she thought drowsily.

  There were those who needed to romanticize sex because, for so many, it was just an act. A few minutes of rubbing bodies together that resulted in a pleasurable feeling. But the real thing didn’t need flowers or sweet words or explanations. It was a connection that transcended words and left only the physical.

  This had no name. No rules. No boundaries. This was where she and Q lived. She had missed this place.

  His body moved and, as smooth as Ginger Rogers, she glided gracefully with him. With his mouth still attached to hers, his left leg moved forward. Her right leg moved back. His right leg pressed into her thigh. Her bottom hit the bed with a bounce. He leaned over and she surrendered eagerly to his size, his strength and the exhilaration of what it meant to be with a man as powerful as him.

  “I missed you,” she whispered into his ear. It galled her to admit such a truth, but she couldn’t hold it back.

  “Shh,” he ordered.

  He pressed her body into the bed. His chest pinned hers and his hands held her wrists to the mattress. For an interminable amount of time, he held his mouth just above hers. She tried to reach for him, but he pulled back and she remembered that this was part of it, too, the fight for control. Her strength matched against his.

  Finally, he bent down so that his tongue teased hers. And again the fire was lit. A hundred times over. As soon as they had a taste of one another they couldn’t stand not to have another. And another. Together they were addicted.

  He released one of her wrists and his hand followed a path until he was cupping her swollen breast. She heard him growl and knew that he was frustrated by the barrier of clothes. For that matter so was she. It had been too long for them to take this slow. The liquid heat pooling between her legs needed to be satisfied quickly. The only thought racing through her mind was fast. She wanted him inside her, pounding hard and fast and deep. She needed to feel that connection now and she didn’t want to wait for the time it took to mess with bras or belts.

  With her free hand she reached down and cupped the heavy erection that was urgently pressing against the confines of his pants.

  “Wait,” he muttered.

  “No waiting,” she whispered and struggled to reach for his belt.

  He reached down, grabbed her hand and again pressed it to the bed. She wanted to howl, her frustration was so keen.

  “Damn it, Q.”

  He looked into her eyes and she could see the fog of desire in the cold gray irises. He wanted her. Desperately. She knew it deep inside. But he was holding back. He always had, except for that one night when she had caught him off guard.

  Sadly, she shook her head. “Why won’t you trust me enough to let go? Just once.”

  “Is that what this is about? You want me to trust you?”

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  His eyes stayed pinned on hers for a moment, then asked, “You think you can seduce me into going after Kahsan?”

  It was as if he’d hit her. Only she’d been hit by him before so knew for a fact that this hurt worse. He thought she was using him. That’s how deep his suspicion of her went. The fact that he was right, that on some level she was using him, didn’t enter into it. Because for a few minutes, she hadn’t been playing.

  “Get off me.”

  When he didn’t move fast enough, she shifted her leg that was pressed between his thighs and pushed her knee to his groin. “You really don’t want to test me right now,” she threatened.

  He rolled off her and stood next to the bed and she rolled to the other side.

  “You’re right,” she lied as she straightened her sweater. “Cheap trick, I suppose. A woman’s wiles and all that.” She moved toward the window. Looking outside she saw only what she had seen before-cars passing by at high speeds.

  “Sabrina…”

  She wouldn’t look at him. “If sex won’t work to convince you that now is our best opportunity to go after Kahsan, what will?” She hadn’t been thinking about Kahsan at all. Not the second that Quinlan’s mouth touched hers.

  That was wrong. Sabrina could see how wrong that was.

  She’d been given this mission to accomplish. She’d taken it on as her personal crusade to right the wrong she’d let happen for the past ten years. Letting a man tied to her past distract her from that was criminal. And she knew it.

  “I told you.
I have orders. And maybe… I still don’t understand what’s driving you to do this.”

  “You mean you don’t believe me when I tell you I want a chance to catch a bad guy,” she clarified, her voice tight as she tried to keep the anger at bay. “Fine. You want some other motivation other than the fact that you and I both know this man is evil incarnate? How about I’m searching for approval? You read my psych profile. My father didn’t pay enough attention to me so I’m forever seeking out male attention and recognition, blah, blah, blah.”

  “You’re telling me you’re doing this for your father?” His skepticism was obvious.

  She didn’t care. Time was running out. He was either going to be with her or he wasn’t. She needed to know that now. But before he would commit he needed a reason. Briefly, she contemplated telling him the truth. Problem was there was no reason to think that he would believe she’d been chosen for this assignment any more than he believed she had volunteered for it.

  “Dad, Arnold, you. Pick one.” She watched his face but his expression remained unchanged. “Still not buying it, huh.”

  Rather than answer her, he looked away. “The agents will be here soon.”

  “Super. Let me ask you something. Do you know how long it took Arnold to develop the encryption code that you guys decided to use on the satellite data?”

  There was a sudden silence in the room as she waited for him to remember how long Arnold had worked as an outside contractor to the agency. When he didn’t answer, she knew that she had made her point.

  “Twelve years,” she said. “He’d started tinkering with it when I first met him. Twelve years of development and testing until it was foolproof. It had to be in order to be chosen as the method of security for the isotope project.”

  “What’s your point?”

  “I’m good, Q. Maybe the best. But I wasn’t exaggerating before when I told you that it could take me months to break his code. Possibly even years. We lost track of that cell that was in this country. They’re gone. And the likelihood is they will stay gone until they either act or the FBI finds them through regular old fieldwork. But Kahsan is here. Within our grasp. Not acting now while we have this chance would be the real crime against this country. I think you know it, too.”