TRACELESS

by Helen Kay Dimon

  She broke out of his hold. “You are as difficult now as you were when I left.”

  “Is that why you took off? My crappy personality?”

  Everything circled back to their separation. It was informal and meant to be temporary, but it had stretched into something else. They’d talked through the same issues—her claustrophobia at being watched every minute, his tendency to shut off. Round after round and still they couldn’t wipe it all away and start over.

  He talked in generalities and shouldered the blame. But underneath she sensed something else. In reality, she’d waited for this moment since she opened her eyes in the shack and saw him crash through the window. She kissed him first. Followed him here, but she knew he’d been storing up his anger and waiting to fire it at her.

  Little did he understand, she had a ball of frustration bouncing around her stomach that could rival his. “I left because you wanted to put me in Bubble Wrap.”

  His head fell forward and confusion showed in every line of his face. “I have no idea what that means.”

  She sighed because it was either that or scream. “Yes, you do.”

  “What I know is my feelings for you haven’t lessened one bit.”

  Between the vibration in his voice and the focused stare, her heart galloped. The longing and need rushed over her but she beat it back. This was too important to just drop and move on.

  They’d tried an entire marriage of that and she needed something more. “You’re changing the subject.”

  “I’m taking advantage of ten minutes of quiet before the sun rises and we have to face whatever is stalking us out there to let you know that you’ve always been the one.”

  With that, her control shattered. “How could I say no to that kind of sweet talk?”

  “You like that, do you?” His hand trailed up until it landed behind her neck. His fingers massaged the tight knot there. “Then you might really enjoy this.”

  He leaned in and she didn’t fight it. Through the bubbling emotions and all the energy swirling around them, this was right.

  His mouth brushed over hers, lightly at first. Teasing and coaxing. His tongue ran along her bottom lip then slipped inside. This close, the kiss turned deep and hard, hot and demanding. His lips crossed over hers as his hands roamed all over her head and shoulders.

  Heat flashed around her and her knees buckled. One more pass of his mouth and her stomach tumbled. She lost control right along with her inhibitions. Fingers slid into his soft hair and she clenched him tighter against her. Everywhere their bodies touched his skin singed hers.

  The kiss turned from gentle to consuming before one thought could pass to another. The timing was wrong but his body and mouth felt so right. It took another few seconds for her to step back. She got as far as lifting her head and resting her cheek against his.

  “Well, that was pretty great.” His voice came out as a rasp.

  She rubbed her face against his. “Always.”

  “Any chance you want to do it again? Maybe try it without clothes this time?”

  Just about every minute of every day. But the team was out there somewhere, along with trained killers and the answers to what had their lives turned upside down. They needed to handle all of that before they could tackle their marriage and all the fun parts that went along with it.

  Finding a last pool of inner strength, she broke contact and actually stepped away from him. “Yes, but we need to get back to find satellite access and make sure the rest of the guys are okay.”

  “I hate when you’re reasonable.” He exhaled. “But agreed.”

  His hands kept sliding over her back and igniting a fire in her nerves. She cuddled in closer, enjoying that last second before the intimacy stopped and all their problems came flooding back.

  “And I need a gun.” She almost laughed when his hands stilled against her. “What? You’re the one who insisted I have all that weapons and safety training.”

  “Practice only.”

  She lifted her head and stared up at him. “What exactly was I practicing for?”

  “I hate that you need to use those skills.”

  “Then you married the wrong woman, because I am not about to sit back and let the people I love walk into danger without me. That includes you and the team.”

  He wasn’t the only one in this marriage willing to put a body in front of the person he loved. Maybe some of his rescuing vibes got to her, but whatever the reason she had no intention of letting him get hurt. Being shot was more than enough.

  “Love.”

  Jana rolled her eyes to let him know her patience was wearing thin. “Don’t act like you don’t know I love you.”

  He shrugged. “It’s nice to hear it.”

  They said it every time they talked on the phone, but she could see the relief cross his face now. For a second the lines around his eyes and mouth eased.

  That’s why she felt bad about what she was about to say. “Just so you know, if you pull the hero crap and try to take another bullet for me, I’m going to hit you.”

  He made a face. “Right.”

  “I’m not kidding.”

  “Okay, now I’ve stopped being calm.”

  For some reason that actually soothed the jumpiness inside her. “It’s about time.”

  Chapter Six

  It was times like these that Holt wished he carried a badge. You knocked on the door at six in the morning and flashed official ID and people opened up. You stood there dressed in black with a gun strapped to your side while insisting there was a problem and people got agitated.

  This Marcel guy fell into the latter category. Jerky movements, darting glances and all. He stood on the other side of the closed screen door to his one-story house and kept a hand clenched around his cell phone. Holt guessed the man had already typed in 9-1-1.

  Marcel frowned. “What are you talking about?”

  Holt refused to run through the story one more time, so he cut to the highlights. “Someone broke into the charity office and took Jana last night.”

  The frown deepened. “Why?”

  Shane grunted. “Good question.”

  “That’s what we’re trying to figure out.” And they’d get to it faster if they weren’t on an open front porch, like a target for any shooter lingering around out there.

  Marcel lived near the charity in a brown stucco house that blended in with its surroundings. Only the small rock garden out front and the mailbox tipped a person off from a distance that someone might live there.

  The house sat in an area lined with a few other buildings. Holt knew from the aerial photos and schematics Davis sent a few minutes ago when the communication lines reopened that the property consisted of a main house, an old barn that now substituted as a bunkhouse for charity workers, and a greenhouse turned storage shed. The neighbor’s property stood more than six miles away.

  “May we come in now?” Shane reached for the door handle as he asked the question.

  The lock clicked. “Are you FBI?”

  Holt was two seconds away from letting Shane rip the door off its hinges. This Marcel guy managed to be fully dressed at an hour when most people slept. Dark slim pants and a long-sleeve shirt. Give him a tie and he could step into any office building for a meeting.

  Tall and fit with a polished look, Marcel spoke with a slight accent and refused to yield any ground. Holt hated the guy on sight.

  He went with the one thing that should shut Marcel’s wariness down. “We work with Connor.”

  Marcel didn’t frown so much as grimace, as if he’d tasted something sour. “Jana’s husband? I thought they broke up.”

  “No,” Shane shot back with the answer.

  Holt didn’t blame his friend for the reaction. Something about Marcel’s wo
rds grated. “They are very much married.”

  Shane kept glaring. “You might want to keep that in mind.”

  That had Marcel sputtering. “Meaning?”

  Now was not the time for threats. Holt figured they could get to that later. Right now they needed some intel and this guy’s shifting and avoidance of questions said a lot. “Jana and Connor are together. End of story.”

  Some of the color leeched out of Marcel’s face. “But she’s been here. With me...”

  The expression, the comments—it all struck Holt as wrong. “Oh, really?”

  “I didn’t mean—”

  Shane took a step closer to the door. “Anything else you want to say about their marriage and your thoughts on it?”

  Marcel cleared his throat. “Where is she now?”

  This time Shane rolled his eyes. He looked two seconds away from reaching through the screen and strangling this guy. “With Connor.”

  “So, she’s safe?”

  Holt wasn’t about to give away her location or engage in a long conversation with this guy about Connor. Holt had no idea what was happening or what the panicked looks from Marcel meant. None of it mattered. Holt’s focus stayed on keeping Jana safe. “Can you think of any reason anyone would want to hurt Jana?”

  “Never. That doesn’t make any sense.”

  Shane never stopped scanning the area. “But it happened before.”

  “What did?”

  This wasn’t a secret. They all knew how Jana and Connor met. How Connor saw her and left his old life behind.

  When Jana talked about those days her eyes got all soft and her voice changed. She clearly viewed it as romantic. Connor was much more practical—he saw her, saved her, fell for her then married her. End of story.

  Holt decided to take a quick look down memory lane for Marcel’s benefit. “This is the second time someone tried to take Jana. The second time Connor stepped in and rescued her.”

  Marcel’s jaw tightened to the point of snapping. “An entire team saved her the first time. He just happened to be in the lead.”

  Now that was interesting. Mostly in a this-guy-needed-a-hard-punch way, but seeing anger creep across his face said something. Holt didn’t like that. “I sense you’re not a fan of Connor.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “Didn’t have to,” Shane mumbled.

  “She’s been here doing some outreach and checking invoices. Getting us up to date.” When neither Shane nor Holt talked, Marcel stammered and sputtered until he choked out more information. “You know, looking at the paperwork and making sure everything matches.”

  That time it was what he didn’t say that caught Holt’s attention. “Does it?”

  Marcel shrugged. “There are the usual mathematical errors.”

  Shane stopped scanning the area and his head snapped back to face Marcel. “Someone can’t count boxes?”

  “The shipments are larger than that.” Marcel stared at his phone then back to the men on the porch again. “Can I see her?”

  “No.” Shane said it before Holt could even open his mouth.

  “Why not?”

  Seemed obvious to Holt. “She’s with her husband.”

  “What you can do is let us search the charity office,” Shane said.

  “For what?”

  “Evidence.” Holt thought that should end the conversation.

  Not a single car had passed by as they stood there. The road appeared abandoned as the only signs of life in the area remained there in the quiet morning arguing about nothing.

  Holt liked privacy and quiet but this was creepy. He could see why Connor hated Jana being here. The isolation, Marcel... There was nothing good happening here.

  Marcel muttered something then started talking. “I don’t think—”

  “Enough.” Holt barked out the word then forced his seething to calm. “You want to know who tried to hurt her and why, right?”

  “Of course.”

  Shane nodded in the direction of the family room behind Marcel. “Then go get whatever you need to leave.”

  The man nodded, then slammed the door, trapping them outside. Holt waited until he heard footsteps going away from the door to ask the question burning through him. “Thoughts on this guy?”

  Shane dropped back to lean against the wall and face the empty street. “There is no way Jana left Connor for him.”

  Without picking the subject, Shane had known exactly where Holt was going with the simple question. Connor never talked about Marcel or worries of infidelity but the way he’d reacted to Marcel’s name when Jana said it during her rescue spoke loud and clear.

  This Marcel guy had somehow wormed his way into the middle of Connor’s marriage. Holt wasn’t sure how, but an affair struck him as wrong. “I don’t think so, either.”

  “But I get why Connor has a problem with this guy being near his wife.”

  “Does he look as lovesick as he sounds?” Davis’s voice broke in over the comm.

  “That and evasive.” Holt had forgotten Davis was there, listening in.

  With communication restored, Davis refused to be cut out now. He’d told them Joel worked all night to get them back online. For now, it worked.

  Davis snorted. “The math thing?”

  “What was that about?” Shane asked.

  There were a lot of possibilities, none of them good in Holt’s view. “We’ll find out soon enough.” In the meantime they had a bigger problem, like a missing boss. “You figure out a way to reestablish contact with Connor?”

  “Joel is working on it.” There was a jumble of male voices over the line. Davis talked louder and rose above the din. “Something about reprogramming the watches.”

  Shane pretended to cough. “Geek.”

  Davis laughed. “I’ll let him know you think so.”

  “While you’re at it, open a file on this Marcel guy.” There was something there. Something big. Holt would bet his life on it.

  Papers shuffled on the line before Davis came back on. “Looks like Connor already has one.”

  Of course he did. Connor prepared for every contingency and didn’t leave anything to chance. It was one of the reasons Holt liked his boss and this team so much. “Then let’s start digging.”

  Chapter Seven

  Connor tried to block out the kiss. Tried and failed. When everything else went wrong in their marriage, that part burned as bright as ever.

  He loved to touch her, kiss her, take her to bed. Over the past year their frustration boiled over and they argued about things that didn’t make sense to him, but the sex still worked. Kissing her still made the anger seep away and his gut clench in anticipation.

  She accused him of being too guarded, but with her he laid it all on the line. She got to him like nothing and no one before and that hadn’t changed.

  She brushed her hands against her pants and joined him at the opening to their hideout. “What’s the plan?”

  He wanted to store her away somewhere safe. That instinct never went away. Problem was, he didn’t have a good solution to their situation now. He didn’t know how many attackers they faced or what they wanted.

  There were too many variables and no place for her to wait while he figured it all out. At least not here. “My idea is simple. Get to a place with phones and don’t get shot.”

  She nodded as she stared at a fixed place in the distance. “I like it. Sounds smart.”

  “That’s why I’m in charge.”

  She smiled. “I guess so.”

  The tentative peace tempted him. He could stay quiet and let the question wriggling its way into his brain drop. Maybe wait until they found a hotel and the attackers were caught.... But he couldn’t. “So, about Marcel.”


  Her mouth flatlined and her head fell back on a groan. “Really? Now?”

  This time Connor ignored the jealousy eating at him. Forget Marcel’s crush, which made Connor want to kick the guy right back to Belgium or wherever he lived before moving to the United States. His question centered on a much more basic issue.

  “Why wasn’t he at work when the attackers came?” It ticked Connor off that she was there without a bodyguard or an alarm. All the weapons training in the world didn’t mean a thing if a gang of thugs grabbed her before she could reach for a weapon, which is exactly what happened.

  And he wasn’t there to stop it. No matter how their marriage played out, that would eat at him forever.

  “Marcel went home and I stayed back to do some work.” She crossed her arms in front of her as her voice grew more clipped.

  Confirmation. “In other words, he left you alone.”

  “Marcel is not my babysitter.”

  Good thing, since he sucked at it. “And not having one turned out great for you this time around, didn’t it? That’s my point. It’s always been my point.”

  “He’s not a trained assassin. He’s not my boyfriend or lover or whatever else you’re worried about, either.” She turned on Connor, facing him down and never breaking eye contact. “I know you don’t trust me—”

  “I do.” She wasn’t the problem. He trusted her not to cheat while they were married but he wasn’t clear on whether she still wanted to be.

  “We’ve worked together, just work, and Marcel hasn’t even looked at me with an ounce of interest.”

  “You wouldn’t notice if he did.”

  “Uh, what?”

  “Men look at you. They show interest. You’re beautiful but you never pick up on the reactions to you.” Connor did. All the time. And thought he exercised great restraint in not taking anyone out over it.

  The pinched look left her face and the start of a smile played on her lips. “That’s kind of sweet.”

  He guessed it was good one of them thought so. “That men look at you?”

  “No.” She pushed against his shoulder. “That you still think I’m beautiful.”