She tossed the Diet Coke bottle across the room. It ricocheted off the trash can rim and landed on the empty bag of Funyons. Dinner of champions—or at least of those who valued their time searching for terrorist cells more than meeting each tier of the food pyramid.
Kicking off her boots, she reached into her back pocket. Same as every day, she took out the pictures and went through them, one by one. All five of them, tattered and fingered, the edges softened by wear, the color faded.
Tears flooded her eyes. A Pavlovian response to the years of paging through them and weeping. Yes, she was still upset, still grieving, but really, she wanted vengeance. Caterina blinked her sight clear and dialed the phone number she’d memorized years ago.
The phone rang, and she held it to her ear while pocketing the pictures. A recorded message picked up. “Thank you for calling the Titan Group. If you know your party’s extension, please dial it now.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Rocco used the retina scanner then scanned his thumb to gain access to the outer hallway at Titan headquarters. He hadn’t gone home, having left a very unhappy ex-girlfriend there before his latest assignment. Besides, HQ felt like more like home anyway. After jumping through a few more security hoops, he settled onto his chair in the war room and waited for the others. He was early and had planned it that way so he could drink his coffee and kick it with anyone at the office. But no one was there, except for Parker who was in full out geek-lovers-mode over some piece of techno-babble, leaving Rocco was alone with his caffeine and thoughts. Normally, that wasn’t a bad combination, but the note on the hotel bathroom mirror and that sexier-than-hell interrogator were on his mind.
“Morning, roomie.” Roman walked into the room.
Thank God. Someone to distract him even though he’d left Roman’s only an hour ago. “Morning.”
“I didn’t see you this morning, thought you’d ballsed up and decided to go home and brave Barbie.”
Well, his ex looked like Barbie and was about as boring and vanilla as Barbie too. “I’ll deal with her later, if she’s even there anymore. Threw some beers in the fridge, consider it rent.”
Roman looked at the blank television. “Dude, you feeling okay? Don’t you have some Ice Road Truckers or Swamp Loggers or something to watch?” He snapped his fingers. “Some other reality show crap to catch up on?”
Yeah, TV could’ve been a good distraction. Where was his head? Too wrapped up in a woman an ocean away in a MI6 intel outpost. Rocco took a gulp of his coffee, then tapped his finger on the table.
Roman kept going. “West Coast Choppers. Or is it Orange County Choppers? Whatever.”
The remote was inches away on the table. Reality shows were his thing, but he didn’t move. So there was something wrong with him. “Yeah, maybe later.”
The door behind him opened.
Roman looked at the door then nodded toward Rocco. “Something crawled up Roc—”
“Don’t care.” Jared pulled out a chair and planted himself. Rocco blinked when Boss Man slapped the table. “Roman. Out.”
Jared was piss and vinegar on a peachy day, so his snarl and growl didn’t say much, but throwing Roman out of the room wasn’t his typical MO. Boss Man didn’t care what he said or who he said it in front of. Actually, he preferred an audience.
Rocco nodded ‘see ya’ to Roman as his buddy walked out. An uneasy ache churned in his gut. His chest tightened, and his temples threatened to throb. Rocco didn’t need to have one of his crazy hallucinating episodes with Jared sitting front and center.
“Things went well with the Brits.” Jared cracked his knuckles against the table. “Nothing noteworthy to bring up.”
Rocco tilted his head, narrowing his eyes. “Those questions or statements?”
“Both.”
“Then, correct.”
Jared grumbled, probably a sound of amusement, but who knew. “I need you on a plane back to the UK. You’re leaving now.”
What the hell? “Wanna tell me why?”
“You’ve been personally requested by Caterina Cruz.”
He didn’t need to ask who Caterina Cruz was. The name was as delicious sounding as the voice and body. He pressed his lips together. Rocco wanted to say that name aloud just so it could roll off his tongue. Instead, he leaned back in his chair, swallowed, and replaced her name with one boring, disinterested word. “Why?”
“Why did she ask for you? Or why are you needed for a job?”
“Both.”
“Very few people in my universe have the ability to call in favors.” Jared stood and paced the length of the war room. Returning, he glared at Rocco. “Very few are given access to Titan without question. She needs your butt back on a plane. You’ve been requested. By name.” Jared sliced a glance at him. “Or at least description. Anything you’re not telling me?”
Well, hell. What aren’t you telling me? A lady that good-looking had Jared by the balls? No way. No one would have him by the boys except for Sugar, and Jared wasn’t the type to make friends with anyone he’d bedded before his wife. But still, something made Boss Man give Caterina Cruz what she wanted, and that was extraordinarily curious.
“Roc. Anything you need to tell me?”
There was that short list of things he’d been keeping to himself, starting with deliriums and ending with black outs, all stemming from that knife coated in a hallucinogen. But now wasn’t the time to bring that up. “Nope.”
Jared glared. “She’s not what she seems.”
“What is she? MI6?”
“Independent operator with a specific focus on the gun trade in Northern Africa.”
“Care to expand why a Spanish-accented operator who focuses on one of the most dangerous bevy of terrorist cells in the world is working with MI6?”
“Nope. She can explain if she wants to. Get on the plane, handle what she needs, and get home. This job is between you and me and Caterina. Understood?”
No. Not at all. “Sure.”
Jared slapped the table, stood, and walked toward the door. He turned back to eye Rocco. “Nothing else?”
Yeah, I’m blacking out. Seeing stars. Hearing sounds. And a woman I can’t knock out of my brain wants me to fly across the globe without giving a reason, and you’re cool with it. “Nothing at all.”
CHAPTER FIVE
The more Caterina found out about Locke’s meet-and-greet with El Mateperros, the better she felt about her plan. MI6 had turned over what they’d found. Friends at the CIA and Interpol filled in a few blanks. But her working assumption that Locke wouldn’t show his face to El Mateperros until they met was about as confirmed as it could be.
Even better, rumor amongst the intelligence analysts was that Locke’s new wife was just as mysterious. Some had heard about her, but most didn’t know she existed. Some said she was a caricature that Locke had built to protect his identity, but with a second body in the airplane crash and photographs of their matching rings, Caterina knew he’d been hitched.
And that was perfect. She wouldn’t have to rely solely on her Daniel Locke. She could be Mrs. Locke. She could get in to see El Mateperros and be feet away from the bastard who’d destroyed her life. She would be able to take him out, but not before she talked to him. Touched him. Drained the life out of the man who killed her family, sending him all the way to the devil’s doorsteps.
Her throwaway cell phone rang, and she glared at it, not expecting a call or trusting who might be on the other line. “Hello?”
“Caterina Cruz.”
A feminine, no bullshit voice came through, and Caterina didn’t recognize it. She pulled the phone back, checked the screen, but still didn’t recognize the number. “And this is?”
“Jared Westin wanted me to call you.”
Made more sense, but she didn’t trust anyone. “Wrong number. Sorry—”
“Anyway. My name’s Sugar. I’m supposed to make sure you have whatever you need.”
Caterina didn’t need cold calls
from a random name-dropping woman. “I’m good. Thanks—”
“You don’t need supplies?” An audible smirk wrapped her words.
“I’m fine.”
“Ammo, hardware. Whatever you need.”
Caterina waited, took a sip of the Diet Coke, and screwed on the top. Nice and slow. “And you are, again?”
“A distributor.”
“I have enough of those. Thanks anyway.”
“And Jared’s wife.”
She choked. Jared was married? She’d never expected to hear that. Still not sure she believed it. “As unbelievable as that might be, it’d take some balls to make up a little number like that. But I don’t need anything.”
“Not so fast, little senorita.” Sugar bulldozed past Cat’s phone call wrap up. “First thing you’ll learn about me is that I call it like I see it. Second thing is, I can hook you up with any weapon you want almost anywhere in the world. I’m your ammo-freakin’ fairy godmother.”
Oh-kay. “Still not—”
“Why aren’t you taking me up on this?” Sugar snapped.
“Why are you pressing me?”
“Because I don’t know you or trust you.”
Sugar blew into the phone, annoyed. “You’re starting to piss me off.”
She was already there. “I know the feeling. You know, I torture people for a living. Right?”
“I’m used to getting my way. You might extract intel, but you don’t catch ’em. So I’ve got you there. I’m married to my very own pain-in-the-ass catcher. Do something I don’t like, prepare to be strung up.”
Caterina laughed. “Jared would never hurt me.”
“Pfffst,” Sugar blew into the phone again. “I don’t know if I hate or like you.”
“Funny, I thought the same thing about you.”
Sugar didn’t say anything, and the only reason Caterina stayed on the phone was Sugar was married to Jared, and that amounted to some smidge of respect, at least enough that she wouldn’t hang up on the lady.
“I’ve been called a bitch once or twice in my lifetime.” She could picture a brassy woman shrugging as she said that, like she was playing down her favorite compliment. “Anyway, send me your shopping list, and I’ll let you know where the pickup is.”
Caterina dropped her forehead into her hands. “Not that I’m not grateful, but this is more of a one shot, one kill type situation.”
“Oh, pretty little Senorita, let me explain. Whenever Titan comes calling, it’s a safer bet to have boxes of bullets on hand. Just in case, ya know?”
No. She didn’t know. She worked alone, and while she knew Titan stories—they were legendary—she preferred to do things her way, even with Jared helping as much as he was. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Sugar scoffed. “Right. Well, it’s your job and all. But you have one of my boys heading your way, and I like to keep them happy. That generally means something with a little high-caliber bang to it.”
“No one’s here yet.”
“Will be any minute, I assume.” A bubblegum pop punctuated the snarky sentence.
A twitch struck Caterina. Not only was this her job, but she wasn’t thrilled that Sugar kept tabs on Handsome. Not that she was jealous. She just…didn’t like it. “Soon enough.”
“So he doesn’t know your whole story yet, huh? Are you just going to tell him? Or feel him out?”
Caterina’s eyebrows shot to her hair. “And you know the whole story?”
“Enough of it. Perk of being Boss Man’s wife. I’m just looking after my boy. Not every day Titan sends someone out solo.”
“He’s not solo. He’s got me.”
“Well, I don’t know you.”
Caterina popped a Funyon. She still couldn’t decide if she loved or hated Sugar. “But yet you’ll arm me?”
“I’ll arm someone working with Titan. Yes. No questions asked. And if you want some special bullet to do your one shot, one kill crap, fine. You want it painted pink and with a keepsake memorial case to remember the day, fine. You need to kill a fucker who hurt you and yours? I’m your girl.”
Loved. Caterina crunched another Funyon. They thought alike, and Sugar offered her a commemorative knick knack to mark an impending day of death. That was freakin’ awesome. Sugar now had a fan in Caterina.
A knock echoed on the cheap wood door of her equally cheap apartment. Her heart sputtered into a frenzy. He was there. She hadn’t even asked Jared what his name was because Jared was a mind reader. Titan’s all-knowing, all-assuming boss didn’t need to see she wasn’t one hundred percent focused on El Mateperros. Sugar hadn’t mentioned his name either. Cat could ask, but her newfound respect for Sugar wasn’t going to let her give the woman any kind of advantage.
“I have to go, Sugar.” Caterina ended the call before Sugar could respond.
Cat smoothed her hands over her ponytail and started toward the door. She might not be one hundred percent focused, but she also wasn’t about to let some eye candy of a man distract her, not until El Mateperros was six feet under. Then her life would change. She’d set up roots somewhere, have hobbies and neighbors, far more than just a Swiss bank account and a habit of eating her meals from a Quik-E-Mart.
Another knock made her jump, and she opened the door to find his hand in midair, going for another knock. His chiseled jaw flexed, and the chest muscles under his dark t-shirt somehow managed to ripple. She could have sworn to it. And if he’d been good-looking when sick on a park bench or while on the job, dropping off a terrorist to a black ops site, then now, showered, shaved, and wearing casual clothes, he was the type of striking that made shivers roller coaster down her back.
“Hi…” Maybe she should’ve asked Jared or Sugar for a name.
Piercing chestnut eyes cut straight through her. “Boss Man didn’t pass along my name. Typical.” He extended his hand. “Rocco Savage.”
She hadn’t been wrong. Not quite Rambo, but his name suited his body, all solid mass and cut muscle. His larger-than-life hand enveloped hers. It was rough and warm. When he shook, his whole body flexed, causing some primitive, feminine reaction that materialized in a mouthwatering need to step closer to him.
Instead, she stepped back. “Caterina Cruz.”
“I did get that from Jared. Though that’s about all.”
Rocco walked past her, a duffel bag thrown over his shoulder. His jeans did wicked things to her imagination. She closed her eyes to stifle a gawk. No joke, those jeans and that man… no one would hold it against her. He turned around, and her eyes were still butt level. Fabulous. She faked a cough-sneeze and spun to make sure the door was shut—it was—because they were both operatives, and leaving the door open wasn’t a move either would make, even if she had a bad habit of just throwing them open.
Her cough-sneeze evasive tactic did nothing to hide where her mind had been. It was like she’d never seen a man who radiated sex appeal before. Well, she hadn’t. Not like him, but that wasn’t the point. Caterina turned back around.
“Doing okay over there?” A cocky grin went with eyes that said I-know-what-you-just-did.
He didn’t even pretend to have the good manners not to notice. She murmured a few words he didn’t seem to understand. She took a deep breath. “Just…” She gestured to the door, and he watched her wave to the shut door. “Making sure it shut.”
One side of his grin hitched, and he had a dimple. “Right. Door’s shut. Check.”
Caterina chewed the inside of her cheek, not to be outdone by a dimple and a smile. “Bienvenido.” She said welcome and that make him smile a bit bigger? She’d have to remember that information. Handsome liked the accent. Check. Still, she had an ace in the hole in what appeared to be their nice-to-meet-ya game. He had no idea that they’d met before Titan did the terrorist drop… but using his vulnerability as a potential one-up didn’t make her feel awesome.
“Interesting digs.” He walked the length of the run-down studio, eyeing the research-covered walls. Newspaper
clippings from random countries. Photographs she’d collected over the course of years skipping country to country.
A pillow and blanket sat folded next to the couch. It was a meager setup, but she didn’t need much. Clean clothes and a roof. Diet Coke and Funyons. But now that he was in her apartment, self-consciousness nipped at her.
Rocco pointed to the clippings tacked to the wall. Some were highlighted, and others were connected with pieces of red string. “This looks a little like the work of those serial killer types. You know? The ones who tin foil their windows.”
“Serial killer?” She shrugged. She was on the hunt, and her target would eventually die. Maybe not a serial killer, but Rocco wasn’t that far off the mark, though she was second guessing her plans to invite him in. “It’s a temporary site. No access to a fancy Titan war room. It works for the job.”
He pivoted. “You know a lot about Titan.”
“I know enough.” Jared thought she could do this and had agreed to send his man. No way would that have happened if she didn’t have a decent chance at success. Caterina pushed her shoulders back, reaffirming that this charade was the right move. The only move.
Rocco circled round the room, circled her. The bang-bang of her heart accelerated. She felt more like prey than a ghost operative about to offer up her best plan to take out El Mateperros.
Out of habit, she stepped out of a danger zone and into the kitchenette to grab a Diet Coke. “Want one?”
“Diet? Nope.” He looked at the window, studying the busted frame and lock. “Fake sugar will kill you.”
Ha. “Are you kidding me?” He went along inspecting her studio, like she hadn’t checked it out herself. “And what is it you do for a living?”
Rocco smirked. “I try not to get killed. Anytime there’s an easy way to avoid dying, it’s a no brainer.”
She cracked the top of the soda and downed a quarter of the bottle, then lifted it up in a toast. “Here’s to living on the edge and no brainer jobs.”
A grin tugged at his lips. Yes, he liked the accent. May’ve even liked her. That was good news because she was about to drop a bomb.
Savage Secrets (Titan #6) Page 3
