“Lucky, I guess.”
Ha! Bad was the only kind of luck the two of them had had tonight. But fine. She’d tackle this another way. “How did you know that man? Bill?”
“He was my boss.”
“I thought Rowan Patrick was your boss.”
Silence.
Gabby refused to let this go. “Did Bill abduct us?”
“No. He was a good man.”
“Then how did he know—”
“I don’t know! Okay? I don’t know. You and I were supposed to be taken, but Bill wasn’t supposed to be there and he sure as hell wasn’t supposed to be killed.”
Gabby shook her head, trying to make sense of Sean’s words. “Are you psychic?” A possibility, she supposed. After all, she was proof that people with extraordinary abilities existed. “ ’Cause there’s no other way for you to have known what was and wasn’t supposed to happen back there. There’s no other way you would have known to hide a car in some random forest.”
Silence slithered between them, and she thought he meant to ignore her. Then, he sighed, stopped the car at the side of the road, and pierced her with the darkest stare she’d ever seen.
“I know because I’m the one who abducted you.”
CHAPTER TWO
Three weeks earlier
“This, gentlemen, is your target. Gabrielle Huit. Gabby to her friends. Twenty-seven years old, five eight, and approximately one hundred and thirty pounds.”
Sean Walker studied the female’s photo on the wall in front of him. Thick brown hair, straight as a pin. Big brown eyes, olive skin, no freckles that he could see. She was utterly nondescript. Totally dismissible. Unless you concentrated on those eyes.
The brown was a mix of honey and cinnamon—I must be hungry, because damn—and were filled with haunting pain. As a twelve-year agent for Rose Briar, an independent firm that offered a safe haven for anyone exhibiting extraordinary abilities, as well as destruction for anyone who abused those powers, Sean had seen that look enough times to know her life had not been all sunshine and candy. But she’d survived, which meant she was strong. He admired strength.
The photo disappeared, replaced by one of Gabby walking out of a redbrick apartment building. That was quickly followed by one of her strolling down a sidewalk, people and taxis meandering around her as she sipped a cup of coffee. Next she was handing a kid a few dollars. Money Gabby couldn’t spare, if the report on her bank account balance—an account she kept under a false identity—could be believed. Finally, Sean saw her in a dimmed club, a tray clutched in her hands as a man reached out to pinch her ass.
“She’s a technopath,” Bill, his boss and the man now in charge of Rose Briar, continued.
“A what?” Sean and fellow Rose Briar agent Rowan Patrick asked at the same time. They shared an amused glance. Though they looked nothing alike, people often accused them of being twins.
“A technopath. She’s a human computer.” Bill’s head tilted to the side. “Well, kind of.” He scrubbed a hand down his face. Though his skin was the color of coffee, he somehow appeared ashen. “I’ll start from the beginning. I just hope you’re ready for this.” He paused. “About twenty years ago, I was among a group of Rose Briar agents who raided a lab belonging to Dr. Karlis Fasset. It was my first mission, but one I’ll never forget.”
Bill raised a small black remote, pressed a button, and Gabrielle’s face disappeared, a new one taking its place. Sean hated the loss—and that pissed him off. She was a job, not a possible date. The new mark was a studious man, probably early thirties, who was thin, almost gaunt, with pale skin and thick glasses.
“Kids were disappearing off the streets in broad daylight, yet there were no witnesses,” Bill said. “We suspected we were dealing with someone who could teleport. Then we found one of the kids. His head had been shaved, was scabbed and scarred, and he was mentally and emotionally traumatized, but he managed to lead us to Dr. Fasset’s lab. After going through the doctor’s notes, we realized he had abducted ten kids in all. Kids who were homeless, parentless, and wouldn’t be missed. He had implanted all kinds of shit into their brains, basically making them remote receivers.”
“Bastard,” Rowan said.
Rowan was a good man and an even better agent. He and Sean had done countless missions together and usually met their objective with low collateral damage. With his blond hair, green eyes, and you-can-trust-me smile, people tended to welcome Rowan into their midst, few questions asked. They couldn’t help but want to befriend him. Even emulate him. Only later, when that angel face revealed a devil’s intentions, did they regret their decision.
“Those kids, not that they’re kids anymore, can now download files from other people’s computers into their brains,” Bill said, his dark eyes grim. “They don’t even need to touch the damn things. If the computer is on, they can access what’s inside.”
Wow. “What about codes and encryptions?”
“We’re not sure about that.”
Still. Stomach tightening, Sean leaned back in his seat. As far as unnatural abilities went, that was a big one. The ramifications were devastating. Government secrets—theirs for the taking. Any secrets—theirs for the taking. If someone like that fell into the wrong hands . . .
“It gets worse,” Bill said. “Dr. Fasset had already released all the kids back into the wild, so to speak, before we discovered what he’d been doing. He’d renamed them, actually numbered them in French. Only good thing he did was put their fingerprints into both police and government databases so that they’d be traceable. Over the years, we’ve been hunting them and managed to find Quatre, who was the one to lead us to the doctor, as well as Six and Neuf. Four, six, and nine. And let me tell you, despite the names and the fingerprints, finding those last two wasn’t easy. Some of the kids were adopted, their names again changed, and their files sealed. Some were never picked up. Gabrielle Huit, number eight, was of the never-picked-up variety.”
“So how’d you finally find her?” Sean asked.
“She’d gone off the grid, but was arrested a few weeks ago for assaulting some guy at a coffee shop. Broke his nose, busted three of his teeth.”
Rowan laughed. “We’re talking about the mouse you just showed us, right?”
She’s not a mouse. Those eyes, Sean thought again.
“Why’d she do it? Beat the coffee guy up, I mean.” For the most part, people abhorred physical violence. Women especially. They went out of their way to avoid it and didn’t tend to rush headlong into it.
“When questioned,” Bill said, “she told cops that the man had kiddie porn on his laptop. And she was right.”
Good for her, then. Sean only wished she’d removed all the bastard’s teeth.
“Anyway, we’d already flagged the ten sets of prints, so we were notified immediately when hers were scanned. She’s here in New York, a waitress at some nightclub. Eye Candy, it’s called.”
“You want us to kill her?” Sean asked with a tinge of . . . regret. Yes, regret. That didn’t mean he’d hesitate. He might admire the woman’s spirit, but he always did his job.
“No. No, no, no.” Bill held up his hands, that little black remote anchored between his fingers. “We want to study her, question her, so we’re sending you in to gain her trust. And if you hear nothing else I say, hear this. Gaining her trust is imperative. When we questioned Quatre, the stuff in his brain self-destructed, killing him. Six didn’t want to work with us, but she didn’t want her ability any longer, either, so we operated on her, hoping to deactivate what had been done. But again, the chips and wires caused some sort of self-destructive reaction and killed not only the girl but the people operating on her.”
Rowan leaned forward and propped his elbows on the square tabletop in front of him. “What happened to the last? Neuf?”
Bill’s shoulders slouched ever so slightly. “We made him comfortable but kept him locked up. We didn’t know what to do with him, but didn’t want him free, others able
to use him. The continued anxiety caused a meltdown. After only fifteen days, we found him dead in his cell.”
Sean and Rowan shared another look, this one pure Oh, shit. Sean thought, No pressure. Gain the girl’s trust and be careful not to incite her nerves for a prolonged period of time.
He rubbed the tattoos at his temples. They were swirling Celtic designs he both loved and hated. Usually the action calmed him. Not this time. “How do you want us to do this?”
“Remember I told you she works at a nightclub?” Bill waited for their nods. “Well, the owner, Thomas Wayland, was dealing on the side and was happy to give us the club and a smooth transition from his rule to ours in exchange for his freedom and a one-way ticket out of the country.”
“Nice of him,” Rowan said with a laugh.
Bill grinned. “Wasn’t it, though? We’ve had an agent inside for two weeks, a female, but she hasn’t had much luck. Gabrielle keeps to herself. We think a boyfriend can get her to open up and ease her into helping us.” There at the end, his gaze had zeroed in on Rowan.
“Me? Again?” Rowan asked, pointing at his chest. He was grinning. While he wasn’t attracted to Gabby, he liked variety and sex—however and whenever he could get it. “Is it Christmas already?”
Sean wasn’t surprised the blond had been chosen as the romancer. Like every Rose Briar agent, Rowan possessed an unnatural ability, and it sure as hell beat the shit out of Sean’s. Sean could manipulate the shadows. Rowan could read a woman’s desires—and give her exactly what she craved—without her ever saying a word. Gabrielle Huit wouldn’t stand a chance.
And that did not cause every muscle in Sean’s body to clench with anger. It didn’t. Really.
“You are to be a rich, up-and-coming entrepreneur,” Bill told the agent.
“Easy. But what do you think this Gabrielle will like?” Rowan rubbed two fingers over his stubbled jaw. “Well, besides this beautiful face of mine.”
Bill strode to the table against the far wall, lifted several sheets of paper, and handed them to Rowan. “Bentley, our woman on the inside, compiled a profile on what she thinks the target will prefer in a man. Gabrielle is disgusted by the club’s patrons, thinks they are cheaters and liars. She enjoys lattes, but doesn’t often venture into coffee shops. Too many pervs with laptops, I suppose. Therefore, you will be as un-pervy as possible. You will drink coffee and be sensitive. Maybe pretend to read poetry and that kind of shit. Oh, and if she thinks you’re interested in marriage, even better. That might prove how trustworthy you are.”
Rowan’s grin never wavered. “I’ll put love quizzes and letters to my mom on a laptop and make sure the thing is on when I call her into my office for a chat with the new boss.”
“And my job?” Sean asked.
“Eyes and ears,” Bill said. “To everyone else, you’re the hired muscle. That way, it won’t seem odd that you’re always around, digging into everyone’s business, while protecting Rowan and his employees. And yeah, you’ll need to protect Gabrielle. We don’t think anyone else knows who she is or what she can do, but secrets have a way of getting out. . . .”
Two days later, Sean finally found himself face-to-face with Gabrielle Huit. Rowan was at his desk, drinking a cup of coffee he didn’t really like, with his laptop in front of him and conveniently turned on. Sean stood behind him, and Gabrielle sat in front of him, back ramrod straight, shoulders squared, and face expressionless.
In person, there was nothing mousy about her. Her brown hair was like silk, gleaming in the light. Her eyes were honey and cinnamon, just as Sean had supposed, only he hadn’t noticed the length and thickness of her lashes, framing those eyes and giving them a take-my-panties-off-with-your-teeth tilt. Her nose was small, dainty, her cheekbones just a little rounded. Her lips were lush and pink, and her skin a deep gold. And she did have freckles. A smattering on her nose.
Rowan would get to trace then when he bedded her.
Sean’s hands fisted at his sides.
“I’m so glad to meet you, Gabrielle,” Rowan said, his voice as smooth as scotch. “As I mentioned during the staff meeting, my name is Rowan Patrick and I’m the new owner of Eye Candy. The man behind me is Sean Walker, bodyguard, bouncer, and friend. Now, before we begin, can Sean get you anything? A delicious cup of coffee, perhaps?”
A moment passed. Gabrielle didn’t speak or even twitch in her seat. She simply sat there, silent and still. Was she downloading the files in Rowan’s computer even now?
Her brow furrowed; then a few seconds later a smile was lifting the corners of her mouth. Yep. She’d just opened the files. Question now was whether or not she liked what she’d found.
“Gabrielle,” Rowan said when her expression once again cleared.
“What?” She blinked, shook her head. “Oh. Sorry. Please, call me Gabby.”
Sean liked the sound of her voice. A little raspy, a lot seductive.
“Would you like that coffee, Gabby? I always have coffee around, I just love it so much,” Rowan said. “Or would you rather have something to relax you? You look nervous. Sean’s happy to fetch anything you desire.”
Of course he was. He was the lowly bodyguard/ errand boy.
“No, thank you,” she said, her gaze flicking to Sean. It didn’t remain on him for more than a few seconds, but he felt the heat of it all the way to the bone. “I’m fine.”
Rowan sipped from his cup. “Well, there’s no reason to be nervous, I assure you. This is just an informal meeting for us to get to know each other.”
She didn’t shift, didn’t even twitch. “I’m not nervous.”
“Oh. Well, good.” Rowan waited for her to say something else, but she never did. With a sigh, he ran a finger down the paper in front of him. “Your file says you’ve been working here for six months.”
“That’s right.”
There was another long pause as they waited for her to elaborate. Again, she didn’t.
Rowan settled back in his seat. “What’d you do before coming here?”
They already knew the answers because they’d done an extensive background check on her, and her aliases, but they wanted to, one, see if she’d lie and two, get her to open up.
“I waitressed for another club.”
Truth. But just as before, she offered nothing extra.
Rowan ran his tongue over his teeth and laced his hands at his middle. He frowned. Was probably frustrated. Females usually offered him their panties at this point.
“So . . . do you like working here?” Rowan asked.
“Yes.”
Sean’s lips twitched.
Suddenly Gabby’s gaze lifted and locked with his, brown against blue. He knew she saw amusement in his. He saw . . . nothing in hers. Her expression remained completely unreadable.
He wasn’t disappointed. Really. At least Rowan was striking out, as well.
Hey, you’re supposed to want him to succeed.
God, what was it about the girl that was screwing with his common sense? He didn’t know her, had never spoken to her, and wasn’t the one who would be sleeping with her. No, he wouldn’t be the one sinking into that soft body, hearing her passion cries in his ears, and riding tide after tide of pleasure.
His hands were clenched again, he realized.
“I want you to be as happy working for me as you were with your former boss.” Rowan lifted a pen and began tapping it against his knee. “If you have any problems, if anyone gives you a hard time about anything, you come to me and I’ll take care of it.”
“I will. Thank you.” She pushed to her feet, the conversation clearly over in her mind.
Rowan didn’t speak as she turned on her heel and strode to the door. Didn’t speak as she opened it, exited, and shut it behind her with a gentle click. Then he swiveled in his chair and leveled Sean with a dark glare.
“What the hell just happened?”
“That’s called a strikeout,” Sean said with a grin. “I’ve never seen you crash and burn like th
at, my friend.”
“I know. Embarrassing is what it is. I mean, really.” Rowan tangled his fingers through his hair. “You got a better response than I did.”
“Please, I got nothing, same as you.”
Rowan offered him a sheepish smile. “I know. But I felt the heat pulsing off you the moment she stepped into the office. Then I saw the fantasies you were weaving about her and decided to throw you a bone. So you want her, huh?”
Sean lost his grin but managed to shrug. “Doesn’t matter. Unless you picked up on her weaving fantasies about me?”
A sigh. “Sorry. Her mind was a blank slate to me. I didn’t pick up on a single thought, emotion, or desire. It’s like she operates on a completely different frequency than the rest of the world.”
She probably did, with all those wires and chips in her head.
“Still,” Rowan continued, “we can call Bill and tell him you’re the one who should be—”
“Nope.” The word burned his tongue, and he hated himself for saying it, but he didn’t take it back. Success was too important. “I don’t exactly inspire trust in the women I date. The opposite, in fact. Something about me makes people distrust my every word and action.” His affiliation with the shadows, with darkness, most likely. They must have sensed it on some level. “You’re better at romancing and I’m better at killing.”
Rowan nodded reluctantly. “I thought I had her when she downloaded my files. She cracked a little bit of a smile.” He shifted thoughtfully. “Even though we’re abnormal ourselves, it’s so weird to think a human can do that. Act like a computer, I mean.”
“Yeah.” Made him wonder what else she could do. What they didn’t know about.
Another sigh. “So what do we do now?”
He didn’t have to think about it. “We do what we’re good at. You work your way into her pants and I eliminate anyone who tries to stop you.” Himself included.
CHAPTER THREE
Thursday through Sunday, Gabby worked from 7:00 P.M. to 3:00 A.M., her usual nights and hours. Only difference was, her new boss and his bodyguard. Mr. Patrick was in his office upstairs, standing at the wall of windows that overlooked the entire club, watching her. That shouldn’t have bothered her. He was a handsome man, almost pretty. But bother her it did.
Temptation in Shadows Page 2
