HOT Addiction: A Hostile Operations Team Novel - Book 10

by Lynn Raye Harris

  A second later she emerged, blond hair shining in the sunlight, cherry lips glistening with gloss. Dex’s heart was a dead thing, and yet it still managed a hard throb at the sight of her.

  Fortunately, that throb went away and anger filled him instead. Hot, hard, swelling anger. “What the fuck do you want, Annabelle?”

  2

  Sergei Turov inherited a mess when his boss died. To be fair, he’d been the one to order a bullet put into Grigori’s head, but still. A mess.

  The empire he and Grigori had built together was in tatters after the Americans swept in and halted their trafficking operations across the globe. That created much ill will among their partners. He still had Zoprava, the technology firm that was the legitimate arm of his empire. He also had the other interests they’d built. He would make everything better with time.

  His business acumen was superior to Grigori’s. Grigori had gotten wound up over a girl—Sophie Nash—and let himself be robbed of vital information that had been used to take him down. Sergei did not blame Miss Nash. It was no use shutting the barn door after the horse had escaped.

  Not to mention, he had no intention of attracting the scrutiny of the organization Miss Nash had brought to bear against Grigori. HOT, aka the Hostile Operations Team. He should not know their name, but he did.

  It was information to be tucked away. Used when it would do him the most good. He would not pull the trigger a moment sooner than necessary. He was a patient man. Usually.

  Right now he had other fish to fry. He picked up the phone on his sleek glass-and-chrome desk and dialed a number.

  “Privyet, Sergei,” a voice said after two rings.

  The city skyline twinkled. The Kremlin rose tall and proud above the Moskva River, its walls shining with light. He never tired of the sight. “Dmitri. What is your progress?”

  The man on the other end snorted. Sergei did not like him. He was former KGB, a toady of Grigori’s. He was also unpredictable—but Grigori had gotten them into this mess, and Dmitri had been his instrument for the transaction. Sergei didn’t like it, but no sense in starting over when Dmitri knew all the players and the stakes.

  “I am working on it. You will get your money back. And I will get my fee.”

  “Yes, you will get your fee.”

  “I have been thinking… twenty percent,” Dmitri said.

  Sergei ground his teeth. Of course. “The deal was ten.”

  “Yes, but I am worth more.”

  “Get the money in a week and you’ll get twenty percent. Longer than that—the original ten. Take it or leave it.”

  Dmitri scoffed. “If I leave it, you will get nothing.”

  “There are others willing to do the job. Take it or leave it.”

  Silence sat heavy on the other end. “You drive a hard bargain, Sergei Alexeiovich.”

  The line went dead. Sergei sat back and propped his Italian loafers on the desk. Yes, he did drive a hard bargain. He had plans far bigger than any Grigori could have conceived of.

  He slid a cigarette from the mahogany box on his desk and lit it with the gold lighter Grigori had given him years ago. He blew out a breath and studied the skyline.

  Patience would get him everything he desired. And far more besides.

  *

  Annabelle’s nerves danced a tango in her belly. The afternoon sun slanted at the perfect angle, illuminating Dex in a golden glow that did nothing to hide his perfection. As if anything could mask that raw male beauty. He’d always looked amazing, no matter what the environment, and so tempting that he made her insides flutter.

  His brows were drawn low and thunderclouds dominated his expression. He was angry, of course he was—but she’d had no choice about coming here today. He was the only person she could think of who would know what to do.

  “No police, Mrs. Archer. I will know if you call them.”

  She held the car door like a shield, her heart beating a disjointed rhythm as she searched for words. The right words. The words that would make Dex Davidson’s hard expression melt away. If she could just tap into the tender concern he’d once had for her, she could make him understand. Not an easy task since she hadn’t spoken to him in five long years.

  Good luck with that, girlie.

  “I need your help.” Forced past the tightness in her throat, the words were little more than a croak.

  He stared at her for a long moment. And then he laughed. A wonderful belly laugh that startled her. It took a second to realize he was laughing at her.

  She stepped out from behind the car door and took a step toward the porch. She’d spent many nights in this house, hanging with Katie in her room, playing in the fields and creeks, riding horses, and having so much fun she never wanted to go back to her staid, boring life in town.

  It was a wonder her parents had let her hang out with Katie Davidson, considering how they were always grasping at the social ladder. Though perhaps it had gotten her out of the way often enough that they didn’t feel guilty attending so many functions. Her staying with Katie had been free babysitting for them. And for people who’d always pretended to have far more money than they had, free was too good a bargain to pass up.

  “You’ve come to the wrong place,” Dex said, his voice a growl that reverberated down her spine and into all the warm, tingly places it should not. Places that had been dead for so long now that their sudden reawakening stunned her.

  “I know you have no reason to help me.” She forced herself to move toward where he stood. It wasn’t easy, not only because of the here be dragons look on his face but also because her stilettos weren’t meant for gravel. All she needed was to go down in a hard sprawl to make her humiliation complete. “I have nowhere else to turn. I’m in trouble, Dex. Big trouble.”

  Considering she now knew that Eric’s death hadn’t been an accident, big trouble was an understatement.

  “Not my concern, Annabelle. You stopped being my concern when you didn’t show up for our wedding. A wedding you planned, a wedding you insisted you wanted right down to the day you left me standing there with a church full of guests and a heart that broke in two and kept on breaking for months after.”

  His words gouged into her chest, leaving soul-deep grooves. Of course he’d been hurt. She had too. But he wouldn’t believe her if she told him that.

  She staggered to a halt at the bottom of the steps. He looked about as welcoming as a grizzly. “I’m sorry.”

  “Not good enough. Not nearly good enough, lady.” His fists flexed at his sides and his entire body was plank-stiff. Angry didn’t begin to describe it.

  Annabelle sucked in a breath. Her vision blurred as she thought about her little girl. For Charlotte. She had to get through this for her baby. Had to face this man and beg him. There were some things she couldn’t tell him—things she couldn’t tell anyone—but she’d do whatever it took to get him to help her.

  “I have a daughter—”

  “Congratulations. Still don’t care.”

  “I’m all she has left. Eric is dead, and if anything happens to me—” She couldn’t quite stop the sob that broke free. But she choked it down and kept her eyes on his. She was shaking like a leaf, but she couldn’t stop.

  Dex’s dark eyes were unreadable. His jaw clenched tight. “She has grandparents, I assume. They’ll take care of her.”

  Pain stabbed into her. Eric’s parents were dead, killed in a small-plane crash three years ago. And her parents? God no. She’d planned to make Molly her daughter’s guardian if anything happened to her, but the past month had been too chaotic to get that done. And if something happened to her right now?

  Her parents would get Charlotte. Annabelle shuddered to think it. Her child would be cared for, because her parents did love their granddaughter, but she wouldn’t blossom in their care. And no way did Annabelle want her daughter to wonder, the way she had, why she hadn’t been enough for her parents. Why they’d always wanted more. They were still social climbers, still wannabe
jet-setters, and that was no way to raise a child.

  “That’s cruel of you to say.”

  “You taught me how to be cruel. Or don’t you remember?”

  “You hated Eric,” she said, stiffening her spine and hardening her heart against his anger. She had to regain control of this situation, had to make him understand.

  “Yeah, well he hated me too. Don’t make it seem like I’m the only one.”

  “He hated you because you were so good at everything you did. He wanted to be quarterback of the football team, but you were. He wanted to be homecoming king, but that went to you as well. Everything he wanted, you had.”

  Dex’s face grew harder if that were possible. “You’re kidding, right? His parents had money. He had everything he could have desired that meant anything. So what the fuck did he hate me for? He was always going to have an easier time in life than I was. But I didn’t care because I had you, and that was all I needed.” He snorted. “Except he got you too in the end, didn’t he? You married him three weeks after you left me at the altar. Were you seeing him behind my back, Belle?”

  For a moment she couldn’t breathe. Whether because of the accusation or the fact he’d used the nickname he’d once had for her, she didn’t know. Maybe a bit of both. “No,” she bit out. “I never cheated on you. Never.”

  “Jesus Christ, you’re a fucking liar.”

  Her eyes blurred as his words hit her square in the chest. “I’m not lying.”

  “Honey, you could swear on a stack of Bibles and I still wouldn’t believe you. You were seeing him while I was off risking my life in the Army. But instead of telling the truth and coming clean, you planned a wedding. Were you going to break it off with him? Or maybe you decided that his money was far more attractive than anything as pitiful as my love was ever going to be.”

  His gaze skipped over to her car—a car that she knew had a six-figure price tag—and then back again. The disgust on his face was almost enough to break her. What could she say that he would believe? No matter how many truths she unearthed or how many sins she confessed to, Dex Davidson wasn’t going to change his mind about who she was or how he felt about what she’d done.

  And yet she couldn’t give up. She knew what kind of man he was, and he was precisely what she needed right now. He’d been Special Forces five years ago. An Army Ranger. She’d heard whispers of his exploits in town over the years—missions, medals. Dex could help her.

  He had to help her. And right now, she’d say anything to get him on her side. Even the truth, no matter how humiliating it was.

  “Eric was a bastard. I hated him. I wanted a divorce, but he wouldn’t agree to it. We slept in separate bedrooms and I focused on Charlotte and work. It probably would have continued that way for years if he hadn’t been killed in Africa last month.”

  He studied her and she tumbled on, encouraged.

  “Eric stole some money from someone and they think I know where he stashed it. They’re going to kill me if I don’t give it to them. But I have no idea where it is or how to find it—I need help.” She said everything in a rush before he could stop her, and now she gulped in a breath and prayed it was enough.

  Dex’s eyes narrowed, and for a moment she felt a flicker of hope. But then he shook his head, a slow wag from side to side, as he took the steps down to her level. Even in high heels, she had to tilt her head back to look up at him. Heat emanated from him like from sun-baked asphalt. She could smell the familiar scent of his body, that manly pine-and-leather smell that used to wrap around her senses. She ached for the days when he would put those arms around her and pull her close. The days when she’d been his girl and the future had seemed bright and full.

  His mouth curled into a smile. Relief skimmed up her spine. She’d gotten through to him. The Dex she’d known and loved still had a heart as big as the ocean.

  “Sorry, Annabelle—but I just don’t fucking care. Call the police if someone is threatening you. But don’t ask me to get involved. You aren’t my responsibility.”

  Air punched from her lungs. “He said no police. Dex, please—”

  “Have a nice life.” He strolled away and climbed into the big Ford truck sitting near her car. After he started it, he revved the engine. Then he spun the big vehicle around and shot down the driveway. Gravel plinked against the metal of her Mercedes like small-arms fire. Annabelle jumped onto the porch, heart racing. She narrowly missed getting hit by the barrage. Her left shoe lay in the dirt like a casualty.

  Her throat was so tight she could barely breathe as Dex disappeared in a cloud of angry dust. When he was gone, when she was certain he wasn’t coming back, she screamed her frustration to the empty air. Then she sank down on the steps and gave in to the hot tears welling behind her eyes. She’d never felt so alone or so hopeless as she did right now.

  Dex had been her world once. Now he didn’t care if she lived or died.

  3

  Dex felt like an asshole. The farther he drove from the farm, the more he wanted to turn around and go back. Just to make sure she was okay. Nothing else. Not to say he was sorry or to ask her to tell him more about the threat against her.

  He flexed his fingers on the wheel and gritted his teeth. He didn’t know Annabelle anymore, didn’t know what she was capable of. Hell, he’d never known. That much was clear.

  So why wasn’t he as certain as he wanted to be that she was only trying to get his attention? That she was overreacting to some perceived threat that was probably nothing more than an angry customer blowing off steam?

  Dex snatched up his cell phone and brought up his contacts. Then he hit the one he wanted.

  “Girard,” came the answer. “What’s up, Double Dee? Everything okay with your dad?”

  “Yeah, Dad’s fine. Thanks for asking.” Anger and doubt rode him hard. “Look, can you get some information about Archer Industries in Briar City, Kentucky? They’re a small firm making computer parts or something. I don’t really know.”

  “Sure. Why?”

  “The CEO was killed last month and his wife just told me she’s gotten a death threat.” He could feel the curiosity burning through the phone. “We were engaged once. Didn’t work out and she married this guy—Eric Archer. She said someone claimed her husband stole their money and they think she knows where it is.”

  “What do you think?”

  Dex focused on the road in front of him. “I think I don’t want anything to do with this—but I also think I need to know if she’s in real danger. Could be she’s blowing it out of proportion. I just wanna be sure.”

  Because no matter how much he despised Annabelle, he didn’t walk away when someone needed help. It wasn’t who he was or what he did. If she was in real danger, he’d recommend a good protective service for her and extract himself from the situation with a clear conscience.

  “All right, let me check into it. I’ll let you know what I find.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate it.” He ended the call and continued on his way into town. Tension vibrated through his body. He hadn’t anticipated seeing Annabelle today, hadn’t been prepared for that kind of confrontation at all. It was always possible while he was in town to run into her somewhere, but he’d spent most of his time going between his hotel, the rehab facility, Katie’s house, and the farm—places Annabelle wasn’t likely to be.

  Except when she made it a point to seek him out. He tried to push her image from his mind, but it didn’t work. She’d looked so pretty and sad. Her hair had been scraped back in a ponytail, and she’d worn tall heels with cropped pants that revealed her delicate ankles. He couldn’t help but notice she still had a body designed to drive a man wild.

  Rage surged at the idea that Eric Archer had touched that silky skin. Dex had been her first. He’d once thought he’d be her only. But holy shit, she’d had a kid with Eric. A frickin’ kid.

  The interesting part came when she’d said she hated Eric. Why? Was she trying to win his sympathy?

  Dex
growled. Dammit, he didn’t need to keep thinking about this. He didn’t care if she hated Eric, didn’t care why, didn’t care that she had a kid or thought someone wanted to kill her. He couldn’t afford to care after what she’d done to him, after the dark path she’d sent him down.

  When he reached the turn that would lead him into town, he idled for a minute, thinking. And then he took a right and drove toward the shooting range instead. He had to burn off some of this tension. He needed Jane cradled in his arms. He needed to caress her metal body, squeeze her smooth trigger, feel her explosive energy. Somewhere between the slow, steady breaths, the rhythmic heartbeats, and the utter stillness long-distance shots required, he could burn off the rage and find peace again.

  To hell with Annabelle Quinn and her drama.

  *

  Annabelle waited for about twenty minutes. Part of her knew it was in vain. Part of her hoped Dex’s innate protectiveness would take over and he’d return to help her.

  Get up, Annabelle.

  He’d abandoned her and he wasn’t coming back. She didn’t have time for a pity party. With a quick look around, she slipped over to her car and jumped inside, hitting the lock button while her heart hammered. Her cell phone lay on the seat. She’d missed a call.

  Marshall Porter. She didn’t have time to talk to him right now. She started the car and smashed the gas while in reverse. Then she slammed it into drive and flew down the gravel road.

  She didn’t care about the rocks hitting her car, didn’t care if there were dings or scratches. Her life was falling apart, and there was nothing more important than protecting her daughter. She thought again about calling the police, but it was too dangerous. She was in this alone. Mr. Lyon was waiting and time was running out. His voice still twisted in her ear like a snake’s skin sloughing away.

  “What do you want from me?”

  “The money, Mrs. Archer. You have twenty-four hours to locate the account numbers. When I call again, you will transfer the money—or you will die.”