Ritt

by Anne L. Parks

  Wonder what Riley does to destress? Kickboxing? Mixed martial arts? Wrestling?

  An image of the two of them wrestling naked sent a shiver down his spine and settled in his groin.

  Jesus, he needed to get a grip on this shit. No woman took up this much space in his brain. He was always able to compartmentalize. Focus on work. Blow off steam at the bar. Find a woman, fuck her well, and send her on her merry way. He didn’t do long term. He didn’t do feelings. Hell, he didn’t even do last names.

  So, why was Riley pushing all his buttons and turning his world on its head?

  * * *

  The gym was in the basement of the building. There were a handful of people on the treadmills, a couple of guys lifting weights, and a woman on the elliptical.

  No Riley.

  A thwump, thwump, thwump came from a room behind the free weights. Lance headed across the gym.

  Hands in black boxing gloves, Riley pounded on a a hanging bag. Her hair was dark red, almost black with sweat. Her grey sports bra drenched. Sweaty sheen covered her highly-defined abs.

  Fuck me…Lance’s cock stirred and strained against his fatigues. The woman was lean, fit, and had a wall of abs that would put most men to shame. Shoulder and arm muscles rippled with each punch that landed on the bag. The image of the two of them wrestling naked on the floor popped back in his head.

  Old lady tits…old lady tits…old lady tits…

  He took a deep inhale and held it until the visions of her naked body writhing under him darkened. He crossed the small space, stopped behind the bag, and grabbed it with both hands, steadying it so it wouldn’t fly around when she hit it.

  Her eyes met his, but she didn’t seem fazed at all by his sudden appearance.

  “Thanks.” She took a few more hits on the bag. After another couple of minutes, she grabbed a towel, took a drink of water from her bottle, and wiped the sweat from her face, neck and chest.

  Lucky towel.

  “So, I’m guessing you didn’t come down here to be my boxing partner,” she said. “What’s up?”

  “How do you know I didn’t come down here to work out with you?”

  She smirked and looked him up and down.

  Lance chuckled. “Okay, but I would work out with you, if you asked.”

  “What makes you think you can keep up with me? Confidence or arrogance?”

  “Little bit of both.” Jesus, she knows me a little too well. The idea should have sent him packing, but he liked that he got him, something no woman ever had in the past. Not that he let woman stick around long enough to learn anything about him. Riley was the first woman he hoped would stick around for a while…somehow.

  “Well, put your money where your mouth is, and hold that bag for me while I get a few more hits in.” She slid her hands back in the gloves. Lance planted his feet, his stance sturdy, and grasped the bag. Riley Bray had a pretty decent right hook that had nearly knocked him on his ass.

  “Did you get the nod to attend the debrief?” she asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “And?”

  “The intel was good.”

  Thwump, thwump.

  “So, what the hell happened?” She was breathy with exertion, which just enhanced the sexy factor by a hundred.

  “The bad guys got a heads up about our plans and initiated a sneak attack.”

  “Someone leaked intel?”

  “That’s the prevailing theory.”

  “Have they started investigating?”

  “The official word just came down.”

  “Any leads yet?”

  He inhaled deeply and stared at her for a moment, not sure how to tell her what Dix had said.

  Stalling mid punch, her eyebrows drew together and she cocked her head to the side. “What?”

  “Dix is accusing you.”

  The color drained from her face. Her shoulders dropped. “Are they buying it?” she asked, her voice quiet.

  God, he hated being the guy who put sadness in her eyes. It had nearly undone him after Ripper’s death when she lost it. But that hadn’t been him doing anything but consoling her. Now, he was directly responsible for making her look as if someone had stolen her most prized possession. In a way, he guessed it was true. She valued her reputation as a hard worker, loyal to the cause and the country, as much as he did.

  Lance released his hold on the bag, stepped in front of her, and grasped her shoulders. He stared into those gorgeous green eyes that made his inside do weird maneuvers. “They’re looking into it.”

  She stood still and Lance watched her wall go up. Backing away from him slowly, she moved in front of the bag. “Thanks for the heads up.”

  Thwump. Thwump.

  He was shut out. Like he wasn’t even there. Anger bubbled to the surface, and sent searing pain through his chest.

  Fine…if she wants to relegate me to no more than a messenger, then I’ll remove myself from her sight and her life.

  He turned and walked out the door.

  Goodbye, Riley Bray. Best of luck.

  Chapter 8

  Riley shut down her computer, grabbed the printout of the picture Flaherty had sent, and locked her office. She thought about breaking the key in the lock to make it difficult for the investigators to snoop, but figured that’d just make her look like she had something to hide. Also, she didn’t need a charge of destruction of government property on top of espionage.

  The thought made her stomach roil, and her heart seize. How had this happened? Her? A double-agent?

  And people she worked with were actually considering the charge valid?

  Everything she had worked so hard for since joining the CIA fresh out of high school was crumbling in ruins around her. All her time had been spent fighting terrorism, protecting the homeland, and for what? To be accused of being a spy for the other side?

  She slid behind the wheel of her car and glanced at the picture on the passenger seat. She had been a total bitch to Lance in the gym. He had told her about Dix’s allegations and the investigation before she was blindsided with an official inquiry. There was something in his eyes that told her he believed she could never do what they were accusing. And she had shut down, ignored him, when what she wanted to do was step into his embrace and block out the world.

  Flaherty had requested she get the picture he sent to Lance. She checked at security before she left and confirmed Lance had left the building not long after she had shunned him. The best thing to do was to go to his house and drop it off to him.

  And apologize.

  She didn’t want Lance mad at her. She wasn’t completely comfortable with the way he was making her feel, want things she had pushed away for years. But she couldn’t deny the draw she seemed to have to him. Strong, sexy. Same work ethic. Same love of country and hate of terrorists. But there was more to it. She just didn’t know what it was, or if it was even definable.

  Lance was staying at a house the Embassy rented for people who were on temporary duty in Amman. Riley’s house was a few miles away, also rented by the Embassy. Hers, however, came with armed guards and an armored gate.

  She stood on the front stoop and knocked on the door. Bodies shuffled behind the door, and it opened enough for a face to appear. The blond guy she had met…Lucas?

  “Hi,” she said. “I’m Riley Bray. We met at the Embassy. You were with Commander Knight.”

  Recognition replaced the wariness in his features. “Yeah, I remember.” He looked around the front yard and down the street before opening the door. “Come on in.”

  It was never a good idea to hang around outside. White person tended to be targets, even in Amman. She stepped inside and Lucas closed the door behind her. The other man, Mick, cleared the chamber of his Sig, and stuffed it in his waistband at the small of his back.

  Riley glanced around the place. For having three guys living there, it wasn’t as bad as she had anticipated. Looked more like semi-responsible bachelors and not the frat house she’d feared i
t might be. Of course, a lack of available alcohol in the area may have helped tamp down the stale beer smell that was almost always prevalent in a house where only men resided.

  “Is Commander Knight here?” she asked.

  “Yeah,” Lucas said.

  “Lance,” Mick hollered. “You got a visitor.”

  Lance came out of a room at the back of the house. Sweat pants, bare chest, rubbing a towel on his wet hair. Riley’s mouth went dry. Holy fuck, the man was a god.

  He stopped when his gaze landed on Riley.

  “Hey,” she said, wishing she had dried her hair and done something with it other than twist it in a knot on her head. This was a new experience. She wasn’t usually concerned with how she looked.

  Why now?

  The excessively sexy, half naked man in front of her.

  “Riley.” His voice was flat, and her heart raced as if on the final leg of the Indy 500.

  “Sorry to show up unexpectedly, but I was hoping to talk to you about a few things.”

  Lance glanced at his roommates.

  “We were just going to grab some food,” Lucas said.

  They left before Riley had a chance to turn around and watch them go.

  Lance and Riley stood staring at each other for a moment.

  Finally, Riley cleared her throat. “I wanted to apologize for how I acted earlier…in the gym. I—I don’t know why I acted that way, except I was upset and handled it less than admirably.”

  “Well, I was pissed, but after I settled down and took a shower, I realized you handled it a lot better than I would have.” A smile tipped one side of his mouth up. “I probably would’ve pounded the hell out of someone for accusing me of being a leak.”

  “Well, the thought crossed my mind, but I wasn’t sure I could take you.”

  Laughter erupted from Lance’s chest and she was suddenly very aware of how close they were standing to each other. And that he had no shirt on. He really needed to put on a shirt, or risk her tongue bathing his chest and abs…and finding out where that sexy trail of dark blonde hair led to below his waistband.

  Wow! What the hell is happening to me?

  His bare chest riveted her gaze. The smooth skin, fine lines of his pecs, the definition of the muscles. He was perfect. Beautiful.

  His throat cleared. “Let me just grab a shirt and we can talk.”

  Nice, Riley. You freaked out the hot guy by gawking at him.

  This was not why she had come to his house. Stick to the plan. Part one was accomplished. The apology. Now to give him his picture and attempt to glean any other information regarding the intel leak that killed Ripper.

  He returned pulling on a black t-shirt. Riley pulled her eyes away, even though the shirt shaped perfectly to his sculpted chest muscles that she already knew were outstanding. Thank god she had put on a bra with a little padding or Lance would know exactly how his body made her feel. Her hardened nipples bumping against the material only added a delicious friction. Heat flooded between her thighs.

  Jesus H Christ! Pull yourself together.

  Nothing was going to happen with this man. Nothing could. He was leaving. And she had made sure she was never known as the girl who fucked around. Not once had she had a one-night stand since being in Syria. Sex with co-workers was disastrous in too many ways—no matter how horny she got.

  And who the hell knew what was going to happen to her and her career. She could be heading back to the US without a job—or she could be charged with treason and sent to jail.

  Acid burned in her stomach. Spending her life in prison scared the shit out of her. But being accused of something so heinous and disgusting as selling out her country made her want to throw up. And hurt someone.

  Dix instantly came to mind. The prick.

  “You said you had a few things to discuss with me?” Lance’s eyes held no emotion. She couldn’t get a read on him. He seemed to be as good, if not better, at compartmentalizing his feelings than she was.

  “I received an email from Flaherty. He wanted me to pass along a photo you asked him to take in Syria.” She avoided mentioning the mission. Ripper already haunted her nights and most of her waking moments. But this was not the time to mourn, or dwell on what happened. She needed to prove her innocence. For that she needed a clear head.

  And the man standing in front of her to help, somehow. She just wasn’t sure how. Or if he would.

  She pulled the paper from her pocket and handed it to him. “Since everything I do is being scrutinized, I didn’t want to forward the email and draw unnecessary attention to you, so I printed it off. Sorry for folding it, but with everything going on, I wasn’t sure I would be able to leave the compound with a file or anything.”

  Lance took the picture from her. His face remained stoic. “Are you locked out of your emails yet?” He asked.

  “I don’t know, but forwarding that to you may shine a light on you that you don’t want or need.”

  Lance stared at her for a moment, then shrugged. “There’s a trail from Flaherty to you requesting you pass it on. If anything, there will be a red flag because you printed it.”

  “Hadn’t thought of that.” Damn, she was suddenly failing at this spook stuff. “Of course, at the time, I didn’t realize my every action was going to be seen through an espionage filter.” She snorted, but felt no humor.

  No reaction from Lance. Did he believe she could be a double agent?

  A cold shiver ran through her as if hit by an arctic blast. She hoped he knew on some level that she was being held up as the sacrificial lamb. He’d seen how things went down in the TOC with Dix. Surely, he had to realize Dix was being a vindictive ass.

  Dix knew even the suggestion of improper communication of classified material could ruin a career—true or not.

  “I really need the digital version of this photo,” Lance said.

  She pulled out her government issued phone and tried to access her emails. Her inbox popped up after she entered in her password. So, they hadn’t blocked her out yet. But it was coming. She knew that for sure.

  “Email address,” she directed toward him. He rattled it off and she hit the send button. “You should have it soon.”

  “Thanks.” He dropped the photo on the table, placed both hands beside it, and leaned over to get a better look. Riley glanced at it again.

  “Know him?” Riley asked.

  “No,” he answered. Silence spread out between them. Apparently, he wasn’t going to share info with her, which sort of pissed her off. She wasn’t guilty of what they were accusing her off. Nor had she been charged with anything.

  Her men had been injured during that mission. Ripper had died. And if this guy in the picture had something to do with it—she damn well wanted to know who he was.

  She shifted on her feet, and Lance glanced up at her. His eyes were dark, and he looked as if he had forgotten she was there.

  “I have my suspicions, but I need to send this to my boss and see if he can come up with something.” He paused, and looked back at the photo. “Does he look Russian to you?”

  Riley studied the guy more closely. Short hair, bulbous nose, thin lips, round face. He had the earmarks of a Russian. She nodded. “Could be.” She glanced at Lance. “So, what if he is? Why is he at an abandoned school in Syria on the night we are primed to take out two ISIS leaders?”

  “Could be coincidence.”

  “Don’t believe in them.”

  A slow, loud exhale of air pushed from Lance’s chest. “What I’m about to tell you is classified, which as far as I know, you still have clearance to hear. But don’t share this information, Riley. It’s strictest confidence.”

  A big, bright ball of happiness swelled inside her. He was sharing highly classified intel—an act that could get him in serious trouble if she had been the leak. “Got it.”

  “I believe this guy might be part of a obscure terrorist organization known as the Russian Revolutionary Army.”

  Riley nodded
her head. “The RRA—I’ve heard of them.”

  Lance quirked up an eyebrow. She smiled. He was sexy as hell, and called to her on a very primal, carnal level she hadn’t indulged in a very long time.

  “Terrorism is at the epicenter of everything I do for the CIA, Commander. I make it my business to know who all the players are—even if they exist on the fringe.”

  “So, what do you know about them?”

  “Not much. Up and coming. Primarily based in Columbia where their main source of income is drugs and sex slave trade. They are trying to become a bigger player in the world terror theater. They began with a belief Russia needs to return to its glory days of Stalin and strict communism. I suspect their mission has morphed.”

  “I think your assessment is correct.” Lance pulled out his phone, most likely to see if the email she forwarded was in his inbox. “First, we need to see if we can tie him to the RRA.”

  “If he is, what they hell was he doing in Syria?”

  “Don’t know, but I’m going to find out.”

  His attention averted, she was able to study the man. He had rugged good looks, muscled but lean. He was serious about his job, which was a total turn on since that was her main focus in life. But what struck her most—he seemed to trust her.

  That may have been the best gift she had ever received, and from a man who barely knew her.

  Or maybe he knew her better than anyone. He certainly understood her better than most, because he was so much like her. But the last thing she wanted was to pull Lance into her troubles. She needed to start figuring out how to get herself out of the mess she was in at work.

  “I should probably go, let you get on with your own investigation.”

  His head popped up, his eyes narrowing. She pointed to the photo of the Russian.

  “Right,” he said, and let out a long sigh.

  Chapter 9

  A simple excursion to Jordan to observe a potential new member of the team had thrust Lance into the middle of an investigation on leaked intel that resulted in the death of a Navy SEAL. The fact that the primary focus was on a woman who actually intrigued Lance, and more than just sexually, was the topper to a totally fucked up situation.