Veiled Target (A Veilers Novel)

by Robin Bielman

  “Thanks. It looks great.”

  “What did you mean by one of us will be dead? I was under the impression I’m the only one with a death sentence.” Something else bothered her, and he wanted to know what.

  She squirmed in her seat as if just realizing what she’d let slip. Again. “Oh, I just meant…” She took a bite of her omelet. “This is good. You’re not a bad cook.”

  While chewing, he said, “You’re not getting out of answering the question.”

  Quickly stuffing another bite into her mouth, she avoided talking for a little longer. Probably to try and think of something to say that would appease him.

  “Can I have a glass of water?”

  He got her some water. “Quit stalling, Tess. Talk.”

  “Look, I don’t want to involve you in my problems. Let’s just keep this to finding our two missing people and go from there.”

  “That’s where I’m assuming death comes into play. What sort of problem do you have?”

  “Hugh,” she said with a tone that was appreciative but not conceding.

  Contemplation crossed her face as she took one last bite of food. He was getting used to seeing the look, seeing the stress in her forehead. He imagined she didn’t confide in many people, kept deeply personal things to herself. Much like he did. It was easier. Safer to keep people at bay.

  “You said we could say whatever we want to each other.”

  “That didn’t include sharing secrets.” She ran her fingers through her blonde hair.

  Frustration bubbled inside him. Was he so damn difficult with people who wanted to help him? “So somebody wants you dead?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “No. You implied it.”

  “No. You’re putting words in my mouth.”

  He bore in mind that she was a P.I.E. operative, trained to keep her distance from others. He didn’t know how long she’d been working for them, but he supposed quite some time given her fearlessness and attitude.

  She didn’t waver in her stare as she leaned her elbows on the table and clasped her hands in front of her. Hugh tensed at seeing her wrists pink from the duct tape.

  Instinctively, he reached out to take her hands in his. The pads of his thumbs rubbed over her wrists. “I’m sorry I hurt you.”

  “Don’t be.” She made no move to break their contact. “If you hadn’t secured the tape tight enough, I would have gotten free.”

  Her pulse quickened under his thumbs, her chest rose and fell. He was immensely in tune to every breath she took, and try as he might, he couldn’t hold back a gulp. Putting no blame on him proved how independent she was, how she didn’t want anyone’s sympathy or pity. He took heed and returned to the topic he wouldn’t let go until she gave him some answers.

  “I’d like to help you.”

  “You are. I’m convinced having someone with your”—she paused—“background will finally get me the guy I’ve been after.”

  “I don’t mean that help. I mean help with whoever wants to kill you. I’m not a fool. I know about P.I.E. I know it’s dangerous. And I know when something’s wrong with you. Let me help.”

  By the pained look on her face, he could tell his words meant something to her.

  “Why?” Confusion marred the one word she’d chosen. “Why would you want to help me when…when all is said and done, my assignment is to kill you?”

  “Tell me, Tess.” The physical contact between them, while simple, filled him with a complex desire to rescue her.

  “No.”

  “Tell me or—”

  “Or what?” She yanked her arms back. “You’ll kill me yourself? Go for it. I’d like to see you try.”

  “Or I’ll have to guess.” He slid his arms back to his sides. “And I think I’ve already got a pretty good hunch as to what’s going on.”

  “Don’t tell me Night Runners can read minds too.” She shifted her eyes away from him for the first time since he’d sat.

  He let a tiny smile cross his lips. “No. I can’t hear the words going through your head.”

  “That’s good. Here’s my hunch. You’re the kind of guy who reasons longer than I’ve got time for. You’ve got that elaborate office setup, which means you’re a planner, a thinker, someone who has to have things all mapped out before he moves into action.”

  She wasn’t too far off the mark. However, he relied on his instincts out in the field. “Tell me.” This time he included a growl.

  “You go first, Mr. Know-It-All.”

  Which meant she’d go second. He’d take it. “P.I.E.’s been hired to kill me. You’re the eliminator. You’re excellent at your job. Probably the best agent they’ve got. You work alone and you like it. But I think something happened on your last assignment. Maybe your last few, even. I get the sense you’re tiring from the demands your job puts on you.” He relaxed into the chair, pleased to see he had her utmost attention. “Then I come along at the wrong time and mess up your plans. You also like me, which puts a wrinkle in your mission.”

  “I do not like you.”

  “Yes you do. So let me think out loud here. Maybe you botched your last job. Now I’m next in line and things are…muddy. You’ve never asked for help before, and now you’re confused. We’ve struck a deal, and I don’t think you’ve ever done that either. What happens if you fail an assignment? Do you suffer any consequences?”

  He pictured her standing at the end of a gangplank ready to jump into the rough seas rather than come clean and answer any questions. She looked that uncomfortable, that annoyed with him.

  “Why are you doing this?” Her voice finally teetered on the edge of concession.

  “Hell if I know, but we met tonight for a reason. It was unintentional, unplanned. Maybe it was fate or karma or Trey’s bad luck. Whatever it was, the fact remains we’re both here right now to help each other. No secrets. No judgments. Just two people willing to go where most others won’t.”

  “I don’t talk to anyone, Hugh.” Her shoulders sagged as she admitted what he’d already guessed. She blinked in rapid succession, her long lashes reminding him that she was vulnerable, that inside her tough girl exterior was a marshmallow core. She just didn’t want anyone to see it.

  “Me either.” He was getting to her—he could sense it.

  “How about that root beer float first?”

  “Tell me,” he said again. She was right about him. He’d take all the time necessary to get an answer from her.

  “You’re not going to give up are you?” She crossed her arms.

  He did the same. “No.”

  “Fine. Whatever. Yes, I may have f-f-faltered during my last assignment. And the one before that, there was a problem as well. But it’s just a fluke. Nothing my boss needs to be worried about. Only he is. And he’s pissed at me. And well, he said this was my last chance.”

  She let out enough air to fill a balloon and make it pop.

  The boss. Finally, they were getting somewhere. “Your boss is going to kill you if you don’t kill me?”

  “Most likely.”

  He rubbed his chin. “What if I’m innocent?”

  “Haven’t met an innocent yet.” Her eyes betrayed her words, and he got the impression she might just think him innocent. For now, anyway.

  “I don’t suppose you can quit?”

  “Sure. When I’m dead.” She smiled. The kind of tight-lipped smile that put a person a little on edge. “So can I have that root beer float now?”

  He’d pressured her enough for one evening. It was time to ease off. A fierce need to protect her coursed through his blood, like it had when Max had been so distraught over Heather’s death. He couldn’t save his brother. Maybe he could save Tess. His heart lurched at the notion. In a very short time, she had wiggled her way into his heart.

  It’s because she saved your life. Nothing more.

  “Absolutely.” He rose, grabbed their plates, tossed them in the sink and located a couple of tall glasses. “Vanil
la or chocolate?” he asked, pulling tubs of each out of the freezer.

  “How about a scoop of each?”

  His kind of girl.

  His kind of girl. That thought repeated itself over and over again in his mind as he prepared the floats.

  They ate in silence, the quiet not at all uncomfortable. Something he couldn’t put his finger on—camaraderie? obligation? desire?—lingered in the air between them. He tried not to pay too close attention to her, tried not to fall deeper into her allure. The cold dessert did nothing to squelch the heat running through him at a marathon pace.

  “Ready to hit the sack?”

  She choked on the last slide of her ice cream and cleared her throat. “With you?”

  God, how he’d love to finish what that life-saving kiss had started. “You offering?”

  “No! I’m not offering.” She pushed to her feet and then with a softer tone added, “Are you asking?”

  Ah. The unnamed air mixture just got thicker. The last time he’d felt this hungry for a female was, well, never. Never this out of his mind eager. Desirous. Every other woman he’d spent any amount of time with paled in comparison to Tess.

  But it couldn’t happen. Not tonight. Not under these circumstances.

  He turned a cold shoulder. And planned on a cold shower.

  “I’ve got a guest room this way.”

  “Oh, okay. Great. Any chance I could get my purse out of the car first?” She followed him with her shoes dangling in one hand.

  It took every ounce of strength he had not to spin around, scoop her up, and carry her to his bedroom. Forget about the plan to keep his paws off.

  “I’ll grab it for you later.”

  “I could really use it now.”

  So that all your compact-size weapons are handy. I don’t think so. “Let me get you in your room first.”

  The sleeping arrangements were going to come as a surprise to her. She’d be mad as hell, but he couldn’t take any chance of her escaping or snooping around. Trust, he knew, carried a different interpretation by different people.

  “Here we are.” He opened the door to the bedroom next to his and led her in. “There’s a bathroom just through there”—he nodded his head toward a closed door—“and extra blankets in the closet if you need them.”

  She did a quick survey of the room. “Thanks.”

  “Good night then.”

  “Good night.” She stayed right where she was, just inside the room, as he retreated.

  He shut the door behind him. And then he locked her inside.

  Tess heard the click and raced to try the door handle. It was locked.

  “Hugh! You did not just lock me in here,” she yelled, pounding on the door.

  No answer.

  “Hugh, goddammit. Unlock this door! I’m not some animal you can lock away. What happened to trusting each other?” She beat her fists on the door. “Hugh!”

  It was no use. He wasn’t going to unlock the door. He probably stood right on the other side, smiling like the conniving wolfen he was. And she couldn’t really blame him. The truth was, if he hadn’t locked her in the room, she’d have escaped.

  Her options were zip now. She turned and leaned against the door in defeat. A closer look around the room revealed only a small window, no bigger than a shoe box. That should have been the first thing she noticed and tipped her off immediately. This was the prisoner’s quarters. You can enter, but never leave.

  She grumbled on the way to the bathroom. Big shower, double sink. No window. The grumble turned to a mumble that included the many ways she thought to get even with him.

  A warm shower sounded good so she turned it on and got undressed. Clothes. She had no clothes aside from the awful blue dress she refused to put back on her body. She’d wear a towel before she put that clingy thing back on.

  As she stood under a steady stream of hot water, she took a deep breath and let her mind float back to the feelings she’d been trying her damndest to keep at bay. Feelings that unsettled her because they were deeper than anything she’d felt before. Even with Jason. Despite being a half shifter, Hugh was more man than she’d ever dreamed possible.

  And she wanted him.

  Never had she opened up to someone like she’d done with him tonight. Heck, for five years, Kensie and Francesca had no idea she’d been searching for someone named Dobson. They had no inkling she’d promised Jason she’d find his killer. That she couldn’t give up her search until she got revenge. And hopefully some answers.

  Tess had been fairly certain she didn’t need anyone else in her life. The rush she got from work and extreme sports satisfied her. Kept her busy and in touch with all sorts of people. Out on ledges and edges and in crazy-ass settings, she didn’t have time to think about anything or anyone else for very long.

  Tonight she thought she might’ve died if Hugh had. She couldn’t explain why, but she agreed with his assessment that it wasn’t a coincidence that brought them together. Fate had dealt her an awful hand with her parents and Jason, and now she’d been thrust into a partnership with a man that turned her inside out. The irony of his being her mark wasn’t lost on her and her past misfortunes. But maybe she wasn’t supposed to kill him? Maybe she was destined to fail a third time.

  The way he’d looked at her tonight, the way he’d touched her wrists with care and compassion, the way he’d whipped up a meal for her, assured her his intentions were pure. He’d meant what he said about helping her. And not just with Dobson.

  She’d never before thought about turning her back on P.I.E. The organization had given so much to her, she couldn’t imagine leaving under any circumstances. A death threat and Hugh suddenly changed that. Her imagination ran wild.

  Stop thinking, Tess. She turned off the water and wrapped up in a soft oversized towel. Exhaustion hit her hard, every inch of her body bone tired. She padded out of the bathroom and headed straight for the bed. She pulled back the comforter, unwrapped the towel, and used it to dry her hair a bit. Then she climbed underneath the sheets, lifted the coverings up to her chin and vowed to get a call in to Kensie or Francesca in the morning. Her purse and some new clothes were also on the list.

  Her eyelids fluttered shut less than a minute later, and she allowed herself to be content in the comfort of the downy soft bed. If nothing else, she felt safe. Safe to sleep soundly. Safe to dream happy dreams.

  That would not include Hugh, she mused to herself.

  Who was she kidding? He’d be starring front and center.

  She woke to a click, but didn’t move or stir or budge. The bed was sooo comfy and cozy and maybe if she stayed still, whatever had caused the click would go away.

  “Tess,” said an endearing masculine voice. “It’s time to wake up.”

  Her eyes opened wide at the sound of the deep, rugged announcement. “Go away. I’m not talking to you.”

  “I’ve got a couple things for you,” he answered, ignoring her no-talking policy.

  Darkness still filled the room and she wondered what time it was. It felt like she’d had a solid eight hours sleep so it couldn’t be too early. In fact, she felt more rested than she had in a long time. She stayed motionless and quiet.

  “I’m coming in.” The downlight above her head turned on.

  She didn’t care. His actions didn’t mean she had to act.

  Wait. He’s coming in? She sat up, bringing the covers with her. She told herself he didn’t have x-ray vision, but that didn’t stop the tingles popping up all over her body. She was naked, and Hugh was coming into the room.

  He wore jeans that sat low on his hips and a plain white T-shirt that clung to his lethally sexy chest muscles. His hair was mussed, like he’d showered and then ran his fingers through it. His face was clean-shaven. His blue eyes deeper than the waters she’d scuba dived in Australia. God, did he have to look so irresistible this morning?

  “Good morning.”

  She stayed quiet. Because she was mad about being locked in
the room or because he took her breath away, she wasn’t sure.

  “This no talking thing could work to my advantage.” He stepped closer.

  To her nakedness. Did he know she wasn’t wearing anything underneath the sheets? And oh geez, what did her hair look like? Going to sleep with it wet surely meant she had a rat’s nest thing going on.

  When he got to the edge of the bed, she watched him venture a peek toward the bathroom. Her eyes followed his and there in plain view were the blue dress and black lace undergarments on the floor.

  She pulled the sheets tighter against her. “What time is it?” Talking might get her mind off her birthday suit.

  “She speaks.” His eyes held hers with the same mixture of heat and desire she’d noticed last night. “It’s eleven.”

  “Eleven? Holy shit. I never sleep this late.” And note to self: Don’t look into his eyes anymore.

  He smiled. “Guess you needed it.”

  “More like the lack of window space kept the room dark. You’ve got some nerve, you know that?” She ran a hand through her hair to feel what it looked like. Not too bad.

  “Do you blame me?”

  Admitting she didn’t would not work in keeping him at bay, so she lied. “Yes. I do.” She frowned for further effect.

  He dropped something on the bed. “Well, maybe this will make up for it. Clean clothes. And your phone.”

  Relief and forgiveness overcame her. Wait. Her phone? “You went through my purse?” It would’ve been a lot better if he’d plopped her bag on the bed, but he was only acting the same way she would have.

  “Again, I don’t think you’re surprised. You’ve got some major arsenal in there. It could’ve come in handy with the Banoth. And your driver’s license picture doesn’t do you justice.”

  He looked less and less sexy by the minute. “You looked through my wallet? Who the hell do you think—”

  “I think I needed to confirm you are who you say you are. Tess Elizabeth Damon.” A grin that would have made her fling the sheets to the side and shout “take me” had she not been so pissed at him for snooping flanked his handsome—no, not handsome!—face.