Blank Slate

by Snow, Tiffany

  The sound of his words was nearly drowned out by the roar of a helicopter approaching. They both watched as it flew overhead and settled on the ground about a hundred yards away. Its engine cut off and the rotors began to slow.

  Clarissa grabbed Langston’s arm as he made to leave.

  “Wait! Let me come with you,” she said, but Langston was already shaking his head.

  “If it’s no good, I’ll give you a signal. Hightail it back to the car and get the hell out of here.” He handed her his keys.

  “Aren’t you afraid I’ll just take these and leave?” she asked. The cold metal pressed against her palm as she clutched the keys.

  His face was barely discernible in the darkness. “I’m trusting you.”

  Clarissa shook her head sadly. “You’re a fool, Langston.” Why would he trust her? She certainly wouldn’t have had their positions been reversed.

  “For having some faith in you?” he asked. His lips twitched in an almost smile.

  “You could be walking into a trap,” Clarissa warned, ignoring his question. She realized her hand still gripped a fistful of his sleeve, so she let go. “What if they kill you?”

  “Then no one on the planet will know where you are,” he replied.

  His gaze was steady, and though Clarissa knew he meant that as reassurance, it was hardly comforting.

  On sudden impulse, she leaned forward and pressed her mouth to his in a quick, firm kiss. When she pulled back, he looked as stunned as if she’d stripped naked and danced the hula.

  “I’m Irish,” she explained with a shrug. “A kiss for luck.”

  Langston jerked her into him, making her gasp in surprise. “Then I’ll take a real one,” he rasped.

  Before she could think, he bent his head and was kissing her, only this wasn’t anything like the chaste kiss she’d given him. His mouth slanted across hers, demanding her response. Soft and warm, his tongue brushed against the tender skin. With a sigh, Clarissa parted her lips and he quickly took advantage, deepening their kiss.

  His hand cupped the back of her head and his fingers tangled in her hair, while his other arm around her waist locked her against him. Clarissa twined her arms around his neck and felt the cold wall of the house at her back as he pressed her into it.

  Her pulse raced as their kiss became even more heated, each second that passed marking time they didn’t have. Langston’s tongue stroked hers in a dance that set fire to her blood. The shadow of whiskers on his face softly abraded her skin. His hair was silky, and she couldn’t resist from pushing her fingers into the thick strands, which he must have liked, judging by the masculine groan that met her ears.

  When he finally lifted his head, both of them were breathing hard.

  “Probably shouldn’t have done that,” Langston muttered, his thumb stroking her jaw.

  Her skin tingled from his touch, as though electricity were flowing from him into her. “Do you hear me complaining?” she asked.

  He almost smiled. “I’ve got to go,” he said. “I’ll be back, and if I’m not, you know what to do.”

  Langston released her, pulling his gun and checking the ammunition cartridge before sliding it home again. He motioned for her to get down, and Clarissa obeyed, crouching behind some shrubbery.

  Langston melted into the shadows. Clarissa stayed down, watching as he emerged into the glow cast from the lights overhanging the tiny heliport. He crossed the dirt road, and Clarissa saw two men get out of the helicopter, the breeze from the gently turning rotors ruffling their clothes and hair.

  The men seemed affable enough as they greeted Langston. Clarissa watched them talk, her nerves on edge. The keys to Langston’s SUV felt as though they were burning a hole in her pocket. What if everything was fine and Langston told her to come out? Yes, he’d be with her on the helicopter, but what then? He couldn’t stay with her once she was arrested and in federal custody. He wouldn’t be able to help her or protect her. And her options for helping herself would be severely limited.

  Clarissa eased to her feet, still watching the men talk. It seemed as though everything was legit. Any moment now, Langston would turn and motion to her, then it would be over.

  She hated to betray his trust, but like she’d said, he was a fool to trust her.

  Clarissa kept to the shadows as she crept away. Guilt ate at her, but she ignored it. Escaping now was the smart thing to do, the logical thing.

  A loud pop! sounded behind her, making her instinctively drop to the ground as it sounded again. How she knew that was a gun, she had no idea. She just did. Glancing back over her shoulder from where she lay in the dirt, she saw the two men from the helicopter had collapsed and weren’t moving. Langston stood, his hands in the air and looking at someone.

  A man was approaching him, gun in hand. Clarissa’s heart was in her throat as she watched, stunned at the turn of events. She scrambled to her feet, wishing she had a gun. Two men came up on Langston from behind, taking his gun from him.

  Clarissa choked back a scream as one of them clubbed Langston over the head and he dropped like a rock. Together, they each grabbed an arm and dragged him into a nearby clapboard building, little more than a shack. The last man holding the gun glanced around once, twice, before stepping over the dead bodies and following his accomplices. The door closed behind him.

  Clarissa sucked in a breath. It was the same man that had nearly killed her in the motel.

  She stood, her heart racing and adrenaline pumping as she thought furiously. What could she do? Her fingers brushed the keys in her pocket. Wait — Langston had taken those rifles from the marshal. She had access to weapons, thank God.

  Looking up at the shack, her eyes narrowed, and she calmed. She had an objective now, and she had to move fast. Anger replaced her panic as she swept through the logistics in her mind, discarding plans and approaches in favor of others in an almost clinical way before settling on a course of action.

  Clarissa didn’t know who that bastard was or how he’d found them again, but Langston was her FBI agent, by God, and she wanted him back.

  * * *

  Cold water splashed on Erik’s face, jerking him awake. He grimaced, the pain in the back of his head lancing through his skull.

  “Welcome back, Agent Langston.”

  Erik pried his eyes open as memory flooded back. The other agents, shot. The man from the motel and the two thugs that had knocked him unconscious.

  God, he hoped Clarissa had gotten away. She was smart and had a strong instinct for self-preservation. No doubt she was miles away by now after seeing how things had gone down, which was a good thing, no matter how his gut was in knots about what his immediate future entailed.

  “What do you want?” Erik asked, forcing his body upright from where it was slumped in the wooden chair to which he was tied.

  “Where’s the girl?” the man asked. His eyes were shards of black, his expression bored.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Erik said.

  The man gave a nod, and that was when Erik saw one of the henchmen standing slightly behind him, the other a bit farther away, watching. Without warning, the closest guard struck out, nailing Erik in the jaw with his fist and making Erik’s head snap backward. Another blow, and his lip split, the metallic tang of blood hitting his tongue. A punch in the gut made him want to double over, but he couldn’t, tied as he was to the chair.

  Erik bit back a groan as pain ricocheted inside his head. That was gonna leave a mark. Turning to the side, he spat a mouthful of blood. Gritting his teeth, he blinked hard, squeezing his eyes shut before focusing on the head guy. As he did, it finally clicked who he was.

  “I know you,” he said, his breathing ragged. “Xavier Mendes. Interpol has had you flagged for years. Ties to the Russian Mafia.” He paused. “You know, murdering federal agents isn’t going to go over real well.”

  Mendes smiled, though it did nothing to soften his face. “What an excellent memory you have, Agent. Though I�
��m not surprised. Agent Erik Langston. First in your class at the academy and rising through the ranks faster than your peers, despite your rather unfortunate parentage. You were the first to see Clarissa’s importance to Solomon, and I have no doubt that you know exactly where she is right now. So let’s make this easier on everyone, shall we? Tell me where you’ve hidden her.”

  “She must have something pretty good for him to put you on her trail,” Erik mused, ignoring the question. “If you want her so bad, why didn’t you just take her last night?”

  Mendes’s smile faded, his expression turning glacial as he said, “If things had gone according to plan, she would be dead. Now things have changed, and I want her alive.”

  “Why?”

  Mendes smirked. “You hardly need to know, Agent. And with or without you, I will find her. And she will very much regret making me chase after her.” He gave another nod to the guard, and Erik braced himself.

  An explosion sounded from outside, making all of them turn toward the door.

  Mendes gestured to one of the guards. “Go see what’s going on.”

  The guard hurried to obey, disappearing through the door.

  Mendes’s gaze narrowed as he watched Erik. “I certainly hope Clarissa didn’t take it into her head to attempt a rescue operation. She should be thanking me for taking care of you.”

  Erik didn’t like the context of how exactly Mendes would be “taking care” of him. As for a rescue, well, he wasn’t naive, and Clarissa wasn’t an idiot. He tugged on the ropes binding his hands, but they held fast, biting into his skin as he tried to work a hand free.

  Mendes pulled out his gun as he walked to a window, careful to stay to the side and out of the direct line of sight. He motioned to the guard. “Watch him closely.”

  The guard took up a position right next to Erik.

  “I don’t like this,” Mendes said. “And I don’t like being sitting ducks in here.” Peering out the widow, Mendes slowly smiled. “I’ll be damned,” he said. “She blew up the helicopter.” He turned to Erik and said with some admiration in his voice, “Clarissa is quite clever, you know. And I am guessing by my associate’s failure to return that she has reduced our numbers by one.”

  Shit. Instead of being miles away, Clarissa was outside, trying to be a badass and rescue him. As if the fact he needed rescuing wasn’t humiliating enough, his female prisoner was the one attempting it.

  Erik worked harder at the ropes tying each wrist to the chair. He’d be damned if he’d sit here tied up and helpless.

  Suddenly, the lights went out, plunging them into darkness.

  Erik took his chance, swinging the chair around and ramming it into the guard. Though he was still tied to it, it made an excellent weapon.

  The guard stumbled backward, slamming into the wall. Erik blindly swung again, getting him in the kneecaps. The guard cried out in pain and went down. Erik lost his balance and fell hard. Luck was with him, as the chair cracked apart on impacting the floor, and Erik jerked his hands free.

  He grappled with the guard in the dark, hitting him as the guy pulled his gun. Erik made a grab for his wrist just as the door flew open.

  The figure of a man was starkly outlined in the doorway, the orange glow of the fire behind him casting him in utter darkness. As everyone watched, he fell into the room. The guard fighting Erik stopped for a moment, confused.

  The figure suddenly raised its arm and fired. The guy next to Erik dropped. Before he’d even hit the floor, the shooter switched aim.

  Mendes shot the man, his head exploding into a gooey mass of blood and brain matter. To Erik’s amazement, the man’s arm didn’t drop, instead firing another bullet and hitting Mendes in the arm.

  Mendes dropped the gun as another bullet hit him in the opposite shoulder, flattening him against the wall.

  The headless body on the floor flopped onto its back, and O’Connell leaped to her feet, her gun still trained on Mendes.

  Erik’s breath rushed out of him as he gazed at her. She’d ditched the sweater she’d had on, instead wearing a black tank with her jeans, and had tied her hair back at the nape of her neck. Golden light from the doorway bathed her face, revealing an impenetrable expression and eyes that glittered as she gazed at Mendes.

  She was breathtaking in the same way as a gazelle staring into the eyes of a lioness stalking him. Beautiful and deadly, the danger she posed no less fascinating for its menace.

  Stepping forward, she used her foot to send Mendes’s gun sliding across the shack’s wooden floor. Her gun remained steady, pointing at him.

  “You nearly killed me last night,” she said, her voice cold. “If it wasn’t for the agent here, I’d be dead.”

  Mendes smiled tightly at her, his hand clutching at the wound in his shoulder. “Clarissa. You always did know how to make an entrance.”

  “Do I?” she asked. “That’s good to know. I bet I’m also the type of person who’s not really into turning the other cheek.”

  “Wait!” Erik interjected, afraid she was going to kill Mendes. “Don’t kill him.”

  O’Connell froze but didn’t look at him. “Why the hell not? He was going to kill you.”

  “Kill him in cold blood? That’s what you want to do?”

  “At the moment, yes.” Her tone was dry as dust.

  “I don’t want to see that, Clarissa.”

  Her name on Langston’s lips startled Clarissa. He’d never called her by her first name before. His voice was a sad plea, though leaving the assassin alive was decidedly unwise. A mantra pounding inside her head told her so.

  Eliminate the threat. Leave no trail.

  It felt as though her head were going to explode, the words nearly a compulsion. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block it. After a moment, she refocused on the man who’d hurt her, and Langston faded from her mind. She aimed the gun…

  Langston tackled her, knocking her to the floor. They hit with a muffled thud, and he quickly pried the gun out of her hand.

  “He presents no threat, Clarissa,” Langston said as he lay on top of her, his breathing harsh. “You can’t just kill him. I won’t let you.”

  “God, Langston, you’re so naive!” Clarissa spat, shoving him off her and getting to her feet. “He’d kill us in an instant if he could.”

  “That doesn’t mean we should do the same.”

  They stood glaring at each other until a laugh from Mendes broke their staring contest.

  “I must say, this is quite entertaining,” he said, still chuckling. “An FBI agent trying to give Clarissa a conscience? Good luck.”

  His words sent a chill through Clarissa. Was she really like that? A criminal with no conscience? Was she just like the man who’d tried to kill her?

  “What in the hell is going on here?”

  They both turned to see two men with rifles, locals by the looks of it, had entered the shack. Langston held his hands up, pointing the gun at the ceiling.

  “I’m Agent Erik Langston with the FBI,” he said. “This man killed those two men outside and held me hostage. If you let me, I can show you my ID.”

  They kept their rifles trained on him until he produced his badge, then they relaxed.

  “I need this man guarded until the FBI comes to collect him,” Langston said. “Can you do that?”

  The men agreed. Langston promised to have the FBI there in a few hours before taking Clarissa by the elbow and dragging her out the door.

  “Where are we going?” she asked as they passed the smoking wreckage of the helicopter. “We’re not waiting for the FBI?”

  “No,” Langston said, his strides eating up the ground. “The FBI wants to arrest me.”

  Clarissa nearly stumbled. “What? Why?”

  “Those guys were seconds away from disarming me and taking my badge. I’m now wanted for murder as well as aiding a fugitive.”

  “That’s insane!” Clarissa spluttered. “You didn’t murder anyone! Well, at least not anyone who wasn’
t already trying to kill you.”

  “I know.”

  Langston’s expression was hard, preempting any further questions from Clarissa. She didn’t know what else to say anyway. Langston was being pursued by his own people for what he’d done to help her. Why he wasn’t putting her in cuffs and dragging her to the nearest FBI office to clear his name was beyond her.

  They were at the car now, and he held his hand out for the keys. Clarissa gave them to him, wincing as she noticed the blood and bruises on his face. She’d gotten there in time to save his life, but not spare him pain. Clarissa glanced away uncomfortably as she climbed into the car. It was her fault they’d taken him, hurt him. Protecting her had nearly gotten him killed, not to mention put him well on the path to destroying his career.

  “What the hell were you thinking anyway?” he bit out, once he got in the car. “I told you to leave, not play Sarah Connor and rush in with guns blazing.” He hit the gas, and gravel spewed behind them as they shot down the road.

  “You’d rather I left you there?” Clarissa retorted.

  “I’d rather you’d have done what I said!”

  “Well, screw you! I wasn’t going to run away and let you die.”

  Langston stomped on the brakes; the SUV fishtailed as it came to a shuddering halt. He threw it into park before turning to her.

  “I can’t trust you if you don’t do what I say,” he said.

  “Getting rescued by a girl got your knickers in a twist?” Clarissa sneered. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell.”

  “Dammit, Clarissa! Don’t you see—”

  Clarissa knew only two ways to shut up an angry man, and she was fresh out of bullets. Which only left one option.

  “Shut up, Langston,” she cut in. Fisting a handful of his shirt in her grip, she jerked him toward her, planting her lips on his. He went still, and her lips curved in a smile. Then he was kissing her like before, cradling her face in his hands, and she could taste the blood he’d shed for her.

  After a long moment, he pulled back just enough to look in her eyes. She grinned at him. “You’re much too pretty to let die,” she said.