by Skye Jordan
When had the line between professional and personal disappeared? When had her loyalty shifted from her team and the men she trusted with her life to Hix and his daughter?
She pulled out her phone and dialed Ian. “Hey,” she said when he answered. “I have a problem.”
Gianna pulled the collar of her light wool trench coat tighter at her neck against the crisp DC breeze. She crossed her arms and wandered in a circle around the statue of Ulysses S. Grant at the Capitol’s reflecting pool.
“Wind’s picking up.” Roman’s smooth, deep voice sounded so clear, Gianna thought she could look over her shoulder and find him right there. But she was glad he was a quarter of a mile away. It was already hard enough to focus with this continual path of heat between her ear and her heart.
“Yep,” she said. “It was supposed to be in the fifties tonight, but the wind drops the temperature ten degrees.”
Gianna found herself wishing she could take advantage of all the heat Roman’s muscular body radiated. The thought made her mind drift back in time, to the way they’d pushed all the sheets and blankets to the floor, so needy for skin, they couldn’t bear a stitch of fabric between them. The memory created a familiar ache in her chest.
“Coffee with Baileys is sounding really good right now,” she told him.
“I was just thinking a shot of whiskey would do the trick.”
Gianna laughed softly. When she reached the front of the statue, she scanned the people milling around the reflecting pool, getting in their run for the day, or just using the space as a shortcut from one place to another.
She spotted Paige Seaver coming toward her, her signature sleek bob of dark hair bouncing against the shoulders of her overcoat. The woman had pep in her step, and she beamed at Gianna as she approached. Without breaking stride, the senator opened her arms wide and walked straight into a hug with Gianna.
“I was so excited to hear from you.” Senator Seaver leaned away but kept her hands clasped on Gianna’s arms when she asked, “So, what’s the good news? When do we get our baby back?”
Gianna smiled and hooked her arm through Paige’s, pulling her into a stroll. “About that… I need to ask you some questions.”
“Of course, of course. Anything you need.” She heaved a sigh and looked out over the water. “You should see Clyde’s face light up every time I mention her.”
“I’m sure.” Gianna really liked Paige’s husband. He reminded her a lot of Steven. And thoughts of Steven reminded her of why she was here in the first place. He’d been Clyde’s pride and joy.
“Aren’t the cherry blossoms budding perfectly this year?” Paige said, smiling up at the limbs overhead just coming to life with greenery and pale pink buds. “I hope this cold snap doesn’t cut their bloom short. I so want Mirabella to see them.”
Paige sighed. “So, what’s the status on our little muffin? I miss her so much. I saw Evelyn at Eastern Market last week—Evelyn Gutierrez, Mirabella’s nanny,” Paige clarified. “And we talked about Mirabella for almost an hour. Can you believe that? She said she would be interested in returning when Mirabella comes home.”
Gianna listened patiently, but knowing Roman was hearing and assessing everything created a weight on Gianna’s shoulders. “That’s wonderful.” She steered Paige to the edge of the pool and eased to a seat on the concrete bench surrounding the water. “Look, Paige, I’m going to be straight with you.”
“I would expect nothing less.”
The woman’s dark gaze was open and warm, and she held Gianna’s hands in the warmth of her own. For a moment, Gianna wondered if this was what it would have been like if she’d had a mother. She liked to think so.
Gianna took a fortifying breath before she dove in, knowing this probably wouldn’t be a comfortable conversation. But to put Roman’s mind at ease, Gianna forged ahead. “The intel I received from the DOD on Hix isn’t matching up with the information from the woman undercover.”
Paige’s smile melted away. She searched Gianna’s gaze and shook her head. “I don’t understand.”
“I need to know how confident you are in the intel Dougherty provided.”
“Two-hundred percent,” she responded without hesitation. “I’ve known John for years. Hell, decades. He’s a decorated veteran and highly respected on the Hill. Why? What is the undercover saying?”
“She reports that Hix is a devoted father. That Mirabella is happy and carefree and wants for nothing.”
Paige smiled again, but this one was a little sardonic. “Is your undercover young?”
Gianna frowned. “I believe she’s twenty-nine.”
“And pretty?”
“She’s not a naïve girl, if that’s what you’re getting at. She was an elite soldier for a decade before signing on with Manhunters. She’s sufficiently seasoned.”
“In warfare, maybe,” Paige said, patting Gianna’s hand. “But you haven’t met Austin Hix. He’s got his own brand of charm. As a former CIA operative, you know exactly how men like that operate. Your undercover may not be naïve, but she’s a soldier, Gianna. Not exactly schooled in the ways of a chameleon like Hix.”
Gianna couldn’t argue with that point. Seeing beneath a complex façade took practice and skill. And sometimes, even that wasn’t enough to see a person’s true intentions.
“That doesn’t negate her observations that Mirabella is happy and well adjusted,” she told Paige.
“Gianna, she’s barely five years old,” Paige said with the you’re-not-a-mother-you-don’t-understand lilt in her tone. “Give her a box of crayons and she thinks she’s in heaven. The poor little thing has no idea what kind of danger surrounds her or the challenges in her future. Hix is mixed up with some shadow governments and even less credible companies. He’s training mercenaries, for God’s sake. And we both know how much harm a well-trained rogue paramilitary entity can cause in a country.”
Gianna shook her head. “Paige—”
“They’re only a short drive from the Nicaraguan border,” Paige cut in, her voice taking on the firm deliberation Gianna had seen the woman use while in meetings surrounded by generals. “Their economy is unstable, and civil unrest is on the rise. Hix has traveled to Managua twice since he ripped Mirabella from her warm bed in Georgetown and dragged her into a Third World country.”
“Costa Rica isn’t exactly in the same Third World category as Nicaragua—”
“That’s immaterial when Hix takes Mirabella everywhere he travels, which includes highly unstable countries.” She barreled over Gianna, another familiar tactic she’d seen Paige use on the Senate floor. “As the daughter of a rich American—an American who could easily anger those in power—Mirabella is at extremely high risk for kidnapping.”
“Okay, I hear you.” Gianna put her hand out and added her own force to the conversation. “Don’t get yourself all worked up. I’m here to make sure we’re all on the same page.”
Paige exhaled and rubbed her temple. “I’m so sorry, dear. This is all so stressful and heartbreaking. My father’s not well, and he’s been asking for Mirabella. My husband is in such a depression that the only time I see a glint in his eyes any more is when we look through Mirabella’s baby albums. She is the angel at the center of our family, and she needs to be back where she belongs—within the safety of the United States and comfort of a home where she will get the best of everything life has to offer.”
“Change a few words,” Roman muttered, pulling Gianna from the moment, “and she could be rallying the Senate into a government shutdown.”
Sparks of both amusement and annoyance teased Gianna’s mind.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” Paige told Gianna, pushing to her feet. “I still have two more meetings before I can head home. I need to get back.”
Gianna stood. “It’s almost eight o’clock.”
“No rest for the wicked, darling.” Paige smiled, slid her arm through Gianna’s, and pulled her into step beside her. “And you’re certainly not one
to talk.”
“Amen,” Roman chimed in.
They strolled toward the Capitol building, where it stood strong and bright against the night sky. The sight never failed to pulse pride through Gianna’s veins. Even after all these years of slipping through back doors or slicing through red tape, it was all worth it in the end.
“So, tell me about these rumors,” she told Paige. “I’m hearing your name linked with Castillo’s quite a bit lately. His popularity is skyrocketing.”
“He’s a voice of reason in the storm,” Paige said. “And he’s electric. One of the strongest politicians to grace the Hill in decades.”
“A voice that may be putting in a bid for the White House in the next primary?”
Paige grinned. “Your guess is as good as mine.”
“Oh, I highly doubt that,” Gianna teased. “Though it’s an exciting time to be Paige Seaver, no? Surely he’d offer you a prominent spot on his White House staff.”
“A girl can dream.”
Gianna gave Paige’s arm a squeeze. “Does this girl dream of her name on the VP ticket?”
Paige laughed. A deep, rich laugh that told Gianna the answer was a big fat yes.
Before they parted ways at the steps to the Capitol, Paige made Gianna promise to update her every day until the team brought Mirabella home. And Gianna watched the woman meet up with colleagues as she climbed the stairs and headed into the Capitol building.
“What are you thinking?” Roman’s voice startled her. Not because she’d forgotten about him, but because it came from right behind her.
She spun and found him less than a foot away. “You could scare a girl if you’re not careful.”
He smiled. “I think I scare girls even when I am.”
Gianna laughed, pushing the thought of Roman with other women from her mind. “That was less illuminating than I’d hoped.”
“Can we talk it over with a steak in front of us?” he asked. “I’m starving, and I can smell Ruth’s Chris from here.”
He pulled off his scarf and looped it behind her neck, then doubled it and tossed the ends back over her shoulders. The gesture was so sweet, it shook her barriers. The soft wool carried his heat and his scent. Gianna’s eyes slid closed as she took a deep breath and snuggled into it. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure.” He offered his elbow, and Gianna slid her arm around his.
“Ruth’s Chris, huh?” She smiled up at his handsome profile, and memories stirred.
If she closed her eyes, she could still bring up the brush of his stubble beneath her lips, the rich taste of his skin on her tongue. And that was all it took to light Gianna on fire. She wished their chemistry wasn’t so off-the-charts. Wished she didn’t like him as a person so much. Wished he was a jackass or a player or a user or an idiot—anything to block the attraction that hijacked her every time they were together.
“Aren’t you living high in the private sector?” she teased.
“The water’s fine. You’re welcome to join me any time.”
Her belly jumped at the implication. But even if her body reacted, her heart was on lockdown. She’d lost one love to a dangerous profession, and it had taken her a decade to recover. She wouldn’t live through another loss like that. And Roman Steele had all the makings of a hardcore heartbreak.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” she told him on a sigh. “You never know when you might need allies around this town.”
His hand slipped over hers, and they fell into a comfortable stride through the capitol and onto the narrow streets of downtown. At least it would have been comfortable if the sight of his hand over hers didn’t bring back memories of the way he’d threaded their fingers above her head that night while his body pressed her into the mattress. Memories of the way his fingers flexed and clenched with each thrust of his hips. Of those intense gray eyes drinking in every flicker of her pleasure.
Damn. She was suddenly sweating.
She loosened the scarf, letting the chilled spring air reach her skin.
At the restaurant, Roman was the perfect gentleman, opening the door for her, helping her with her jacket, holding her chair.
They settled in and ordered wine. And when the waiter was gone, Roman turned those sexy eyes on her with the kind of focus that set her nerve endings on fire.
“So,” he said. “Seaver.”
“Yes.” She sighed and relaxed into her chair, turning her mind to business, but struggled with her automatic inclination to protect the woman. “Seaver.”
“I never asked,” he said, his whole demeanor shifting from warm and open to something more conservative, “but did you ever meet Mirabella? While you were seeing Steven?”
Oh, right. That whole “seeing Steven” thing. Instead of setting the record straight and potentially opening a door she wasn’t sure she had the willpower to shut again, she neither confirmed nor denied. In fact, she skipped right over Steven and answered Roman’s direct question. “No, I never met Mirabella. I only had dinner with the Seavers a few times, and we always went out. Paige doesn’t cook.”
“That would be difficult when you work eighteen-hour days.”
“I really don’t want to spend dinner arguing with you over who the better parent would be in this situation,” she told him.
“Good. Neither do I.”
The waiter brought and poured their wine, and Gianna took a greedy drink.
“Instead,” he said with a mischievous little smile, “let’s debate the information we have.”
“Oh my God, no.” The man could debate to the death, which, when he was on his game, usually came swiftly to his opponent. “I know I could never win a debate against you. Besides, the bottom line is the law. It’s not about what you or I think, or what Everly thinks. It doesn’t even matter why Paige is fighting to get Mirabella back. She very well could be hoping to gain sympathy and approval by raising Mirabella. Maybe even enough to get her name on the VP ticket. But in the end, the only thing that matters is the law.”
“Spoken like a true patriot.”
“And,” she continued, ignoring his tease, “a court in the District of Columbia of the United States has ruled, giving the Seavers legal custody.” She set her wine down and made a cutting motion with her hands. “The end.”
“I’m not as black-and-white a thinker as you are,” Roman said, “but I won’t hold that against you.”
She laughed. “Magnanimous.”
“I like to think myself altruistic now and again,” he teased. “But consider this. What if Seaver bought her?”
“Bought who?”
“Mirabella. Would you still feel the same way about the rule of law if you found out Seaver paid the judge to rule in her favor?”
Gianna turned her hands palms up. “Where did that come from? Are you serious? She’s a senator. Her career would be toast if something like that got out.”
He just nodded with that I-know-something-you-don’t smirk and swirled the wine in his glass.
“Do you have credible evidence of that?” she asked.
“Not yet. Sam’s working on it.”
“Oh my God.” Gianna covered her ears. “I didn’t hear that. I did not just hear you insinuate your employee is hacking into the life of a judge.”
“Not her whole life.” Roman took a sip of wine. “Just, you know, a few bank accounts…”
She shook her head and closed her eyes. “La-la-la-la-la.”
When he stopped talking, she opened her eyes and dropped her hands. And she found him grinning at her. A bright, open, sexy-as-hell smile that lightened those broody eyes of his and made her ache to kiss him.
“I love to torture you,” he told her.
“I’m so sorry I got you into this. It looked like a cut-and-dry case of custodial interference. Then before I know it, I find out Hix lives in a fortress, Everly thinks he’s a good guy, you tell me Paige may have shortcut the legal process for political gain.” She held her head. “Aye yi yi.”
“Be
t you could use a vacation,” Roman said.
She closed her eyes. “Don’t torture me like that.”
“How does the Caribbean sound? Ever been to Turks and Caicos?”
“You’re so cruel.”
“Everly just informed us that she, Mirabella, Hix, and his security team are leaving for a meeting with Titus Security Group tomorrow. Whether or not we can stage an extraction depends on their security measures, but I’m putting together a plan to fly out first thing tomorrow with my team. Ian is meeting us there. You should come. Get a firsthand look at Hix yourself. Evaluate him with those sexy CIA skills of yours. Because if the worst is realized and we discover the judge took a bribe to give custody to the Seavers, we are both going to be in a position to play judge and jury. And I’d like to think we’d come up on the same side of that gavel.”
She sat back and combed both hands through her hair. “This just keeps spiraling.”
“Come on,” he said with a you-know-you-wanna tone in his voice. “There are worse things than spending a weekend in Turks and Caicos with me.”
All Gianna could visualize was that panty-melting grin, his rock-hard body, and white sand beaches.
He was dead wrong. For Gianna, there was nothing worse than spending a weekend in Turks and Caicos with Roman Steele.
9
Austin sat across a table from Decker on their chartered jet. Three members of Austin’s security team sat on the other side of the plane, playing cards. Everly had settled in at one of the tables with a bench seat. Bella had instantly curled in beside her and fallen asleep half an hour into the flight.
Everly had a Turks and Caicos guide book and a notebook open on the table in front of her, but her gaze kept going distant out the window. One finger absently curled a strand of Bella’s hair round and round.
“Why don’t you go sit with her?” Decker’s question drew his attention back to the conversation.
“What? Sorry. No, I’m listening.” He shifted in his seat and leaned forward, refocusing on the floorplan of the home he’d rented for the visit and the security plan Decker had mapped out. “This is good. These three baboons”—he lifted his chin to his three regular security guards—“will stay inside with us. The four you hired on the island are going to be in plain clothes. Two posted on the street outside the gates and two on the beach.”
