Secret Agent Santa

by Carol Ericson

  Tugging on the hem of the T-shirt, she made her grand entrance.

  Mike looked up from his phone, and something flickered in his dark eyes, something almost predatory. Her long catlike stride faltered as those butterflies took up flight again in her stomach.

  She was supposed to be the aggressor here, so she pinned back her shoulders and continued her saunter toward the love seat facing the fireplace. When she reached it, she fingered the edge of a blue blanket.

  “I thought since you were wearing a T-shirt, you could use the extra warmth.”

  “Thanks, but this fire feels great.” She dropped to the edge of the love seat and held up her hands, palms out, to the flames dancing in the fireplace. Being bundled up in a blanket would hardly add to her sex appeal.

  “I can get you closer.” He came up behind her on the love seat and pushed it and her a few feet closer to the fireplace.

  Reaching around, she squeezed his biceps. “You’ve got some muscles there, big boy.”

  “What are you doing, Claire?” He straightened up and folded his arms over his chest.

  Her cheeks blazed as hot as the fire. She’d been such an idiot. Just because the man had never been married, it didn’t mean he didn’t have experience with women and wouldn’t catch on to what she was trying to do. With his looks and manner, he probably had women across the globe trying to seduce him on a regular basis—women a lot more adept than she.

  “I thought...” She bit her bottom lip to stop the lie. Tears puddled in her eyes at her pathetic behavior. “I just didn’t want to take a backseat to Tempest, even though I know that’s where I belong.”

  The tight look on Mike’s face dissolved and he clambered over the back of the love seat, as if he couldn’t wait to be next to her. “What are you talking about? You are my priority right now. You’re not in the backseat and you don’t deserve to be in the backseat.”

  She laced her fingers together and dropped her head to study her nails. “The minute I told you about Caliban, you got this look in your eye—a gleam of excitement and anticipation—like you’d finally found a purpose in this whole tangled web.”

  “Am I really that transparent?” His big hand covered both of hers. “That pathetic?”

  “Pathetic? You? I’m the one who plotted a seduction to make you like me again.”

  “Really? You were seducing me?”

  She snorted. “Now, that’s pathetic. You didn’t even realize that was a seduction.”

  “It never occurred to me that a beautiful widow, obviously hung up on her dead husband, would be seducing me.”

  “Is that how you see me?” She tilted her head to look into his face. “Hung up on Shane?”

  “You’ve spent the better part of five years skating on the edge of danger trying to identify his assassin. How would you describe it?”

  “I want justice for him.”

  “And justice for your mother.”

  She jerked back. “Of course.”

  “What about you?” He rubbed a circle on her back. “What about Claire?”

  “I—I don’t need justice.”

  “Maybe not justice, but you need a break from all this. You need to put yourself first, Claire.”

  “I put Ethan first.” Her tense muscles were screaming at her. She didn’t want to have this conversation with Mike. He saw too much.

  “I know you do.” He hand crept up to the base of her neck, where his fingers kneaded her taut muscle. “Outside of your child, you need to start putting yourself first—because nobody else ever has.”

  The truth, voiced aloud by someone else, punched her in the gut, and she doubled over. “Sh-Shane.”

  “Shane left you for a story opportunity in a dangerous part of the world, knowing full well the US government does not negotiate with terrorists. He walked into a trap, blinded by visions of a Pulitzer.”

  “Why are you saying this? You sound just like my stepfather.”

  “God help me, but Correll was right about that.”

  She bolted up from the love seat, but Mike was beside her in a second, grabbing her around the waist. “Give yourself a chance, Claire. Give yourself a chance at life...at love.”

  Her body stiffened as she tried to hold her world together, and then Mike crushed her against his chest. He bent his head to hers and pressed a hard kiss against her lips, which parted under his assault. Then he thrust his tongue inside her mouth.

  She wanted to repudiate him, reject everything he’d said about her and Shane—reject the truth. Digging her fingers into his back, she squirmed in his viselike hold.

  He broke off the kiss that had seared her lips and then released her, catching her arm as she staggered back. His dark eyes kindled with that predatory look again and he growled deep in his throat. “Say the word, woman. Just tell me no—once.”

  Her chest heaved with each ragged breath she took, the thin cotton of Mike’s T-shirt abrading her erect nipples adding pain to the pleasure that surged between her legs. Never breaking eye contact, she twisted out of his grasp and knocked his arm away.

  A pulse throbbed in his throat, and the line at the side of his mouth deepened. Holding up his hands, he took a step back.

  She licked her bottom lip, wedging the tip of her tongue in the corner of her mouth. Then she pinched the hem of her T-shirt and pulled it up one inch at a time, watching the fire reignite in his eyes.

  She hadn’t bothered with underwear after her bath, and when the T-shirt hit her waist, Mike’s gaze dropped, scorching her, weakening her knees. She rolled the shirt over her breasts, heavy with desire and aching with need.

  Yanking the T-shirt over her head, she tossed it behind her, standing in front of Mike totally naked, bared to his scrutiny and judgment.

  He reached out and cupped the back of her head, entangling his fingers in her hair. He took possession of her lips again, walking her backward until the backs of her calves brushed against the cushion of the love seat.

  The fire crackled and spit behind him, the glow highlighting the silver in his hair. He tugged gently on her hair, lowering her to the love seat. As she sat down, he hovered above her, her lips still captured by his.

  By the time he broke the seal of their kiss, molten lava coursed through her veins, pooling in her belly—and below.

  He traced a finger from the indentation of her throat to her mound, and she quaked at his touch. He knelt in front of her and opened her legs by placing his palms on the insides of her thighs.

  His dark head moved toward her and she curled her fingers in his thick hair. The touch of his tongue made her gasp and throw her head back.

  His lips against her swollen folds teased her to dizzying heights and she had to force herself to take a breath before she passed out.

  The minute she took a sip of air, her world shattered. She raised her hips and Mike slipped his hands beneath her bottom and rode out her orgasm with her, his tongue still probing her depths as she shuddered and sighed.

  She felt boneless and breathless as Mike hunched forward and cinched his hands around her waist.

  He kissed the corner of her mouth and whispered, “That wasn’t a no, was it?”

  “I don’t even remember the question.”

  He draped the blanket around her shoulders and lifted her in his arms.

  “I’m too tall to be carried around.”

  He hoisted her higher. “I’m taller.”

  He took her into his bedroom and yanked back the covers on the bed, then placed her on the cool sheet. “You can take a nap in here.”

  She pulled on his T-shirt. “Is that what they’re calling it these days?

  “I meant, you can take a nap after I ravish you. Unless...” He pulled off his shirt and dropped it onto the floor.

  Sitting up on her knees, she ran her palms across his well-defined chest. “Unless what?”

  “Unless you want to kick me out after what I said about Shane.”

  Her hands stilled. “You were right. I never fe
lt that Shane valued me, or at least he didn’t value me as much as he did his career.”

  She hooked her fingers in his waistband. “I don’t want to talk anymore.”

  She didn’t want to put Mike on the spot, didn’t want to force him to choose between her and his career. She always lost that battle.

  Running her hand up his thigh, she pressed a kiss against his collarbone. “I don’t want to talk.”

  As she unbuttoned his fly, he buried his hands in her hair and kissed her mouth. She slipped her hands inside his boxers and caressed his erection.

  “Mmm, I don’t think you’ve forgotten anything.” He nuzzled her neck. “Your touch feels so good.”

  She helped him peel his jeans from his hips, and then she fell back on the bed, beckoning with her hands.

  He kicked off his pants and straddled her, his knees on either side of her hips. She took him in her hands again, reveling in the feel of his smooth, hard flesh.

  “I want you, Claire. I’ve wanted you from the minute I saw you on that balcony looking like the snow queen.” He eased into her. “Do you believe me?”

  Did it matter if she believed him? From the way that he kissed her and the way his body shuddered when she ran her nails along the bare skin of his back, she knew she was his priority—right now. And all she had was right now.

  He filled her completely and asked again, “Do you believe me, snow queen?”

  Closing her eyes, she whispered, “Yes. Yes, I do.”

  * * *

  HER EYES FLUTTERED open and the gray light in the room mimicked the gray fog in her head. She had no idea what time it was or even what day it was. Hell, she could barely remember her name after the thorough lovemaking last night...this morning.

  Mike’s breath warmed the nape of her neck and she wriggled against him, feeling his erection come to life against her backside. She could wake up to that for the rest of her life.

  Mike kissed the curve of her ear. “Did you get enough sleep?”

  “I think so.” She yawned. “What time is it?”

  He’d obviously already looked at his watch or his phone because he answered promptly, “It’s four forty-five.”

  “P.m.?”

  “Of course, unless you think we slept for twenty-four hours.”

  “I really have no concept of time right now.” She shifted onto her back. “Do you think there’s any news about Hamid?”

  She might as well be the one to bring them back to cold, hard reality. She didn’t want him to think she actually believed she’d remain his priority in the face of this developing plot.

  “Not sure.” He reached for his phone, and his eyebrows collided over his nose. “I got about ten texts and voice mails in the past thirty minutes.”

  “What?” The sensuous languor that had seeped into her body evaporated, and she bolted upright. “Who are the texts from?”

  Before Mike could answer, the room exploded around them.

  Chapter Twelve

  The blast rocked the floor and slammed Mike into the wall. His eyes watered as he blinked against the acrid smoke filling the room.

  “Claire!”

  “I’m on the floor. What happened?”

  “Put your clothes on, but stay close to the floor. I have to get my bags from the other room.”

  “Wait! There’s fire, and my clothes aren’t in this room.”

  “Stay on the floor and cover your face with the sheet. I’ll be right back.”

  “Mike! No!”

  Crouching low, he put his T-shirt over his head and charged out of the bedroom. He collected a few of Claire’s things from the room across the hall and ventured into the living room to get his bag of money and weapons and his computer.

  Hot spots of fire dotted the room and flames engulfed the ceiling above the front door. He clasped his bags to his chest and loped back to the bedroom where he’d left Claire. The room where they’d just spent a morning exploring each other’s bodies and an afternoon wrapped around each other in satiated sleep had suffered the least damage—but he knew there was more to come.

  He burst into the room and tossed Claire’s clothes in her direction. “Get dressed.”

  “C-can we get out that way? Through the front door?”

  “We’re not exiting this cabin through the front door.”

  “What? Is it so bad? The back? Can we get out through the back?”

  “Enough questions, Claire. Put your clothes and shoes on. Take whatever you can in those plastic bags.”

  He hurried into his own clothes and whipped back the carpet on the wood floor. He ran his hands across the planks until he felt an edge.

  He slipped his knife from his jeans pocket and jimmied it into the space between two boards. Then he slid them apart and lifted them, exposing an open space.

  Hovering over him, Claire gasped. “We’re going down there?”

  “It’s the escape route. Every one of our safe houses has one.”

  “Why do we need an escape route?” She glanced over her shoulder, her wide eyes taking on the color of the gray smoke billowing around them.

  “They’re waiting for us.”

  Her face blanched but she didn’t hesitate when he nudged her toward the gaping space in the floor.

  “Once through, there should be some steps but then you’re going to have to crouch down and probably army crawl.” He kissed her forehead. “Can you do that, Claire?”

  She nodded and dropped into the hole, the plastic bags crinkling against her chest.

  Mike lowered himself after her, dragging his bags with him. He dropped them into the space and then pulled the carpet back over the entrance to the escape route and then reset the planks of wood. Unless Tempest had also gotten the blueprint of the cabin, they wouldn’t know where to look.

  When he covered the opening, blackness descended on the space around them and Claire trembled beside him.

  He flicked on a small but powerful flashlight. “We’re good. It’s going to be okay.”

  Two feet into the tunnel they had to drop to their bellies and move single file, pushing their bags in front of them.

  Claire choked. “I don’t think I can handle this.”

  “Sure you can, snow queen. Just keep crawling. They’re not going to come after us down here.”

  “But they’re waiting for us up there, outside the cabin?”

  “That text I got before our world got rocked? That was Jack warning me that our safe houses along the East Coast had been compromised.” He tickled her ankle above her boot. “Keep movin’.”

  She scrambled forward. “How did that happen?”

  “It’s the spy business. We get intel on them, and they get intel on us. We have to stay one step ahead of them.”

  Which he may have done if he hadn’t succumbed to his desire for Claire. What had Jack told him? Don’t get taken in by the widow’s beauty? If it were just her beauty, he could resist.

  He’d met a kindred spirit in Claire. Who would’ve figured a poor boy from the wrong side of the tracks and a society babe would have so much in common? But they’d both been starved for love and had tried to fill that void with other obsessions.

  Her gasping breaths filled the tunnel, and he squeezed her foot. “Are you okay? Try not to breathe so heavily.”

  “Easier said than done. How much farther do we have to go, and where are we going to end up?”

  “Not sure, maybe another half a mile. We should wind up right outside that little town.”

  “How are we going to get out of there? If Tempest agents blew up the cabin and then lay in wait for us outside, once they discover we’re not there or not coming out they’re going to be watching the bus station.”

  “You’re probably right, which is why we’re going to steal a car.”

  “Are you crazy?”

  “We’ll make it right—later. Stop talking, save your breath and crawl.”

  Several feet farther in the tunnel he missed her chatter, but they didn�
�t have enough air in here to be carrying on a conversation, and he didn’t want Claire probing his plans too thoroughly. Truth was, in situations like this, it was best not to have too many well-laid plans.

  He had no idea if he could find a car to steal or even if there’d be someone waiting for them at the other end of this tunnel.

  Claire didn’t need to know any of his doubts.

  So, they squirmed forward in silence to the beat of their panting breath.

  “Mike? I think this is it.”

  “The end?”

  “It looks like solid dirt in front of me and the space opens up a bit.”

  “Move to the side and I’ll squeeze past you.”

  “This is it. There’s a panel of some sort overhead.”

  “Okay, hang on.”

  Claire was able to sit up in the space, and his light flicked across her dirt-smudged face.

  He clambered beside her and rubbed the dirt from her face with the side of his thumb. “You did great. Almost there.”

  “Mike?”

  “Yeah?” Reaching up he felt along the edges of the panel.

  “What if there’s someone waiting for us up above?”

  He didn’t have to tell her his worries. She’d figured them out on her own.

  He withdrew his .45 from his pocket and brandished it in the light. “That’s why I have this.”

  He tapped the panel and found an edge. “Stay back, Claire. Get into the farthest corner until I get this thing open and get our bearings.”

  He pushed against the door and it shifted, allowing a sliver of weak light into their black world. The sun hadn’t quite set yet. He pressed his eye to the crack and took in the clearing surrounded by small trees and shrubs. The town lay due east less than half a mile away, and nobody was pointing guns at them—yet.

  Shoving the panel aside, he led with his weapon. He poked his head up and sucked in the cold air so fast, it seemed to freeze his lungs. He gulped in a few more frosty breaths.

  “It’s clear. We’re fine.”

  A small sob escaped from her lips, but she turned it into a cough. “All right, then. Let’s get out of this hellhole, and I never meant that statement as literally as I do now.”