Harlequin Intrigue November 2013 - Bundle 2 of 2

by Carla Cassidy

  “Don’t worry. I was just thinking that this was worth all the rumors we’ve no doubt started. But I’m not in the mood for pillow talk.” Not yet. She shifted closer to him, pressed her lips to the crisp hair of his chest.

  “You’re not?”

  “Nope,” she whispered against his skin, and was rewarded when he trembled as she worked her way down to his navel, and lower still. “Not even close.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  The Senate Inn

  Saturday, December 20, 7:05 a.m.

  Holt slipped out of Cecelia’s warm embrace and peered around in the darkness until he found his discarded tuxedo pants on the floor. Pulling them on, he went and turned on his laptop, hoping to find some good news to share with her when she woke up.

  Sometime after their third round, they’d managed to turn off the lights and sleep. He hadn’t felt this rested in months. It should have been a comfort, but it worried him. Cecelia wasn’t meant to be part of his future. And right now he couldn’t imagine her not in it.

  He turned his back to her so he could focus on the mission instead of the glorious temptation of her body. He logged into the email account he used only for Isely. Judging by the messages, the bastard had had a grand time watching Thomas angst over Cecelia’s disappearance. A terse acceptance was his only acknowledgement of the meeting Emmett had requested.

  He scanned local news headlines online rather than risk waking her with the television. No one had reported her disappearance as a kidnapping, but it was hardly a victory. After months of behaving with a single-minded, ruthless efficiency, now Isely was unpredictable, changing the rules of the game at the last minute.

  The bastard had been thinking it over for months and had finally come to the conclusion that something was wrong with the virus. Now that Holt knew the biologist was dead, it only added to the mystery. A bioweapon was a powerful thing, and Isely was just too damned casual about it. The man had thrown a fit and promised retribution when the CIA had grabbed one of the two remaining vials in Vegas last month, but Holt didn’t believe the performance.

  “Working already?”

  He hadn’t heard her leave the bed, more proof he was far too comfortable with her.

  “Yeah.”

  “I’ll make coffee.” Her hands rested lightly on his shoulders and her hair teased the bare skin of his shoulders when she leaned forward to kiss his cheek. “Did he agree to the meeting?”

  “Yes.” He realized he didn’t want to lie to her. “But he’s not happy about it.”

  “No surprise.”

  “Yeah.” He watched her walk toward the little niche where the coffeemaker, microwave and minifridge were clustered together. She was wearing his tuxedo shirt and nothing else. He was instantly hard for her, all too ready to forget enemy plans, betrayals and furious brothers who knew a dozen ways to kill a man without leaving trace evidence.

  “Would you please tell me more about Isely? So I’m ready for the meet,” she coaxed.

  “Why? Having sex doesn’t make us a team.” He said this as coldly as possible.

  She turned, crossed her arms and made that shirt ride up a bit higher on her thighs. “I asked you to stop doing that.”

  He stood up, stretching his arms over his head, his eyes never leaving hers. “I shouldn’t have to push you away. You should have the good sense to run.”

  She licked her lips. “I know who’s who in this little drama.”

  “You do?”

  She nodded. “I ran from the bad guys last night.” She blatantly looked him over from head to toe and back again. “And right into your arms.” She walked over and wound her arms around him. It wasn’t anything like yesterday’s hug, as they were both wearing considerably less this time. “You’re beautiful.”

  “Flattery? That’s your next tactic? Sweetheart, it’s no use. I know I’m gorgeous.”

  “Keep it up,” she said, giving the back of his arm a hard pinch.

  “Ow!” But he couldn’t help laughing, then he stopped short, trying to recall the last time he’d really laughed. He couldn’t bring a recent memory to mind, not to mention a moment of shared laughter with a woman. “Why does it matter? As long as you’re safe and I get the job done, you don’t need to worry about Isely.”

  “Thomas said something last night.”

  “About Isely?” Please let it be about Isely.

  “More about teamwork. He said fresh eyes never hurt.”

  Couldn’t argue that adage. “He’s right. Maybe you can find a reason for Isely’s abrupt change of behavior.”

  She poured them both a cup of coffee and joined him at the small table. “So talk.”

  “This is all still classified—”

  “My clearance is current and this place isn’t bugged.” She shuddered. “Unless they’re bed bugs.”

  “Ease up,” he said, patting her knee. “I’m going down regardless. I just want you to know what not to say when you’re rescued.”

  She rolled her eyes at him. “Just talk. Tell me about Isely. And maybe I’ll tell you some things.”

  “Five years ago, Thomas infiltrated the Isely group and interrupted the first scheduled sale of a lethal new virus. Isely’s father got killed in the crossfire when the deal was blown. The vials Thomas turned in when he got back to the States weren’t any deadlier than a saline solution.”

  She frowned. “But Thomas would never have kept a deadly bioweapon.”

  “When the deal went sideways, everyone assumed Isely had planned to double-cross his original buyer all along. The reports Thomas filed on the operation were verified, and nothing more came of it until a few months ago when a deadly strain of flu wiped out a remote village in the Middle East.”

  “That was on the Pakistan border, right?”

  “Good guess.”

  She shrugged. “I heard about it through other channels.”

  “Other channels,” he echoed.

  She leaned forward and her shirt gaped, giving him a distracting view of her cleavage. “You know exactly where I’ve spent my low-profile career. And knowing that along with who my husband was, you find it surprising I’ve made a few connections through the years? Please.”

  “I didn’t give that much thought.” When this had started, he hadn’t thought about her husband because he wasn’t relevant to the situation. After spending time with her online and especially after last night, Holt didn’t want to think about her husband at all.

  It was a double standard considering his storied and colorful past, but a relationship wasn’t in their future. No way would she stick by him if he survived long enough to be charged with working for Isely. She was accustomed to heroes and good guys, not that gray place he represented.

  His possessiveness for her was irrational and unexpected. It wasn’t even based in reality. He’d started an online relationship as a means to an end. But he didn’t want it to end.

  “Hey.”

  He glanced down to where her palm gently covered his knee. His whole body reacted, zeroing in on that small point of contact. His pulse kicked, his breath hitched and his hands warmed with the urge to touch and take. He shook his head and gulped air deep into his lungs.

  “Sorry. Wandering thoughts,” he muttered.

  “You’ve been working undercover for too long. Who else knows about your mission?”

  “No one. That’s just it. No one else in Mission Recovery was cleared on the Germany job. Despite that, no one could know or Isely would never have taken the bait.”

  She sat back, taking her warmth with her, and he knew she was doubting his story. And why shouldn’t she? It was his word against the evidence. Evidence he’d purposely stacked against himself to keep Isely on the hook.

  “Then why did we meet with Jason and Gin?”

&nb
sp; “He doesn’t know how far I’ve gone,” Holt insisted. “I only asked him to look up the biologist who created the virus. And I handed over the last vial of the virus Isely gave me weeks ago.”

  She stared at him but he couldn’t read her at all. “You’d better tell me everything. And fast,” she warned.

  Somehow he found himself answering to her demand. Way, way outside his normal protocol. “I wasn’t supposed to see him again ever. It was kidnap you, deliver you to the address he chose and I’d be out.”

  “But you went on the offensive and demanded a meeting instead.”

  “Correct.”

  “And you don’t have any idea what he was going to do with me?”

  “The way I put it together, kidnapping you puts me in the rogue-agent category, which embarrasses the director and jeopardizes his career. Isely can also use your capture to further expose and antagonize your brother.”

  “Right.” She sipped her coffee. “What about the virus?”

  “I dispersed that last night at the gala.”

  “You did what?”

  The flash of horror on her face proved he’d finally found the one thing to push her away. He regretted it instantly. “Isely wanted the virus dispersed at the gala so it would cause more blowback for Thomas. I arranged it so a couple of his guys were on the security detail, remember?”

  “Yes.” Her horrified reaction had already reverted back to what he considered her crisis face. The still, serene expression effectively concealed how fast her mind was working through the problem at hand. He wondered when she’d act on the disgust and fury she must be feeling.

  “One of his men was supposed to contaminate someone or something. If the virus works as advertised, later tonight people will show symptoms and eventually a good many of them will die.”

  “And pathology will show it was a designer strain of the flu and call it a terrorist attack.”

  “Yes. The people who matter in the intelligence community will link it back to your brother and blame him because it happened on his watch.”

  “Isely gave this a great deal of thought.”

  “He’s been working it out for years. Colorado, Vegas, those were just building blocks for last night.”

  “But...”

  “Why do you assume there’s a ‘but’?”

  She simply stared at him, waited him out. He supposed it was a dumb question. For whatever reason, she didn’t view him the way the rest of the world viewed him—as a spook too quiet and withdrawn for his own good.

  “I met the courier, let him inject me with the virus and then returned to the party. I danced and mingled and they reported it to Isely. Later I sent the remaining product and a blood sample to the lab.”

  “How?”

  “My assistant was close by.”

  “But you never left the gala.”

  He smiled. “Only for a moment. I’m quick and I have good hands.”

  “Yes, you do.” She traced the rim of her coffee cup with her fingertip. “What did you inject instead of the virus?”

  “I used one of the bogus vials Thomas originally brought back.” He waved his hands in the air. “Hand is quicker than the eye.”

  “Apparently.” She uncurled from the chair and poured more coffee into her cup. “Sounds like you’ve got this under control.”

  “Everything but Isely’s sudden urgency.”

  “He tried to jump the gun on the kidnapping but didn’t succeed, so you’re back on schedule, right?”

  He shook his head. “It will fall apart when no one gets sick. And that possible exchange at sea is all wrong.” He paced away from her.

  “Talk to me, Emmett. Let me help. You’re not giving me everything.”

  What the hell was he doing? But he couldn’t not tell her everything. “He knows the virus is useless. He has to. He just doesn’t care about it enough.”

  “But it wiped out those villagers.”

  “I can’t explain that. Maybe it breaks down. Maybe they used a different formula.”

  “Is there anyone here in the States who can help him with the virus?”

  “Probably, but he hasn’t made contact. My gut is telling me we’re in serious trouble here. If I leave you alone to go to the meet, either Mission Recovery or Isely’s crew will find you. Isely will learn this quickly, and then we’ll never know what he’s up to.”

  “So take me along.”

  “What, like a date?”

  “No, like a partner who has your back.”

  “You’re not trained for that.”

  “My fresh eyes see it as your only option. You go alone, you walk into a trap and I’m stuck dealing with him.”

  He shook his head.

  “Emmett, are you this good at everything you do?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You purposely painted yourself into a corner. Who were you going to hand over to Isely in my place? What was your exit strategy?”

  He scrubbed at his face and braced for her shock and righteous indignation. “Originally, I’d planned to hand you over, but with a GPS tag so I could follow you. Everything the director needed to clear himself and protect the team is scheduled to automatically dump into his inbox after the exchange. A precaution in case I lost your trail. You probably don’t believe me, but I wouldn’t have let them hurt you.”

  “I believe you.”

  He wanted to believe her, but anything might be going on behind her crisis face. “But now, with Isely shifting the plan...”

  “You don’t trust your own instincts or your own decisions.”

  “Something like that.”

  “Well, the man has reason to hate Thomas, and it’s obvious he wants him to suffer. How did you get yourself between them?”

  “Just doing my job.”

  “Emmett, if you don’t start sharing what’s really on your mind, I can’t help you sort out the solution.”

  “The best solution is for you to go into protective custody with Mission Recovery while I take down Isely at the meet. The evidence will show up on schedule. Combined with what I’ve told you, Thomas will be satisfied and safe.”

  “That sounds like the easiest and prettiest solution, but it might not be the best.”

  * * *

  CECELIA STRUGGLED NOT to flinch under the weight of that iron stare. She wasn’t about to let him take the fall for this, not when he’d so selflessly given himself to protect her and her brother.

  Her feelings were a tangled mess of guilt, expectations, lust and fragile new hope, but one thing was clear. Emmett needed her. Even more astounding, she knew she could be helpful, even if he didn’t give her more insight.

  Isely thought she knew something. She just had to figure out how to use that to help Emmett. If she dared tell him about that meet, he would definitely lock her away just as Thomas had wanted to. How could she help anyone then?

  While the work she did for the CIA was straightforward and boring, she’d been honest with Emmett about making connections.

  She should probably consult her daughter, but that would only negate the text message she’d sent last night declaring she was fine and wishing her and Levi a Merry Christmas.

  “How old is Isely?” she asked, trying hard to reconcile anything Emmett knew with something she might know and not realize the importance of.

  “Thirty-four in January.”

  She did the math. “So his father’s death hit him at a prime point in his career development. Is he married?”

  “No.”

  Too bad. The man had nothing to lose, no serious distraction from planning this detailed revenge. It made him more dangerous. “Other family?”

  “His mother and a few cousins.”

  “Religious at all?”


  “Catholic,” Emmett snapped, glaring at her. “Stop grasping at straws. The man’s been profiled already.”

  “You said he’s breaking behavior patterns. I’m trying to find the angle.”

  “You’re trying to find the place where he recruited me.”

  The way he saw through her was a bit unnerving, but she took comfort that he wasn’t discounting her ability to analyze and assess a complex situation. “Wouldn’t have to go fishing if you’d just tell me.”

  She smiled, but his eyes went flat and cold and his jaw tensed. The man could put up brick walls faster than anyone she’d ever met. Well, maybe except for Thomas. How could she convince him he wasn’t alone in this anymore?

  She wanted to believe they’d started something last night, long before that, really. Foolish as it might be, she wanted more than a wild, brief affair.

  After William, she hadn’t thought she’d bother with anything lasting again. Hot and thrilling had been the plan. But maybe she wasn’t wired that way after all. Or maybe she was one of the lucky women who bumped into two good men in one lifetime.

  It was abundantly clear Emmett didn’t see himself as good guy or keeper material. There were skeletons in his closet, she was sure, but everyone had a past. She didn’t have any desire to go digging them up, but she’d be more than willing to help him clear them out if and when he felt so inclined.

  When his profile had popped on the online dating site, she’d had the option to dig and had refrained. Sometimes too much information was just that—too much information.

  She’d wanted a bit of mystery in the men who’d expressed interest in her profile. Wanted the fun of discovery that came with meeting someone new.

  Well, she’d gotten plenty of both with Emmett Holt. And now they were at a standoff.

  “About yesterday.” If she expected him to provide full disclosure, she had to do the same no matter if he attempted to get her into protective custody. She’d stood her ground with Thomas and she would stand it with him.