Cheyenne McCray - [Lexi Steele 02]

by The Second Betrayal

  Nick and Steele’s team were camped out above a camera shop. It hadn’t been easy renting the apartment and getting their gear in without attracting attention once the place was cleared.

  Weiss had posed as a cable TV worker who was installing cable in the apartment Jensen had just rented with Smithe. She’d refused to room with Weiss. If it wasn’t for the fact Lexi’s behavior had set his gut to roiling, Nick would have found the memory of Weiss and Jensen’s last op during Cinderella amusing.

  Getting the former occupants out of this apartment had been an even harder job, but Takamoto and Weiss had found the couple new digs and made sure they would keep their mouths shut.

  A seasoned RED agent, Weiss had an uncanny ability to change into multiple personas, each distinct from the others—more so than any operative Nick had known. Weiss even looked damned brutal and deadly when he wanted, and no doubt he had scared the shit out of the couple in one way or another.

  “Something up?” Kerrison said from behind Nick, her southern accent light.

  Nick tried to relax his clenched his jaw as he thought about the slight tremor in Lexi’s voice while she’d told him her operational status.

  “Steele just called in.” Donovan glanced away from the window to look at Kerrison. “She’ll arrive at JFK tomorrow instead of tonight.” That fact alone had been enough to send off alarm bells in his head. Lexi was never late on an op, much less not giving some kind of explanation for a change in plans. “You and Steele will move into your place in Brooklyn Tuesday instead of tomorrow afternoon.”

  “Works for me.” Kerrison smirked as she inclined her head to Weiss and Jensen. “If those two can shut up long enough for us all to roll out our sleeping bags and get some rest tonight.” Kerrison tilted her head and studied Nick. “Something’s definitely up with you.”

  The new agent was too damned observant. Save it for the op. “Just thinking about the setup,” Nick said.

  Kerrison gave a slow nod before she left and walked toward the small apartment’s grungy kitchen. Nick couldn’t hear her, but she said something to Smithe, who hooked his thumbs in the belt loops of his jeans and grinned at her.

  Nick focused his attention on the window and stared at the Elite. His gut churned as the memory of his own sister being auctioned as a sex slave and the fucking hell she’d been put through. Even killing the sonofabitch who’d bought and sexually abused Kristin hadn’t given Nick one goddamned ounce of satisfaction.

  Maybe bringing down Hagstedt, the man ultimately behind the auction ring that had emotionally devastated his sister, would.

  Nick barely kept from ramming his fist into the wall.

  Hagstedt was a dead man.

  Nick’s thoughts turned back to Lexi. He didn’t know how it happened, but he’d started caring for her far more than he’d expected to. Hell, he wasn’t the relationship type. He had too much darkness in his past.

  But then again, so did Lexi.

  Now he knew what the expression meant when someone had “gotten under your skin,” because that was how he felt when he was around Lexi, or when he thought about her. Like she’d become a part of him that he couldn’t separate from himself.

  “Shit.” Nick rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. “Way too deep, Donovan.” Not to mention dangerous territory. Letting Lexi Steele have that kind of effect on him was just asking for trouble. “Because that’s what the little shit is,” he mumbled under his breath. “Trouble.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Guinness and Pecan Sandies

  Seeing Donovan when I walked into baggage claim shot heat through my chest. I almost came to a stop on the grungy terminal floor.

  Donovan being there, waiting for me when I wasn’t expecting it, set me off balance—probably because I’d been so preoccupied with thoughts of Mama.

  One feeling after another shot through me, including my sudden desire to be comforted in his strong arms. I’d never allowed myself to need any person except for my family. I needed them.

  As much as I hated to admit it, right now I needed Donovan.

  I managed to keep one foot moving in front of the other until I reached him. “You shouldn’t be here.” I barely kept from throwing myself against him. I tilted my head to meet his gaze. “It’s not a good idea to be seen in public together.”

  Considering how different I’d look once I was undercover, that was a pretty lame statement, but I intended to stick with it.

  “Tell me what happened, Steele.” Donovan’s blue eyes stared at me with such intensity I wanted to look away but didn’t. I wouldn’t. “Don’t give me any bullshit that everything’s okay with you. I know something’s wrong.”

  For some reason I wanted anger. I wanted to tell him to fuck off, mind his own goddamned business, or tell him that nothing was wrong and I didn’t know what the hell he was talking about.

  Instead I couldn’t speak, and I closed my eyes without meaning to. Every bit of the pain centered in my chest wanted to explode. I wanted to scream, to shout, to let that pain echo throughout the entire terminal.

  I don’t know how I ended up in Donovan’s arms, my face against his hard chest. His musky scent was usually sensual and sexual. Now it was just comforting.

  “Tell me what happened.” His warm breath ruffled my hair as he spoke, and I tried not to tremble in his arms as I thought about Mama.

  My eyes were still shut tight, aching, burning. I didn’t realize until then that I’d released the handle of my carry-on bag and wrapped my arms around his waist.

  He moved his hand up and down my spine. “Don’t hold back.”

  “Mama has breast cancer,” I said, so dazed the words came out before I realized I had spoken them.

  “Jesus Christ.” Donovan held me tighter. “I’m sorry, Lex.” He pressed his cheek against the top of my head. “How bad is it?”

  “Bad.” My voice was scratchy. “Mammy’s acting like it’s not a big deal, but it is. The cancer is advanced enough that it could spread through her entire body if the surgery doesn’t get it all after she goes through chemo.”

  “Jesus,” he repeated. I would have felt crushed from how tight he was holding me now if I didn’t need it so much.

  “Let’s get your things,” he said after he’d held me for God knew how long. “Before someone makes off with them.”

  I nodded, opened my eyes, and drew away as he released me. My eyes felt as if they were red and swollen even though I hadn’t shed a tear. I turned away without looking at him and faced the baggage carousel. Three of the four pieces of red luggage that I’d purchased for this op were forlornly making the loop with no other suitcases left from other passengers.

  Donovan headed toward the carousel before the luggage could complete the circuit and disappear behind the rubber flaps. For the first time since finding him waiting for me, I really looked at Donovan.

  And swallowed at the sense of familiarity of every movement he made. His long legs were firm and muscular within his snug faded Levi’s. He wore a blue turtleneck beneath a loose shirt where he no doubt had holstered his Beretta.

  His shirtsleeves were rolled up with only a hint of the turtleneck’s sleeves showing. His broad shoulders dipped when he grabbed the first suitcase off the carousel, and his forearm flexed as he picked up the piece of luggage and set it beside him.

  He grasped the handle of the second suitcase, and an image of his hands on my body slipped through my mind. Hands that were capable of such incredible violence were so gentle and erotic on my skin when he caressed my body with his callused fingers. No matter how wild and rough our sex had been at times, he still managed to touch me in ways I didn’t think any other man ever could.

  With a large red bag tucked under one arm and a big suitcase in each hand, Donovan returned to where I waited. He carried the bags as easily as if they were empty cases rather than stuffed with clothing, makeup, and other things I’d need as a madame for the Little Red op.

  I like to travel light, but th
is op called for a hell of a lot of props, including the dozen pairs of stilettos that Georgina had been certain I needed to match each and every outfit. And then there were the six white-blond genuine-hair wigs in different styles stashed in one of the cases. I’d never gone undercover as a blond who could’ve been Norwegian. The wigs were so pale, they were almost silvery.

  It seemed like ages since Georgina and I had gone on my “madame” shopping extravaganza the day before—before my brothers, sister, and I learned Mama’s news.

  My gut churned again and my whole body hurt as I thought of my mother. I was going to make sure this op went smooth and fast. I had to get back to Boston before Mama’s surgery.

  Without looking at Donovan, I bent and gripped the handle of the wheeled red carry-on before I stood and met his gaze.

  “I didn’t bring one of the rental cars, so we’ll grab a taxi.” He waited for me to walk beside him and head through the sliding glass doors that led to the curb outside the terminal.

  The icy November breeze caused me to shiver. Having been so preoccupied, I hadn’t thought to put on one of the sweaters in the suitcases. I only had my red button-up blouse, which let the wind through to my skin as if it were mesh instead of cotton. When I left Boston, the sky had been crystal blue, the weather fair in comparison with New York—unusual for Boston considering the season. Here the sky brooded with thick gray clouds that threatened rain.

  Once the luggage was stowed in the trunk of a taxi and Donovan and I were in the backseat, my body slowly warmed. It was entirely due to the fact that he was sitting so close to me. It wasn’t just the heat of his body. No, it was the instant reaction I always had to him whenever he was close.

  Donovan gave the Arab driver an address. The man’s red-and-white-checked headcloth, bound by a black band, moved as he nodded. He glanced back, revealing more of his strong features and thick mustache. As soon as he pulled from the front of the cabs waiting for fares, his cell phone rang and he answered in an Arabic dialect that I was familiar with, but I didn’t attempt to listen to his conversation.

  Actually, I didn’t really pay attention to much of anything. Normally little would have escaped my awareness, but right then I didn’t care. Instead, I stared out the window, barely registering the city decked out for the holidays. My thoughts traveled back to yesterday evening, and Daddy and Mama’s announcement.

  Because of my current career, and especially because of my past—which included massive amounts of both wanted and unwanted training—I was usually on constant guard. Donovan’s presence and my complete confidence in him allowed me to let go while I tried to come to terms with Mama’s diagnosis.

  Not that I really thought I would.

  Donovan paid the driver and thanked him in Arabic before he led me up a set of stairs of a brownstone. My mind had cleared and I’d gathered my wits enough to know we were on a really nice Boerum Hill street in Brooklyn.

  The red-brick exterior of the building we were about to go into was brighter, cleaner looking than most brownstones I’d seen, as if someone had scrubbed it with a giant Brillo pad. Two medium-size pine trees grew in huge planters to either side of the shining brass-and-wood double doors leading into the brownstone. Hundreds of white Christmas lights twinkled on the branches of the trees. Big gold bows were tied to the end of every branch.

  Donovan set a red suitcase on the landing and used a key to open one of the doors that led into the brownstone. He gave a nod for me to go in.

  “You and Kerrison have the third-floor apartment. Two bedrooms, two baths.” The door latch clicked shut behind us. “Living in such nice digs will back up your story to Hagstedt’s men when you tell them you’ve had plenty of cash that you’ve kept in a Zurich bank from the cathouse you owned, then sold.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” I sighed. “And I’ve been living on those funds since I was busted and put out of business and now I’m running out of cash thanks to my bad habit of spending too much money. Got it.”

  He glanced down at me. “I don’t think the real Lexi has that particular problem.”

  True. That was easy to see by the modest triple-decker apartment in Southie that I lived in. Nothing special. I stashed and invested most of my money. Material things weren’t high on my priority list.

  A big portion of my accumulated funds was blood money, though, from when I’d been an assassin. It still made me gut-sick to know the cash was in an account in the Cayman Islands. I hadn’t wanted to acknowledge it, much less figure out what to do with it. The rest was in legit U.S. bank accounts, IRAs, and conservative stocks.

  My mind churned as we skipped the elevator and I followed Donovan up the well-maintained wood stairs that didn’t even creak as we climbed. Mama’s medical bills would be massive, and my parents didn’t have enough insurance to cover close to the amount that would accumulate. If it took everything I’d saved, I’d help pay every dime of the bills. But I’d use only what I’d earned and saved over the years from working for RED. I wasn’t going to use tainted money for anything related to my family.

  My brothers and sister would help, too, of course. We were a tight-knit family. Even though some of us had our differences, we were always there for one another and always had been. No matter what. No one messed with the Steele family.

  When we reached a heavy oak door on the second floor, Donovan set one suitcase down, dug in a front pocket, and tossed me a key.

  The metal was warm in my fingers as I unlocked and opened the door. Lemon oil was the first scent I caught—along with cinnamon and pine—when I took a quick glimpse of the gorgeous interior and a small Christmas tree. “Nice, Donovan.”

  He looked like he was hiding one of his adorable grins. I tilted my head, wondering what he was up to. “Fridge is stocked with Mountain Dew and Guinness,” he said. “Plenty of Pecan Sandies and Doritos are packed in one of the cabinets.”

  “Thank God.” I dropped my carry-on, and it thunked on the hardwood floor as I headed straight for the fridge. “You are one incredibly smart man.”

  Cool air flowed over my face when I opened the door and grabbed two brown bottles from one of the four six-packs of beer that sat next to no less than five two-liters of Mountain Dew. The fridge was loaded with other foodstuffs, but who cared about that when a Guinness was waiting?

  The bottles of beer chilled my palms as I faced Donovan and handed him one after he picked up an opener off the counter. “Not just smart but brilliant,” I added. “You even thought to buy the most important utensil known to man.”

  He winked. “I didn’t want you to break a tooth in your hurry to crack one open.”

  I had already raised my bottle to my lips and almost snorted Guinness up my nose when I laughed. Would have been a waste of good beer.

  A little of the heaviness I’d been feeling rose off my shoulders as I grinned at him. The easy camaraderie we had known the summer relaxed me a bit. I took a healthy swig of beer and glanced away from him to look at the furnished apartment.

  My gaze skimmed the richly polished wood floor, the burgundy draperies pulled to the sides of wood blinds that matched the floor and the kitchen cabinets. A stuffed taupe couch and loveseat were in the living room along with a burgundy recliner.

  “You really went all-out.” I had a hard time imagining my apartment in the egg-yolk-yellow South Boston building looking anything like this place. No, this was more like the bottom floor of the brownstone Donovan had purchased for himself and his sister in Back Bay. “How’d you get something so nice so fast?”

  “Plenty of apartments were available.” Donovan shrugged. “Just picked one I thought you’d like.”

  I set my empty beer bottle on the granite counter and smirked. “And you chose this one after seeing my apartment in Southie?”

  As he winked at me, he was probably picturing some of my clothing scattered on my carpet with an empty pizza box on the coffee table. I’d pegged Donovan for a neat-freak considering how spotless he always kept his place, but he never s
aid a word when he’d been in my apartment in the triple-decker building, known locally as a trip.

  “Is Kerrison already unpacked?” I leaned a little to the side to get a better view of the hallway. All I could see was one open doorway with a large four-poster bed covered with a chocolate-brown satin comforter and turquoise satin pillows. “Is she here?”

  Donovan placed his own bottle on the counter and moved close to me.

  He caught me off guard, but if he had been a criminal coming at me I would have had my Glock pressed against his forehead before he knew it. Or I would have taken him down to the floor in one smooth jujitsu move.

  But this was Donovan.

  Every bit of me went still. I couldn’t step away from him for the life of me as he placed his hands on my hips. Was my heart pounding anymore? I wasn’t sure at all as he brought our bodies so close my breasts almost touched his.

  The headiness that overcame me certainly wasn’t from one Guinness. I could easily put away a six-pack during a party. Or the amount of beer I drank whenever the Red Sox played and I was sitting on my back balcony while my neighbors were on theirs, and we were all yelling at our televisions with every play made.

  Champagne—that was another story. Right now I felt like I’d had an entire bottle all to myself, my mind nearly spinning from his closeness.

  “You need to lie down.” He skimmed his lips over my forehead and I shivered, desire speeding through me like a well-aimed shot with a handgun. “You’re tired. It’s in your eyes. In your voice. I bet you didn’t get one damned bit of sleep last night.”

  That was true, but having Donovan tuck me in wasn’t going lead to rest—for now. That I could guarantee.

  His hand felt warm and firm, comforting as he led me to the hallway. He bypassed the first bedroom and took me into one that might have been a little larger, but I could barely concentrate. It was hard to pay attention to details with a big brass bed only five feet away. When we stood beside the bed, he brought me around to face him and cupped my cheeks with his warm palms and stroked them with his thumbs. My whole body was going to get all rubbery if he didn’t stop.