No Exit

by LENA DIAZ,

  He stared through the windshield. “My pleasure.”

  “Saving me? Or kissing me,” she teased.

  His mouth curved into a sensual smile. “Both.”

  She smiled, too. But all too soon, reality seeped in like a slow-moving fog, floating through her mind, blanking out some memories while revealing others.

  “You’re too quiet,” he said. “What’s bothering you?”

  “You think you know me so well?”

  “Starting to. What’s wrong?”

  She tapped the armrest and looked out the window. They were driving toward town. She didn’t know where he was going, and for the moment, she didn’t really care.

  “Mel?”

  “That’s what’s bothering me. The whole ‘Mel’ thing. And the kissing thing.”

  “You didn’t like it when I kissed you?”

  “You’re kidding, right? You’re like . . . the world’s best kisser ever. Of course I liked it.”

  He grinned. “Then what’s the problem?”

  She straightened, tugging on her seat-belt harness to loosen it so she could face him. “The problem is that I lose my mind when you touch me. And before you take that in the arrogant vein that it was not intended, my point is that you kissed me in the dining room to distract Silvia. You didn’t want her to see whatever it was that you had in your hand. And because my hormones take my IQ points on a holiday every time you touch me, I didn’t remember that until just now. What did you have in your hand in the dining room?”

  His expression turned wary.

  “Jace? What did you have in your hand?”

  He glanced in the rearview mirror, then the side mirrors, a habit he did faithfully at least once a minute.

  “Bugs,” he finally said.

  She jerked up her feet and looked around. “Where? What did you see? A spider?”

  He shot her an amused look. “You’re afraid of spiders. Good to know if I ever have to torture information out of you. But that’s not what I was talking about. In the dining room, I was holding bugs. Not the kind with six legs. Voice-activated listening devices. I planted them under the dining-room table, on a painting, and in other rooms in the house when Silvia took me on the tour.”

  She put her feet down and straightened, her face flushing hot with embarrassment over her freak-out. She really did hate spiders. But what she hated more was that Jace had just told her he’d planted listening devices in her father’s home, a terrible intrusion into her father’s privacy—and that it didn’t bother her one bit.

  Her allegiance to her father was fast becoming her last concern. Her primary concern was in staying alive and in keeping Jace alive. What exactly did that say about her as a daughter?

  “I guess that was good foresight,” she said. “Sebastian mentioned a Council meeting tonight. We’ll be able to hear what’s going on.”

  “You aren’t angry that I bugged your father’s house?”

  “No. I’m angry at my father that we need to bug his house to find out the truth. Where are we going? Back to my home?”

  “Not yet. I’m on E, so we’ll have to stop for gas. Then we’ll head to my place. I want to go through those files we got from the basement. And . . . some other files at my apartment. I hadn’t planned on showing them to you, but they’ll help us prepare for tonight. Maybe we can get a better bead on everyone who will be at that meeting. And maybe we can come up with theories about the Watcher and ski-mask guy.”

  He was hiding something. She could see the tension around his eyes. “Jace?”

  “Hm?”

  “What aren’t you telling me? You got a funny look on your face the moment you mentioned files at your apartment. What’s in those files? The ones that you never intended to show me?”

  His mouth tightened, and he checked the rearview mirror before answering. “They’re surveillance files. From the past two months.”

  “Surveillance?”

  He nodded.

  “You performed surveillance on someone? For two months?”

  “Yes,” he bit out, looking even more uncomfortable.

  She narrowed her eyes. “On who?”

  “I think you mean whom.”

  “Jace.”

  He blew out a deep sigh. “You. I performed surveillance on you.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Jace parked by the gas pump closest to the building and scanned the street before cutting the engine. He was about to get out of the car when Melissa reached for her door handle.

  He grabbed her arm. “What are you doing?”

  Her face flushed a light pink. “I need to go to the ladies’ room.” Her voice was tight and clipped, and she hadn’t looked him in the eye since he’d admitted that he’d been essentially stalking her for months. Not that he blamed her for being upset. But he couldn’t let her annoyance with him compromise her safety.

  “Wait in the car until I pump the gas. Then I’ll escort you inside.”

  She gave him a sour look. “That hardly seems necessary.”

  “It is.”

  She uttered a few choice words, probably to make sure he knew she was still pissed at him. Then she settled back in her seat and closed her eyes, dismissing him. He leaned across her. She popped an eye open and arched a brow.

  “Just locking you in.”

  She shut her eyes again.

  He grinned. He’d just discovered that Melissa had a temper. Which only had him wanting to kiss her again and make those angry lips soften beneath his. When he realized he was actually considering doing exactly that, he made himself get out of the car.

  What was it about her that fascinated him so much? Then again, what was it about her that didn’t fascinate him? He had to get a handle on this . . . obsession . . . and quit letting himself get distracted. Like he’d been in the greenhouse. He’d started that kiss to throw Cyprian and Sebastian off, to make them believe what their eyes told them instead of thinking things through. Because if they’d thought about it, they’d have realized a bodyguard wouldn’t last long in that profession if he was kissing his clients instead of guarding them. And then they would have known the kiss was a ruse.

  Or at least it had started out that way.

  He hadn’t even realized that Cyprian and Sebastian had entered the greenhouse until Cyprian spoke. And that scared the hell out of him. He had to get his focus back. But damned if he knew how to do it. He was well past fooling himself into thinking he didn’t care about Melissa, that his protectiveness of her was just the job. He didn’t want to label how he felt, but it was a hell of a lot more than concern.

  And here he was, distracted again.

  He shook his head in disgust and swiped a prepaid credit card from one of his untraceable aliases to turn the pump on. After setting the nozzle on autofill, he pulled out his phone. Mason Hunt might have decided he couldn’t trust him anymore, but Jace had made a vow to the Equalizers, one that he intended to keep—to help them bring down EXIT. He couldn’t let an opportunity like tonight’s Council meeting go by without giving Mason and the others a heads-up that the full Council was in town. But calls to Mason, Devlin, the Equalizer home base, and even Ramsey, all yielded the same thing—a computer-generated voice saying the numbers were no longer in service.

  How could you have so little faith in me, Mason?

  A few minutes later, while he waited outside the restroom for Melissa, he watched the closed captions scroll across a TV hanging from the ceiling. A news bulletin gave an update on the woman found dead in the trunk of a Cadillac yesterday at a local motel. Her alleged killer had been found dead of a self-inflicted gunshot wound inside one of the rooms. The coroner said his time of death was shortly after the woman’s. The two were from out of town. And police were investigating their deaths as a murder-suicide, possibly a love triangle since the woman was married, but not to the man at the motel. The deceaseds’ names flashed across the bottom of the screen.

  What the hell? Jace straightened and automatically dropped h
is right hand by his holster, hidden beneath his suit jacket.

  “What’s wrong?” Melissa had just come out of the bathroom. She looked up at the TV. “They found that poor woman’s killer?”

  “Don’t count on it.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the door.

  When they were in the car, she gripped the steering wheel, preventing him from driving off. “You knew the man that they said killed that woman?”

  “I didn’t know either of them, not personally. But I know who they were.”

  “Who?”

  “Council members. And I don’t buy that the Councilman killed that Councilwoman.” He pushed her hand off the steering wheel and peeled out of the gas station.

  “What’s going on Jace?”

  He shook his head. “All I’m sure of is that those two Council members were some of the good guys. They have . . . they had . . . a lot of influence on the rest of the Council. Maybe there’s an important vote tonight, and someone was afraid of which way those two would vote. Or how they might sway others to vote. I don’t know.”

  “Someone set them up.”

  “Probably.” He tapped the steering wheel, his jaw working. “Everything that’s happening seems to center around the Council, be it Marsh’s going to that secret meeting at EXIT or these latest deaths. I need to find somewhere safe to put you while I go to your father’s house and listen in on that Council meeting tonight.”

  “Somewhere safe to put me?”

  The anger in her voice surprised him. “There’s nothing wrong with your hunkering down where you’ll be safe.”

  “Is that what you think of me, Jace? I thought you said I was brave, earlier. Was that a lie to keep me from breaking down? You think that I’m a helpless woman who can’t contribute to her own protection? Damn it, Jace. You’re in danger, other people are in danger, because of this clandestine organization that this Council, and my father, put together. Well, he’s my responsibility just as much as anyone else’s, more actually. Because EXIT is my company, too. I should have known what was going on.”

  She waved her hand impatiently. “Water under the bridge and all that. Sitting around, waiting for someone else to take care of everything is in the past. I’m moving forward, doing whatever I can to stop this. And you can either work with me or get out of my way.”

  He didn’t know whether to be impressed or incensed at her little speech. She certainly wasn’t a coward. He’d give her that. But keeping her with him didn’t seem like such a good idea, either. Maybe he should—

  “Jace?”

  “Yes?”

  “Whatever you’re thinking right now, you can just stop. You’re not getting rid of me. We’re a team. Period.”

  He frowned again.

  “And Jace?”

  “What?”

  “When we get to your apartment, I want my derringer back.”

  He couldn’t help it. This time he smiled.

  TERMINATE J.A. IMMEDIATELY.

  Instructions didn’t come much clearer than that. He shoved his phone into his pocket, again, and checked the clock on his dash, again. When he’d first received that text, he’d been just down the street from Atwell’s apartment building. So he’d grabbed what he needed and hurried over here. But Atwell’s car wasn’t parked out front, so he’d been forced to sit in his car in the parking lot across the street in a neighboring apartment complex to wait. That was almost two hours ago. Where the hell was he?

  As if on cue, the distinctive black Buick Grand National turned the corner at the end of the street. He adjusted his ball cap and sunglasses and slid lower in his seat until the Buick parked right in front of building number three.

  He could just make out the bullet hole in the right side, the hole he’d put there. Had he known how tenacious Atwell would be, he might have stuck around and ended everything right then. But that wasn’t the plan at the time.

  Atwell hopped out of his car, scanning the bushes and vehicles near him before heading toward his apartment. No, wait. He was stopping at the passenger side of his car. Someone was getting out.

  Melissa Cardenas.

  He slammed his fist on the steering wheel. No, no, no. He’d assumed she’d be at her house. Why had Atwell brought her here? His orders were to kill Atwell, not Melissa.

  The front door to the apartment closed behind the two of them, and he was left simmering in his car. He grabbed the phone and was about to punch SPEED DIAL, but stopped. He already knew what he’d be told—don’t kill her. Find another way to eliminate Atwell. But Atwell was a freaking Navy SEAL. And those weren’t easy to kill.

  Of course, he was just as badass as Atwell. That would mean even odds, more or less, if they faced off against each other. But he didn’t want even odds. He wanted the advantage. Which was why he’d chosen this particular method of eliminating his opponent.

  He picked up the small charge, no bigger than a quarter, and rolled it in his palm. This was quick, easy, clean. It would look like an accident. Nothing to point back to him. And even better, no risk to him like there would be if he went toe to toe with the other man. But if Atwell and Melissa were together, and he did this, both of them would die.

  What to do? What to do?

  Too bad he didn’t have a coin to toss.

  MELISSA EYED THE stacks of binders that Jace was unloading onto his kitchen table. While she wanted to read the information inside them, she wasn’t keen on spending the next few hours reading them. Not when she was keyed up and nervous about the upcoming Council meeting. It would be hard to concentrate. She might miss something important.

  “I’ll grab the other files I mentioned earlier,” Jace said as he finished stacking the binders on the kitchen table. “I’ve got to print some of them out, so it’ll be a few minutes.”

  “No worries. I’ll sort everything and get started.”

  He hesitated.

  She put her hand on his arm. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to read the Hightower information yet. I don’t want the distraction while I sort through all of the facts to help us prepare for tonight’s surveillance. I’ll save that for later.”

  “I wish you wouldn’t read it at all.”

  “What makes you so sure of what’s in that binder? How do you even know about the Hightowers?”

  “I told you. I performed surveillance—”

  “For two months. On me. The Hightowers died long before that. Who told you about them?” She put her hands on her hips.

  His expression flattened out, all hints of emotion gone, as if he was trying to put on a poker face. Which only made her more suspicious. What was he hiding?

  She moved in front of him, so he couldn’t escape down the hall. “You sure know an awful lot about enforcers and Councils and Watchers to have never been an enforcer yourself. Or did I miss that part in your background check?”

  He stepped around her.

  She angled herself in front of him again and braced her hands on the hallway walls. “I’ve told you everything that I know about EXIT, about the mysterious deaths, even about the man I once thought I was falling in love with. I bared my soul to you, shared my pain. But other than telling me about the client that you lost, you haven’t shared anything. You’re still keeping secrets. How did you find out about the enforcement side of EXIT?”

  He shook his head as if he thought she was silly. “It’s called research. Like you, I saw discrepancies, things that bothered me. And I dug in and looked for connections.”

  “Really? You saw discrepancies . . . half a country away? In Georgia?”

  He sighed and stared at a spot over her head.

  “Oh, I bet I know,” she said, sarcasm dripping from every syllable. “You picked up an EXIT brochure in a travel agent’s office. The ones they make to recruit enforcers. Right under the section about the 401(k) plan and dental insurance.”

  His mouth twitched. Amusement lit his eyes.

  She inhaled sharply. “Are you laughing at me? Do you think this is funny?”<
br />
  He shrugged. “Maybe a little.”

  She clenched her fists. “You . . . you . . . oh!”

  He’d grabbed her around the waist and set her out of his way as if she were no more substantial than a doll. “I’ll get those files now.” He escaped down the hall into the apartment’s only bedroom, shutting the door behind him with a loud click.

  “Coward,” she yelled. She blew out a breath in frustration and debated going after him. But it wasn’t like she could force him to talk to her. Mumbling a string of curses that would have earned her a gallon of soap if her father had heard her, she trudged back toward the eat-in kitchen and plopped down at the table.

  But she immediately jumped back up. If she was going to make any notes about the contents of these binders, she’d need pen and paper. The kitchen seemed the obvious choice for that, but after a quick search, she realized that Jace might be the only person on the planet without a junk drawer.

  The apartment was painfully small, and incredibly sparse, with nothing on the walls. She couldn’t have lived here more than five minutes without hanging up some pictures or paintings, let alone several months as Jace had. He definitely didn’t appear to be settling in for the long haul. Which had her wondering where he planned to go when this was over. Back to Savannah? That was his hometown, assuming anything she knew about him was the truth. Was that where he wanted to live, or had he decided to make Boulder his home?

  It didn’t matter. It shouldn’t matter, not to her anyway. After all, they barely knew each other, even if the opposite felt true. She couldn’t remember feeling this comfortable, this fast, with anyone else. Ever. But the whole situation was impossible. No matter how much they both wanted to save lives and stop the killing, there would always be one thing to keep them apart.

  Her father.

  Thankfully, their relationship was purely one of physical attraction at this point. He’d only kissed her twice—two incredible, mind-blowing kisses—but they’d both been to distract someone from their trail, playacting as a way to keep their mission intact. She would do well to remember that and not allow her heart to become entangled, especially when she knew Jace was playing a role, lying to her, and that his heart wasn’t even in the game.