by Cindy Dees
“Let me show you,” he said. Moving in slow motion, he drew her into his arms. She tensed, and he paused, waiting until she finally relaxed. He kissed his way across her collarbone and up her neck. He couldn’t resist a little nibble of her earlobe, but he softened it with whispered word of how beautiful she was. By gradual degrees she went warm and liquid in his arms. The sensation exhilarated him. He wasn’t generally fond of seducing innocents, but this woman lit a fire in his blood that was nigh uncontrollable.
Her arms looped around his neck and her body melted like warm chocolate against him. His eyes drifted closed as he savored her lithe curves in his arms.
She said sweetly against his lips, “You have…” a soft kiss “…the right to remain silent…”
He jerked back, startled. “What are you doing?”
“Reading you your rights. It’s a required legal procedure in America. I don’t know if we’re still in British waters or not, so I went with my own country’s recitation of legal rights while I arrest you.”
“By what authority?”
“By mine. I’m a commissioned military officer, and as such, I have the right to arrest you. If you’ll turn around and place your hands behind your back while I get out my handcuffs…”
Stunned, he stared at her. She didn’t sound the slightest bit playful about that handcuff offer. “What the hell—” he started.
“I’m not joking, Hake. You’re under arrest.”
“And then what?”
“Then I’m commandeering your vessel and ordering the captain to go back to London so you can be put in jail.”
“You can’t!”
“I am.”
Sonofa— For the second time tonight, he felt completely disoriented. First, someone tried to blow him up, and now this. She actually planned to arrest him! It wasn’t his fault those people had approached him and tried to force him to sell them a precision milling machine. And it wasn’t his fault they’d tried to kill him. None of this was fair.
“Why am I the bad guy all of a sudden?” he demanded. “I’ve done nothing wrong. I’m not a terrorist.”
“But you are obstructing an investigation of terrorists. And that’s a felony.”
He rolled his eyes. “I’m trying to protect my family.”
“Fine. Then go to jail and protect them all you like from there.” She added grimly, “If you can.”
He scowled at her, supremely frustrated.
“Or,” she continued implacably, “you can let me help you. I have resources at my disposal you’ve never dreamed of. And contrary to your opinion, my team has never failed on a mission.”
“There’s a first time for everything, and I can’t afford for this to be yours to fail,” he snapped.
She stared at him with something akin to sorrow in her gaze. “Do you seriously think these terrorists will let your family live even if you do sell them the milling machine? They’ll blackmail the El Arans until you don’t have anything else they want, and then they’ll kill you all. Your family is dead men—and women—walking. Particularly after you had the gall to live through tonight’s attempt to kill you. You’ve embarrassed them.”
“So by saving my life tonight, you killed us all?” he asked incredulously.
She shook her head. “Your family is rich, powerful, connected to governments and to the global business community. You represent everything they hate. They were already planning to come after your family.”
He sat down heavily on the sofa, swearing under his breath. She was right. Horror rolled through him as he absorbed that truth. He looked up at her bleakly. “What do you need from me?”
She sat down beside him and said simply, “Tell me everything.”
“And you’ll tell me everything in return? Let me participate in all operations?” A stubborn look flickered through her eyes and he added desperately, “They’re my family, for God’s sake.”
She sighed. Nodded. “All right. But promise me if I ever give you a direct order you’ll follow it instantly and without question.”
That sent his eyebrows up.
She added, “You’re a civilian. I’m a trained Special Forces operative. I need to know you’ll do what I tell you to if you’re about to die.”
Special Forces? Her? His mind locked up in disbelief. Surely not. Although she certainly had the nerves of steel down cold. Yet again, this woman had knocked him completely off balance. He nodded shortly. “Deal.”
“Start at the beginning,” she urged gently.
He sighed and began talking. She listened intently, without interruption. At the end of his recitation she asked a million questions and typed copious notes on a laptop computer that emerged from her duffel bag. Finally, an eternity later, she hit several buttons and nodded in satisfaction.
“Done,” she announced.
“What is?”
“My report to my headquarters. They’ll sift through everything you gave me and no doubt will have a bunch of questions of their own. But we’ve probably got a few hours to catch a nap before they contact me.”
He felt like a washcloth that had been wrung out and hung up to dry. He also felt unexpectedly lonely. And vulnerable. Perhaps it had taken this long for the reality of how close he’d come to dying earlier to sink in. And for the reality that his family was in just as much danger to hit him.
“What are your people going to do to protect my family?” he asked.
“Your family already has an extensive personal security team, does it not?”
“We do, but it didn’t do me a bit of good at the restaurant.”
“You also didn’t have your guards with you. I have faith you won’t make that mistake again anytime soon. I’m sure by now my people have been in contact with your father and made it clear to him that no El Aran is to set foot outside without a full contingent of bodyguards. It would be best for your family to sequester itself somewhere safe, like your family’s compound in Bhoukar, until this operation is concluded.”
He felt slightly better, but his gut still rumbled warningly at the idea of his family’s lives depending on agents of any government.
She changed subjects abruptly. “This milling machine you’re selling the terrorists is big and heavy, I assume?”
He snorted. “It weighs several tons. We’ll need a crane to lift it.”
She commented thoughtfully, “They’ll likely want to move it by ship, then.”
“You’re planning to give them the machine?” he asked, surprised.
“If we can’t catch them by any other means, we’ll have to go through with the deal. We’ll use your suggestion and sabotage the thing. And, of course, we’ll put tracking devices on it—” She broke off abruptly, a look of dismay crossing her face.
“What?” he asked sharply.
“Has your crew swept this vessel for tracking devices recently?” she asked tightly.
“I have no idea.”
“Ask. Now.”
He leaned over and pressed the intercom button. “Captain Soderling, have you checked the Angelique recently for tracking devices put here by someone interested in following us?”
“Not in the past week, sir,” a deep voice answered in alarm. “Do you have reason to believe there is such a device aboard?”
Casey leaned forward to speak and Hake pressed the button for her. “Captain, as soon as it’s feasible for you to do so, I need you to have your men comb every inch of this ship. You’ll need to drop anchor, deploy divers and inspect the hull as well. And if you find a device, don’t disable it. Is that understood?”
“Mr. El Aran?” the captain asked. Hake grinned. The man didn’t know what to make of one of the boss’s female guests giving orders. Especially an order like that.
“Do as the lady says, Jürgen.”
“Roger, sir. I’ll wake the crew and get started on it right away.”
As the ship halted and men commenced crawling over it from stem to stern, Hake put in a ship-to-shore call to his father
to make sure the El Arans had been warned.
Casey spent the time typing her personal report detailing the night’s activities for her superiors.
Hake never did get through to his father. He left urgent messages at every contact number he had and then prayed the reason the phones weren’t being answered was because the El Aran security team had already gone into lockdown. When the worry became too much for him, he broke down and asked Casey, “Do your people have some sort of status report on my family? Are they safe?”
She looked up from her computer surprised. “I’ll ask.” She made a quick call while he fretted. In a matter of seconds, she smiled reassuringly at him. “They’re fine. The whole clan has gathered at your palace in Bhoukar and is under heavy security.”
He sagged, relieved.
“Do you really live in a palace?” she asked.
“No. I live in a flat in London. But the family seat could probably be called a palace without exaggerating.”
She just shook her head.
The ship’s crew made their way through the salon just then, tearing the place completely apart before putting it back together again. As they moved on to other parts of the ship, Hake asked Casey ruefully, “Do you cause this much chaos everywhere you go?”
She smiled wearily. “On most missions, we slip in, do our thing and slip out without anyone ever knowing we were there. In a perfect world we’re quiet and invisible. So, no. This is not a typical mission.”
“Who is we?” he asked curiously. “I was not aware that your country had more than one belly-dancing commando in its service.”
She laughed. “When you put it that way, it does sound a little strange, doesn’t it?”
He frowned. She was smoothly ducking the question. “Who are you?” he persisted.
“I can’t answer that. My unit is highly classified.”
“I told you everything. I think I’ve earned a little information back—”
“Sir!” One of the crewmen burst into the salon. “We found it!”
Hake leaped to his feet quickly, but Casey beat him off the sofa. “Show us,” he demanded.
The two of them followed the sailor down to the yacht’s engine compartment. In the very rear of the vessel where the propeller screw exited to the water was a small metal object that looked like a radio transmitter. Casey examined it and then announced, “GPS unit. They can track us anywhere in the world.”
“Shall we remove it?” the sailor asked.
She shook her head. “Not yet. And keep looking. They probably have more than one device aboard. I would if I were them.”
Hake was amused by the incredulous looks his men threw her way when she wasn’t looking. He knew the feeling. She appeared so soft and harmless but spoke like a trained killer. The woman could really quit knocking him off his feet like this. He didn’t know what to expect from her next.
And sure enough, she surprised him when she spoke again. “It’s nearly daylight. Why don’t you lie down and try to get a little sleep, Hake? Once my superiors start working you over, you may not get another chance to rest for a while.”
The ship’s security chief, a Swiss fellow named Tomas, piped up. “And you would be who, ma’am?”
She smiled pleasantly at the man. “I’m not at liberty to divulge that information.”
“Do you work with that woman on the dock? The one who told me how to do my job?”
Hake watched with interest as Casey fielded that minor grenade. “You’ll have to forgive my teammate if she stepped on your toes. We’d just pulled Hake out of a bombing and were tense about getting him undercover. My colleague didn’t know who you were and I’d had no chance to brief her. She only wanted to make sure Mr. El Aran was safe, same as you.”
Tomas looked mostly mollified, particularly when Casey added, “Maybe later this morning we could discuss your ideas on where we should stash Hake to maximize your security team’s effectiveness.”
“Hey!” Hake objected. “I’m not getting stashed anywhere. I’m participating in whatever happens!”
Casey and Tomas traded downright friendly looks of commiseration with one another. The crew continued searching the ship, and Hake showed Casey to the lower deck staterooms, which had already been searched.
Hake paused in the narrow passage. “Do you want your own room, or for security reasons, would you like to be closer to me?”
She looked up at him, worry momentarily winking in her gaze. Afraid to bunk in with him, was she? Smart girl. But then amusement flared in his gut. She’d thrown herself in front of bomb and bullied him into cooperating without batting an eyelash. But sleeping with him scared her? He added lightly with just a hint of a dare in his voice, “You can take the bed. I’ll take the couch.”
“You’ll do no such thing,” she declared. “You sleep and I’ll stand guard.”
He snorted. “There’s no way I’m going to sleep if you’re hovering over me like some protective, UZI-toting mother hen.”
She retorted drily, “I don’t like shooting UZIs. They climb too much when you go full automatic with them.”
He just shook his head and opened the door to his suite for her. He was shocked when she actually stepped inside ahead of him. A frisson of pleasure skated over his skin. She was going to stay with him, then, was she? Starting just inside the door, she worked her way counterclockwise around the luxurious space, examining it minutely from floor to ceiling. “What are you doing?” he asked.
“It’s called a security sweep. I’m looking for listening devices, cameras and hiding places for possible assailants.”
“This is a yacht. Every inch is used carefully. Space for bad guys to hide in is extremely limited.”
“Nonetheless, I’m personally searching your room.”
He waited patiently until she finished her sweep. “So, are you brave enough to sleep in the same bed with me?” He pointedly left out any promises to behave himself.
Her gaze narrowed. “Is that a challenge?”
He grinned. “If that’s what it takes to get you in my bed, absolutely.”
“In that case, I accept.”
Chapter 9
C asey watched apprehensively as Hake disappeared into the bathroom. She might talk a good line, but inside her head a voice was screaming a big, fat, what-the-hell-are-you-doing at her. She was mature enough not to have to accept every stupid dare someone flung at her. And sleeping with Hake was definitely stupid. Thrilling, but stupid. Apparently, being a sensible Hershey bar didn’t necessarily equate to making sensible decisions.
The bathroom door opened and Hake emerged wearing a pair of silk pajama bottoms—and nothing else. His bare chest, bronze and perfect, made her gulp. Any number of reactions to the sight came to her mind, most of which ran along the lines of hubba hubba. He was much larger and more muscular than a person noticed at first with him. His tailored suits and sheer charisma had a way of distracting a person from the size and raw power of the man.
“There are towels, toothbrushes, shampoo and robes in the bathroom,” he said, gesturing over his shoulder. “I think there’s skin-care stuff and some cosmetics, too.”
She’d bet. It was probably standard procedure on this vessel to be prepared for female guests sorely lacking in luggage or toiletries. As Hake threw back the covers and started to climb into bed, she fled for the bathroom.
She scrubbed off the remnants of her stage makeup and studied herself in the mirror. Seeing her like this would be the end of Hake’s infatuation with her. The soldier was fully revealed now that the glamorous dancer’s mask was gone. Oh, well. She’d warned him. He would see her as she really was as soon as she stepped through that door.
Funny, but part of her was reluctant to break the spell of her Cassandra persona between them. Had she actually been enjoying pretending to be beautiful and exotic and desirable? What on earth was wrong with her? She hadn’t worn makeup in something like two years before this mission came along. She lived in combat boots and fat
igues, often filthy and nearly always toting lethal weapons, which she had used on more than one occasion, thank you very much.
As regret ignored her arguments and stabbed at her anyway, she insisted to herself it was for the best this way. She had a mission to do, and she held no illusions that working with Hake would be easy. He was smart, stubborn and used to being in charge. Kind of like her, in fact, which was exactly why he was bound to drive her crazy.
She sighed and pulled on the tank top and skimpy shorts she found folded neatly on the bathroom counter. Discretion being the better part of valor, she left her bra on under the top. Thus girded to step back into battle with Hake, she opened the bathroom door.
The lights were off and the stateroom was pitch-black. Good thing she’d already memorized its layout. She made her way to the far side of the bed and slipped beneath a fluffy down comforter. The stupidity of agreeing to get into bed with a lady killer like Hake struck her full-force, and she went as stiff as a board.
“Are you all right?” His voice floated out of the inky darkness close by.
“Why do you ask?” she gritted out.
“It feels like you’re on the verge of bolting.”
“I am not.”
He asked mildly, “Tell me, Casey. Why did you panic when I kissed you before?”
“I didn’t panic!”
“Then why did you feel obliged to interrupt an inspired kiss, if I do say so myself, by trying to arrest me?”
“I was doing my job.”
The bed shifted, and it felt as if he might have turned to face her and propped himself up on an elbow. He said gently, “You were hiding behind your job. Are you that afraid of being the woman you are?”
The words jolted through her like lightning, singeing her from head to toe. Was she afraid of being a woman? Was that why she hid behind combat boots and rifles? Most of her teammates still went out on dates, still did their hair and put on makeup and sexy little dresses during their off hours. But not her. She was the job. Always the job.
She must have been quiet for too long because he murmured, “Come here.”
“Why?” she asked cautiously.
“It’ll be easier if I show you.” A hand touched her hip and she jumped about a foot straight up in the air. Lord, she was tense.
