by Debra Webb
Might not win that fight, said a pesky little voice in his head. If he lost, would Jeff and Franklin and Matt and Ray really be safe? He slid a glance at the woman sitting at the counter, contemplating the snacks. Would she be safe?
“You know Sam has stronger stuff upstairs,” she said, catching him watching her.
“I need to be alone,” he snapped. He needed to think about how to reel this guy in close enough to finish him off.
“All right.” She gave him plenty of room as she went to the couch and sat down.
He set his beer aside and went after her, perching on the coffee table in front of the couch. “Why didn’t you tell Baird I kidnapped you?” He wanted an answer. Nothing about her made any sense to him. He wanted to drink her in, from the rich red silk of her hair to the creamy tips of her toes. He jerked his gaze away. It was official. He’d finally lost his mind.
“Because it was a rescue.”
“I should have let you go right away.” He paced away from her. “I wasn’t thinking.”
“Grief makes us do strange things. I’m over the awkward start, Parker. Are you?”
He stared at her. Was she that generous or that foolish? “You need to get away from me.” Begging went against his nature, but he’d do it to spare her from the looming battle. This was too serious. A team of assassins had targeted him for things he’d done in a remote area on the other side of the world. Twelve people had died over there. Three people were dead here—so far. She’d nearly joined that inexcusable statistic.
Even if they got around the man with the scar and his pal, that didn’t mean it was over. There might be someone else later who would be even more ruthless. He had to make her see reason.
Think first. He raked his hand through his hair. If only he had taken time to think first, she might be on a second date with the weasel-faced man who’d taken her to the awards gala. Or at the mercy of the man with the scar, a cruel voice in his head added.
“Parker.”
When she squeezed his hands he dragged his attention away from the charred wreckage of his thoughts to study her face. “You have to get out of here, Becca. Out of the state, if possible. You have to see how dangerous it is to be around me.”
“On the contrary,” she said, massaging his hands. “You keep proving how adept you are at keeping me safe.” She lifted those clear blue eyes to his. “Even when I didn’t know I needed it.”
He tried again. “This is my fight. My problem.” If they’d done the job right the first time, there wouldn’t have been anyone left to come after them.
Her jaw set into a stubborn line and her eyes sparked. “It may have started that way, but—”
“No buts.” You’re too important to me. He managed to keep those words tucked away where they couldn’t create more trouble. “You need to get out of the cross fire.” How could she overlook the obvious fact that sooner or later people got hurt around him?
If she got hurt, or worse, he’d never forgive himself. She wasn’t an innocent bystander, some faceless collateral damage in a godforsaken war zone. He’d come to care about her, though none of his actions could remotely be interpreted in such a positive or benevolent way.
“It’s too late for that. You can’t finish this alone, Parker.”
He wrenched his hands from her grasp and stalked back to the kitchen.
“How about this?” she said, following him. “I’ll leave town when you do. After.”
“After what?” he asked.
She drilled a finger into his chest. “After you.”
“Of all the stupid criteria...” He stopped when temper flashed over her face. He rolled his shoulders back. She needed to accept the facts. “It may surprise you to hear you’re not in charge, Rebecca.”
Her eyes went wide. Her lips twitched and suddenly that remarkable laughter tumbled out of her, spilling over him. “It might not have shown up in a background check,” she said, mimicking his dry tone, “but that’s never stopped me before.”
He sidled away as she leaned close. Touching her would be a mistake to pile on to all the others he’d made with her. He crossed the room, putting the couch between them and praying for the ache in his gut to go away. It was too late. He was addicted to her already. The best solution was to cut himself off cold turkey.
He stuffed his hands into his pockets. “I’ll take you to LA,” he said.
“That’s not a bad idea,” she said thoughtfully. “My dad is away and we can stay at his place in Malibu.”
“Stop being difficult.” He clenched his jaw, searching for the patience he’d been praised for during the most grueling covert operations. “You can stay in Malibu while I finish business with the guy hunting my team.”
Her gaze narrowed on him. “You’re thinking of paying him off?”
“It’s not so absurd.” He had more than enough money.
“You said it yourself! It’s not about the money,” she shouted. She picked up a pillow and threw it at him. “What if—and I’m just brainstorming here—what if we worked on ending this together? There’s Sam and Rush, Detective Baird, Madison and her contacts in the State Department. You might have noticed, I’m not without skills.”
His shoulders locked as he turned away. Why wouldn’t she leave him? “This is a mess from my past. You’re only peripherally involved.”
“Ohh.”
He spun around, glaring at the way she dragged out that single syllable. “What does that mean?”
She hitched a shoulder. “It means this makes sense. You’re wanting to do the whole martyr thing.”
He stared at her.
“Is penance a better word for you?” she asked sweetly.
“Becca.” Her name was little more than a growl. Too bad she wasn’t easily cowed. “I’m done arguing.” He caught her elbow and steered her toward the door. “Be smart and go up there and tell them you want to leave.” Her escape window was quickly closing. As soon as the assassin learned where they were hiding, it would be a tougher task to get her out safely.
“I’m not leaving,” she snapped. “And I have some ideas.”
“Fine. Let’s hear them.” He let her have her say uninterrupted, listening with half an ear as he worked out the next steps. She could argue while he focused on getting both of them out of this alive. A plan was taking shape in his head while she tried to convince him she could be helpful.
He had the money and connections to buy a new identification and background for her, but that took time. Although he barely knew her, he figured once her father learned of her disappearance, the man would move heaven and earth to find her.
She was equally valued at her network. They too would search for her if she just went off the radar. Plus, she loved her job and was good at it. A new identity meant no-turning-back changes he didn’t want her to suffer. He had to solve this in a way that didn’t leave her career in shambles.
“You’re not listening,” she said abruptly.
“I am,” he protested.
She folded her arms and dared him with a raised eyebrow to tell her what she’d just said.
“A memorial service,” he said. He’d heard that much. Studying her face, he tried to sort out how that would work.
“Oh, give up.” She put her hands on his shoulders. “I suggested we stage a memorial service for Theo and invite the other men on your team.”
“Are you crazy? It would be shooting fish in a barrel for the assassin if we were all in one place.”
“I said stage,” she said patiently. “I know plenty of actors in the area. You might have heard I have some experience with putting on a good show.”
He caught himself before voicing his doubt about her idea.
“I don’t mind that you don’t believe me yet,” she said with a serenity that put him on edg
e.
“You don’t?”
Her lips curved into a sassy grin that lit a fire in his system and left him wondering why he’d limited their previous interactions to darkness. “Your disbelief doesn’t make it less true.”
He pondered that statement as he paced in front of the windows. “I considered a trap,” he said.
“Great minds think alike,” she said confidently. “Setting a trap with backup in place is a better idea.”
“How would we be sure the assassin takes the bait?”
“Why don’t we go ask Sam for advice on that?”
The smile that curved her lips had a sharp edge that made him thankful she was on his side. He just wasn’t sure he could hang on to that hope when he didn’t understand why she didn’t leave him to deal with the mess on his own. Admittedly, his brain was muddled from grief and guilt. Maybe he was missing an important detail. Was she really willing to help? “One second,” he said, catching her hand, needing the contact. “Becca, why are you still here?”
“You don’t think I should be?” Her gaze dropped to their joined hands.
He reached out and tipped up her chin until he could see the flicker of nerves and excitement in her eyes. Her teeth bit into her lower lip as she stared at his mouth.
His body reacted predictably, going hard in an instant. “I want you, Becca.”
She slid her tongue across her lips. “It’s mutual, Parker.”
The husky confession threw his lust into overdrive. He was no saint, just a man who knew how fleeting life could be. He crushed her mouth under his. Tasting and taking, letting her do the same. Her lips were soft and her response firm and willing as she met him move for move. Slipping his hands over the glorious curve of her hips, he pulled her close. Leaving no doubt about his need or intentions.
She rocked against him and moaned, winding her arms around his neck to press closer. Her fingernails grazed the edge of his ear, up into his hair, and he nearly lost it.
He pushed a hand up under her sweater. Her warm and supple skin rippled under his fingers. “Ticklish?” he asked, peppering kisses along her cheek and jaw.
“Maybe.”
He tested the theory, drawing a helpless giggle out of her as she squirmed away and then closer. Something they could explore later. Right now he wanted her, wanted to bury himself deep inside her and forget everything but her.
He slid her sweater up and over her head, tossing it aside and guiding her back toward the couch. She stretched out and pulled him close. Her bra was black satin, cool and dark against her lovely, ivory skin. She worked open the buttons of his shirt and he’d never felt anything as wonderful as her palms running up and down his chest.
She pulled his mouth back to hers, her tongue tangling with his, and her hands seemed to be everywhere. His body reveled in her affection, even as he struggled to slow things down for their mutual pleasure.
Life offered no guarantees, and if this was the only chance he had with her, he wanted to make it unforgettable. She had his jeans open and her hand glided over him. He bucked at the touch, craving more.
He blazed a trail with his mouth down the column of her throat, dipping his tongue under the edge of her bra, then suckling her through the fabric. She cried out his name, arching into him and holding his head close.
He heard chimes and counted it a new high until Becca pushed at his shoulders. “Your phone,” she said, pointing to where it had fallen on the floor.
“It’s Sam.” He sat up to answer the call, his eyes cruising over Becca’s luscious body. Unless the building was under attack, this wasn’t over.
“Parker, we’ve got company. You guys need to come upstairs.”
He immediately snapped back to business mode. “We’re on our way.” He ended the call and leaned over her, giving her a scorching kiss. “To be continued,” he said, meaning it. He stood and helped her up.
“What’s wrong?” The question was muffled as she pulled the sweater over her head.
“We’ve been found sooner than expected.”
“Iran has a new enemy,” she grumbled as they walked out.
“Then my money is on us.” He laughed, reveling in the wonderful, normal feeling of holding her sweet, shapely body close to his on the brief elevator ride down to Sam’s lab.
He hoped what they’d been doing wasn’t too obvious to Sam and Rush when they walked into the lab. He shouldn’t have worried. His friends were studying a monitor array with four views outside the building. Two more monitors showed Sam’s open searches and a list of names.
Parker instantly locked on to the white sedan. “He’s still using Jenny Swanson’s car?”
“Looks like,” Sam replied. “The beard is gone, but he hasn’t changed the license plate.”
Parker puffed out his cheeks and rocked back on his heels. “Send the cops out to her residence.”
Becca gave his hand a gentle squeeze and he saw the comprehension in her gaze.
Sam opened an email window and sent the message along with still-capture pictures from the current surveillance feed, as well as the earlier shots from traffic cameras around the city.
“Should we invite Detective Baird over for dinner?” Rush asked.
“Becca came up with a different idea.” He explained the concept of a fake memorial service for Theo, staged for the sole purpose of capturing the assassin and his partner staking out the building.
He let her explain how she planned to get actors to play the role of the other men on the list. “We would need to fake the travel records and credit cards,” she added, layering in more details.
Uneasy, Parker amended her plan. “I’m not comfortable putting innocent people in this guy’s sights. Let’s assemble the team from my own crew and local experts.”
Sam nodded. “We can do that.”
Becca gave him a warm smile. “Parker said the two of you would have come up with some idea to be sure the assassin takes the bait.”
“He’s sitting right there,” Rush said, scowling at the monitor. “We could just go down and tell him.”
“Whatever we do, I want Baird in on it,” Parker said. “I want this guy to go down the right way.” Theo, Jeff, Alan and Tony deserved justice more than revenge.
“Since your SUV blew up, I’ve been working to get an ID,” Sam said. “Anything the police can use to haul this guy in.”
Parker sensed a plan brewing. “What’s on your mind?”
Sam was locked in to something. “There are two of them out there in one car.” He zoomed in so they could all see. “How do you feel about a wild-goose chase?”
“I like it,” Becca answered, her eyes bright.
“They’re parked where they can see the garage entrance. Rush and I have a fleet and drivers who can meet us around front. All of us leave at the same time, head different directions.”
Parker shook his head. “I won’t take a chance on them hurting any of you or your employees.”
“So we modify it,” Becca said, touching his arm. “You and I leave, from the garage. Let them tail us.”
“He must be monitoring you through the cell phone GPS now. I can add text messages that allude to a small private service tomorrow evening. Gives the others time to travel.”
“Choose a location that gives him an easy point of attack and escape,” Parker said. “We want him to be comfortable enough to take us all on.”
“Right.” Sam brought up overhead views of various funeral homes around the city. After a few minutes, he used a stylus to circle the area. “We can put the service right here. It gives the appearance of being convenient for his coworkers, and it’s close to the airport too.”
Parker stepped up, analyzed it. “Looks good.” He picked up a notepad and pencil and wrote down a series of instructions, waited for Sam a
nd Rush to read them through. Both men nodded in agreement.
“We’ll go pack a bag,” he said. Then they’d be as ready as they could be. “Let’s get this goose chase started.”
Becca grinned and slipped her hand into his.
Chapter Eleven
Becca watched the world fly by as Parker worked his way south along the Pacific Coast Highway. The scenery was gorgeous with the sun falling toward the ocean, and once they’d left the city behind, there were stretches of the road when it felt as if they were the last two people on the planet. “Have you decided how far we’re running?” she asked when they stopped for gas.
“Maybe once I decide where to stash you next.” At least the suggestion was delivered with a wink this time.
“That’s rich,” she said, laughing a little. “Please be over the loner thing. We need to be a team.”
“We certainly have some unfinished business.” The heated look he aimed at her did crazy things to her belly. She checked the phone Sam had given her, just to keep her hands off Parker.
“Any word?” he asked, his gaze on the road.
“Sam says he’s still in the city.”
“Good.”
She didn’t understand all the technical details as Sam developed an electronic net to track the men hunting them while Parker arranged a bait and switch with his company trucks. He’d had a driver pick them up at Sam’s building, and another crew took his cell phone and became the target of the sedan’s interest when they circled the funeral home that would host the fake memorial tomorrow night. Sam was keeping tabs on all the players so they would know if and when they had to move.
Parker had headed out of town, just in case the ploy hadn’t worked, while the team pretending to be them had retreated to the hotel where the other members of the team were expected to stay after the memorial. Assuming the plan succeeded, Parker and Becca had the rest of the night to themselves.
It was exciting and terrifying all at once. She felt safe with Parker, even safer now that they had backup, yet the high stakes made her cautious. “Do you ever wonder why they grabbed me?”
