Breathless Encounter: Breathless EncounterThe Dark Side of Night

by Cindy Dees

  The sub slowed and came to a stop. Kinsey leaned forward to peer out the window, but Mitch knew she’d see nothing but blackness. The pilot was centering the vessel below a vertical tube formed aeons ago by upwelling magma. The sub would begin an elevator-like ascent up the tube momentarily. Sure enough, the vessel lurched gently beneath his feet and began to rise.

  Kinsey glanced over at him for reassurance. He spared her a single nod to indicate that everything was okay. He kept trying to distance himself from her, to achieve cold, calm detachment from his temporary partner. But every time she succumbed to a moment of vulnerability, his protective instincts roared to the fore and there wasn’t a damned thing he could do about it.

  “Are you going to blindfold me when we get off this thing?” Kinsey asked, her musical voice wavering slightly.

  Dammit, she was doing it again. He couldn’t help the gentleness that crept into his voice. “No. We’ll be underground. You won’t be able to see any identifying features that might give away where we are.”

  She lapsed into apprehensive silence. Her blue eyes were big and dark, almost childlike, making her look like a girl-woman in a siren’s body. Like it or not, she was beautiful. And he wanted her. Compared to

  Janine—the woman who’d put him off leggy blondes and their treacherous hearts in the first place—Kinsey was a diamond to Janine’s lump of coal. Janine had been pretty, but Kinsey was gorgeous. Janine had been tall and leggy, as was Kinsey—but Kinsey also moved with the unconscious grace of a dancer. Janine knew she was hot and flaunted it. Kinsey didn’t need to have everyone in a room looking at her. Which, of course, had exactly the opposite effect.

  Regardless, he wasn’t about to trust Kinsey’s heart for a second. Women as beautiful as she was didn’t wait around for men who disappeared for months at a time, mostly unable to communicate with their women while undercover. Janine sure as hell hadn’t waited around for him. Who knew how long she’d fooled around on him before she came up pregnant, months after he could possibly have been the father. The hell of it was he still supported the boy. But dammit, he couldn’t abandon a baby to Janine’s erratic finances. Not even some other guy’s kid.

  The pilot’s voice announcing that they were clear to open hatches startled Mitch out of his grim thoughts.

  As he helped Kinsey climb out of the vessel, she murmured, “Are you all right?”

  “Why do you ask?”

  “You look like you’re headed to your own execution.”

  He smiled reluctantly. “I was just ruminating on what a bastard I am.”

  She replied sympathetically, “No wonder you look so depressed.”

  A snort of laughter escaped him before he even felt it coming. He slipped a hand under her elbow, relishing the slide of tender flesh under the pad of his thumb, and helped her off the sub. She glanced up to smile her thanks at him, and their gazes met and held for a moment before hers slid away shyly.

  Possessiveness roared through him, and he wrestled unsuccessfully with the sensation as Scott Cash led the way upstairs to the main facility. He actually had to bite back a protest when Jennifer Blackfoot took Kinsey in hand and whisked her away to the bowels of the Bat Cave to brief and, hopefully, scrounge up some clothes for her. Off balance, he headed for the infirmary with Hathaway in tow. The fastest way to the compact first-aid facility was through the ops center.

  He stepped out onto the main floor and experienced the surreal sensation of having stepped into a science-fiction movie. The huge space, hollowed out of an extinct volcano, could easily hold a football field. The broad floor was crammed with the latest electronics and surveillance equipment on the planet today. At least two dozen technicians manned the consoles and banks of computers. His favorite feature of the room by far, though, was the twenty-foot-tall wall of digital screens currently displaying maps of the world and the Caribbean. Definite sci-fi-movie material. A few of the technicians looked up to greet him as he passed through, en route.

  As a technician efficiently unwrapped his clumsy bandage and commenced cleaning the wound on his shoulder, Hathaway closed the door and moved around to stand in front of him.

  “What’s the status of Miss Hollingsworth? Is she in or out on this mission?”

  “She’s in.”

  Hathaway made a face. “Her old man’s gonna have a fit.”

  “She has already discussed it with him.”

  “How’d that go?”

  Mitch winced as disinfectant hit the raw wound. He let out a slow, hissing breath, then replied, “Let’s just say it lacked in warm father-daughter bonding.”

  “Who won?”

  “She hung up on him after announcing that she didn’t care if he took away her trust fund, so I’d say it went to the lady.”

  Hathaway shook his head. “I’m worried about using her. She’s a complete amateur.”

  Mitch looked down at his shoulder as one medic taped a bandage over the gauze and declared him patched up. Mitch reached for his shirt and shrugged it on. Must get a new one before they left. This one was torn and blood-stained. “But that’s exactly the point. You take one look at her and see a spoiled little rich girl who couldn’t possibly be involved in any kind of covert ops. She’s the perfect cover.”

  “It’s not her ability to act as a cover I’m worried about. What if something goes wrong? She doesn’t have the slightest idea how to handle herself in a tight spot.”

  “She did pretty damned good yesterday with bullets flying all over the place and dogfighting a cigarette boat at seventy miles per hour—like a pro, by the way. Kept her wits about her. She was a big help to me.”

  Hathaway didn’t answer right away. He picked on some nonexistent lint on his slacks. Looked as if he was stalling. “Our background check on her shows she’s a hell of a sailor. Been around boats her whole life. She and her brother won some New England championship a while back sailing Hobie Cats.”

  “So my catamaran idea is a go, then?” Mitch asked eagerly. Why was he so damned desperate to spend more time with Kinsey? She was bound to end up being a royal pain in the ass.

  Hathaway sighed heavily. “Yeah. It’s a go. But if she hurts a single hair on her pretty little head, you can expect to answer directly to Daddy dearest. Is that understood?”

  Mitch nodded. A little voice at the back of his head hollered. What was he getting himself into?

  Hathaway added direly, “I’m not kidding. Congressman Hollingsworth will have your head on a platter.”

  “I hear ya, Commander. Loud and clear.”

  Another sigh out of Hathaway. Poor guy wasn’t happy about this development in the least. “All right, then. You’ve got your girl.”

  Mitch shot him a startled look. His girl? Yikes.

  And yet, it did feel odd to Mitch to be separated from Kinsey for even this long. They’d been together less than a day, and he already felt some sort of link to her. Not good. Not good at all. He sat through his final briefing—no significant political developments to report in Cuba in the past couple of days. His mission was cleared to proceed.

  Hathaway leaned against the wall. “If you’re sure about this, go collect the lady and be on your way.”

  Mitch scowled. “I’m not sure about anything.”

  Hathaway shrugged. “Should be an interesting mission, at any rate.”

  Great. Just what he wanted. An interesting mission. He stepped out into a hallway that, like all the others in this facility, was low and rough, hewn directly out of the volcanic bedrock. Jennifer would no doubt take Kinsey to her office to finish prepping her for the mission. He strode down the long hallways toward Kinsey, all but running to her. The fastest way from the military side of the facility to the civilian area was back through the main ops center, so he cut across there, even though the staff didn’t like through traffic. The floor supervisor threw
him a dirty look before it occurred to Mitch what he was doing. He was not some lovesick kid who needed to chase around after Kinsey like an eager puppy, dammit. He screeched to a halt, glancing around more than a little abashed.

  A red flash lit up the twenty-foot-tall global map on the far wall. A second look showed it to be in the Middle East. Most of the floor staff typed busily on their computers for a few moments. “Problem?” he asked one of them.

  “Nah. Just a mundane explosion. Looks like a car bomb from the heat signature and seismic readings.”

  While Mitch had the guy’s attention, he asked, “What’s that yellow flashing light in the Bahamas?”

  “Emergency locator transmitter. Probably a civilian boat in distress. They use equipment similar to the panic button you’re equipped with. Whenever an ELT goes off, it shows up red on our screen. Once we’ve identified it and eliminated the signal as something we need to respond to, it’s changed to yellow on the big board.”

  “Here’s hoping I’m never a dot on your screen.”

  “Oh, you are. When you go into Cuba, you’ll go up there as a green dot. We’ll track your position indicator 24/7.”

  “You mean the one in my arm?”

  “Yeah.”

  He’d always wondered who the little gizmo they’d surgically implanted under his biceps a few years back talked to. Now he knew. He was a green dot on somebody’s radar. He continued across the floor and up the stairs to Agent-in-Charge Blackfoot’s office, bounding up them three at a time. His stomach jumping, he knocked on the closed door.

  “Come in,” Jennifer’s husky voice called.

  He stepped in. Jennifer wore her issue jeans and

  T-shirt, Native American jewelry, her long hair glossy and black. He glanced around. No sign of Kinsey. Quick alarm flared in his gut. Jennifer was sitting on her sofa with another woman, a striking brunette. Maybe a

  subject-matter expert here to brief Kinsey. Except...her mouth was vaguely familiar... His brain locked up.

  No way.

  He stared closely at the brunette. “Kinsey?” he asked incredulously.

  She laughed gaily, her distinctive dimples flashing. Yup, that was Kinsey. He burst out, “What have you done to your hair?”

  Jennifer replied. “We had to make sure she isn’t recognized by paparazzi and pesky celebrity seekers when she takes you to Cuba, and you have to admit, she looks a great deal different as a brunette.”

  He examined her more closely. Her gentleness and unique spark still shone out of her eyes, and the refined bones and perfect smile were the same. Maybe at a glance she looked different, but when he looked closely, it was definitely her. He was still going to have to beat men off with sticks whenever she was around.

  “Like my disguise?” Kinsey asked.

  “You’ll do,” he said gruffly.

  The two women exchanged smiling glances. Now, what was that all about?

  Jennifer murmured, “See what I mean?”

  Kinsey nodded. “Yup. Uncomfortable. I’ll keep it in mind.”

  “Are you two accusing me of being uncomfortable around women?”

  Kinsey looked him square in the eye and said blandly, “If the shoe fits.”

  “I do fine around women. I just don’t like working with them.”

  “Oh, really?” Jennifer replied, a distinct edge in her voice.

  He glared over at her. “You know perfectly well I don’t have a problem with you. I meant in the field.”

  “You’ve never worked with a female operative before, so how can you be so sure you won’t like it?”

  “Operative being the key word,” he shot back. “Kinsey’s an amateur. She has no business playing spy. I’m happy to use her to get into Cuba, but she’s not staying with me a minute longer than it takes me to track down Camarillo and kill him.”

  The laughter sparkling in Kinsey’s eyes blinked out, leaving behind only hurt. Damn, he was a heel. He mentally kicked himself.

  “Okay you two. Off you go,” Jennifer said, standing up. “You’ve got a helicopter scheduled in a little under an hour, and by the time you collect the gear we’ve assembled for you, change into deck clothes and ride back to the surface, you’ll have to hustle to make it.” She glared over at him. “And you behave yourself. Be nice.”

  He’d have protested that his manners were just fine, but Kinsey stood up just then and Mitch gulped. She was wearing a thin wraparound dress made of a muted floral fabric, typical of what Cuban women might wear. It clung to her body in all the right places and plunged just enough between her breasts to make a guy’s eyes want to dip downward constantly. He preferred the sloppy T-shirt and bikini to this. This made her look intensely feminine. Kissable. As if she needed to be swept up in his arms and danced with.

  He didn’t dance with his partner, dammit!

  He led the way in silence back to the submarine loading dock. It was beneath him to sulk, but he couldn’t help himself. Kinsey put a hand on his arm to steady herself as she climbed into the minisub, and his heart rate must’ve jumped twenty points. He had to pull himself together, and fast, if this mission wasn’t going to fail colossally.

  He faked sleeping for most of the ride to the surface. It was Kinsey who actually leaned forward to touch his knee, causing his eyes to fly open in alarm.

  “I think it’s time to put the blindfold back on.”

  He glanced outside. Dim turquoise light filtered down through the water outside, casting a flickering glow across the interior of the submarine. She was right. They were nearing the surface. He slipped the blindfold over her eyes, jerking his hands away clumsily when his fingertips brushed against the back of her neck. He was going to have to get over this phobia of touching her so they could— He broke off the thought sharply. No touching on this mission. Definitely no touching.

  It wasn’t five minutes later when the hatch opened, he climbed out and turned around to see Kinsey’s hand held up to him for balance as she climbed out of the sub. So much for his no-touching rule. Her soft hand rested easily in his as she smiled her thanks up in his general direction. A growl of frustration built in the back of his throat. Exasperated, he tucked her hand under his elbow, closing his eyes in silent desperation as she leaned in against him for security. He couldn’t blame her. He’d hate being deprived of his sight like this.

  “Where to now?” she murmured.

  “Your chariot awaits you,” he grumbled.

  “You mean the helicopter?”

  “Yup.” He led her carefully under the spinning rotors and guided her into the chopper. In no time they were skimming across the ocean, open water stretching away on all sides of them. He leaned forward and unmasked her. She blinked, squinting against the light, and smiled over at him.

  “All this secrecy and mystery is fun.”

  “Fun? Are you kidding? This is a serious mission. Jennifer did brief you on what we’re supposed to be doing, didn’t she?”

  “Yes. We’re going to Cuba to gather intelligence on a possible plot to assassinate a high-ranking Cuban official who is...friendly...toward the United States.”

  “No, I am going to Cuba to do that. We are going to Cuba so I can find and kill Camarillo, and then you are going home.”

  The official who was the target of his mission, a man named Alejandro Zaragosa, had been passing information to the United States for nigh unto thirty years. He was an extremely valuable asset in need of protection. But in all honesty, Mitch was much more intent on finding and killing Camarillo. Kinsey wouldn’t be safe until the guy was dead.

  She shrugged, still far too animated for her own good. He growled, “Where in that equation do you come up with any fun whatsoever?”

  “It’s a beautiful day. The sun is shining, the sky is blue, and we’re setting off on a grand adventure. What more could you ask
for?”

  He scowled. “This isn’t a game, dammit.”

  “Oh, lighten up,” she teased gently. “Don’t take yourself so seriously.”

  A babe in the woods. She had no idea what they were headed into. His scowl deepened. He retreated into stony silence, crossing his arms over his chest. She did the same. He could swear she was mimicking him just to get his goat. Well, it wasn’t going to work. He uncrossed his arms and shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

  The fast chopper skimmed over the ocean for several exceedingly long hours. Mitch was abjectly grateful when the crew chief finally opened the back hatch and swung a pulley mechanism out the door.

  “What’s he doing?” Kinsey shouted over the noise.

  “Rigging up the winch,” he shouted back. “You and I will jump out of the copter, but the other captain will have to get hauled up into this bird.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Didn’t Jennifer tell you we were coming out here to pick up a boat?”

  “She said we’d be dropped off at a catamaran, but she didn’t say anything about jumping out of a helicopter into the Caribbean.”

  He rolled his eyes. “What did you think getting dropped off meant?”

  “Certainly not that!”

  He grinned. “Welcome to my world, princess.”

  He tried not to watch as she stripped off her dress and stuffed it into the waterproof duffel bag Jennifer had given her to hold all her stuff. The sight of Kinsey in a bikini ripped all the air out of his chest. Damn, that woman had curves in all the right places. His gut flared with desire, bright and hot. She was interested in him. If he played his cards right—

  No card playing on this mission. None of that at all!

  A movement out of the corner of his eye caused his head to snap around. The crew chief was taking a long, appreciative look at Kinsey. Mitch surged up out of his seat and all but shoved the guy out of the helicopter. He managed to control himself in time to merely place himself between Kinsey and the guy’s line of sight, but a need to do violence made his palms itch.