Dark Cover (The DARK Files #2)

by Susan Vaughan

  Idiotic thoughts like that had kept him away from her over the weekend. Damn, but he thought he’d hardened his internal armor against her gentle warmth. What was it about her wholesome beauty that drew him so? Studying the business’s books and chatting up the employees, she played the role of Danielle well today.

  Except for her personality. Other than her red hair, he could see why DARK had chosen her. The employees talked to her easily. All she had to do was ask a simple question here, make a comment there, and they blathered away. Her skill at drawing them out amazed him. From the snatches of conversation Nick overheard, he inferred their complaints were endless. About him. For them, he hated to close up shop, but keeping reminders of Alexei’s filth was like being flayed alive daily.

  “Didn’t DARK and the cops go through those e-mails ten times already?” he asked.

  Turning, she rolled her shoulders. The movement lifted her breasts against the soft fabric of her beige linen dress.

  Heat kindled in his blood.

  She laughed, a cynical chuckle.

  The sensual sound stoked the flame.

  “I’ve found nothing new yet, mostly chitchat about objets d’art I know little about. But I can’t help myself. In there, in that extravagant office is where he choked a man to death. I was part of the unit that trapped and captured Alexei, and I want closure.”

  “I want closure too. I want this damned mess out of my life!” Damn Alexei! Nick slapped the door frame.

  She rose from the swivel chair and placed a hand on his forearm. Muscles bunched at her warm touch. Her sorrowful gaze tugged at him. “I’m sorry, Nick. That was thoughtless. I shouldn’t have spoken so coldly about your brother. No matter what he did, his death is a tragic loss to your family.”

  He turned, breaking the physical contact, but not the spell she wove over him. He strode into the showroom. There he had more space, more control. Stopping beside an ivory chess set, he lifted the black queen’s knight. “What do you know about my family?”

  Great. At last Nick is talking. Vanessa threaded her way through the display cases to him. Strangely nervous now that they were alone in the shop, she circled her index finger on the white king’s crown.

  “I know what the DARK file contained. Your father, Dmitri Markos, was a merchant marine captain for a Greek freighter line before he retired to his villa in Greece. You’re the oldest of his three offspring, by his first wife.”

  “My mother was Spanish. Zita died when I was two. I grew up in Brooklyn, Athens and Marseilles.”

  “Sad to lose a parent at such a young age. But Alexei’s mother came into the picture a year later, I believe.” She waited quietly, her hand cradling the king. She rubbed the smooth ivory as if it were a worry stone.

  “Father is never long without a woman.” He lifted his gaze from the carved figure and dropped the queen on her side.

  She approached, willing her gaze to reach inside him, to grasp what demon knotted him up. “Each child had a different mother. You, then Alexei. You have a half sister, Mikela, who lives with your father and his third wife.”

  “After the divorce Alexei lived with his mother. He visited when Father was home. He was the spoiled son, and I was the responsible one. We were too… We were opposites.”

  She lifted her chin, caught by his emotion, but not afraid. He seemed to surround her, filling her with his intense gaze, with his heat and male scent. “What are you trying to tell me?”

  Unnamed turmoil swirling in his stormy blue eyes, he clasped her shoulders. For support or in frustration, she didn’t know. His grip was tense and firm, but not painfully so. The force of his emotion trembled through her as though an earthquake swept them up.

  He was going to kiss her. Her pulse raced.

  But she must’ve been mistaken. His expression hardened as he seemed to subdue his internal tempest.

  “I’m saying your expressions of sympathy are misplaced. Alexei trafficked with terrorists and committed two murders. He deserved what he got. If my father knew the truth about his precious, pampered son, it would kill him. The only tragic loss I grieve for is our family honor.”

  ***

  Nick lay awake in the dark, staring at the white ceiling. He had to get a grip. What was it about that woman that brought out the worst in him?

  Her unwanted sympathy had only exacerbated his self-loathing for being glad Alexei was gone. First he vented his temper by grabbing her. Then nearly succumbed to the urge to kiss her until neither one could stand. At the last moment, he reined himself in.

  She was going to be here for weeks as his fiancée. His fiancée, for God’s sake.

  In public he had to treat her as that. In private he had to pretend he still had a damn fiancée and deal with her in a businesslike manner.

  Danielle was safe. Stopping New Dawn was the goal. Punishing the damn murderers. Maybe he could let go of his anger once the Markos name was cleansed. Maybe. Closing his eyes, he began consciously relaxing his muscles, focusing inward, calming himself. He was aware only of the faint moonlight leaking between the curtains, of the banjo clock ticking, of the lemon tang of furniture polish.

  Of the footsteps on the stairs.

  Muscles taut, he rolled out of bed.

  Had New Dawn infiltrated the house without the alarm’s warning? Where the hell was DARK surveillance? He glanced at the portable security monitor. No breach. The damn thing thought everything was secure.

  Then who was sneaking around the house?

  Holding his breath, he opened the door a crack. From the master suite, he had a clear view of the staircase and the hallway to the other upstairs rooms. High windows let in enough moonlight to illumine movement in the dark.

  A dark-clad figure reached the top step and stopped. Apparently listening.

  Hell. DARK should be handling an intruder. Not him. A damn failure who’d sent men to their deaths. But he couldn’t let them take Vanessa.

  The figure took a tentative step. He turned to go down the hall.

  Nick lunged and grabbed him in a choke hold.

  The guy heaved a kick at his knee.

  Nick twisted enough to deflect the worst of the blow. He yanked the intruder’s right arm behind his back.

  Then reality hit him. Small. Soft, sweet scent. Hell.

  Vanessa.

  He relaxed his grip.

  A foot behind his calf sent him tumbling. At the last moment, he took her with him, and they fell to the hardwood floor together. He managed to take the brunt of the impact before rolling and trapping her beneath him. He pinned her hands beside her head.

  “Van— Danielle! It’s me.”

  She twisted beneath him. Soft, rounded curves rubbed against him. With every stroke, the friction made him harder.

  “Nick! Why did you tackle me?”

  “Why are you skulking around in my house?”

  “I wasn’t skulking. Snow and I did a perimeter check.”

  “Danielle wouldn’t be out there in the wee hours.” Danielle wouldn’t be here at all. He shouldn’t be here either, plastered against this delectable woman who thought he was engaged to another. Maybe he should tell her the truth.

  Another wriggle. This one was an attempt at a shrug. “I needed to know the layout. A little night work. It didn’t blow my cover. I apologize if I woke you.”

  Hell. He nearly groaned. If he confessed his broken engagement now, she wouldn’t believe him. It was a bad idea anyway. The artificial barrier between them should remain.

  A tangled web. “I wasn’t asleep.”

  She wore a commando-style jumpsuit, thin and clinging to her curves. With each panted breath, her breasts rose and fell against his bare chest. Autumn leaf and dew scents mingled with her unique fragrance.

  If he lowered his head, he could bury his nose in her hair. Or taste the soft skin on her neck. Or kiss her. And find respite from his torment. “You have that little mic turned on?”

 
“No. Why?” The breathy tone said she knew the answer.

  If he thought any more, he’d remember why he shouldn’t do what he longed to do.

  So he didn’t think.

  Chapter 5

  VANESSA COULD SEE little of his face in the dark. She didn’t need vision to know his intent.

  Although the danger of attack had receded, adrenaline hyper-powered her senses. Every pressure point where his muscled body touched hers tingled — fingers, arms, breasts, belly. Desire rolled off him in waves. Her erratic heart thumped in time with his so they seemed to possess a single heartbeat. Awareness burned into her, melting her very bones.

  “Nick,” she whispered, her mouth as dry as sand, “this is a bad idea.”

  “I know.”

  The deep velvet of his voice thrilled through her. He lowered his head. His chiseled mouth took hers with surprising warmth and softness. As he savored her with his lips, his tongue, his entire body, passion built to the same burning intensity with which he did everything.

  She felt feminine and desirable, consumed by his passion. I can’t. This is wrong. Not this man. Common sense managed barely a whisper, but her body fairly shouted. Let go. Let the feeling take you.

  His heat poured into her body, rich and drugging, and she yearned toward him as she tasted and savored. His kiss, powerful and thorough, claimed her as his own. His hand skimmed the length of her throat and her cheekbones.

  Was that her voice murmuring pleasure against his mouth? She was aware only of him, of him surrounding her with his scent and intensity and hardness.

  He pressed gentle kisses to the corners of her lips, to her temples, then pulled away. “Ah, Vanessa, I knew you’d be hot like this. Night work with you should mean tangled sheets, not tackling terrorists.”

  When he brushed his thumb across her lower lip, moist and still yearning, she realized her hands were free, had been free for some time. She was clinging to his shoulders — his broad, naked shoulders. As he rolled away from her, her fingers slid, bereft, against muscle and bone. He was breathing as hard as she.

  Willing herself to resist the chemistry between them, she scooted away. She pushed to her feet on legs made rubbery by desire. Her heart raced as though she’d just completed a marathon. In a way she had.

  She shook her head. “No night work for us. No distractions that could jeopardize the mission. There can be nothing between us. I gave in to the heat of the moment. I admit it. But how can a man who puts so much stock in honor forget he belongs to another woman?”

  “Apparently I need reminding.” He rose to his feet as fluidly as the panther he resembled in the shadows. He padded on bare feet into the faint light cast by the gallery windows.

  She let her gaze skate over layered slabs of muscle and a flat belly dusted with dark hair that trailed down to the waistband of his pajama bottoms. The thin silk outlined his corded thighs and rampant masculinity.

  Ye gods, she knew his pajamas were silk because she’d run her hands down his sinewy back to his taut butt. Desire slammed her again, and her mouth went dry.

  “I’m going to pull on some sweats and have a brandy. Join me downstairs?” He disappeared into his room and left her alone to decide.

  Was he giving her a gentle out? Or was he so supremely confident of his appeal that he knew she’d agree? She shouldn’t. If she knew what was good for her, she’d toddle off to her cool sheets and barricade the door. To keep herself in, not to keep him out.

  He was rich and influential, a man women threw themselves at, a man used to having anything and any woman he wanted. He didn’t want her. Not really. Attraction, at least on his part, was due to proximity.

  She’d spoken the bald truth. Intimacy could jeopardize the mission. The larger mission of trapping the New Dawn leader and her secondary mission of making sure Nicolas Markos stayed on DARK’s side. Her personal mission of staying out of his life. And keeping him out of hers.

  Intimacy would compromise her impartiality and her emotions. Emotions blurred the line between an unwanted masquerade and her identity. Was she too burned out from all the deception to keep her emotions in check? Emotions, sensations, drives were sure running amok inside her at this very moment. Her belly quivered with unfulfilled need. Her heart bloomed with foolish hope. And her soul longed for what could not be.

  Damn the man for being walking temptation.

  He was engaged, for God’s sake. What kind of man hit on one woman when he was promised to another? So what did his indiscretion mean? Would her male colleagues see it as another reason to suspect Nick’s integrity? No, not guys who constantly thought with their anatomy.

  If he tended to forget he belonged to another, she wouldn’t. She didn’t poach. She wasn’t that kind of woman. But she’d use her resentment and latch on to suspicion as a talisman to protect her. The flutter in her stomach told her she needed all the protection she could muster. The list in her mantra was growing. Suspicion. Detachment. No intimacy.

  If she knew what was good for her… She did, but this wasn’t about her.

  She’d go have that brandy. For her reasons, not his. Wasn’t she bemoaning the fact that he wasn’t talking to her?

  Earlier he’d exploded with anger at his brother. Raised in many ports of call by a Greek ship-captain father, he had an old-world view of honor. That outburst wasn’t nearly enough of a peek at what made him tick. She needed a cozy chat to open him up about his life, his business, his family. Cozy, or intimate? Didn’t intimacy lead to confiding? No, she’d stick to cozy.

  Suspicion. Detachment. No intimacy.

  Sure.

  ***

  Nick left his room a few minutes later, dressed in a gray T-shirt and sweatpants but barefoot. He found the hallway dark and empty. No light beneath Vanessa’s door.

  Damn.

  He’d gone too far and chased her away. Already in bed and done with him.

  She was too professional to be snared by his impulsive seduction. Once he’d felt her beneath him and sensed the same elemental need in her, his blood surged with such need he was barely able to stop. He was thankful her breathy moans threw him back to reality or he’d have taken her there on the hall floor.

  She was right that anything between them might endanger their operation. How ironic that Vanessa believed he’d beggared his honor to cheat on his real fiancée with his pretend one. That was something he’d never do if he were still engaged. He could tell her the truth. Let the chemistry sizzle between them. See where it led… But she was a capable, experienced government officer. Why would she want a former soldier with a shameful disaster in his past?

  Besides, any hint that he lied might arouse suspicions and endanger Danielle. Might endanger the entire operation. Better to ice down his libido. His relationship with Vanessa would be professional only.

  But damn, somehow, holding her had eased his grief and anger. Her sweetness both soothed and aroused him. Hell. He stomped down the stairs.

  He stopped in the doorway of the formal living room. A single brass lamp burned on an end table. Vanessa sat curled up on a red brocade-upholstered wing chair. She still wore the black jumpsuit, and now he could see the thin fabric hugging her body. Her hair was tied back in a braid, with small curls at her temples.

  His heart kicked from exasperation to pleasure that she hadn’t run to her room after all. “Ah, good, you’re here. A man shouldn’t drink alone at this time of night.” He rubbed his hands together and strode to the Chinese puzzle chest that served as a liquor cabinet.

  “I decided brandy would help me sleep after my little adventure.”

  He turned to her with raised brows and a sly grin he couldn’t prevent.

  “Outside.” Cheeks turning pink, she hurried on. “My little foray with Snow. To check the perimeter.”

  All right. He’d flustered her. Grinning, he pushed the correct sequence of inlaid ivory leaves on the cabinet front, and the doors opened, revealing decanters and
bottles on a shelf. “I had to talk Alexei into giving me the code to this thing.”

  She chuckled. “I’m surprised he told you.”

  “So am I. A secretive and possessive son of a bitch.” He selected a bottle of Benedictine and two glasses. “My half brother had his faults, but he knew good liquor. I think you’ll like this better than brandy.”

  “Thank you.” She accepted the snifter with its serving of dark amber liquid.

  He sprawled on the curve-backed sofa, the only comfortable piece in the room as far as he was concerned, and tossed the decorative pillows. He sighed as the liqueur slid smoky warmth down his throat. He watched her as she took tentative sips.

  A careful woman. Both restraint and pleasure at the alcohol’s effect. She’d like to be spontaneous, but her professional training — and something else — prevented her from letting go. Intriguing, but he should let it pass.

  Professional only, remember?

  “I have to tell you about the perimeter check.” She started to set her glass on the end table, but instead clutched it in her lap. Her features stayed calm, but excitement glittered in her eyes.

  Taken aback, he sat more erectly. Hell. She’d returned from facing danger, and he jumped her bones. “Something happened. Are you all right?”

  The flutter of one hand waved away his concern. “We found a breach in the fence.”

  “Where?”

  “Southwest corner — back corner — behind the overgrown shrubbery. The fence backs onto a park with more shrubbery. Someone sawed partway through the boards. That’s it so far.”

  “A point of insertion not likely to be discovered under normal circumstances. What will you do?”

  “The techs have set up another camera and some motion sensors. All we can do now is wait. Snow and the others will snatch whoever comes in.”

  “Not you.” He mentally heaved a sigh of relief and swallowed a long gulp of Benedictine. Not the best way to enjoy the fine liqueur, but he wanted its punch.

  She smiled. “Not me. I’m the target. Remember?”