Striking Distance

by Debra Webb

  He got behind the wheel and drove straight to a hotel a mere five blocks away. She recognized the chain and felt some amount of gratitude that it wasn’t a complete dump.

  “Don’t move.” He cut her a look that would form icicles in the desert.

  Steeling her nerves, she watched as he entered the lobby and paid for a room, a mixture of anxiety and anticipation welling up inside her. There would be no talking her way out this time.

  The point of no return, Tasha, she told herself.

  Prepare to go through with it or get out and run like hell.

  The decision had to be made now.

  She watched the clerk accept the cash he offered.

  Tasha reached for the door handle.

  If she ran, this one last chance would be over and there wouldn’t be another.

  Seth took the key card.

  But if she stayed…

  She reached into her purse and retrieved the small tracking device. She tucked it into a niche in the console then dropped her hand back into her lap as he exited the lobby.

  This was the only way.

  He slid behind the wheel and drove to the far side of the parking lot.

  A test, she told herself. A simple test to see if she had the right stuff to do this job.

  As determined as she was resigned, she followed him to the room, first floor, facing the parking lot. Quick access to his vehicle if he needed to make a run for it.

  The room was small but neat. She purposely looked away from the bed as he locked the door behind them and tossed the keys to his vehicle onto a table.

  She dropped her bag on a chair and went into the bathroom and closed the door. On second thought she locked it. She braced her hands on the sink and stared at her reflection in the mirror. She could do this. Operatives often sacrificed a great deal more.

  Summoning her resolve, she pushed off the sink and turned back to the door. If she gave herself too much time to think about this, she’d lose her nerve. That couldn’t happen.

  She opened the door and took a deep breath. She was attracted to him…she could do this.

  The room was dark, the dim glow from the bathroom providing the only illumination. But then, he was most at home in the dark. She blinked rapidly to adjust her vision, and located him sitting in the chair near the door where she’d left her purse. He’d tossed the red handbag onto the table next to his keys, the contents scattered across the laminate top. He’d gone through her bag.

  “Take off your clothes,” he ordered, a raw edge to his tone.

  She knew what he thought. He thought she would run away again. Well, this time she intended to see it through. He would be the one wishing he’d run. If she had this guy pegged even half to rights, he wasn’t accustomed to a woman like her. Tasha had never believed in doing things halfway.

  Seth the slayer was about to learn a very important lesson.

  Slowly, taking her time, she released one button after the other, until her tight little top fell open, revealing her unrestrained breasts. He watched. The pale, frosty blue of his eyes cut right through the semidarkness, like those of some unearthly nocturnal being.

  She shouldered out of the blouse, allowing it to fall to the floor. Without hesitation she reached behind her and lowered the zipper to her skirt. She slid it over her hips and down her thighs until it, too, puddled on the floor like a circle of blood.

  Stepping out of the ring of shed garments, she stood before him naked but for her thong and stilettos. “Now your turn,” she said tautly, the anticipation of seeing his nude body already making her want to squirm. She reached for his hand and pulled him to his feet, which would have been impossible had he not wanted to do her bidding.

  “Turn out the rest of the lights,” he ordered in that ominous growl she’d come to associate with the man.

  She shook her head. “I want to see you.” Her nipples pebbled at the thought.

  He stood perfectly still as she reached for him. When she released the first button of his shirt, she expected him to bolt, but he didn’t. She released button after button until she’d reached the waist of his jeans, then she tugged his shirt free of that confinement. His only reaction was a slight increase in the rate of his respiration, but he remained very much in control. She had to fix that.

  She pushed the shirt off his shoulders, ensuring that her hands molded to his bare skin and that her breasts grazed his chest as she leaned close. Heat sizzled deep inside her. When she reached for the shoulder holster he captured her hand and shook his head firmly side to side.

  She moved on to the closure to his jeans but all those scars captured her attention once more, startled her all over again. They were so brutal…and there was so very many. Trying her level best to keep the shock from her expression, she touched each one, committed it to memory. Had he been some sort of prisoner?

  Slowly, not wanting to set off any internal alarms, she moved around behind him. Her breath caught in her throat, the resulting tremor quaked all the way to her hands. He tensed beneath her trembling touch. If she’d thought the scars—the hideous indications of torture—on his chest were unsettling, the ones on his back were indescribable.

  Grappling for composure, she did the only thing she could, she slowly kissed first one and then the next. Soothing each injury with a gentle touch. She could feel the tension rising in him with every graze of her lips. His fingers tightened into fists. Before she could finish he turned to face her, his expression hard, angry.

  “I don’t need your pity,” he snarled. “I am what I am.”

  She looked deeply into the fiery depths of those eyes and said what she knew in her heart with complete certainty, “I know.”

  Before he could demand to know what she meant by that remark, she dropped to her knees and released his jeans, her heart pumping fiercely, foolishly as she considered that she had longed to do this since watching him with the other woman. She didn’t slow down to think how insane it was. She only wanted to touch him…to taste him. She lowered the worn soft denim over his hips, freeing his engorged sex. Her pulse leaped as she inhaled the earthy smell of him. She pressed a kiss to his hip, allowing his long, hard cock to nuzzle against her neck. He was so hot.

  His move came lightning fast and with all the brutality she knew him to be capable of. He jerked her up and pinned her against the door, his body pressing hard against hers.

  She started to ask why he’d stopped her, but before she could his mouth came down savagely on hers. He ripped her panties from her body and crushed his pelvis against hers, the full size of his rigid sex grinding into her bare mound.

  She braced her hands against his chest, knowing she should stop him…at least slow him down. The condom…it was right behind him on the table. But she couldn’t slow the momentum, every part of her begged for his touch…yearned for his possession. She couldn’t have stopped him…he was just as far over the edge as she was. Her thoughts fragmented, forced all reason from her mind as her hands learned him, molded to the muscular contours of rock-hard flesh.

  Her fingers went into his short, thick hair and her mouth opened wider, inviting his invasion. She couldn’t stop herself. She wanted this…wanted him. He thrust his tongue inside, then retreated, over and over again as if he couldn’t get enough of tasting her, delving inside her. He lifted her legs up and she obediently wrapped them around his waist.

  Long, blunt-tipped fingers parted her expertly. She writhed anxiously, needing to feel him inside her. The insistent nudge of his cock sent a spasm racking through her entire body a split second before he rammed into her, stretching her opening and dragging along her feminine walls until she cried out at the sweet unbearableness of it.

  He hesitated only for a second, his lips mere centimeters from hers, his breath ragged, then he drew back and thrust hard again, jamming that generous len
gth deep inside her, his mouth plundering hers once more. His hands latched on to her breasts, squeezing savagely, his fingers still damp from delving between her slick folds.

  He pumped long and mercilessly, every stroke pushing her closer to the edge, slamming her against the solid wooden door at her back. Her flesh was on fire, her insides quivered with the urge to ignite…to erupt with the tension mounting. He hitched her legs higher, increased the depth of his penetration. She cried out with the pleasure-pain of it, the sound a primal signal that set him off. He pounded harder, flexed those powerful hips back and forth, allowing the full length of him to slide in and out…over and over again—base to tip.

  The release that had felt faraway, deep, deep inside her abruptly crashed down around her, as if he’d dredged it from the farthest recesses of her soul. She screamed with the force of it…. Her body bucked in his powerful arms.

  And then he came. Hard. Long. The heat and fury of it setting her on fire all over again.

  He thrust one last time, a guttural sound escaping from between his clenched teeth. The agonized sound caused her eyes to flutter open. Her brow creased in confusion as she watched the dance of unreadable emotions across his face. He pushed her legs off his hips and withdrew, his cock gleaming with their commingled fluids, leaving her sagging against the door, her limbs quivering.

  While she stood there trembling, her entire body limp and tingling, her mind swathed in bewilderment, he hoisted up his jeans and fastened them. He reached for his shirt and then looked straight at her, “Get dressed.”

  She took an unsteady breath and pushed away from the door, her legs so weak she very nearly staggered in the high heels. As quickly as she could she went into the bathroom and cleaned herself up, then put on her clothes, sans her destroyed silk thong.

  When she came back into the room he still stood there silently waiting, the keys to his SUV in his hand.

  Unable to bear the silence any longer, she looked directly at him, not bothering to shield her utter confusion, and asked, “What’s with you?”

  “You were right. You’re not my type.”

  CHAPTER 29

  It wasn’t even midnight when he pulled up alongside her sedan in the parking lot of the Metro Link. The club was still packed, the music still blasting. How could she have failed yet again in less than two hours’ time?

  He was her target…and she’d fallen for him.

  Fallen hard. Let things get personal.

  Her mission was to stop him…terminate him if necessary. After all, he was a cold-blooded killer, a man who tortured innocent people for money. And yet, more than anything else, she wanted to save him.

  She was seriously messed up.

  “I could stay the night at your place,” she offered, her voice sounding too fragile. God, this was totally pathetic. But she had to try. It was her job—the whole mission depended on her being able to get to Leberman. She had to do this. Had to find a way to stay close to him.

  He didn’t respond, just sat there waiting for her to get out. Even in the dim glow cast by the dash’s display, his profile looked stony, every line and angle rigid with some conclusion only he understood. Dammit, she was certain he’d felt something.

  She’d watched the unreadable emotions play across his face…had felt his body’s response to hers. It went beyond the physical, she couldn’t shake the connections. But he didn’t want it that way…he didn’t want any strings. For some reason her response to him disturbed him. It damn sure disturbed her.

  Was it the scars? Had someone made him feel ugly? Deformed? Or did he simply choose to be this way to facilitate his profession? From the beginning she’d felt something wasn’t right here…something intrinsic to his very being.

  But it went too deep to be recent or merely about sex. This was way bigger than that.

  Then again, maybe she was reading too much between the lines in an effort to let herself off the hook for indisputable failure.

  He looked directly at her, giving her a start with the abrupt move. “Do yourself a favor and walk away.”

  She shifted in the seat to face him more fully. Anger, mostly at herself, frustration and hope, dammit, hope, funneled inside her, making her desperate to reach him…to salvage this operation.

  “I don’t want to walk away. I want to know you.” She blinked, only then realizing that moisture had gathered in her eyes. What was wrong with her? This shouldn’t be happening. And then she knew…if she couldn’t get to Leberman—if she were factored out of the scenario for good—Lucas and his men would have no choice. Seth would die. Because he wouldn’t stop…they would stop him. She’d totally screwed up this mission. Broken the first rule of ops: never get personally involved.

  That penetrating gaze focused fully on her, the ferocity of it making her tremble in spite of her determination not to react outwardly. “There’s nothing to know.” Two endless beats passed before he shifted his focus forward. “Now, get out.”

  Tasha didn’t argue this time. She couldn’t risk letting him see more of the emotions that hovered far too close to the surface. The moment she’d scrambled out of his SUV and closed the door he drove away.

  Just like that.

  Her heart rammed against her chest as she tried with all her might to focus on getting the keys into the ignition of her car. She had to get out of here before she lost it completely. She needed a bath. A long, hot soak to wash away his scent…the very feel of him lingering on her skin.

  She sucked in a jagged breath and put the car in gear. No way could she consider the consequences of her futile act right now. They hadn’t used a condom, and the sacrifice she’d made had been for nothing. She’d still failed to keep his attention. She didn’t have it in her to go there…to analyze it. The next time she saw Seth—if she saw him at all—it would be on a whole other playing field. He would be seeking her and it wouldn’t have anything to do with sex.

  * * *

  She leaned against the wall in the elevator as it moved upward, eventually stopping on the thirteenth floor. Vaguely she wondered if they’d chosen that floor in defiance of the significance of the unlucky number. Or maybe it was the only one with every room vacant. After all, who wanted to live on the thirteenth floor?

  Her mind was rambling…her emotions a wreck.

  She couldn’t think…couldn’t reason.

  It was over.

  What was there to think about? Other than keeping herself alive when he turned those killing instincts on her. Well, if her performance continued on its present course she was dead already.

  Fury ignited inside her. She was a complete idiot. She’d let this guy get to her. Let him draw her into some kind of spell, and she’d lost all illusion of being in control.

  Not once in all the scenarios they’d thrust her into during training had she failed so miserably.

  It was the human element, she knew. They’d warned her that when it was for real she might not feel so damned cocky. But she’d convinced herself that she was better than that. Didn’t need any warning. She could handle anything. Well, she’d handled it all right. She’d handled herself out of the game.

  The elevator doors slid open, and Maverick waited in the corridor for her. She didn’t know and didn’t ask how they’d gotten back to the building before her, but the flicker of concern in his eyes was impossible to miss.

  They’d been tracking her every move…they knew just how far south this op had gone.

  “Did you plant the bug?” he asked as they strode side by side to the apartment that served as a sort of command center.

  She nodded. “He’ll find it next time he sweeps the SUV.”

  “Good.” Maverick opened the door leading to the apartment and waited for her to go in first.

  Ramon turned toward her when she stepped inside. “You okay?” he asked, surv
eying her disheveled appearance.

  She shrugged. “I’m okay.”

  “Our boy opted not to take you back to wherever the hell he’s staying now,” Maverick stated the obvious. “We’d hoped he would keep you close long enough to pinpoint that location.”

  Tasha moved to the couch and sat down. “Thanks for reminding me.” Like she needed the cowboy to rub it in. She’d failed. “He told me to get lost, as usual.”

  “Did you have to approach him or did he approach you in the club?” Maverick wanted to know, the analytical wheels turning in his head.

  “He approached me,” she said wearily, though for the life of her she couldn’t see what difference it made at this point. She was out. Another wave of anger washed over her, and she racked her brain for possibilities of what she could have done differently. There had to be a way to reach this guy on a level he couldn’t resist.

  “That means he’s hooked,” Ramon suggested, jerking her from her troubling thoughts. “He’ll be back in touch.”

  She looked up at the two men, regret pricking her. She hated to burst their collective bubble of hope, but that wasn’t going to happen. “He’s not the kind who can be hooked,” she said, setting Ramon straight. “He doesn’t want any connections. If he comes back it’ll only be because of the bug and his assumption that I’m connected to Lucas.”

  “There’s nothing we can do but wait and see,” Maverick said pointedly, either to get her to lighten up on herself or in an effort to thwart her self-pity session. She’d seemed to be doing a hell of a lot of that lately.

  “There is the other…” he began, looking directly at her.

  “I got it,” she said before he could ask. That was the one thing she’d done right in all this. Her means might lack originality, but success was the bottom line. She looked directly into his expectant gaze and said, “I got the DNA sample Lucas wanted.”

  “That’ll be helpful.” Maverick’s expression didn’t show his relief but she heard it in his voice. “I’ll notify Lucas right away. He’ll want analysis started immediately.”