Kick A** Heroines Box Set: The UltimatumFatal AffairAfter the DarkBulletproof SEAL (The Guardian)

by Karen Robards

  “That kind of stuff always does.”

  “Yeah, you should know, Ms. Thompson.”

  “I’m going to use a different name for this identity.” Her gaze tracked to the digital clock on the bedside table. “Not tonight?”

  “We’ll save it for tomorrow. Do you know if Belinda works?”

  “She did. I don’t know about now, since David’s death.”

  “Nine-to-five job?”

  “She’s in marketing, and I think she went into an office. So we should pay her a visit at the end of the workday.”

  “Exactly, but not too late. We don’t want to scare her by showing up on her doorstep in the dead of night.”

  “Poor woman has had enough to deal with. I almost feel guilty nosing around.”

  Quinn threw himself across the bed and toed off his shoes. “We’re just there to look around and assess. We’re not gonna accuse her husband of anything, but if we see anything that needs closer examination, I’m not gonna rule out making a return visit—while she’s not there.”

  “I agree.” Rikki yawned. “I’m tired.”

  He patted the bed. “Come on over here and I’ll give you a massage.”

  “I know how your massages end.” She put her hands on her curvy hips. “I said I was tired.”

  “I missed you, Rikki. I missed us, but I think I can control myself if you’re too tired for sex. Hell, I’m just happy holding you in my arms.” And as insincere as that sounded, he’d meant it. “Go brush your teeth and do whatever it is you do to get so beautiful and then I’ll deliver a no-strings-attached massage to your aching body.”

  “Sounds like heaven.”

  When she returned to the bedroom, an above-the-knee cotton nightgown floating around her body, Quinn turned off the TV and jumped from the bed. “Stretch out. I’ll brush my teeth and be right back.”

  While in the bathroom, Quinn washed his hands with warm water and plucked a little bottle of lotion from the counter. Squeezing the lotion into his hands, he walked back into the bedroom and winked at Rikki. “I was afraid you’d be sound asleep.”

  “Close to it, but I’m curious to witness this self-control of yours as I’ve never seen it.”

  “That’s cold.” He perched on the edge of the bed, rubbing his hands together. “No massage oils, but I found some lotion.”

  “That’ll work.” She stretched like a cat, pointing her toes off the foot of the bed.

  “Um.” He tugged at the hem of her nightgown. “Do you want to remove this?”

  She twisted around. “I knew it.”

  “Come on. Even massage therapists who are complete strangers have you disrobe for a massage.”

  As she pulled the nightgown over her head, she said in a muffled voice, “But they usually have a towel or sheet for the naughty bits.”

  “Do you really want me to cover you with a towel?”

  She tossed the nightgown over her shoulder, and he made a concerted effort to keep his gaze off her luscious breasts.

  “Nope. Have your way with me, McBride. You always do.” She lay back down on her stomach, her arms at her sides.

  He started with her shoulders, digging his thumbs into the sides of her neck.

  She let out a long breath of air between her teeth in a hiss. “That feels good.”

  “Did you forget about these magic fingers?”

  “I remember the magic fingers. I just don’t remember them plowing into the sore muscles of my neck.”

  “Shh. You talk too much.”

  She wasn’t kidding about those sore muscles. He worked at the tight knots at the base of her neck until they disappeared, and then he squeezed her shoulders and pressed the heels of his hands into her shoulder blades.

  Rikki’s breathing had deepened, and Quinn continued massaging the smooth flesh of her back. He expected another sarcastic comment from her when he reached her buttocks, but she moaned softly as he kneaded her glutes.

  Her new womanly shape enticed him as much as her fit, athletic build had, but he knew now his attraction to Rikki ran more than skin deep. He’d known it all along, from the moment he met her at that hotel bar in Dubai. He’d known it the minute he awakened in that same hotel all alone.

  His loss had punched him in the gut then and had nearly brought him to his knees months after that when he watched that North Korean guard shoot her.

  He’d had his next assignment to distract him after his second, more permanent loss of Rikki, but his leave had sent him spiraling out of control. How much longer he could’ve gone on like that if Rikki hadn’t shown up on his doorstep two nights ago, he hadn’t a clue.

  This time, as he faced his third abandonment by Rikki, he’d be ready. She’d survived. That was all that mattered to him.

  He caressed her outer thighs and whispered, “Do you want me to go on? I can do a mean foot massage that could put any pedicurist to shame.”

  Her only response was a long, drawn-out sigh.

  He stopped, his hands hovering above her legs. He slid off the bed and crouched beside it, his face close to Rikki’s, nose to nose.

  Her long lashes fluttered, and her lips parted on a minty breath.

  That was the first time he’d ever put Rikki Taylor to sleep…and it gave him a good feeling. He drew the sheet up to her shoulders and climbed into bed next to her.

  She shifted onto her side, facing him, and he stroked the side of her full breast.

  He murmured the words he’d never say to her out loud. “Love you.”

  She mumbled something, and Quinn’s heart skipped a beat. Had she heard him and responded in kind?

  “What?” He held his breath until he realized she was fast asleep.

  She spoke in her sleep again, and this time he heard the word and repeated it. “Bell?”

  Her mouth curved into a soft, sweet smile, and he kissed the tip of his finger and touched her bottom lip.

  He didn’t hear any bells, but he didn’t have to. He knew how he felt about Rikki…even if she wanted to keep denying her own feelings for him.

  And he’d do whatever it took to make her happy—with or without him.

  * * *

  THEY SPENT THE following day getting two credible CIA badges and a handful of matching business cards with Quinn’s temp cell phone number, shopping for some convincing clothes to wear and holing up in the air-conditioned motel room.

  Watching TV from the bed, Rikki crossed her legs at her ankles and tapped her bare feet together. “The small glimpses I’m getting of the city make me want to see more of it. The architecture is incredible, and I’m itching to tour some of those homes.”

  “We’ll put Savannah on your list the next time you come out to New Orleans and do a two-for-one. I’ll even throw in Nashville.”

  “I’ll take you up on it.” She drew her knees to her chest and wrapped one arm around her legs. “That was some massage last night. Totally relaxing.”

  “I aim to please.” He touched two fingers to his forehead.

  “I’m sorry I fell asleep. I mean…”

  “Proved you wrong, didn’t I?”

  “You did?”

  “You didn’t think I could give you a massage without jumping your bones.”

  She balanced her chin on her knees. “I didn’t mean to imply you were a caveman with no self-control. It’s that our relationship before…”

  “Was purely physical?” He shrugged. “Maybe for you.”

  Her eyes widened. “We didn’t have that much time in Dubai.”

  “It was enough time for me, Rikki. You don’t think I know what I want in a woman? What qualities are important to me?”

  The panicked look on her face stopped him cold.

  “You know what? We should start getting ready if we want to greet Belinda Dawson when she gets home from work.
We don’t want to give her too much time to go out again.”

  “You’re right, although I dread putting on that suit.” She rolled from the bed and grabbed a jacket from the back of the chair.

  “You and me both.” He ripped the plastic from the cheap, off-the-rack suit he’d bought earlier that day. “Do you know you talk in your sleep?”

  “I do?” She froze and clutched the jacket to her chest, her pale face a shade lighter than the light beige of the suit. “What did I say?”

  “I honestly don’t remember.” He just knew it hadn’t been his name or any form of endearment for him. “Okay, I’m gonna put this thing on—if you think you can control yourself while I change.”

  She laughed a little too loudly. “That’s fair.”

  He dropped his shorts to the floor and pulled on the polyester slacks. “Are you nervous about this?”

  “David and I used to do stuff like this all the time. It’s a snap.”

  “I’m not David. Are you afraid I’m going to screw it up?”

  “You’ll be fine. You’re a quick learner.”

  Forty minutes later as Quinn drove his car, which had developed a rattle, down the gracious streets of Savannah’s historic district, Rikki poked him in the side.

  “You’re going to have to park this jalopy a few blocks away. There is no way David’s wife is going to believe the CIA is paying her an official visit in this little death trap.”

  Quinn ducked his head and peered at the palatial homes behind the live oaks dripping with Spanish moss. He whistled through his teeth. “Either David was making a lot more money than you at the Agency or he had a ton of life insurance. Did you say this was a new address for Belinda?”

  “Yeah.” Rikki rolled down the window and took a deep breath. “Smells lovely out here.”

  “Where did they live before?”

  “Not in this neighborhood. I looked up David’s old address and it wasn’t near here, so the widow purchased some new digs after her husband’s untimely death.”

  Glancing at the GPS, Quinn said, “Her house is up ahead on the right. I’m going to pull up alongside this park. Can you check the signs?”

  “Slow down.” Rikki stuck her head out the window. “It’s okay to park here.”

  Quinn pulled up to the curb and unfolded himself from the car. “Can you please grab my jacket from the back?”

  Rikki joined him on the sidewalk, jacket in hand. “Here you go.”

  They walked the two blocks to Belinda Dawson’s house. Quinn’s hand swung at his side so close to Rikki’s, they kept brushing knuckles. He resisted the urge to grab her hand.

  What would they do after this dead end? What would Rikki do? Where else would she go to find answers? He wanted to send her back to Jamaica and continue the investigation on his own. He had sources at the CIA—better sources than the hapless Jeff. He might be able to track this down for her. It might even be a good idea for Rikki to turn herself in and cooperate with the investigation.

  He slid a glance at her firm jaw and long stride. No way. She wouldn’t go down that road, and he didn’t blame her. If the powers that be at the CIA thought they had their woman a year ago, what would change their mind this time? The fact that she’d spent time in a North Korean labor camp wouldn’t convince them.

  “There it is.” Rikki tugged on his sleeve. “And there’s a Lexus in the driveway, so she’s probably home.”

  “Home and livin’ large.”

  She drove a knuckle into his back. “You act like she’s happy her husband’s dead and would rather have the money.”

  “David Dawson was a snake. You should know that better than anyone. He wanted to cheat on his wife…with you. You don’t really believe that garbage he was spewing about how Belinda didn’t understand him. That’s the oldest line in the book.”

  “I know that.”

  “And if you were so quick to peg David as a traitor based on the flimsy evidence of a fictional character, deep down you knew David was a snake.”

  “All right, all right.” She put her finger to her lips as they approached the wrought iron gate ringing the house. “It’s time to keep your thoughts to yourself.”

  Quinn pushed down on the handle of the gate. “Whew, not locked. Ready, Agent Reid?”

  “Copy, Agent Miller.”

  Once on the broad porch, Quinn rang the doorbell, which resounded somewhere deep in the house. “I wouldn’t be surprised if a maid in a frilly apron answered the door.”

  “Or a butler.”

  A soft voice with a honeyed Southern accent floated out to the porch over an intercom. “Who is it? Press the white button, please.”

  Quinn reached for the speaker to the right of the doorbell and jabbed the button with his thumb. He laid his own Nawlins accent on thick. “Good evening, ma’am. I’m Agent Miller and this is Agent Reid. We’ve come to collect Agent Dawson’s equipment.”

  At first Quinn thought she was going to ignore them and shut them out. Then the soft drawl responded, “Equipment?”

  “I’m sorry, ma’am. The Agency contacted you about some equipment of Agent Dawson’s and you indicated you had it at home?”

  “I don’t remember that.” The locks on the door clicked, and it inched open.

  A petite woman with fluffy blond hair appeared in the doorway.

  Rikki stuck out her hand. “Mrs. Dawson? I’m Agent Reid. Sorry for any confusion. We were sent to pick up some equipment.”

  Belinda released a measured sigh. “Sometimes I wonder how the government functions. Please come in.”

  Quinn took the attractive woman’s soft hand in his. “Sorry for your loss, ma’am, and sorry for the red tape.”

  “It’s been over a year. I’m used to it.” She closed the door and folded her hands in front of her. “Can I get you some tea? Lemonade?”

  “I’d love some tea, ma’am.” Quinn slathered on the Southern charm. A woman like Belinda Dawson would expect it. A quick glance around the lavishly appointed living room marked Belinda as a woman who spared herself no comfort or reward.

  Rikki shook her head. “Nothing for me, thank you. You have a beautiful home.”

  “Thank you.” Belinda started for the kitchen and glanced over her shoulder. “I’ll get it for you myself. The help has gone home for the day.”

  When she entered the vast kitchen, Quinn exchanged a quick look with Rikki, who raised her eyebrows.

  Belinda returned to the room, carrying two glasses of tea, the ice clinking softly. As she handed one glass to Quinn, she said, “Equipment, you say?”

  “Yes, when we…lose an agent, we do an inventory of his equipment. A few pieces were missing from Agent Dawson’s effects. Agent Reid and I received notification that you’d been contacted and had located the missing equipment.”

  “You know, it’s completely possible.” Belinda aimed her big blue eyes at Quinn over the rim of her glass as she took a sip of the very sweet tea. “There was so much…red tape when David died. Did you know him?”

  “I did not have the pleasure, ma’am.” At least Quinn could be truthful about something.

  “Agent Reid?” Belinda had approached Rikki from behind, hovering over her shoulder as Rikki studied a vast array of framed photographs on a shelf.

  Rikki cranked her head over her shoulder. “No, I never met Agent Dawson, but then our paths wouldn’t have crossed. I’d heard he was an incredible agent, though. A real treasure to the Agency.”

  Belinda bowed her head. “That’s nice to hear. It’s too bad he was betrayed by the one person he trusted the most.”

  Quinn’s heart hammered as he watched Rikki across the room. C’mon, Agent Reid, keep it together.

  “Oh?” Rikki tipped her head and her dark ponytail swung behind her. “I’d heard he was killed by the North Koreans.”

  “He
was, but his partner made that happen. Rikki Taylor.” She spit out the name as if it were poison on her tongue. “They were partners. He was her mentor. He taught her everything. She tried to seduce him first, and when that didn’t work she betrayed him to the North Koreans. But she got hers. I heard she died, too. I don’t know how or when, but it gave me some measure of satisfaction.”

  Rikki blinked. “I can imagine it would. We didn’t hear that story.”

  Quinn ground his back teeth together. Dawson was worse than a snake if he told his wife Rikki had been trying to seduce him. Belinda probably found some evidence of David’s infatuation with his partner, and he turned it around on Rikki.

  Rikki picked up a picture from the shelf. “Is this Agent Dawson?”

  Quinn had uncoiled his muscles enough to move toward the two women. He wanted a firsthand look at the snake himself. He’d only ever seen him at a distance when he first met Rikki in Dubai.

  Belinda took the framed photo from Rikki’s hands and traced a finger over the form of a fit, compact man in his midforties, with the build of a long-distance runner, shirtless and standing in knee-deep water.

  Belinda almost whispered. “This is Davey. This is the last picture I have of him. We’d taken a brief vacation to the Bahamas before he left for Dubai, and then North Korea.”

  Rikki sniffed. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Dawson. We didn’t come here to bring up painful memories. If you don’t have Agent Dawson’s equipment, we can write it off as a misunderstanding.”

  “I can pretty much confirm I don’t have any of Davey’s work equipment here. I moved into this house about nine months ago—too many memories in the old place—and I would’ve remembered seeing anything of Davey’s from work and moving it over with me.”

  “We’ll report that, ma’am. Don’t concern yourself.” Quinn raised his glass before finishing off the tea. “That sure hit the spot.”

  Belinda placed Dawson’s picture back on the shelf, caressing the edges of the frame. “If I do find something, is there a number where I can reach you?”

  Quinn reached into his front pocket for his newly minted business cards and pulled one out. He pinched it between his fingers. “Here you go, ma’am. It’s best to call my cell phone number.”