by Karen Anders
“When it comes to my duty, I’m an immovable object, Dr. Baang.”
That caught at her, but she remained more defiant than pliant. “You will excuse me if I don’t just skip down that path. I’ve had people who have told me it’s for my own good, then manipulated me.”
“I’m not interested in manipulating you. I’m interested in getting your cooperation so that I can protect you completely and fully. What I said about the danger, the men who kidnapped you—those are all hard facts. You’re a scientist. You can appreciate that. Correct?”
“Now you’re playing to my intellect.”
“I’m not playing.”
She sighed and sat down at the table. “I know you’re not. I know it’s necessary. I guess I don’t want to admit it because it scares me.”
He sat down across from her and leaned forward. “Let us do our job. We’ll find these guys, and then you’ll be free to go home.”
She nodded, looking at her hands.
“I’m going to get an artist for you, so that we can get a composite. You ready for that?”
“Yes.”
“I know what you’re going through.”
She met his eyes. “How could you understand what I’m feeling?”
“I do. I was a marine. I know what it feels like to do everything you possibly can and still feel helpless to do what needs to be done. Maybe someday we can swap stories.”
“Maybe.” She lifted her chin and gave him a slight smile. He liked that most about her. She bounced back.
He left the room just as Chris finished his phone call. “Everything okay?”
“It is now. I’m going for the artist. In case it’s not clear, I’m your guy for her detail—24/7.”
“I can see that your mind is made up. Even though I’m the boss of this unit.”
Vin straightened, taking in Chris’s posture. He wasn’t in the habit of challenging his superior, but in this case, there was no debate. He was going to be her guardian. “I’m the best man for the job,” he said, knowing he didn’t have to convince Chris that he was. “I’m one of your best agents, good both with weapons and hand-to-hand, and already have a rapport with her.”
“I didn’t say you weren’t good, Vin. I’m just trying to decide if I can do without you.”
“I can work from the safe house...or I could give up the detail for a morning on the job, if Amber or Beau took over.”
“I need them both here working on this. I’ll get someone to relieve you. She’s the number one priority.”
“The director?”
“He agrees. You’ve got the detail.”
* * *
On his way back from the artist, Vin stopped off in forensics. “Math?”
“Yo!” a voice said from the left.
When Vin turned the corner, Justin Mathis, Math for short, was standing at his computer typing.
“I’m here for Dr. Baang’s laptop. Are you done with it?”
Math left the computer and went to a metal table just behind the computer setup. Her laptop sat closed and powered down, its silver case reflecting the overhead lights. Math picked it up and handed it to Vin. “I checked it over thoroughly and found nothing out of the ordinary. It wasn’t tampered with. From what I can tell, I don’t think they even turned it on to try to access any of the sensitive data. Might not have been enough time, as you guys were on it so quickly. No fingerprints, either, except hers.”
Vin accepted the lightweight machine. “Great, thanks. She’ll be happy to have it back.”
Math nodded, and with a shrewd expression, he said, “I heard she’s pretty hot.”
“She’s stunning,” Vin said, giving Math a knowing male look.
“You lucky dog,” he said as he turned back to his computer. “Agents get all the chicks,” he grumbled.
“Yeah, we’re rock stars, if you don’t mind getting shot at.”
“Get back to work, rock star,” Math said.
Vin chuckled as he left forensics and headed back up to the conference room. As he entered, the artist was just finishing up.
Math’s words echoed in his head. She was hot, but there was more to this stunning woman than her looks. She looked up as the door opened, and her tense shoulders relaxed when she saw him. Something also eased in her eyes as if he was the one person she could depend on in a world gone mad. Her one and only guardian.
It gave him stupid ideas. He’d always been smart. Smart enough to take ahold of his life and mold it to his own goals and plans. Smart enough to do a job that required speed, skill and intellect. Clear cases, be detailed oriented. Well, he took in the details right now.
There were so many little things that added up to the big picture of her. The angles of her face delicately carved, the dusky cast to her skin that only enhanced her large almond-shaped eyes, the heartbreaking cobalt blue so striking in contrast to her ink-black hair. The cant of her chin when she was being brave. Especially that little detail. It gave him a window into the mettle of her. At first glance she looked a little on the nerdy side, awkward and unsure in social situations, but on the inside he suspected there was a core of steel.
And that genius brain had tried to take him down a peg with her intellect as a weapon. As if she was feeling the attraction and trying to fight it. Was she scared of him? Herself? Her reaction to him? He would admit he could be intense when he was interested in someone.
She had the most beautiful mouth he’d ever seen. The curves, the hair, the eyes, the cheekbones—everything about her was gorgeous.
He let his gaze drift over her face, memorizing every curve. He held her dark-eyed gaze, and heat coiled low in his belly. When his attention settled on her mouth, she knew it. He saw her face soften, heard her slight intake of air. Whatever was going on between them, however tough she acted, she looked at him like a woman who wanted something more than protection.
He shifted and entered the room, his eyes never leaving hers. The artist was oblivious to the tension stretching out like a taut wire between them.
He was here to give her protection, and that was all. Temptation wasn’t something that he’d ever had a hard time overcoming, but, in this case, he wasn’t so sure. He was here to do a job.
He couldn’t afford to get distracted by her kind of details.
Chapter 3
He couldn’t have stared at her any harder. His green eyes always seemed to be intense, but moments ago she wasn’t sure what had gone through his mind. All she knew was that he made her fidget and shiver.
He set her laptop down on the conference-room table as he headed toward the NCIS artist and the drawings he’d rendered from her description of the Russians who’d kidnapped her.
He’d looked at her mouth. Wait, that wasn’t exactly looking. What he had done was more like consume her from a distance. He was solid, hard packed muscle. She’d leaned against all that strength when she’d been melting down into a puddle at his feet like some scared little kitten.
But she was scared. So, so scared.
And he was her lifeline. She wanted to hold on with both hands.
This was so strange. She was normally immune to men like him. Usually she just ignored the kind of man Special Agent Fitzgerald represented. Warrior. A dark and fierce warrior. And she knew them. She’d worked with the navy long enough to see them every day.
But her agent had something they didn’t. Compassion and gentleness when he’d spoken to her. When he’d helped her down off the gurney at the hospital, when he’d had the forethought to let her get some dry warm clothes, when he’d held her as she broke down.
She was determined not to fall for her special-agent watchdog. She didn’t have those kinds of thoughts. Relationships distracted her from her work, and she was too dedicated to make any time in her life for that
kind of distraction.
She was special. She’d always been told so. It was up to her to make sure that she used her unique abilities to make a difference in the world. Sacrificing any kind of personal life was the price she had paid and would continue to pay. Both her parents had died trying to protect her, and she had to make their deaths mean something. Honor them.
So, no special-agent warrior for her.
No.
He walked up to the artist, keeping his eyes on her until the very last minute, when he addressed the guy who had coaxed the drawings out of her. As the face of the kidnapper she called Death Head materialized on paper, Sky got more and more agitated. Her thigh still throbbed from the hypodermic needle, a bruise that would darken in time until it was black-and-blue.
Fear twisted in her gut and made her limbs loose and watery. She licked her tingling lips and pushed away from the table, trying to distance herself from the drawings of the three men who had taken her from her home. She hadn’t been able to describe the fourth man.
The dark memories assaulted her even as she tried to stop the images. The sound of her door creaking open, being snatched, light and shadow and men in uniforms. Taken away from her parents as she cried. But it had done no good. They had taken her to an unfamiliar place, held her against her will, told her that she wasn’t going to ever see her parents again. She’d been so little, but she remembered.
She remembered that they hadn’t bothered to bring anything of hers, anything that would have made her feel more comfortable. All they’d done was told her to stop crying.
Even as she tried to clear the images from her mind, a heavy hand landed on her shoulder. She jumped and spun around, her chest heaving.
“Whoa. I’m sorry, Dr. Baang,” Vin said, holding his hands up.
Trying to get her breathing under control, she closed her eyes, attempting to slow the effect of the adrenaline that had exploded into her system.
“I’m really sorry,” he said, his voice low and comforting. So soothing she wanted to lean into him until she caught her breath.
“I’m just jumpy.”
“It’s been a rough day. How about we get you someplace safe so you can rest?”
She didn’t want to, but she really had no choice. This time she couldn’t call the shots because Agent Fitzgerald and NCIS were better equipped to handle her situation than she could ever hope to be. She couldn’t fight off those men or protect her research, especially what was locked up in her head.
“Will you be there?” she asked, clutching his arm, cursing herself for her fear and panic. Wishing she could take the words back.
He smiled and covered her hand. It was so warm and strong. His thickly lashed eyes focused on her, drawing her gaze to his. In the green depths was a promise. “Yes, I’ll be watching over you.”
Even though she was relieved, she let go of his arm. “Let me get these sketches to my teammates and we can go.” He snagged her laptop and handed it to her, and she felt so relieved to have it back.
He picked up her bags as she followed him out of the conference room and back down the hall into the open area of desks. The dark-haired man, Beau, was busy studying a computer screen, and the female agent, Amber, was looking over his shoulder.
“Hey, guys. Here are the sketches. Could you run them through facial rec? I’m taking Dr. Baang to the safe house.”
Beau nodded, and Amber smiled at her with reassurance. She felt some of that knot of fear subside.
These people were dedicated to helping her. Without another word, he took her arm and led her to the elevator and kept her close as they exited the building to his car. She clutched her laptop to her chest and got into the backseat of a dark sedan. After making sure she was situated and tucking the bags inside, he leaned down. His presence sent shivers over her skin.
Two men got into the car. “These are Special Agents Strong and Miller. They’re going to drop you to the safe house and wait until I arrive. They’re two very good agents. I’ll be there shortly.”
“But you said you were going to stay with me.”
“I am, Dr. Baang. I just have something I need to do, and then I’ll be there.”
She turned around to watch him disappear as the agents drove out of the garage and out of the navy yard. It wasn’t long before they were on I-395, heading away from D.C.
“Where are we going?”
“Someplace in Baltimore.”
“That’s a big city.”
The agent in the passenger seat nodded, but gave her no more information. She settled back in her seat. It was about an hour to Baltimore. Sky opened her laptop and checked it out. Everything seemed to be intact. They must not have had enough time to do anything to her computer. For that she was grateful. Her research on data fusion and sonar was highly classified. She was busy working on several algorithms.
She closed her eyes, and before she realized it, she’d fallen asleep. One of the agents was shaking her awake outside a brick building. She could hear gulls calling. It had started snowing. She guessed they must be close to Baltimore’s Inner Harbor.
She exited the car, and the men took her into the building and to an elevator. Once they reached the top floor, they exited and moved toward one of the closed doors. Producing a key, they opened the door and ushered her inside.
Someone hit the light switch, and the door closed behind them. They locked the door, and she walked into an expansive loft, decorated in blues and greens. She went over to the big windows that overlooked the harbor with a breathtaking view.
“Are you hungry, Dr. Baang?” one of the agents asked. She thought he might be Miller.
“Yes, starving.” Her stomach growled at the thought of food.
“I’ll go get something. There’s a sandwich shop in this building.”
“A veggie on wheat, please.”
“Will do.”
She shrugged out of her coat, and Agent Miller took it and hung it up in the hall closet as she walked to the back of the loft, where the living room and the kitchen were located. She settled on the couch.
He turned on the TV to a local talk show. The snow continued to come down, but she’d heard on the radio that there wasn’t going to be any significant accumulation.
As the sky darkened, Agent Miller came back with the food, and she ate. “Do you think that it will be possible for me to go to work tomorrow?”
The agents each looked at the other. “That will be up to Special Agent Fitzgerald, ma’am.”
That sent a frisson of anger sparking in her gut. She had worked so hard to get out from under being handled, but now circumstances were dragging her right back into it. It was getting late, and she was tired. “Could you show me where my room is?”
Agent Miller rose and grabbed her bags for her and took her down the hall. “This is the master bedroom. The bathroom is right in through there. Call us if you need anything.”
As she came out of the bathroom, there was a knock at her door. She walked over and opened it.
Agent Fitzgerald stood there with a couple of green suitcases. She recognized them. They looked like...hers. “What’s all this?”
“Some of your things,” he said. “I thought they would make you feel more at home.”
Her heart pulsed in her chest and melted a bit. She just stared at him, unable to form any words. His lips curved just a little, but his gaze remained serious. “May I come in?” he asked. She stepped back. He dragged the bags past her and set them on the bed. His tie was askew, and he looked dog tired, his sexy green eyes heavy-lidded. A dark stubble coated his square jaw. She realized that he’d been up longer than she had.
She opened one bag and bit her lip. Her pillow and a throw from her bed were tucked inside. The familiar smell of her things loosened something up inside her. When she found the meditatio
n and relaxation CDs, her heart caught again. The name of the company was printed in bold red letters across the front: Espiritu.
Her company.
“I thought they might help you to relax,” he said, rolling his shoulders and rubbing at his temple.
“This was very thoughtful of you.” He was close to her, too close. All six feet of pure masculinity, the hawklike gaze and chiseled cheekbones and those breath-stealing eyes. He smelled good.
“Figured you did that yoga stuff and probably needed them.”
She tried not to smile, tried to think distance. “Yeah, I like to do that yoga stuff,” she said wryly. She didn’t allow herself to think on it often because it was something that she’d love to do, but she fantasized about opening up a yoga studio and teaching.
She swayed toward him, and he reached out and set his hand against her waist, reacting immediately to steady her, just as he’d done so many times since she’d met him. She felt a strong magnetic pull like nothing ever before. With his closeness it made it hard to think clearly. She was too aware of his warm clasp at her waist. Thoroughly inside her personal space. Right where she wanted him most and least needed him to be.
“Sorry, if I seem a little off. I’m tired,” he said, not removing his hand. “I’m not my charming self, and while I’m at it, I have to warn you that I riffled through your underwear drawer, just so you know.”
That made her blush, thinking this virile man had been touching her silk and lace, those strong hands roving over her bras. It made her think about his hands roaming over her.
He flashed her a grin when his eyes wandered over her face, no doubt reacting to the deep rose tint to her cheeks.
She laughed. She was in awe that he could make her do that in the circumstances she was facing. This would be easier if he’d stayed an enigmatic hard-ass.
“I grabbed clothes, but I can’t guarantee they will go together.”
“I’ll make do,” she said.
“And your girlie stuff in the bathroom, including your blow-dryer.” He reached in and smiled as he showed her the light blue machine in the bag; his hand climbed up her waist to brush her rib cage. So aware of his touch, she could barely concentrate on what he was saying.
