by Lara Lacombe
He cleared his throat, dragging her attention away from that flame of red hair and the straight, taut lines of back and shoulders. “We will be sending someone with Agent Kincannon to retrieve both Emily and Victor, and she needs to look like you. Therefore, I need your clothes.”
Agent Kincannon. Not Thomas. So there was a chance Valdez didn’t know she and Thomas had been interrupted by that phone call. Either that, or he was pointedly ignoring facts that were of little relevance to the case at hand.
“I want to go.”
“Absolutely not,” he fired back, not even pausing to consider her words. “There is no way I’m sending a civilian—who is also a target—into this op.”
“But—”
“No,” he repeated, steel creeping into his voice. “Not an option. Now, please give me your clothes.”
Claire raised an eyebrow as she regarded him. “Do you honestly think sending in a decoy is going to fool Victor? He may be a bad guy, but he’s intelligent, and my guess is he already has something in place to trap Thom—Agent Kincannon.”
“I know that,” Valdez said, leaning forward. Claire resisted the urge to step back as the scent of stale coffee wafted over her face. She instinctively knew that if she gave an inch here, he’d take it as a sign of weakness.
“I’ve already dispatched a team to the Armory, to scout the site and set up a perimeter. They’ll find and disable any booby traps Victor may have placed.”
“I still think I should be there,” she argued, knowing she was losing ground. “What if Victor won’t give up Emily until he has me?”
“It’s not going to get that far,” Valdez said.
“But what if Victor doesn’t bring Emily at all? What if he only tells Thomas where she is after I go with him?” He wasn’t being logical. She had to make him see all the possibilities...
Valdez gave her a look that probably made his underlings quake with fear, but Claire refused to be intimidated. She was involved in this, damn it, whether he liked it or not. Victor was after her, and he had taken an innocent girl as a bargaining chip. It didn’t get more personal than that.
After a few seconds, Valdez broke their impromptu staring contest. “Look,” he said, letting out a sigh and stuffing his hands into his pockets. “This isn’t my first rodeo, all right? I get that you’re worried and that you want to help, but having you in the middle of things will do more harm than good. I’ve never lost a child before, and I’m not about to bust that record because you have a misguided sense of the contributions you can make to this op.”
Stubborn man. She thought quickly, grasping for another line of argument to make him see reason.
“I just think we shouldn’t antagonize Victor, that’s all,” she said, striving for a persuasive tone. “If he doesn’t see me, he might hurt Emily.”
“She’s right.”
They turned in unison as James joined the conversation. Claire felt a spurt of satisfaction knowing another agent agreed with her assessment, but she knew better than to gloat.
“Excuse me?” Valdez flushed at the interruption, clearly not accustomed to having his orders questioned.
“You know she’s right,” James continued, his tone reasonable. “For this op to have the greatest chance of success, she needs to go along. According to the boys in psych, Victor is hanging on by a very thin thread. It won’t take much to push him over the edge, and we can’t leave Emily’s safety to something so risky. If Victor arrives in the morning to find Thomas with a decoy, there’s no telling what he’ll do to Emily. Do you really want that on your conscience?”
Valdez’s gaze was dark with suppressed temper while he studied James. “You know I don’t,” he bit out, his jaw clenched so tight it was a wonder his teeth didn’t break. “But you know as well as I do that we don’t send untrained civilians into a hostage situation like this.”
“She won’t be going alone,” James pointed out.
“Kincannon is not adequate protection.”
Claire stiffened at his words, bristling on behalf of Thomas. How dare this man question Thomas’s capabilities, especially after everything he’d done to keep her safe!
Valdez cut his eyes to her, apparently sensing her coming retort. “You’re his asset, and that’s his niece out there. If it comes down to a choice between the two of you, he won’t be in a position to do the right thing.”
“And what is that?”
Valdez looked away with a sigh. “Sometimes, hard choices have to be made. I don’t think Kincannon is in a position to do that. Not on this op.”
“That’s why he won’t be alone. Another agent will be in the car, one who is specifically tasked with looking out for Dr. Fleming.”
“I suppose that would be you?” Valdez practically sneered at James, his disapproval loud and clear.
“No,” James replied evenly. “One of your team. Someone you know and trust.”
Valdez rocked back on his heels, considering. His eyes flicked to her, and Claire stood straight, trying to appear competent and unafraid. After a long moment, he sighed.
“Do you truly understand what you’re asking?”
She nodded, trying not to seem too eager. “Yes. I want to go along tomorrow, to make sure Emily is returned safely.”
“And you realize I cannot guarantee your safety?”
A frisson of fear rippled through her, but she ruthlessly tamped it down. “I know.”
“But you want to go anyway?”
“I have to go,” she told him, hoping he would understand. “If there is a chance my being there will help keep that little girl safe...I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to her because I wasn’t there.”
Was that a flicker of respect in Valdez’s gaze? Before she could decide, he turned away with a nod.
“Fine. You can go. But there will be an agent in the car with you, and you will do exactly as they say. Do I make myself clear?”
Claire nodded, nearly vibrating with excitement. “Yes. I won’t be any trouble—I promise.”
Valdez snorted. “Sure. Now go away before I change my mind.”
She turned to James, mouthing a silent thank-you before stepping away. He gave her a slight nod in return.
This is really happening. The thought of seeing Victor again should have scared her, but it didn’t, not really. Instead, a sense of nervous anticipation thrummed through her. She knew her part in this little drama would be insignificant, but she was happy to play it. If nothing else, she could make sure that Thomas came out of tomorrow’s operation unscathed and reunited with his niece.
He kept surprising her, she realized as she retired to her bedroom, wanting to stay out of the way so she didn’t give Valdez reason to reconsider her involvement. She sat on the bed, her thoughts drifting while she sorted through her memories of Thomas. Just when she thought she had him figured out, he did or said something that forced her to see him in a different light. He projected the image of the carefree, easygoing agent, but underneath that shell was a thoughtful, caring man.
Her heart had broken for him when he’d told her about his brother. He carried so much guilt over the loss it was a wonder he could stand. But in the short time she’d known him, Claire had come to understand that Thomas took on responsibility the way other people put on clothes in the morning. Telling him he wasn’t to blame for Roger’s death wasn’t going to change the way he felt about it.
Having dealt with the loss of her father all those years ago, Claire could see that Thomas hadn’t fully processed his brother’s death. And it was no wonder—he’d jumped right in to help his niece and Jenny and his mother. He’d never taken the time to grieve on his own, to heal. She hoped that once this was all over, he would step back, let someone else carry the load for a bit. She could see, even if he didn’t want to admit it, that he was
very close to the breaking point, and if he didn’t take care of himself, he was going to burn out before too long.
So she was glad to be going on the operation tomorrow, even though it meant she’d be in danger. She wanted to be there for Thomas, to make sure he got Emily back. More than that, she wanted to comfort him, to give him some measure of peace while they waited. She’d seen the way his eyes followed her in the crowd, knew he kept track of her wherever she went. While it was tempting to dismiss his actions as those of a competent bodyguard, there was a warmth in his gaze that couldn’t be denied, and deep down, she knew he felt something for her. She could only hope that her presence tomorrow would help rather than hurt.
She’d never forgive herself if things went badly.
* * *
Thomas lay staring up at the ceiling, the blades of the fan giving him something to focus on while his mind whirled. His thoughts skipped and darted about, swirling like falling snow but always coming to rest on one topic.
Emily.
Despite his attitude, Valdez had come up with a solid plan. The only question was, would Victor fall for it?
His hands fisted into the comforter at the thought of the assassin, so smug, so self-assured. It would be a real pleasure to wipe that smirk off his face tomorrow morning.
He just hoped things didn’t go to hell.
He’d nearly hit the roof when he’d found out Claire would be tagging along tomorrow. His first instinct had been to refuse. She needed to be kept safe, and he couldn’t protect her and focus on getting Emily back at the same time. Something would have to give, and he wasn’t willing to put either one of them in more danger.
James had pulled him aside, explaining in calm, measured tones why Claire needed to go. His reasons were sound, and even now, Thomas couldn’t really refute the man’s logic. He still didn’t like it though.
On the one hand, having Claire at the exchange would make Victor think he’d followed instructions. The assassin might be more willing to give up Emily if he thought he was really going to get Claire and the papers. That was a good thing.
On the other hand, things could turn quickly and Victor might not hesitate to shoot Claire and Emily, an act that would utterly destroy Thomas. The thought of losing them both made him want to vomit, but he couldn’t deny the possibility. Even though Claire would be protected by an agent hiding in the car, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to completely ignore her safety if things went south.
He rolled to his side, suddenly restless. The intellectual part of him knew he needed to sleep right now, save his energy so he’d be good for the operation tomorrow. But he was anxious to work, to be in the field scoping out the Armory site with the other guys on the team. He trusted them, no question about it, but he felt an ownership of this mission that he’d never experienced before. This was his niece, his family, his world on the line. He needed to be out there working, not twiddling his thumbs for the next few hours.
He slipped from bed, paced a few steps, then dropped to the floor for a round of push-ups. When his arms and shoulders began to burn, he flipped over to his back and started in on the crunches. The repetition was just the kind of familiar monotony he needed to bring him back down, keep him grounded so he didn’t descend into an emotional tailspin.
He wasn’t sure how long he moved, alternating between crunches and push-ups and back again to give his protesting muscles a break. When he finally stopped he spread out on the floor to stretch, his muscles twinging pleasantly and his mind finally, blessedly blank.
It could have been minutes or hours later when a soft rapping pulled him out of his mental white space. The noise was so faint he wasn’t sure if it was a knock or the sounds of the house settling, but after a few seconds of silence, the tapping resumed, a bit louder this time.
He crossed to the door and pulled it open to find Claire standing on the other side, hand raised to knock again. She jumped a bit, obviously startled by his sudden appearance, and he hid a smile as a faint blush darkened her cheeks.
“Can I come in?” she whispered, darting a glance behind her as if she was afraid someone was watching.
He held the door open and stepped back in silent invitation. She gave him a small smile as she walked past, and he shut the door quietly behind her. Why was she here? And why was she being so secretive about it? The safe house was mostly empty at this time of night, with many of the agents out scouting the Armory site, setting up surveillance or resting. The ones who remained were occupied with planning in the kitchen, unconcerned with the goings-on in the back bedrooms of the house.
She stood in the middle of the room, facing away from him. The moonlight from the window lined her in silver, giving her an ethereal appearance like some ghostly apparition summoned from his dreams. He crossed to the bedside table and switched on the lamp, the muted glow allowing him to see her face but casting the rest of the room in shadows.
“Something on your mind?” he said quietly.
“I just...” She trailed off, then took a deep breath. “I’m scared for you. For tomorrow.”
“Don’t be,” he said automatically. “We’ll be fine.”
She studied him a moment, her gray eyes appearing to look right through him. “How can you be so sure?”
How indeed? He thought he’d banished his doubts, but Claire’s words started his gut churning with anticipation and adrenaline again. “It’s a good plan,” he said, moving past her to pace at the foot of the bed. “We’re getting the team into position, scoping out the site. Everything is set.”
“Do you really think Victor will fall for this?”
He stopped, looked her up and down as he considered her question. “I do.” He started moving again, five steps forward, turn, five steps back. Repeat.
“I’ll never forgive myself if this doesn’t work.”
Her words stunned him out of his pacing, and he turned to face her.
“It’s not your responsibility,” he said, struggling to keep his emotions in check. “This is my job—mine. Do you understand? My responsibility. I put myself in danger because I have to. I’m supposed to keep you safe. You can’t control what happens tomorrow, and if anything goes wrong, you can damn sure believe it’ll be because of something me or my team did, not you.”
“So that’s all I am to you? A job?”
He grabbed her hand as she spun around to leave. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he said, hauling her up against his chest. “You know I care about you.”
She sighed and dropped her forehead to his shoulder. Her arms came up to wrap around his back and they stood there for a moment, holding each other.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t come here to pick a fight. I’m just so worried, and I wanted to be by you before we leave in the morning.”
He stroked his hand down the column of her hair, the silky softness flowing over his palm like water. “I’m sorry, too,” he said. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”
“You’re worried.” She gave him a squeeze, spreading warmth through his chest. She held him a moment longer, then spoke again. “You should get some rest. Big day tomorrow.” She pulled back and rose up on her tiptoes to press a soft kiss to his mouth.
The contact arced through him, setting all his nerve endings on fire. He gripped her shoulders when she moved away, and something in his gaze must have betrayed his need. She met his eyes for a beat, then kissed him again, her hands moving to hold his head in place as her tongue darted out to graze across his lips.
He groaned and opened his mouth, giving her the access she sought. She was wet and warm and willing, and he wanted nothing more than to lose himself in her, let her take away the stress and worry and anxiety about Emily, about Victor, about everything.
It felt so good to be holding her, touching her, and yet...there was a small corner of his brain telling h
im to stop. Not like this, the voice said, growing louder and louder until he couldn’t ignore it anymore.
He pulled back, framing Claire’s face with his hands. “We should slow down,” he said in a voice too unsteady to be trusted.
She kissed his cheeks, his forehead, his nose. “Let me do this for you,” she whispered, kissing his chin. “Let me help you tonight.”
He swallowed hard. “Are you sure? If we go much further, I won’t want to stop.”
She ran her hands under his shirt and up his chest as she pressed her mouth to his, and he shivered, goose bumps fanning out across his skin in the wake of her touch.
“Who’s asking you to?”
Chapter 10
Claire gasped when Thomas lifted her off her feet, holding her close as he walked them over to the bed. He laid her down with a gentleness that belied the tension she felt rolling off him and immediately covered her body with his own. She reached up to frame his face with her hands and pushed back a flaming lock of hair as she met his gaze. His blue eyes blazed with an intense need, a wordless desire fueled by desperation and hope. She pulled him down for another kiss, wanting to give him the comfort of her body so he would know he was not alone—not tonight, not ever again.
His kisses grew increasingly demanding while his hands roamed over her body, touching her everywhere, setting off sparks of sensation with each brush of fingers over skin. His mouth left hers so he could yank her nightgown over her head, and she fumbled with clumsy fingers at the waistband of his pants. She needed to feel him, to soothe him with her touch and help him find the release he sought.
He was having none of it. He reached down, bracketed her wrists with one hand and pulled her arms above her head, holding her in place. She was effectively trapped under him, totally at his mercy, and he took full advantage of it.
She bit back a soft cry as he nipped her with his teeth, then soothed away the sting with the warm rasp of his tongue. She tugged experimentally against his hold, but he tightened his grip, silently refusing to release her. Part of her recognized his need to be in control right now, so she acquiesced, letting him set the pace.
