Surprised, Riley looked at Sam. “You’re saying she was murdered?”
Sam took a deep breath. The answer came hard. “Yes. My friends think so, too.”
“Why?”
“You’d have to have known Rainy,” Sam said. “Dying in some kind of accident—” Emotion took her words.
Tears gleamed in her ice-blue eyes, and Riley knew it took a real effort of will not to let them fall.
When Sam continued, her throat was husky with pain. “Rainy—Rainy just wouldn’t have died in an accident. She was one of the most complete people I’ve known.”
Riley spoke softly, wishing he could ease Sam’s pain. “Accidents happen, Sam. Life has a habit of not turning out the way we think it should.”
“Rainy’s death wasn’t an accident. Her seat belt failed.”
That caught Riley’s attention. “Failed?”
“Yes. And that isn’t all.”
Though Riley was certain that Sam didn’t know what she was doing, she started to pace. He watched her, trying to figure out what her angle was, what she wanted from him. His attention kept wandering to the taut flesh that rippled beneath her sweatpants. Even the loose material couldn’t disguise the coiling and bunching taking place.
In terse sentences, Sam briefed Riley on the information about Rainy and the blackouts that had befallen two of her other friends. Her report was nearly emotionless as she stayed centered.
When she stopped her report, he asked, “If we accept that your friend was murdered, your other friends’ blackouts were caused by the same source—”
“Kayla and Alex,” Sam said.
Riley looked at her.
“Their names,” Sam said.
“Kayla’s the police lieutenant?”
“Yes.”
“And Alex is the forensics expert with the FBI?” Riley remembered the woman from the research he’d done with Howie Dunn.
Sam nodded.
“She sat in on the autopsy before the funeral?”
“That’s what Josie said. The Cassandras—”
“Cassandras?”
An embarrassed look flashed on Sam’s beautiful features. “A name we gave ourselves. The academy was big on breaking the new students into groups that worked together. We were the Cassandras.”
Riley waited. She didn’t continue, so he prompted her.
“And Josie’s working on a spy plane.”
Sam shot him a quick, suspicious look. “I didn’t tell you that.”
But Riley knew from the disoriented flicker in her eyes that for just an instant she thought she might have. “You didn’t tell me that, Sam. I did background checks on all the women you went to school with. I don’t know the particulars of what Josie is doing, but I know what program she’s attached to.”
“That’s privileged information.”
“Yeah, but when you’re dealing with someone who might be assisting terrorist activity against the United States, a lot of doors get opened damn quick.” Too late, Riley realized the pain his words caused Sam. “I didn’t mean anything by that, Sam. It was just a statement of fact. Once you were labeled a threat, I was given a blank check to prowl.”
Taking a deep breath, getting rid of the emotion, Sam nodded. “Okay. Fine. We’ll make that work for us.”
“We?” Riley repeated. “Us?”
She looked at him in exasperation. “I need help. Haven’t you been listening?”
“Sure I’ve been listening. But all you’ve trotted out is a lot of supposition.”
“Supposition didn’t get Rainy killed. Neither did a failed seat belt. There’s an assassin out there.” Sam drew a breath. “He’s code-named the Cipher.”
A chill touched Riley then. He’d heard of the Cipher. No intelligence agency knew much about the man. Or if he was a man for certain. He was a phantom, supposedly able to walk through solid walls and assassinate targets.
“No one even knows if the Cipher exists,” Riley said.
“Then give me the chance to find out.”
“How?”
“Let me have the files on every assassination that the Cipher’s name has turned up in. Let me research him.”
“I thought he was a myth. A bogeyman the intelligence community dreamed up to challenge new recruits.”
“Do you remember what his signature is? The thing that all of his kills reportedly have in common?”
Riley shook his head.
“All of his victims fall asleep before they die in what is supposed to be an accident.”
“How do you know this?”
“He’s mentioned in the files on Berzhaan. I read about him—or her—while I was working the op in Suwan last year.”
“You read this a year ago?”
“Yes.”
“And you haven’t forgotten it?”
“I forget very little of what I read or see or hear,” Sam replied. “Gift for languages, remember? That’s part of how it seems to work for me.”
Riley was impressed. Mostly he operated by garbage in, garbage out. If he attained knowledge but didn’t use it at least every now and again, he lost it.
“Let’s go with that for a moment, then,” he said. “Let’s assume there is some master assassin lurking out there in the deep shadows between nations. Why would he be interested in your friends?”
“Have you been keeping up with the news?”
“World events. Baseball scores.”
“You researched the Athena Academy.”
“Yes.”
“Have you heard about the potential scandal going on there? About students being used for scientific experiments without their knowledge?”
That caught Riley’s attention. “No.”
“The story was reported by Shannon Conner.”
“Who’s she?”
“A reporter for the ABS network. She was also a student at Athena for a time.”
“Is there any truth to the scientific experimentation accusation?”
“Not that I know of. But the academy does have a medical facility and a lot of lab space.”
“If there’s no scientific experimentation going on—”
“Listen to me.” Sam’s face took on a hard cast. “All the Cassandras made a vow—a promise to come, no questions asked, if any one of us called. It was only to be used in dire circumstances. Rainy made that call while I was in Munich in August. She died on the way to the meeting. I’m not buying for a minute that it was some tragic accident. I think she discovered something. And was killed for it.”
“Sam—”
“Riley,” Sam pleaded, “I just need you to get me access to those files. That’s all.”
Staring at her, Riley turned the situation around in his head, trying to find what it was Sam hoped to gain by convincing him of the reality of the hit-and-run assassin. Even if she proved the Cipher was after her friends, she wasn’t going to get out of solitary confinement. She still had the terrorist charges to answer.
“Mitchell’s not going to go for it,” he said.
“Make him.”
“I’ll tell him to talk to you.” Riley stood to leave.
“He won’t listen to me.”
“That’s up to you.” Riley started for the door.
In a quick blur of motion, Sam intercepted him. She put one firm, small hand against his chest. Her touch seared his skin. Her musk and traces of soap and shampoo, a hint of cologne, filled his nostrils. The urge to take her in his arms and crush her to him filled him.
And then she’d break your neck for trying anything, Riley chided himself. He had to steel himself. “What are you doing, St. John?”
Those ice-blue eyes peered into his soul. “Trying to convince you to help me help my friends.”
“By bucking Mitchell?” Riley shook his head. “That’s not going to—” Before he could say anything further, Sam snaked a hand behind his neck and pulled his face down toward hers. At first he almost resisted, thinking she was going to put him in some kind
of martial arts hold.
Then he felt her hot lips colliding with his with bruising force. Control slipped through his fingers in the space of a single, ragged breath.
Chapter 10
S am couldn’t believe she was doing what she was doing. Or with whom. All those evenings she’d sometimes thought of Riley McLane after a racquetball game, or after a briefing or debriefing she’d attended that he’d been involved in, seemed to come alive in her mind as she kissed him. Worse than that, all those nights she’d dreamed of him in the nude came to the forefront of her mind.
Electricity passed through her body, filling her with a heated rush of liquid desire. At first he didn’t kiss her back. Maybe he doesn’t find you attractive, she told herself. And maybe if you didn’t have your face glued to his and you were in better control of yourself, you’d worry about that.
But she wasn’t worried. At least, she definitely wasn’t worried enough. More than anything, she was amazed at how easily her body responded to his. She’d never done any heavy kissing before, never been involved with a male at all before. There hadn’t been a need, and she’d never experienced more than a fleeting desire. She’d always judged the cost too high.
She didn’t want to end up wrecked like some of the women she knew had. In their last year at Athena Academy Kayla had fallen for Mike Bridges, a young officer she’d met, and ended up raising a child on her own.
Sam had always had her hands full keeping herself together. There had always been lines that she wouldn’t cross, chances that she wouldn’t take. It had been one thing to pit herself against a physical exertion—she’d known her abilities, and she’d had to trust only in herself. But a relationship? No way. That had never felt safe. She would have had to place too much trust outside herself.
However, at the moment, she was surprised at how right everything felt, as though this was something she barely remembered but still had the knowledge to perform.
The lack of response from her partner shook her confidence, though. Embarrassed, she tried to think of a way to disentangle herself from Riley with at least a shred of self-respect and dignity. Stepping away from his lean, muscular body was going to be one of the hardest things she’d ever done.
Through sheer willpower, she forced herself back. Their lips parted for an instant. Then Riley swept over her with a cry that was part pain and part passion. He wrapped his arms around her, lifting her from the floor. A dozen martial arts moves flickered through her mind, all of them ways of breaking his hold on her, of escaping his grasp.
But that was the last thing she wanted to do at the moment.
His mouth pressed against hers. His lips melded to hers, blowing her mind and tearing apart her doubts. This moment was crystal clear; it was right and she seized it. His kiss was hot and couldn’t be denied. Her lips parted involuntarily and she felt his tongue invade her mouth. She craved the taste of him, the strength and determination of him, and she blended it to her own. Before she knew what she was doing, she’d doubled her fists up in his jacket and pulled herself up his lean frame. Her legs lifted and wrapped around his hips, pulling him against her.
He held tight. She held him just as fiercely, as though if she let go she would fall a million miles.
Stumbling, he reached the wall beside the door. He put a hand behind her head, cupping her neck and turning her face more up to his. Braced against the wall, she released her hold with her arms and put her hands on the sides of his face. Whiskers felt like fine sandpaper to her touch, and the rough texture sent another wave of desire thrilling through her. Her breath came in ragged gasps, worse than it did when she put herself through her forms.
He moved against her, his hips grinding into hers. She felt his erection through his clothing and hers, hard and insistent, and knew what it was instantly even though she’d never had the pleasure before. And it was pleasure. She couldn’t believe how much pleasure was involved in the contact. He rubbed against her, and she felt incredibly exposed. Wanted to be even more exposed.
His hands slid under her shirt. His callused palms caressed her back, spanned her shoulders, then slipped around to her breasts. He covered her breasts with his hands, and her erect nipples scraped against his flesh. An ache like nothing she’d ever experienced shot through her. Part of her, that small part of her mind that remained civilized, screamed at her that what she was doing was wrong.
Sam didn’t care. Maybe what she was doing was wrong, but it felt right enough at the moment. Her hips bucked against his, increasing the pressure against both their bodies. She felt his response as he grew even harder.
“Sam,” Riley croaked, breathing into her mouth, then inhaling and taking her breath away. His voice was hard and tight, totally male. He turned his head, breaking the kiss. His body surged against hers. “We can’t do this.”
She wanted to scream, Why not? But she couldn’t be distracted that long. Her mouth sought his again. Maybe he whispered no, but his body screamed yes.
“Sam. No.”
No? Even that only barely penetrated. Her mind seemed as if it had shut down, gone nuclear and suffered one hell of a meltdown.
“Don’t.”
Sam wanted to speak. She wanted to tell him that it was all right, that they couldn’t stop, that she couldn’t even possibly imagine wanting to stop.
He pulled back from her, but he couldn’t step away with her legs wrapped around her hips. His hands left her breasts and she instantly missed the pressure and strength of him holding her. Her breasts felt heavier than they ever had in her life. She wanted him to touch her.
“Sam, I mean it. This can’t happen.” Riley’s face held anger and disgust.
Looking at him, Sam couldn’t believe it. What the hell was he thinking? This can’t happen? It is happening! She instinctively gripped him, maintaining contact. Some of that was from her martial arts training, not wanting to get out into easy striking range now that she was up against him. Inside his reach, she could use his own size and strength against him. But she wanted to be against him for more than that reason.
“Sam.” Riley put his hands on her again, but this time he gripped her shoulders and pushed her back from him. His face was suddenly serious. “Sam! Dammit! Stop!”
Surprised and hurt, and more than a little embarrassed now, Sam dropped her legs from around his hips. Her feet hit the floor, but she didn’t think her knees would hold her up. Cool air against bare skin let her know that her top had crept up way past any point of decency. Mortified, she pulled the shirt down where it belonged. Her nipples stood out prominently against the material. Self-consciously, she crossed her arms to hide them.
Someone banged on the door outside.
“Special Agent McLane,” a male voice called through the door. “Special Agent McLane. Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” McLane said. His eyes never left hers.
Sam stood straight and tall, defiant. Inside, she just wanted to hide. If she hadn’t needed his help—if Alex and Kayla and the others—hadn’t needed his help, she knew she would have demanded that he leave immediately. She hated the way she could still feel his touch and still long for it at the same time.
“Are you sure, Special Agent McLane?” the man asked through the door. “Because it looked like—”
“Pete,” Riley growled, still gazing at Sam.
“Yeah,” Pete responded.
“Go away.”
There was a hesitation. “All right. But if you need anything—”
“I won’t.”
Sam returned Riley’s gaze.
“What the hell do you think you were doing, St. John?” he demanded.
Now we’re back to St. John, Sam thought angrily. She could still hear her name whispered in a warm, ragged breath in her ear. “I was trying to convince you to help me. To help me help my friends.”
“What?” He shot her a look of disbelief.
“I thought maybe you might be more inclined to help me if—” Sam couldn’t finish
. Her face burned with embarrassment.
“You thought I’d be more inclined to help you if you seduced me?” Riley blew out his breath and paced.
Sam didn’t know what to say, but she felt she had to say something. Usually she got along with silence just fine, but this silence between them was unbearable. “I didn’t think things would get so out of control.”
“What did you think would happen?”
“I thought you would help.”
“Because you offered me sex?”
His words stung her. Calling what she’d offered, what she’d never offered before, sex made her sound cheap and childish. She wanted to turn away from him. She wanted him out of her prison.
“Damn it, St. John. I’m not that kind of guy.”
She reached for her own anger out of defense and found it. “You couldn’t have convinced me. Not with that lipstick smear on your collar.”
“You’d break up a relationship to get what you want?”
She frowned at him. “If you’d had a relationship, I’d have known it.”
“How? ESP?”
Sam didn’t want to explain. Couldn’t, really, she just…knew.
“Is that it, then, Riley?” she asked him. “Are you in a relationship? Did I step over some moral barrier? Because just a few minutes ago it didn’t seem like it was just me caught up in what was going on.”
Obviously struggling to get control of himself, Riley paced. “That was real. Too real. But I’m not for sale, St. John. Not to you. Not to anybody. I hold myself accountable for my actions.”
“Are you insinuating that I don’t?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“I want to help my friends,” Sam said. “I can’t do that from in here. You and Mitchell have walled me off from everything I could do. I can’t just sit in here and pretend everything’s all right when everything inside me is screaming that it isn’t.”
“So you decided if you jumped me, delivered a sexual payoff, I’d do whatever you wanted?”
Actually, Sam had fostered hopes.
Double-Cross Page 12
