Sam turned to Celia with the intention of getting them back on track. “You can handle the audio. It’s important we hear what our new neighbor has to say.” Not what he looks like. “Your job is the most important.” She pointed to the corner of the room where the Long-Range Laser Listening Device sat propped against the wall. It was a tall, camera-looking thing on a tripod typically used by law enforcement or military. All Celia had to do was point the laser at their neighbor’s house, into one of his windows, and they’d be able to hear him moving about. The device attached to an amplifier unit with audio recorder, so if he said anything really interesting, they’d have it on tape.
Celia sat up straighter in her seat and grinned.
“I’ll be the lead on this investigation,” Sam continued. “Grandma, I need you to install the GPS on his car.”
Rose flashed a cocky grin. “Done. Installed it this afternoon.”
All at once, the women reached and grabbed equipment from the table, eyeing each device carefully, acquainting themselves in preparation for their assignment.
“Are we sure he’s really bad?” Celia placed a pair of headphones in front of her. “Maybe he carries a gun for hunting.”
“You don’t hunt with a handgun,” Maybel responded.
“There must be a good reason,” Celia said. “What if we go through all this to find out he’s a good guy?”
“That’s what we’re hoping,” Rose spoke up.
“Yeah, right,” Sam muttered. Good guy, my ass.
“But then why—”
“Remember the Wilkensons?” Grandma Rose said.
“The family that died?”
“Killed, Celia,” Maybel said. “By their neighbor. He seemed like a perfectly normal, nice young man and then one day he shot them both dead in their house. No one on the street had any clue he had mental issues.” Her eyes closed as a shudder ran through her body. “Thank goodness the kids were at their grandparents’ that night.”
“That’s why we’re doing this,” Rose added. “So hopefully children like them never have to wake up without their parents again.”
Sam remembered the day clearly. Maybel and Rose had formed the group the day after the funeral, and they’d been adding members and keeping watch over their neighbors ever since.
A hush fell over the group as the women took an unofficial moment of silence for the Wilkenson family.
After a few moments, Sam’s head snapped up and she grinned. “Let’s get started.”
…
Ash savored his last bite of Chinese food. Now all he wanted to do was relax. He’d set up a nineteen-inch TV in his living room to the right of the front door and directly under the bay window. All that hung over the window was a grimy pair of sheer ivory curtains that had probably been white at one time. They suited his purpose.
The room was bare apart from the curtains. No pictures, no rugs, nothing to add warmth to the house. A TV on a milk crate, a worn sofa, an end table, and lamp without a shade were all he’d set up. He wasn’t planning on staying long.
He settled onto the soft sofa cushions and turned the channel to ESPN, catching up on baseball scores from around the country.
His eyes grew heavy and his blinks slowed. He laced his fingers over his stomach and dropped his head to the side, giving in to the tiredness.
When his cell phone rang, his eyes shot open. Leaping from his lounged position, he scrambled into the kitchen to retrieve his phone.
“Yeah,” he answered, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
DEA Northeast Regional Director Joseph Landry spoke, “Status report.”
Fuck. He’d forgotten to call Tyke and report what he’d seen with Blondie and the Vamper.
Ash cleared his throat. “Had an incident this morning with a Vamp. Held a local woman at gunpoint demanding money. I handled the situation.”
“Really?” he asked. A few silent beats passed, prompting Ash to elaborate.
“Just some punk in need of a fix. He came out during the daylight though. Must’ve been desperate.”
“You’re sure he was on Vamp?”
“Yes. Same red and black eyes, chalky skin, shaking like a leaf.”
“I see.”
“Said he buys his stash at Club Hell. Viktor Heinrich’s joint.”
“Anything else?”
Ash paused.
“Spit it out, Cooper.”
“The incident with the Vamper. The woman involved…she was asking questions.”
“Who is she?” The director’s voice turned weary.
“Next-door neighbor. She noticed the eyes, sir.”
Landry stayed silent for a moment, then said, “You’re a capable agent. You’ll figure something out.” He paused a fraction of a second before saying, “But, Cooper, if you blow your cover, you can kiss reinstatement to team leader good-bye.”
“Understood,” he replied through tight lips.
“I shouldn’t have to say this, Agent Cooper—”
Here it comes…
“—but I’m going to, so listen up. You’re not leading this investigation. Got that? You’re there to observe and collect intel on the area around the port. We’re expecting a drop anytime now, so activity should be hopping. Pass anything else you see on to Tyke for the team’s analysis and action. He’ll take it from there.”
Ash gritted his teeth. “Yes, sir.”
Landry sighed. “Christ, Cooper. You think I want you off doing grunt work? Of course not. I want you with the rest of the team at Heinrich’s compound. You’re the best agent we’ve got. Well, you were, before you got involved with that woman.”
His teeth clenched harder. Fucking Lorena.
“Tyke’s leading your team fine,” Landry continued. “But he’s not you. Know what I mean? If things were different…if you hadn’t…” He sighed again. It was a rare reaction from the man who was usually so buttoned-up. “You know why I have to do this. Just follow orders. Keep a low profile and stay out of trouble. For your sake?”
“Yes, sir.”
It should have been Ash’s job to bring down Viktor Heinrich. Not sitting on the sidelines watching his second-in-command take over leadership of his team. He hadn’t spoken directly to Calder or Reese since they’d left Argentina. Neither of them would talk to him. Hell, maybe Landry told them to back off. That Ash was a lost cause and would drag them down with him.
He dropped the phone from his ear and looked down at the offending item. Waiting for the wave of pissed-off to pass, he gathered his thoughts and dialed Tyke.
Get a grip, man. Do your job.
As usual, Bryan Tyke picked up on the first ring. “What’ve you got?”
“Not much. Yet,” he said, knowing Tyke would question his ability to collect intel. “We’re getting close. I had a run-in with a Vamp this morning. Went after a woman on the street.”
“Shit,” Tyke hissed. Tyke might be a big mean bastard, but when it came to protecting the innocent, there was no one more devoted.
“There’s been no sign of Heinrich. But I just got here, so there’s time.”
“He’s been active at his compound,” Tyke said. “Adding extra security. It looks like the drop’s gonna happen there. Sawyer said his team hasn’t seen anything out of the ordinary at Heinrich’s house. You got anything else?”
Ash ran down the events of the last twenty-four hours, making sure to call out that he’d be paying a visit to Club Hell. He figured that fell within the purview of observation. If the Vamper said he got his stash at Club Hell, then Ash was going to check out the place and see what else he could learn about Heinrich’s operations.
As for Heinrich himself, all of his activity had been at his compound in Upper Marlboro, a city about thirty minutes east of Washington, DC. Tyke and the boys had that covered. And Sawyer and his team were watching Heinrich’s house in Alexandria, VA. The mission was to figure out Heinrich’s plan for Vamp and who his supplier was. Heinrich was expecting a large amount of Vamp in the coming w
eeks, and they needed to be ready to nail the son of a bitch and his supplier. Or at least Tyke, Calder, and Reese needed to be ready. All Ash was good for was stopping annoying blondes from getting themselves shot.
Knowing him too well, Tyke said, “Remember, Coop, you’re hands-off. Don’t try to be the hero because you need to prove yourself. Let me know what you find. Reese, Calder, and I will move in if needed. This isn’t your fight anymore.”
But it should be! His fist tightened on the phone as he made an incoherent sound like a grunt. He glared out the kitchen window into his small yard. The fence between his property and Blondie’s leaned, ready to fall if a stiff breeze pushed it. He’d have to remember to fix it before he left. He sure as hell didn’t want to give her another reason to bitch at him.
“Look, man, I’m just following orders,” Tyke said. “Remember those? That’s what got you in this situation in the first place. Director Landry said you’re stuck there doing bullshit work until you get your head on right. That’s the way it is. You knew that when you signed on. You made a decision; you gotta live with the consequences.”
Another grunt.
“You’re pissed off, I get it. You think I’m happy with the way things went down? Hell, you know I’d turn the reins over to you today if I could. Do us both a favor and fly right. Then things can go back to normal. Got me?”
A huffed grumble was all Ash could produce in response.
Tyke took a deep breath and let it out in a quick rush. “Like talking to a goddamn brick wall. It’s Buenos Aires all over again.”
Ash sucked air into his lungs with a sharp hiss.
“That got your attention, didn’t it, asshole? Remember that while you’re out in the field not following orders.” Before Ash could say anything back, Tyke snapped, “Call when you’ve got more.” The phone went dead.
Tempted to throw the goddamn phone, he simply ended the call and shoved it into his pocket. Being excluded from the group was the worst sort of punishment, and Landry knew that. He was part of the team, but at the same time not part of the team. He was exiled. Left to gather information, then pass it on to Tyke.
And it was killing him. He wasn’t the kind of guy to sit and watch others save the day. When he started something, he for damn sure finished it. And because of one stupid mistake with one beautiful woman, he was now on his own until he could prove to the director that he could listen to orders. That he could carry out his assignment without getting anyone killed.
He whirled from the window in search of something to take his mind off—
He took one step and froze. All thought about Tyke and his shitty comments evaporated as an eerie sensation crawled up his spine. The hair on his arms stood on end.
Someone was watching him.
He hated that feeling. Always had. As a Special Forces sniper, he’d been trained to blend in, go unnoticed for hours, even days. Now, standing out in the open, it made him seethe with anger. He loathed being spotted when he didn’t choose to be.
Casually, as not to tip off his prowler, Ash proceeded up the stairs to the front bedroom overlooking the street. Standing at the edge of the window, out of plain sight, he scanned the area. The street was clear except for the usual neighborhood cars. Using the light from the street lamps, he searched trees and row house windows, paying special attention to the second story. A professional would be up high to make sure he had the tactical advantage.
Where are you, you son of a bitch?
Then he saw it.
A red blinking light. In the top left window of the house across the street. The same house Blondie had gone to after their incident with the Vamper this morning. An older woman around Maybel’s age had opened the door. Ash had written the exchange off, given the older woman’s surprised reaction when she’d opened the door. But now, he was starting to think there was more to the story than just Blondie telling her neighbor about a drug addict.
Locating his night-vision binoculars, he focused on the group of bodies standing behind the light. Five women—women!—two of whom he recognized. The first was the pushy one with the dog. And the second was Blondie.
He groaned. “You gotta be kidding me.” Who the hell were these women?
Definitely not cops. They couldn’t be, right? Apart from Blondie, the rest were as old as Maybel.
If he didn’t get these women off his back, his cover wouldn’t last another day. Landry would quarantine his ass behind a desk for the rest of his miserable career. Christ, Tyke would have a field day if he heard a bunch of grannies duped Ash. Obviously ignoring the women hadn’t helped.
Maybe he needed to do the opposite.
Within seconds, he hatched a plan. If old women had nothing else, they at least had propriety. And he was going to exploit the hell out of it.
A harsh cackle tore from his chest as he thought about the ridiculous length he was about to go to save his career.
Chapter Six
Sam couldn’t breathe. No scratch that, she was panting. No, she was suffocating.
Heinrich?
He’d mentioned Heinrich—the same dirtbag drug dealer who had been involved in her father’s disappearance. Her pulse leapt, pounding against her skin. What did that have to do with her neighbor? Was he involved in a deal with Heinrich? Or worse, was he working for Heinrich? Did he know anything about her father?
Sam and the grannies heard everything he’d said. The red and black eyes. Chalky skin. Club Hell.
Then nothing.
The women huddled on folding chairs in Rose’s narrow spare bedroom, situated at the front of the house. It was the room Sam used to stay in when her dad was on assignment. The same daybed with pink lace pillows and a small white nightstand still decorated the room.
Estelle and Celia wore headphones, tuned in to any sound John Black made. Sam perched in front of the television monitor hooked to the video camera Maybel operated. Rose held binoculars,
“What’s he doing now?” Sam’s words were clipped. She spun to the window. “Do you hear anything? Anything else?”
Celia and Estelle both shook their heads.
“He’s doing a lot of grunting.”
“Maybel, can you see anything?” Sam asked.
She, too, shook her head from behind the video camera.
“He’s involved in something,” Sam said. “Viktor Heinrich. The port. This isn’t a coincidence. It has to have something to do with Dad’s case. It just has to.”
None of the women contradicted her theory.
“Keep eyes on him,” Sam insisted. “Where is he now? I want to know every move he makes.”
“We lost him,” Estelle said. “He was near the couch, and now he’s…gone.”
“Gone? Gone? He can’t be gone. Keep looking.”
The ladies surveyed his house.
Silence.
Sam had never been very good with silence. “Anything?”
“Nothing.”
She didn’t feel anything but the pounding of her impatient heart. Not the soft carpet beneath her bare feet. Not the sweep of cool air from the overhead vent. “Where is he?”
“I think…” Celia began. Sam jerked her head to the woman. “Wait.”
“Wait, what?” Sam bit off. “Celia, what?”
“I hear something. Music, I think.”
“I have movement,” Maybel said from behind the video camera. “Top right window. Lights just went on.”
“Got it.” Sam lifted high-powered binoculars to her eyes. “There you are, you—”
Wow.
Not expecting the view, Sam stopped breathing.
He stood in the middle of the empty room, with music blaring, completely nude.
As in naked.
His entire front bare for them to see.
He appeared to be doing a workout routine on the hardwood floor. Since the room was empty, there was nothing else to look at but him.
Tear your eyes away. Tear. Your. Eyes. Away.
She tried, God she tr
ied, but she physically couldn’t. She was transfixed by his body, corded with muscle. His movements fluid with every twist. Massively wide shoulders, strong arms, and a firm abdomen flowed into a tight waist and sculpted legs. She couldn’t begin to describe what lay between his legs. That, too, deserved praise. Holy. Hell.
Sam’s mouth went bone dry.
Ten hours. That was her first coherent thought. He must work out for ten hours a day to have a cut body like that. No real human man could achieve it otherwise. Or he’s an alien. That was the only other explanation. He was an alien from Asgard or Krypton. Yeah, that had to be it. Chris Hemsworth had moved in next door.
The only sound emanating from the room were the breaths each woman heaved while watching him curl his hunky arms with weights and then do jumping jacks.
Up, down, up, down.
Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale.
“Is everyone seein’ what I’m seein’?” Estelle spoke in a breathy tone. “I’m not imaginin’ his throbbin’ banana bouncin’ like that, right? It’s really happenin’?”
“Uh-huh,” Maybel said behind her, fixated on the room with binoculars. Sam thought the older woman might have even licked her lips. “He appears to…” Her throat rippled as she swallowed. “…enjoy working out.”
“Well,” Estelle spoke, barely audible, doing some swallowing of her own, “he might be a drug dealer, but at least he’s…fit.”
“Uh-huh,” Maybel said. “Fit.”
Sweat streamed down his muscled chest, mingling with the light dusting of dark hair. Sam imagined running her tongue along the path, tasting the salty sweetness of his tan skin. It probably tasted like sunshine. She’d never wanted to taste someone’s chest so badly in her life. A primal need to lick him all over grabbed hold of her and refused to let go.
God, the way his strong legs flexed and constricted.
Her own skin heated; small droplets of moisture collected over her body. What would his lips and tongue feel like on her? A shiver ran through her at the thought.
A burning ignited in her lower abdomen—a yearning that seemed to grow and take over. Her fingers and toes went numb, and she was sure her heart had dropped into her stomach. Something inside kept mounting, reaching; for what, she couldn’t explain. Her breathing picked up and her chest heaved with each of his movements. A strangled gasp escaped so quickly she couldn’t stop it.
On Her Six (Under Covers) Page 5
