by Lora Leigh
Micah’s groan sped through her mind as he moved over her. His arms wrapped around her, his elbows braced his weight. His hips quickened, his cock thrust inside her in furious, hard strokes, triggering a second, almost brutal release. A hard, throttled curse tore from his lips, and one deep thrust later she felt his release tear through him. It shuddered up his back as she held on to him. It tightened his muscles and locked him inside her as spurt after spurt of heated semen flooded her clenching sex.
Risa was certain she must have forgotten how to breathe for long, blinding seconds. She was gasping for air as reality began to seep into her mind once more. She held on to him, her arms and legs wrapped around him, locked into place as he jerked against her one last time.
Slowly, as the tension eased from her body, her legs slid from his hips. Her arms remained around his back, hoping he’d stay for just a few seconds more. That he would cover her and let her linger in the false sense of belonging that moved through her.
She felt as though she belonged here, in his arms, and she knew she really didn’t. Risa had never belonged anywhere.
ORION STARED at the number on the ringing cell phone and grimaced before answering it. The bastard tried to hide his number, as though that could change the fact that Orion knew his identity.
“Hello?” Orion pretended he didn’t know who was calling.
“I saw the news last night.” Cultured, refined, his employer’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “It seems there was an attempted kidnapping, from what several motorists saw, on the interstate. Security cameras on the overpass showed the entire fiasco in full fucking detail.”
Orion winced. “No one can identify me. I made certain of it.”
“I don’t give a fuck if you could be identified,” his employer ground out furiously. “You failed.”
“Her boyfriend had a gun,” Orion snapped back. “You neglected to inform me that she was sleeping with a damned Navy SEAL. Getting to her isn’t exactly easy.”
What the hell did this bastard know about his job? He pushed for instant results, never understanding that to kill as Orion killed took planning and exacting detail. It wasn’t an overnight job.
“A dog wouldn’t fuck that ugly-assed bitch,” his employer fired back. “It has to be a bodyguard or something. You’ve given yourself away.”
Orion smirked at the accusation. “I never give myself away, my friend, and you know this well. Trust me, he’s her boyfriend.” The few times Orion had managed to catch a glimpse of them, he’d known they were lovers. New lovers. She was still shy with him, still tentative, but she was definitely sleeping with the man.
“He’s a friend of those SEALs’ wives she’s made friends with,” Orion breathed out roughly. “Catching them off-guard won’t be done quickly now, and I blame you for that. I told you it was too soon to try to take her. That was your attempt at a plan. I’ll follow my own plan from here on out.”
There was a seething silence across the line then. Orion knew his employer well, and he knew the other man detested failure of any kind.
“Orion, listen to me well,” he snarled then. “If that bitch remembers who I am before you take her out, then remember, I can make a deal with any agency attempting to arrest me. My reputation and life will be shot to hell, but your identity will be revealed. I’ll give them the key and the location to that little safe-deposit box I have, and you’ll be dead. Are we clear?”
Orion stiffened. He was sick of being threatened with those pictures and the information this man held. It had been years ago, when Orion had first ventured into his present occupation. He’d been friends with this man, which hadn’t been a very wise move.
A long time ago. It had been on one of Orion’s first assignments with the CIA. The scientist he had been working with had a particular thirst for young girls. At that time, the scientist had been choosing women who looked and pretended to be much younger than they were. Unfortunately, one of those women had been threatening to expose him.
Orion had taken care of her in a manner that had thrown all suspicion from the scientist. But the man had wanted to watch. Orion had wanted to show off. He had no idea there had been a hidden camera snapping pictures of the event.
It had been more than two decades ago, but Orion knew his features hadn’t changed much from that time. They had aged, but he would be easily identified through the aging programs now available.
He was going to have to find a way to retrieve that evidence against him, and then he was going to have to kill his employer. The son of a bitch was getting too cocky, too arrogant, anyway.
“We are very clear,” Orion said coldly. “I accepted the job.” He really hadn’t had a choice. “I told you, I’d make certain she was dead before she remembered anything. I’ll take care of it.”
“Make certain you do,” his employer snapped. “Or I’ll take care of you.”
The line disconnected as Orion snapped his teeth in fury and slammed the phone to the bed beside him. He glared down at his foot. The bullet had passed clean through, but he had a broken bone and a fucking hole in his foot. He was wounded now, and he was pissed.
Reaching for the bottle of painkillers he’d had his handler procure (he couldn’t risk his employer knowing he was wounded), Orion tapped two out, swallowed them with water, and leaned his head back before breathing in deeply.
He’d lie low for a week, perhaps two. If the bitch hadn’t remembered anything by now, then chances were she wasn’t going to remember in the time it would take his foot to heal. It would give her SEAL boyfriend time to get a bit complacent.
Orion frowned at the thought of the other man. He was a rather nice-looking individual from what Orion had been able to glimpse of him.
He’d studied the pictures he’d taken of her before and after the SEAL had arrived on the scene. Those later pictures were different. He was bringing something out in her that Orion hadn’t expected—something that made her appear different.
Who the hell was he?
Micah Sloane was just a name. A Navy SEAL, according to the records that Orion’s employer had managed to procure for him. Thirty-two years of age, he’d spent the past ten years in the Middle East and was now on leave from the Navy for an unspecified amount of time for medical reasons.
Orion knew his stats, his Naval record, which wasn’t exactly perfect. Micah Sloane liked to be a bit insubordinate with his commanding officers. He’d barely slid past a court-martial once.
He’d been born in America, though. Parents were dead. No siblings. There wasn’t a lot of information on him. He had a decent credit rating, a few late payments on the car Orion had totaled for him. There was a pitiful savings account, an apartment in Atlanta. Nothing noteworthy. He was Mr. Guy Next Door and he was pissing Orion off.
But there was one piece of information that gave him hope. Mr. Micah Sloane liked the nightlife. He liked the clubs and the bars and was known to frequent them often. He’d get bored, get antsy. He’d think he could protect his woman a night here or there if they went out.
Orion tapped his fingers against his leg as the painkillers finally began to ease into his system. Risa would be easier to take then. Orion would just stay back for a while. Wait. Watch. Then, when Mr. Sloane began taking his new lover out, Orion could strike.
It would work, he assured himself as he began to grow drowsy from the medication. He could make it work. It would just take a little patience. And he had plenty of patience.
Turning his head, he focused on the picture of his mark. The one from the mall where she walked with her new lover. To Orion’s drug-hazed mind, the woman’s tentative smile, the sparkle in her light blue eyes, and the sheer innocence in her expression were revealed.
She was pretty, he thought; then he frowned. It was the look in her eyes that always bothered him, and in that moment he realized why.
Ariela Abijah. Six years before. The Mossad agent who had refused to beg. The only job that had ever haunted him. The young woman reminded him o
f Ariela. She had strength. Courage. She was a survivor and a fighter with an aura of endurance that few women possessed. And for a moment, for the second time in his life, Orion felt regret.
CHAPTER 15
MICAH DIDN’T LIKE the fact that Jordan insisted on Risa being present for the discussion of a safe house and the best place to move her. He knew that the man who headed the operational unit didn’t agree with his opinion, and he could feel a stab of manipulation in the move Jordan was making.
Risa was quiet when Micah and Jordan entered the apartment after Micah had made the effort to hold the meeting in secret with Jordan.
She was sitting at her desk working on papers that had been delivered to her that morning. Nik had opened the door, cautious even though he knew who was on the other side, and stepped back.
“Hello Miss Clay.” Jordan’s smile was quiet, and the bastard was making the effort to be charming. Micah ground his teeth in frustration at the sight.
“Mr. Malone.” She nodded back at him, though her gaze went to Micah. “Is something wrong?”
Nik closed the door, watching curiously. Micah wanted to warn the other man to take notes on just how calculating Jordan could be.
“We appear to have a problem,” Jordan admitted. “Would you mind coming into the kitchen, where we can all talk comfortably? And perhaps I can convince Nik to make us a pot of coffee.”
Nik grunted but moved in ahead of them to the other room, where he proceeded to make the coffee Jordan seemed to live on.
Dressed in butt-hugging jeans and a soft light gray sweater, Risa edged in behind them, watching Jordan and Micah carefully.
There was a hint of confusion and of fear in her eyes as Micah caught her gaze. He almost grimaced.
“Everything’s fine, Risa.” He couldn’t bear to see that fear in her eyes. “We’re simply considering some alternative plans since Orion’s attempt to take you yesterday. Jordan wants to discuss those with you.”
“Okay.” She nodded in agreement, but her eyes were still wary as she took her seat.
“Nik should have coffee in a minute.” Jordan smiled again. Micah hated that damned smile. “We’ll get this dealt with as quickly as possible so we can get on to the job of making certain you’re no longer in danger because of Jansen Clay’s activities before his death.”
“That would be nice.” Her voice was doubtful.
“We’ll first go over a few things you mentioned while you were still sedated yesterday evening,” Jordan announced as Nik set the cup of black coffee in front of him. “You mentioned remembering a few things about the man that raped you. Do you recall those memories?”
Jordan’s tone was matter-of-fact. He didn’t beat around the bush, and Micah watched as the approach seemed to give Risa the distance she needed to remain calm.
She breathed in deeply as though stepping back, mentally, from the fact that it was her rapist they were discussing.
“Large, soft hands,” she said faintly. “I remember his voice; it was very cultured, very autocratic and arrogant. He wanted Carrie, but Jansen said he already had her sold.” She swallowed tightly then. “He was a very large man. After I was transferred to the institution Jansen placed me in, he would come with Jansen during the visits he made. Jansen and my doctor would argue over the drug Jansen wanted used to sedate me. The doctor argued that the GHB would end up killing me. Jansen didn’t seem to care. So the doctor only used that drug when Jansen made his visits. Otherwise, he used something he told the nurses was more acceptable.”
“Halperidol.” Jordan nodded. “That was what the doctors found in your system when you were taken from the institution by the team sent to rescue you.”
She nodded.
“What do you remember of those visits Jansen made?” Jordan asked.
Micah watched her pale.
Moving behind her, he placed his hands on her shoulders, unable to stand away from her, from providing her some form of comfort as she was forced to pull those memories free again.
She hid from them, he knew that, and he hadn’t pushed it. Had this operation worked out as they had anticipated, Orion would have been captured, her rapist in custody, and she would have been safe. There would have been no reason for her to remember.
“They were working on a drug,” she whispered. “I don’t remember the details, but it was supposed to replace the Whore’s Dust. They would inject me, then watch my response to it.”
“And you remember your response?” Jordan asked.
“I remember.” Her shoulders were tight as tension sang through her body.
“Jordan, this isn’t necessary,” Micah protested.
Jordan’s blue eyes slashed back to him. “But it is necessary, Micah,” he stated, his voice cool. “If she remembers anything that could help us capture her rapist, then we’ll ensure he doesn’t hire another hit man once we’ve taken Orion out of the equation. That’s our secondary mission, remember?”
Oh, he remembered, all right. But tormenting Risa didn’t seem to be an acceptable course to catch the bastard. Orion would know who his employer was, according to their contact.
“It wasn’t as bad as the original Whore’s Dust,” Risa stated, ignoring their argument. “It was more painful than anything else. Jansen was angry each time because it didn’t seem to produce the effect he wanted.”
“And what effect was he looking for?” Jordan asked as he made notes onto the legal pad he’d brought with him.
Micah watched as her hands clenched together atop the table.
“He wanted me to beg as I had the night he gave me to the other man,” she stated, her voice quivering. “He wanted me to beg for…” She shook her head.
“For sex,” Jordan finished.
Risa gave a jerky nod of her head as Micah glared at Jordan.
“I remembering thinking that I knew him.” She breathed in roughly. “His voice and his hands. That I’d met him somewhere, but I couldn’t remember.” She gave a quick shake of her head. “That’s so fuzzy, I can’t remember it. I thought I could, while I was sedated yesterday evening. I was aware enough that the memories weren’t hard to retain, but I can’t seem to make the memory go far enough.”
Jordan nodded at that.
“How will that information help you?” she asked him then.
Jordan lifted his head and stared back at her. “Micah seems to think you’re not strong enough for this operation,” he stated. “He wants you in a safe house. I need all the information I can get before we have you moved. Just in case Orion figures out what we’re doing and manages to get to you.”
The son of a bitch.
“Fuck you, Jordan,” Micah growled as Risa tightened further, then with deliberate calm pulled herself away from him and rose from the chair.
When she turned to stare at him, he swore he felt a strike of pain slam into his chest. As though an invisible dagger had struck his body.
“He doesn’t think I’m strong enough?” she asked, her gaze spearing into him, almost mesmerizing as he watched the anger that filled it.
“I didn’t say that,” he ground out between clenched teeth. “That’s his take on it.”
“But you agree with him?” she asked as though she couldn’t believe he would and yet had irrefutable proof of it.
His jaw clenched. “You’re not an agent.”
“He’s not trying to kill an agent,” she pointed out, her voice burning with anger now. “He’s trying to kill me. How will it make me safer if I’m not here? Won’t he just follow me?”
“He won’t know you’re gone,” Micah promised. “He should know I’ll be more careful of you after the attempt. That I’d keep you at least hiding in the apartment. He’ll make a move to get in and then we’ll have him.”
“Unless it works out as it did in Russia nearly five years ago,” Jordan pointed out. “His mark was secreted to a safe house and a double placed in his home. Orion still found him. Orion killed a CIA agent and wounded another before taking
the spy he was after. That spy was found in an abandoned warehouse two days later. The method of murder coincided with Orion’s.”
Micah stared back at Jordan furiously as he felt Risa’s gaze slicing into him.
She turned to Jordan. “What do you believe would be best?”
Jordan leaned back in his chair and stared back at her with all the somber compassion and sincerity of a cobra preparing to strike, Micah thought.
“My opinion is that we follow our present plan. Orion’s wounded. Traffic videos on the overpass close to where the attempt took place lead us to suggest he’s wounded. It appears Micah’s bullet caught him in either the ankle or the foot. Blood on-scene supports that suggestion. We have possibly one to two weeks before he’ll consider himself in shape to make another attempt. That will give the two of you time to appear confident of your safety at this point. Micah will begin taking you out in public. His background states that he enjoys taking his women dancing and enjoying the evenings with other couples. It was our plan to give Orion a chance to strike or to penetrate your apartment once again in a controlled setting. I believe we should follow that plan.”
“And what was yesterday?” she asked as Micah watched her fists clench at her sides.
“A fiasco.” Jordan grimaced. “He got past our surveillance of the car. He can’t get past an agent in your apartment.”
She turned to Micah and he felt his entire body tense with the look on her face.
“Why doesn’t your agent like this plan?” she asked. “If hiding a mark in a safe house doesn’t work, then why attempt it?”
“I’m not certain,” Jordan stated. “I could let you discuss this with him if you prefer. I have a meeting in an hour. I’ll return this evening and see what the two of you have decided. How does that sound?”
Jordan was the dirtiest, most conniving bastard Micah knew, and that was saying a lot, considering Micah had once thought he had the corner on that particular talent.
