Dangerous Law (Suit Romance Series): A Rogue Operative Romance

by Marianne Morea

  With two quick steps, he took her hand once more, but before she could pull away he pressed something small and hard into her palm. She didn’t have to look to know it was a microchip.

  Ivan closed her fingers into her palm and then purposefully lifted the bottom edge of her glove, exposing her wrist.

  He lifted her upturned hand to his lips. “Everything you need is on that memory card,” he whispered, kissing her bare skin. “I have a print out in my breast pocket, but I dare not give it to you until we’re in private.”

  Ivan’s smile was a little too wide, and as he turned her hand over he pressed his lips to her knuckles, making Jessica grateful for her leather gloves.

  Her skin crawled, especially since Devlin had kissed her wrist in the same manner only days ago. With Dev, it gave her butterflies, not nausea.

  “We aren’t going anywhere more private than this, Ivan. I don’t know what sort of arrangement you made or thought you made with Frank Lauder, but I wasn’t part of the bargain.”

  The man’s face hardened and his grip on her hand bordered on painful. Jessica gritted her teeth against the crush, hoping the small USB in her palm was still intact.

  Shots rang out, and Ivan’s body pitched forward, his heavy bulk making her stumble back. His eyes went wide and his fingers tightened around hers like in a vise grip before going limp.

  “Ivan!” She held onto to his fleshy frame, struggling to drag him with her behind the heater. “We need to take cover!”

  Barely standing, he raised his eyes to hers, but before she could budge him another inch, more shots hit and Ivan’s body jerked, shuddered as bullets riddled his back. Her breath rushed from her mouth with the impact from each shot, searing pain tearing through her shoulder.

  Solokovich staggered forward with her, blood trickling from either side of his mouth as he tried to speak. He fell, knocking Jessica to the ground beneath him.

  The taste of copper registered on her tongue, but she wasn’t sure if it was Ivan’s blood or her own. She wormed her arms from beneath his chest, cringing at the warm wet feel seeping through his overcoat.

  Her mind raced knowing she had seconds at most to get out from under Ivan and get away. With a silent plea, she prayed Devlin and Teddy were close.

  The shots must have taken out the few lights on the pavilion. Return fire echoed in the darkness and she closed her eyes. Devlin and Teddy were somewhere within range, but she needed to get free and find them or at least let them know she was okay.

  For some reason, Lauder wouldn’t allow an earpiece, and her wearing a wire was game over as far as Ivan was concerned. Given the way he grabbed her before he was shot, he would have ripped her blouse just to check.

  Pain burned as she shoved at Solokovich’s heavy inert form, and she managed to shift him enough to push his body off and onto its side.

  The chip dropped from her hand when inertia had slammed her to the ground under Ivan’s weight. She got to her knees and hunted around. She had to find the USB, or at least get the list from his breast pocket.

  Her gloves were soaked with blood, but she’d think about that later. First things first, she crawled to Ivan’s side and pulled him onto his back. Reaching into his overcoat, she fished through the inside pockets until she found the envelope with the print out from the chip.

  Bullet-holed and bloody, it didn’t look like much of the list survived the ambush. The front flap was torn in half, but she didn’t have time to worry about that. She shoved the envelope into her pocket and crept toward the shadows, letting her black mink camouflage her even more in the darkness.

  She crawled toward the edge of the bushes to peer down the wide steps to the street when more shots ricocheted off the pavement.

  Shifting her weight, something small and square pressed into her palm and she lifted her hand to stare at the microchip stuck to her glove’s bloodied leather. Issuing a silent thank you, she shoved the tiny USB inside her glove as sirens sounded in the distance.

  “Time’s up, girl,” she mumbled and crouched to make a run for it.

  “Jessica!”

  Devlin’s voice called from the shadows and her heart jumped to her throat. She crept closer to the top of the pavilion steps and peered into the gloom, searching for him in the yellow shadows from the dim streetlights.

  He beckoned to her from the bushes at the bottom of the street side stairs. Dressed in dark clothes with his face streaked with black coal, he blended perfectly into the darkness.

  Waving her forward, a black sedan screeched to a stop. Jessica shoved the envelope into her pocket and sprinted down the stairs.

  A volley of shots fired and Devlin jumped, knocking her to the ground. He shielded her with his body before rolling with her to the curb, taking cover behind the car.

  “Get in! Now!” His voice was a harsh whisper, but before either could make a move, the driver’s window shattered in another round of shots.

  The car’s horn blared in the empty night and Devlin motioned for Jessica to stay down. He crept to the passenger window. Teddy slumped across the steering wheel.

  With no time to think, he scrambled back, yanking Jessica’s arm in the process.

  She hissed in pain, and his eyes were suddenly on hers, searching. “Were you hit?”

  “When they shot Ivan. He’s dead,” she replied, but before he said anything else, she shook her head. “Don’t. I’m fine. Just get us out of here.”

  There was a sudden lull in the round of shots, maybe they were reloading or whatever, but it bought them time to think.

  Nodding, he opened the front passenger door. “Get in. When I tell you to drive, you go like a bat outta hell.”

  “What about you?” she asked, suddenly nervous he wasn’t planning to come.

  “I’m in the back. You’re hurt and you’re too small to move Teddy. Worst case is you sit on his lap and drive.”

  She opened her mouth to balk, but then snapped her lips shut. It was either this or death.

  “Is Teddy dead?”

  Devlin looked at her. “I don’t know.”

  Inhaling quickly, she nodded. “Okay. Say when and we move.”

  On his mark, she peeled off the fur coat and handed it to him. She climbed in through the front passenger door and he did the same through the back.

  Adrenaline surged through her veins, eclipsing the pain from her own wound. Time seemed to pass in slow motion as Devlin pulled Teddy from the driver’s seat into the back and she slid into his place.

  Throwing the car into drive, she screeched around the corner. “Do we have a plan? Where am I driving?”

  “Keep going. I’ll tell you when to turn and pull over” was all he said.

  Minutes dragged like hours as they drove until Devlin pointed to a narrow road on the left. The street was dark as pitch as the car crept past a row of abandoned shops and derelict apartment blocks.

  Even with the tapered swath from the headlights Jessica could barely make out the buildings on either side. Most were boarded up, some burned.

  “Pull over here,” he said, and she crossed her fingers and hoping she didn’t hit anything as she turned the wheel and then cut the ignition.

  She shifted around in the driver’s seat. “What can I do?”

  “Grab that duffel on the floor next to you,” he replied. “Hand it to me.”

  Jessica bent for the heavy bag and hoisted it over the front seat to Devlin’s waiting hand. He straddled the duffle on the floor console hump and unzipped the top.

  “Is he dead?” she asked again, hoping the answer was still no.

  Devlin shook his head. “He’s alive, but we need to get him to the consulate or he’s not going to make it.”

  “The consulate? Don’t you mean the hospital?” she shot back, surprised.

  He ripped open a large package of gauze squares. “No. We need diplomatic protection and the ambassador has access to the best medicine in the area.”

  Tearing Teddy’s shirt wide, he sucked a
breath through his teeth. “Fuck me,” he muttered frowning as he reached for a roll of surgical tape.

  “Think you can hold it together enough to keep steady pressure on this chest wound while I drive?” he asked, taping the gauze tightly, but Jessica knew the question didn’t require an answer.

  She opened the driver side door and ran around to the back. “I got him. Go…drive.”

  Switching places with Devlin, she lifted Teddy’s head onto her lap and put the flat of her palm on the bloody gauze. Only hours ago, the one thing she wanted her hands on was Devlin’s ass.

  “How far to the embassy?” she asked.

  Law exhaled, dragging a hand through his hair. “It’s not a question of how far, but if they’ll take us at all.”

  “Why? You’re an American citizen and one of you is gravely hurt. Can’t we tell them to call the chief in Germany? I have the evidence we were sent to recover.”

  Devlin slowed as they approached an intersection crawling with police. “Spread the fur over Teddy and stay low. If they shine a flashlight into the backseat, the less they see, the better.”

  She did as instructed, but panic coursed through her as they got closer to the checkpoint. The car had bullet holes across the doors and one window was shot out.

  “We’re not going to make it. They’re going to pull us over and that’s it. Do you have Frank Lauder’s number or something, because my guess is name-dropping isn’t going to help us much.”

  Devlin craned his head to look past the passenger window. “We’ll have to go around the checkpoint. I think there’s a cut-through we can use. Keep your fingers crossed the police haven’t blocked that as well. We’d never out-run them in in this hunk of junk.”

  “I hope you have a get out of jail free card,” she muttered.

  He cut the wheel hard to bypass the police stop, taking a chance on the side streets. “Jess, you don’t seem to understand. We don’t exist. We’re assets and technically we’re not supposed to be here. If we get pulled over, it’s done. We’re done.”

  Confused, she balked. “What the hell do you mean, we don’t exist? Lauder sent us here. The CIA made all the arrangements!”

  Devlin looked at her in the rear-view mirror and his eyes said it all. Whatever color hadn’t drained from her face already was gone now.

  “But Teddy’s hurt. Bad. I took a bullet to my shoulder as well. They have to help.”

  They kept to the back roads and wound their way to the street bordering the back end of the embassy. Devlin pulled over and parked. “Either you’re charmed, or we just won the asset lottery. Let’s hope our luck holds, otherwise—” he didn’t finish the sentence.

  With an exhale, he turned in the driver’s seat. Jessica was disheveled and covered in dirt and mud, but her hand was still on Teddy’s chest. Devlin cupped the side of her face and she turned her lips to his palm and kissed him.

  “Stay here and stay low,” he said. “I’m going to see what’s what. If they agree to take us, I’ll come back for you.” Devlin’s eyes met hers.

  “And if you don’t come back?”

  “I will. I promise.” He reached for the door handle, and with a nod, he let go of her face and got out of the car.

  “Wait!”

  Devlin turned, and she handed him the microchip from the inside of her glove. “It might buy us the price of admission.”

  “It feels wet,” he replied.

  She shrugged. “A mix of Ivan’s blood and snow.”

  He fisted the tiny memory card in his hand and blew her a quick kiss before closing the car door. He headed into the darkness shadowing the back entrance of the embassy.

  Devlin had been at this game a long time, so he had to have contacts inside or she hoped.

  She felt around for the pocket of her fur coat looking for her gun and the bloody envelope. Both were exactly where she left them.

  With a ragged exhale, she glanced at Meade’s silent form. “At least we’ve got insurance, Teddy, but no one’s going to know about that but you and me.” She pulled off one of her boots and stuffed the envelope under the footpad. “For now.”

  Chapter Six

  Jessica padded out of the bathroom, exhaustion weighing on her even as she sunk onto the end of the bed. Devlin must have called in a lifetime of favors, because he was barely gone fifteen minutes before a half dozen American military police surrounded the sedan.

  Only when they helped her out of the car was she able to see the extent of the bullet holes along the driver side. How they made it here without notice was a miracle. The car looked like something from a Hollywood action movie.

  An embassy nurse helped her shower, washing the blood from her hair. She had to be careful to keep the bullet wound on her shoulder clean and dry, but at least the injury was straightforward. One entry wound and one exit wound. No leftover shrapnel, no bone fragments or arteries touched. Another miracle.

  The fur coat was ruined, and they confiscated it and her gun the moment she stepped through the door. Her knee length boots were the only items of her clothing that survived. They were in the corner of the bedroom near the closet still dirty, but intact. Which she hoped meant no one thought to search them. As for the microchip, she wasn’t sure if Devlin handed it to special services or not.

  Based on their intelligence, the supposed dossier attached included the encrypted names of political officials involved in the human trafficking ring. No one was beyond suspicion. Even the ambassador and those who helped them at the embassy were worth a raised eyebrow.

  Frank Lauder was already in transit when Devlin contacted him. There was no word on Teddy yet. Whether the microchip survived its literal blood bath, she had her doubts. They would know better once agency analysts tried to retrieve the data.

  She snuggled into the borrowed terry bathrobe. Its comfort was appreciated, as were the clean black leggings and a long cardigan sweater with silk under blouse folded beside her pillow.

  Exhaling, she reached for the television remote. The one good thing about speaking multiple languages was there was more choice when it came to TV abroad.

  Devlin had been MIA since they airlifted Teddy to the Geilenkirchen Air base hours ago. No word was good word, but not seeing or hearing from Devlin made her anxiety spike.

  He hadn’t sought her out, not even to see if she was okay. Then again, maybe he couldn’t. He and Teddy were the real assets in this spies-gone-wrong world. She was just bait.

  She dragged a hand through her damp hair. Bait. The word stuck in her throat like a fishhook. Ivan Solokovich was pretty sure of himself when they met tonight. Pretty handsy, too.

  The creeper said it was for appearance sake, but his Rico Suave attitude and the move he made with her wrist was ripe with innuendo, as if she was already bought and paid for with the supposed intelligence he provided.

  Devlin was certain the agency would have left them for dead or worse, so all reasoning pointed to her being dangled as incentive for Ivan to ante up.

  Analysis and strategy.

  They were her game, and the facts added up.

  After today, she was shaken to the core and worried sick over Teddy, bastard that he was, but she still cringed at how easily the situation could have gone the way of a Ukrainian auction block, with her as the main item up for sale. A bullet in the shoulder was a small price to pay rather than submitting to that reptile or whatever scumbags he lined up to bid and drool over her like livestock.

  Her thoughts drifted back to Devlin. His wicked smile and the feel of his hard body. How he looked at the bottom steps of the pavilion, hard in a different way. Deadly and utterly masculine.

  That the man wanted her at all still made her shiver, let alone that he wanted her over and over again. That despite everything, he still thought to blow her a kiss when he got out of the car at the embassy made her heart skip, and when he swore he’d come back for her?

  Shaking her head, she dismissed the churning, stress-induced emotions. Clearly, the cocktail of
painkillers and antibiotics the doctor prescribed had kicked in making her sappy and sentimental.

  Devlin Law was not the love of a lifetime type. He was a suave, sexy as hell release valve. A one-night—two if she were lucky—stand.

  She clicked on the TV and searched for the local news for any reports on shots fired downtown. Listening to the rapid-fire Russian on the television, she let the commentators drone on as she pulled her boots to the side of the bed.

  Sure enough, the envelope was still snug under the footpad. She slipped it loose and opened the flap, ignoring the torn sticky feel of the bloodstained paper.

  The outermost pages were the worst for wear, but the folded inner ones were still legible. Four sheets in total held the fate of their operation.

  They needed to dry, but where? She glanced toward the bathroom. She could use the hair dryer, but the thought of how bad the blood would smell made her gag and she dismissed the idea outright.

  She’d lay them on a flat towel under the bed. That way they’d dry and be out of sight until she could safely fold them and stick them back in her boot.

  Taking a dry towel from the bathroom, she winced, bending to spread the terrycloth as far under the bed as she could reach, and then placed the bloody pages side by side to dry.

  Sitting back on her heels, she closed her eyes, but a noise at the door dragged her attention from the edge of exhaustion. The knob turned and she held her breath, adrenaline ratcheting again when she realized she forgot to lock the door.

  Devlin poked his head in through the crack. “Thought you could use a little company?” He produced a bottle of Jameson’s, holding it out as a peace offering. “And maybe a quick belt or two.”

  “Devlin Law! You could’ve knocked, you know. You scared the pants off me!”

  He stepped the rest of the way in and closed the door, snicking the lock shut behind him. His eyes took in her half-naked state and he took a step closer. “But you’re not wearing pants,” he replied with a smirk, putting the whiskey on the side table. “Who’s a lucky boy?”

  “More like a drunken boy. Where have you been?” she asked, reaching out a hand for him to help her up.