by Dana Marton
A smile spread on his face. “You’d be perfect for the job.”
His vote of confidence felt good. “I hope so. I really think there’s a need.” She paused. “I always thought I might be good with something like that. While I might not be good at, you know, kids in a family setting.”
There. One of her deepest secrets. She’d never seen how mothering worked, not up close and personal. She didn’t have those experiences. She hadn’t planned on giving that a try, didn’t want to mess up some poor little kid.
“I don’t agree, but we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.” He kissed her again. “I do like your idea of helping foster kids, though. You could start in Texas, maybe even build something that goes nationwide. You have government contacts. I have a few of my own. If we have downtime, the team and I could offer some boot-camp training. Grace Cordero, Ryder’s girlfriend, is looking for ways to use her ranch. She had corporate boot camps there before. And she has animals there, too. Juvenile rehab with kids working with rescue animals is a big thing—”
She put a finger over his lips, enormously gratified how excited he was about her idea, how supportive. But for now... “We’ll brainstorm in the morning. For now I just want you to kiss me.”
Normally, he didn’t take orders well, but at the moment he looked happy to obey.
He kissed her and then some, making her head spin. But just as she was about to drown in his touch, his familiar, masculine scent, in the feel of his mouth over hers, he pulled back again, with a pained expression on his face.
“What is it?”
He blew some air from his lungs. “Since the first time...I practically attacked you. We just fell in bed and...I wanted this to be sweet and long and more romantic. I don’t want to rush it.”
“You want to go to dinner?”
“No,” he admitted.
“Me, neither.”
His face lit up.
“You’re a commando. I’m an FBI agent. We don’t do slow,” she reminded him. “I want fast.”
“You don’t always get what you want in a relationship. There’s the whole compromise thing.” He lifted her and walked toward the bedroom.
“How is this a compromise?”
“I wanted to take you on the carpet.”
HIS BODY WAS READY, poised at her opening as she straddled him on the bed.
“I love you, too,” she said.
His heart was about to burst.
She smiled. “I think we should get our own ranch.”
Okay. He inched his fingers up her naked thigh.
“And I want horses. If we live in Texas, you’re going to have to learn how to ride well.”
She was going to discuss livestock?
He grabbed her hips and pulled her down on him, sheathed himself in her wet heat to the hilt. His eyes rolled back in his head from the pleasure.
Her breath caught and she gave a quick little moan that nearly sent him over the edge.
But then she seemed to recover. “And I think we should—”
“All right, that’s it.” He flipped her in a lightning-quick move so she was sprawled under him the next second.
Her eyes widened. “You’re still very bossy. I have to say, you didn’t mellow much with age.”
He raised an eyebrow as he withdrew and then pushed in again. “You want me mellow?”
She arched her back. “On second thought, not really.”
“We’re doing this all the way. I want it all. There’ll be no casual dating, no seeing other people. When I commit to something, it’s 100 percent.”
She ran her slim fingers up his chest and brushed the pads over his nipples. “I like that about you.”
His entire body tightened. “Then you won’t object to marrying me right away?”
“For Mitch’s sake?”
“Because I love you so much I can’t see straight.”
“What if I wreck your life again?”
He looked deep into her eyes. “I’m pretty sure you’re going to make it.” He dipped his head for a kiss as he made her his.
* * * * *
Keep reading for an excerpt from CATCH, RELEASE by Carol Ericson.
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Chapter One
Deb’s eye twitched along with her trigger finger, but she wasn’t packing. They’d know. Somehow they knew everything, and they’d warned her if she didn’t come alone and unarmed they’d hurt Bobby.
She believed them. Nico Zendaris had made good on every threat so far. Why would she start doubting him now?
Her gaze darted among the faces surging around the frosty Boston street corner. Would someone give her a sign? She clutched her cell phone in the pocket of her coat. She didn’t know how they planned to contact her.
One if by land, two if by sea? She was in the right place for signals.
Someone bumped her and mumbled an apology. She stared at the stranger’s back, his broad shoulders encased in a puffy down jacket, as he lumbered down the sidewalk. Was that the sign?
She took a few uncertain steps after him, but he turned a corner and disappeared. Stumbling to a stop, she bit her lip. Should she go after him?
The message had ordered her to stand in this spot until further instructions. Was the bump an instruction? Or was the man just a clumsy pedestrian hurrying to his next appointment?
She no longer trusted her instincts since she’d allowed them to snatch Bobby. She should’ve known. She should’ve done more.
With a halting gait, she retraced her steps to the lamppost on the corner. If she did everything they asked of her, she’d get Bobby back. Zendaris had promised.
She ground her teeth against the sour bile rising from her gut. She knew better than to trust that man, but what choice did she have?
She’d have to trust him up to the moment he put a bullet in her head. Or she put one in his.
Her cell phone chirped, and she dragged it from her pocket with a hand shaking so badly she almost dropped the phone. She studied the blank display as the phone chirped again. She’d set her phone to vibrate.
She swiveled her head from side to side. Plenty of people with cell phones walked by, but nobody had stopped near her.
The phone chirped again. Gasping, she plunged her hand in her other coat pocket, her fingers colliding with another phone. Not hers.
She grabbed the cell and pulled it from her pocket. It continued its insistent trilling, so she hit the talk button.
“Hello?”
“Hello, Deb. For being a crack Prospero agent, it sure took you long enough to figure out you had a ringing phone in your pocket.”
The smooth mocking voice stirred her blood, thick with rage. “That was one of your little minions who bumped into me?”
He chuckled. “Very astute of you—finally.”
She didn’t even know if the man on the phone was Zendaris. She’d never heard his voice even though Prospero Team Three had disrupted one of his biggest arms deals four years ago.
She growled low in her throat. �
�I should’ve dropped him in his tracks.”
“Tough talk from the first and only female Prospero agent.” He clicked his tongue. “But you wouldn’t do that now, would you, Deb? Not while we have Bobby.”
His words twisted a knife in her belly and she bit back a sob. She refused to show this scum any sign of weakness. “Let me talk to him. I’m not going to do anything more until you do. I have to know he’s okay.”
“Deb, Deb, Deb. He’s not with me, or I’d gladly put him on the phone. Rest assured he’s safe and comfortable. We’ll give you proof of life soon enough.”
His phrase proof of life had her sagging against the lamppost. He’d better show her proof of Bobby’s life, or she’d hand Zendaris proof of his own death.
“When? I need something now.”
“You have my word, Deb. That’s all I can give you at the present time—that and the phone you’re using.”
She had an urge to toss the thing and the slick voice coming from it into oncoming traffic. But it represented her only connection to Bobby.
She crushed it against her ear. “What’s the significance of this phone?”
“It will be our way of communicating with you. It’s secure, untraceable, a very special phone. Carry it with you everywhere.”
“So what is it, Zendaris? If that’s who you really are.” Despite the chill in the air, sweat dampened her hairline. She brushed a bead of it away. “What do you want me to do?”
“You Americans, so impatient. You just keep the phone by your side, Deb, and we’ll tell you what to do next.”
“Why the delay? Tell me what to do now so we can end this game.” Silence greeted her plea and she was almost glad of it. A whining, desperate tone had crept into her voice—a tone she didn’t want Zendaris to hear.
She examined the phone and pushed a few buttons. There were no contacts, no phone numbers appeared and it didn’t seem as if she could make an outgoing call. What other special features did it have? A GPS tracking device? A camera? Were they watching her right now?
Closing her eyes, she rested her forehead against the cold metal of the lamppost and dropped the phone in her coat pocket. What was Zendaris after? What did he want her to do?
She swallowed. Why was she kidding herself? He wanted the plans to the anti-drone. He’d had them first, lost them to her Prospero teammate, Cade Stark, and then the plans had been stolen from Cade.
Neither Zendaris nor Prospero knew the location of the plans, but he must think she knew something. Or he planned to use her to get them.
The phone rang again. That was fast. Now maybe they could get down to business.
“What?”
A different voice greeted her this time, rougher, gruffer. “Face east and take the first right.”
She spun around to face the right direction. “Where the man who dropped the phone in my pocket went?”
“Do it.”
With the phone clamped to her ear, she strode to the next corner and turned. “What now?”
“Walk two blocks and turn down the alley after the green awning.”
She spied a flower shop with a green awning in front and aimed her steps toward it. The man on the other end of the line said nothing, but his heavy breathing kept her moving.
Would they show her some sign that Bobby was okay? Maybe Bobby was down that alley. The thought quickened her steps.
She stopped at the entrance to the alley and braced her hand against the corner of the flower shop building. Her gaze tracked along the length of the alley, stumbling over two Dumpsters but nothing else. No Bobby.
Her shoulders slumped. “I’m in the alley.”
“Go to the second Dumpster and take out the black bag.”
Her stomach tightened into knots as she crept down the pavement, avoiding the patches of ice that the winter sun hadn’t melted. She didn’t want to look into that Dumpster. Didn’t want to look into any bag.
Fear had her in its grip. Even though she hadn’t been acting like it, she was a trained Prospero agent, programmed to laugh in the face of fear.
Without cracking a smile, she pushed up the green lid of the second Dumpster with the heel of her hand. She peered inside and eyed a black duffel bag sitting atop bags of trash and stems, leaves and broken blooms from the flower shop. She gagged at the stench of rotting organic material.
Holding her breath, she balanced one foot on the wheel of the Dumpster and hoisted herself up. She reached into the refuse and snagged the strap of the bag and pulled. It didn’t budge.
“I have to put the phone down.”
The man grunted in response, and she slid the phone in her pocket. Using both hands, she propelled herself farther into the Dumpster, grabbed the bag with both hands and hauled it out.
She dropped the heavy prize on the ground and crouched beside it. She dipped her hand in her pocket and retrieved the phone. “I have the bag. Should I open it?”
“Yeah, whaddya think?”
She thought if she made one wrong move they’d harm Bobby. It took her two tries to unzip the bag with her trembling hands. When the bag gaped open, she sat back on her heels, her mouth as wide as the opening of the duffel.
“What am I supposed to do with this stuff?”
“Rob a jewelry store.”
The shock made her giggle and she toppled over. She sniffed and rubbed her eyes. “What are you talking about?”
“You’re robbing a jewelry store. It’s a few blocks away.”
“Are you crazy? This is what Zendaris wants me to do? Steal some jewels?”
He ignored her questions and began giving her instructions for the robbery. He stopped after every instruction and asked her if she understood. She’d had him repeat the first few directions as the fog slowly cleared from her mind.
Zendaris was serious. He wanted her to rob a store. She knew the consequences if she didn’t do it. Was this it? Was this all he’d ask of her?
She might get killed in the attempt, and if she were arrested she would never reveal her motivation. She understood what that would mean for Bobby.
“You got all that?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t fail.”
“I don’t plan on it.”
She cleared out her own purse and dumped the contents into the big designer bag that was stuffed in the duffel. She pulled the blond wig over her head and clapped the huge sunglasses on her face.
While sitting on the ground with her back against the Dumpster, Deb slipped a pair of high heels onto her feet. Zendaris had told her to dress professionally. The towering heels must’ve been an afterthought and were more suited to a hooker than the low heels she’d kicked off, but they added to her disguise.
Peering into the mirror Zendaris had thoughtfully provided, she shoved the dark strands of her hair beneath the wig and applied red lipstick.
She crammed the black ski mask into the purse as well, and then tucked the loaded .45 inside—not that she planned on shooting anyone unless Zendaris showed up in the jewelry store.
She pushed to her feet and dropped the duffel bag along with her own empty purse into the Dumpster. She’d put her shoes and everything else from her purse into the designer bag. She tightened the belt of her wool coat and emerged from the alley a new woman.
Maybe blondes did have more fun. A few men cast assessing glances her way as she wobbled down the sidewalk in her high heels.
She passed by the jewelry store once and waited until the lone customer had left. Then she approached the door and stabbed the buzzer. They must’ve liked what they saw because the door clicked and she pushed through with butterflies taking flight in her belly.
Two clerks. Deb smiled. In her affected Southern accent, she said, “Ahm lookin’ for a diamond bracelet?”
One o
f the clerks, probably a jeweler, looked up from poking at something on a glass table. The magnifying contraption he wore on his head enlarged his eye and Deb felt as if he were staring right through her disguise.
He went back to his work, and the female clerk crossed the room to a velvet-lined case. “We have some beautiful bracelets over here.”
“Perfect.”
While the clerk bent over the case to unlock it, Deb stepped back and locked the door to the shop, flipping the sign to Closed. She withdrew the gun from her purse as she yanked on the cord to the blinds.
“Excuse me?” The noises had caught the attention of the jeweler and he looked up with his hideously magnified eye.
Before turning around, Deb pulled the ski mask over her head, blond hair and everything, and swung the gun toward him. “Ahm sorry, sir, ahm goin’ to have to ask you to move away from the counter.”
He dropped his hand from the top of the counter and Deb aimed the gun at his head. “Please don’t.”
The clerk stood with her mouth open, holding a tray of bracelets in front of her.
“We’ll start with those.”
While the jeweler kneeled in the middle of the store with his hands behind his head, Deb had the clerk scurrying around the store dumping trays of jewels into her big bag.
Deb apologized repeatedly, but she knew these people would be traumatized. If she could make it up to them one day, she would.
Zendaris never told her how much to steal, so with the bag bulging and half the cases empty, Deb held up her hand. “That’s enough. Both of you in the back room. Ahm not goin’ to hurt y’all.”
She herded them into the back office, which Zendaris had known about. She’d already collected their cell phones, and now she ripped the desk phone out of the wall and smashed it.
