Fatal Courage: Shadow Force International, Book 3 (Shadow Force International Romantic Suspense Series)

by Misty Evans

  “I have a lead. A guy who goes by the name of Deuce. But forget about it.” He opened the door and strolled through. “I’ll figure it out on my own.”

  Deuce. Shit. “You have contact information for that guy?”

  Jax glanced back over his shoulder, turned and leaned an arm against the doorjamb. His face came within inches of hers as he studied her reaction carefully. “We could work together, Ruby. Share our intel.”

  Never in a million years.

  She bit her lip, considered her options.

  Go back to the club and hope like hell she would attract Little Gus’s attention.

  Stay here and flirt with the man whose attention she already had.

  Hard choice.

  She stepped back. “Why don’t you come in, Jaxon?”

  Chapter Four

  _____________________

  ______________________________________________________

  ON HIS LOOP of the place looking for Hayden, Jax managed to stick three bugs around the small apartment.

  He hoped like hell Ruby wouldn’t find them. Knowing her, she probably did a sweep every night before she went to bed.

  He’d made sure to put one as close to that bed as possible.

  Which was probably a straight shot to Torture Land. Hearing her moving around in bed would only fuel his already out-of-control fantasies.

  He just hoped she went to bed alone.

  Because if not, then he would have to kill someone.

  “Who’s this Deuce person?” Ruby said.

  She stood near the door, arms crossed over her breasts. He couldn’t tell if she was pissed or curious. Maybe both.

  “You tell me. Isn’t he why you’re in Chicago? You’re looking for him, right?”

  Her lips thinned ever so slightly. “I’m in Chicago helping an FBI special taskforce with counterterrorism.”

  He plunked down on the worn sofa that must have come with the place. Ruby didn’t seem like the midcentury, green-tweed-with-cigarette burns kind of person, but beggars couldn’t be choosers, right? “You were at that club tonight looking to score a meeting with Augustus “Little Gus” Nelson, who just happens to know Deuce, aka Keon James. Is that part of your counterterrorism gig?”

  Her features remained stoic. “I went to the club to have a drink and dance. Having a good time is not illegal.”

  “Cut the crap, Ruby. I know about your personal mission to clear Hayden’s name and I know that Keon James and your partner were working together to sell military secrets.”

  “What?” She scoffed. “You always think the worst of everyone.”

  He stared at her, let her words hang out there, and propped his feet on the coffee table. It wasn’t untrue. He did tend to think the worst of people because people constantly disappointed him. In big, big ways. This, however, wasn’t about what he thought. It was about evidence. Proof. The connections between Elliot Hayden and Keon James couldn’t be ignored.

  “We both want to find this Deuce guy,” Jax said. “Let’s work together.”

  She chuckled, a hard, humorless sound that echoed off the ceiling. “The last time we worked together, I lost my partner and ended up on probation. Why in the hell would I work with you again?”

  Ouch. Bitter much? “Did Hayden try to get you to help him when he dropped by?”

  “I’m not helping Elliot. I didn’t even know about his escape until you told me.”

  “So you said. Hard for me to believe, but okay, I’ll give that one to you if you admit you’re in Chicago to find Deuce.”

  “What do you know about him?”

  He refused to show his irritation with her non-answer. “I know he’s an old army buddy of Hayden’s and that he’s suspected of selling intelligence secrets. An equal opportunity traitor, sounds like. He also knew Abdel Al-Safari, which seems like a damning coincidence, don’t you think?”

  She chewed the inside of her cheek. “Deuce can clear Elliot’s name, so you go ahead and find him.”

  “Is that what Hayden told you?”

  Her dark eyes locked on his. “Do you know where Deuce is?”

  “I’ll have his exact coordinates soon.”

  “But you haven’t found him yet.”

  “Neither have you, apparently.”

  A buzzing came from her thigh. She reached down, drew up the hem of her dress, and gave him an eyeful of leg. His pulse hopscotched as he took in all of that smooth, sexy skin and the holster she had strapped there. A compact Sig Saur rested in the black holster along with a cell phone.

  She pulled out the cell, caught him ogling her leg and gave him a sneer. Then she stomped off to the bedroom where she shut the door with a sharp whack.

  SEAL training had taught him how to move his big body soundlessly. He avoided the creak in the floor he’d noticed earlier and scooted over to the closed door, setting his ear against it to listen.

  “Yes, sir,” he heard Ruby say. “I understand…no, I didn’t know until tonight. I’ll keep an eye out… Yes, I understand how this could affect my future.”

  There was a long pause as whoever was on the other end of the conversation—her boss at Langley?—rambled.

  There were more ‘yes, sirs’ and ‘no, sirs’, Ruby making out like she was a team player and would never contemplate rocking the boat. Jax mentally scoffed. If the person on the other end knew Ruby at all, they had to know this was an exercise in futility.

  “Sir, if you would just let me—”

  She was interrupted again and Jax could almost feel her frustration through the wooden door. The sound of her heels pacing across the worn carpeting filled the silence on her end as she listened.

  Suddenly, she was saying her goodbyes, her voice close to the door. With quick, yet still soundless movements, he scooted away, heading for the kitchen.

  He grabbed the fridge door and opened it like he’d been looking for something to eat when she jerked the bedroom door open and stomped out.

  Nice ploy, but the fridge was empty. He closed it and hurriedly opened the freezer.

  Ice cubes. That was it.

  What did she eat?

  “What are you doing?” she demanded from behind him.

  “Ordering pizza, it looks like,” he said, facing her. “Where’s the food?”

  She grabbed him by the arm and tried to angle him toward the door. “You can grab something on your way home.”

  Kicking him out, was she? He rooted his feet in place, her body slamming into him. “We need to discuss what we’re going to do when I locate Keon James. Could be a long night.”

  He threw in a grin, partially to irritate her, partially because she was still attempting to get him moving out of her kitchen and toward the door. He wasn’t going anywhere, but he did like the touch of her hands on his back.

  She gave up, throwing her hands into the air and letting out an aggravated noise from the back of her throat. “Fine. You want pizza, there’s a good place three blocks from here. Deep-dish, Chicago-style pizza that weighs about six pounds. But they don’t deliver.” She leaned against the counter and started peeling off her strappy heels. “You have to pick it up.”

  “What’s their number? I’ll order one and we’ll go get it.”

  She combed her fingers through her hair and rattled off a number. “I’m going to go change clothes.”

  He ordered, feeling smug about her surrender, and then looked for plates.

  None.

  How was she surviving?

  At least there were paper towels. He’d worked with less.

  She materialized from the bedroom in sweats, and damn, if she didn’t look just as appetizing in them as the slinky dress.

  Not that he would have minded if she’d kept that little number on. He had some pretty clever ideas on how he’d wanted to work her out of that barely-there dress.

  Progress was progress, though. She was finally willing to work with him.

  “Is there a convenience store nearby?” he asked. “We need dri
nks.”

  “The pizza place sells 2-liters.”

  “And you have no glasses to pour the pop in.”

  “True. There’s a Hop-n-Shop right around the corner.”

  “Cool.” He headed for the door. “We’ll hit that first, then snag the pizza.”

  She flopped down on the couch. “Can you do it? I’m beat. I’m going to wash my face and close my eyes for a minute.”

  Right. “Don’t screw with me, Ruby.”

  Her gaze met his, and he saw the utter exhaustion in her eyes. “I’m not, Jax. It’s been another long day in a string of long days. I’m tired and hungry and it would be nice to sit here for a moment and veg out.”

  He almost believed her. Her shoulders were slumped, her face drawn. He wasn’t used to seeing her vulnerable. That primal urge to take care of her kicked in. “Don’t even think of leaving.”

  She gave him a tiny smile. “I’m too tired to leave. I’ll make a list of ideas of what we should do to find Elliot while you’re gone.”

  He fished his keys out of his front pocket. “I’ll be back in a few.”

  Downstairs, he let himself into his car and waited.

  Five minutes later, he was rewarded for his patience when Ruby left by the front door.

  IT WAS EASY to fake out Jax.

  Ruby had thrown on sweats over her dress and made sure not to mess up her makeup. She skipped the wig, fluffing her hair with her fingers. She knew if she played the exhaustion card and looked the part, the male in Jax would come to the rescue.

  She had to get back to the club and find Little Gus. Tonight. She couldn’t stand the thought of Elliot running around alone and on the lam. Not that he couldn’t take care of himself, but the sooner she got the proof she needed, the sooner she could get his ass off the streets and back where it belonged.

  Working beside her.

  Even though he’d lied to her, she knew he was a good agent. A good man. There was more to the story; once she cleared his name, he could come home and they would hash it out.

  She sped through the streets of Chicago, wondering where Elliot was. The tall buildings and street lights felt like home to her since she’d grown up in the area. For someone who hadn’t, it could be an overwhelming place. A dangerous one too.

  While she loved her job and the travel it required, she’d missed this place. Memories of baseball games with her brothers and trips to the Shedd Aquarium with her mother filled her head. Her dad, a history professor, had taken her on weekend jaunts to all the old buildings and historical sites.

  The art, the food, the museums and libraries—for her, Chicago wasn’t just a city. It was the hum of life under her skin. It was friends and family and happiness.

  Tonight, it was risk and uncertainty. For her, for Elliot, even for Jax.

  Ugh, how that man got under her skin. When he was in the same room, she couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. Her brain cells went on hiatus around him while her hormones went into overdrive.

  Jax was risk, uncertainty, danger. Three things she typically thrived on, which was why she’d let down her guard with him in Marrakech. They’d grabbed Al-Safari and their cover was intact. Izala had no idea they were in country, stealing his right-hand man out from under his nose. All that was left was to get Abdel out of the country and for her to confirm Izala’s location so her boss could call in the SEALs to take him out.

  She’d nailed her twenty-first successful CIA mission in the field and was on a high, ready to go after the big fish—Izala—next and make it twenty-two. Jax was there with his bedroom eyes and sexy swagger, offering her a one-night stand, a no-strings attached interlude. It was better than champagne. Better than another honorable mention in her file at Langley. She’d been working her ass off for five years with no time for relationships. Seriously. Five long years.

  The one night she let herself lose focus, the one night she allowed herself to seduce and be seduced by the most gorgeous man she’d ever met, she’d nearly lost everything she’d worked for. She’d certainly lost her mind.

  Never again.

  The nightclub came into view and Ruby found a parking spot a few blocks down. It was nearing midnight, but the streets were lined with partygoers, coming and going from the clubs and restaurants lining the streets. Hopefully, Little Gus was still inside Club Z and hadn’t moved on to one of the other places nearby.

  Ruby locked her car and headed for the back door and pounding bass of the club. A couple of college-aged guys going the opposite direction made some lewd comments about her and invited her to join them. She ignored their stupidity and kept going.

  One of the boys didn’t take the hint, and jogged up behind her, grabbing her by the arm. “Hey, baby, come on. You’re obviously looking for a good time and me and my buddies can give it to you.”

  How original. Ruby snatched the fingers on her bicep, gave a jerk and twisted. Bones and tendons popped, the kid howled, and next, his knees kissed the pavement.

  “How’s that for fun?” she asked, releasing him and continuing on.

  Swearing and whining followed after her. She turned the corner to the rear entrance and saw a shadow move in her peripheral vision—the club’s beefy bouncer, a gold nose ring flashing under the pale glow of the backdoor light.

  She stopped, held up her hand with the club’s stamp on it. He knew her after she’d been here three nights in a row and had slipped him some cash to ask around about Deuce. He nodded at her, then glanced behind her. “The friend you was asking about?” he said, his dark skin damp with sweat.

  A tingle of anticipation touched the base of her spine. “Yes?”

  He cocked his head toward the door. “Got here a few minutes ago.”

  Damn. Thank God, she’d come back, regardless of what Elliot had said.

  Dipping into her bra, she found the fifty hidden there and slipped it to the bouncer. “What’s he wearing?”

  “Don’t worry,” the bouncer said, tucking the tip out of sight. “He’ll find you.”

  “He better.” She winked at him, but it was a promise, not a flirt. “Or I’ll be back for that.”

  He eyed her as if wondering whether or not she was serious. A lot of other men had wondered about her warnings as well, and a few of them had learned the hard way that she never made idle threats.

  Inside, the party was going strong, the flashing lights on the dance floor keeping an erratic rhythm with a hip-hop, techno dance song. Ruby skirted the floor, looking for her target.

  She only had one picture of Keon James, aka Deuce, and that was of a clean cut guy in an army uniform from three years ago. Elliot had told her Deuce didn’t look anything like that anymore, but he didn’t have a more recent photo. James worked a lot of undercover assignments for Army Africa and had changed his appearance accordingly. The last time she’d seen Elliot, he’d claimed the guy currently had an afro and beard, and wore three crosses around his neck. One for each of his friends killed in battle.

  Deuce had disappeared right before the Marrakech fiasco, and while Elliot claimed it was because Deuce feared Al-Safari would blow his undercover identity, Ruby worried that he’d been part of the double-cross that had landed Elliot behind bars.

  A double-cross Jax knew nothing about and Ruby couldn’t prove.

  Yet.

  She made her way to the bar, waiting, waiting, waiting for Deuce to find her.

  Nothing happened.

  As an undercover agent, she was used to staying in the shadows, watching people, blending in rather than standing out. But if she wanted to find Keon James before Jax found her again, she had to get things moving. Like her hips.

  Which meant another trip to the dance floor.

  Her travels through Europe had taught her many things. The one tool she had found most useful was the ancient art of moving her body.

  The musical number was a slower, grinding hip-hop song. Not her favorite, but it would do. She was just about to slip out to the dance floor when a hand landed on her waist
.

  For a split-second, she thought Jax had already followed her back to the club. She turned to tell him to bug off and found herself staring into the coal-black eyes of a man she assumed was Keon James.

  “Heard you were looking for me,” he said, the smell of beer wafting from him.

  A sense of relief took root in her belly, but his expression didn’t bode well. “I’m not here to cause you trouble, I just need to talk to you for a moment.”

  His pause was long, calculated. His hand prodded her away from the crowd. “Let’s go.”

  She tried leading him outside, but he stopped her at the storage closet near the manager’s office and shoved her inside. The scent of cleaning products chuffed at her nose.

  “Elliot Hayden needs your help,” Ruby said under the florescent light. “You knew Abdel Al-Safari and what he was doing with—”

  Deuce’s afro shuddered slightly as he shook his head. “I’m not doing nothing for Elliot Hayden and you best stop asking people about me, you hear? I’ve got terrorists gunning for my ass as well as the US Army and you come sniffing around here, bringing trouble with you? What kind of bitch are you, anyway?”

  “Who’s after you? Which terrorist? Izala? Why didn’t you go back to your headquarters and have them reassign you?”

  A long finger pointed at her nose. “I couldn’t go back. There was shit going down in our unit and I couldn’t trust anyone. My head was on the chopping block and Elliot knew it as well as I did. He can tell you. Hell, he was probably behind it, that two-faced son-of-a-bitch. He promised if I got in good with Izala, that when the shit hit the fan, the CIA would take care of me. Now look. Here I am, on the run, and I can’t trust nobody. Izala’s coming for my ass, sure as shit.”

  “You trusted me enough to talk to me.”

  “I know who you are, bitch. Elliot didn’t take care of me, so now you’re going to.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, you’re going to get me out of this fucking mess or you’re going to die tonight.”

  Nice. “You’re going to have to explain to me exactly what this ‘fucking mess’ is before I can help you.”