With her chest still naked and uncovered, she surveyed him through the early morning light. Her eyes narrowed as her fingers traced the outline of his Special Forces tattoo.
A shudder rolled through him. Jesus. In any other situation he’d be inside her so fast.
He’d been dreaming about her moments ago. She’d been in the same position as she was now but rode him with a fierce need that blew his ever-loving mind. She was loud and vocal, making him feel like a motherfucking god.
When her light touch traveled from his neck to his nipple, his damn stomach muscles clenched and his dick jumped beneath her spread legs.
Damn it.
She leaped off him and scrambled for the bed sheet, throwing herself onto her back, covering every square inch of her naked skin from neck to toes.
She stared at the ceiling. “What happened last night?” The jumble of words rushed out.
He fought the smile desperately wanting to break free. “Nothing you’re thinking.”
She managed a glance his way.
“You had a little episode. A trip, really.”
Her wide, worried eyes were adorable. “Meaning?”
“You were high on Vamp.”
“What?” She propelled into a sitting position. “How did I…how did you…why did it…what?”
“Slow down.” Ash sat up and placed a hand on her shoulder. She didn’t slap it away, so he kept it there, relishing the soft feel of her skin beneath his fingers. “You got a residual high. Luckily, you weren’t exposed for long, so your body burned it off quickly.”
“A what?” The soft despair in her voice cut right through his gut.
“Residual high. Pretty common, actually.”
“How?”
“Did you drink anything? Smoke anything?”
She shook her head and fisted the sheet against her chest.
“Did you have any contact with the people in the club?” He cleared his throat, a rush of sudden anger rising, though he didn’t know at whom. “Bodily fluids and the sort?”
She wrinkled her nose. “No.” There was a pause and then she asked, “Why?”
“We learned that’s how Vamp can be passed. It’s—”
“We?”
Shit. He blinked. Twice. “Yes.” He lowered his hand from her shoulder, balling it into a fist at his side.
She crossed her arms, keeping the sheet tucked neatly over her breasts. “Elaborate, please.”
How to explain without blowing his reason for being in Baltimore? For all he knew, she worked for Heinrich. She may not be a cop, but she had access to things at the precinct Heinrich would have use for. He’d learned his lesson with Lorena. A beautiful woman wasn’t going to take away his common sense this time.
“I’m waiting.” She tapped her finger on her arm like a strict nun. He might be convinced of it if she wore a stitch of clothing beneath that sheet.
“Why were you there last night?” he asked, imitating her stern voice.
Her eyes narrowed, as if to spear him in the dimly lit room.
He leaned over to the nightstand and flipped on the lamp.
She clung tighter to the sheet. “Don’t try to distract me. I want to know who ‘we’ are and why you know so much about Vamp.”
“You first,” he bit back. “Tell me what you were doing at a place like Club Hell and then maybe, if I like your answer, I’ll tell you.”
Her mouth dropped open in fury.
Knowing a lecture was on its way, he held up his hand to silence her. “Let’s compromise. You tell me something, and I’ll tell you something in return.” He wanted to know more about her, and he figured she wouldn’t give up much without him doing the same. In one aspect, he feared that she was like Lorena—putting on a sweet front to fool him, then she’d flip once she’d gotten what she wanted from him. But, deep down he couldn’t believe Sam was anything like Lorena. She wouldn’t use him to get the information she needed and then leave him.
She thought about his proposition. Her thirst for knowledge must have outweighed her ability to negotiate further. “Fine. I went to Club Hell looking for someone.”
“Well, you found him.” Ash shot her a disapproving look.
“Not you,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Well, okay, fine, you. Sort of.”
When he raised an eyebrow, she said, “I…I, uh, followed you.” She muttered it so low and quick, he almost didn’t catch it.
“Why?”
“Oh, no you don’t. It’s your turn.”
He let out an aggravated sigh. “I was at Club Hell because I was looking for someone, too.” His lips twitched and he couldn’t help but add, “Not you.”
They glared at one another with warring expressions. She looked pissed because he reflected her words back at her, and he gloated for having evaded her question.
“Who were you looking for?” He felt about as impatient as she sounded, so he let her tone slide.
“You first,” he demanded.
A muscle ticked in her jaw. “Viktor Heinrich.”
His eyes expanded for a second before he composed his expression. “And that has to do with me how?” At her puzzled expression, he added, “You said you followed me to Club Hell. How am I connected with Heinrich?”
She gave him a direct look. “That’s what you’re going to tell me.”
His head fell back, and he laughed. “Oh, I am, am I? I don’t know what you’re trying to get at, Blondie, but—”
“You gonna deny you’re connected?”
“What—”
“Tell me how you know about Vamp.”
“I’m not going to—”
“What is your involvement with Viktor Heinrich?”
“I’m not—”
“Tell me how you knew he owned Club Hell.”
“Damn it, woman. Let me speak!”
She stopped long enough for him to take a breath.
“I want to know—” she started before he shot her a menacing look that would have scared even Tyke.
“If you’ll be quiet for one minute, I’ll answer your questions,” he spoke slowly, daring her to interrupt him again.
Wisely, she zipped her lips and nodded once.
“I need to know one thing first.” Before she could bitch about his request, he asked, “What do you want with Heinrich? Just answer me that.”
Samantha nibbled on her lower lip before responding. “I need information from him. Then I’m going to haul him to jail and lock him up for good.”
“But you’re not a cop.”
She pulled back with scrunched eyebrows.
“Last night,” he said, answering her unspoken question.
Her voice wavered when she asked, “What else did I say last night?”
He waited a moment, letting her sweat. The blood rushed to her face, a pretty pink color taking over her porcelain skin. He fought back a grin. “Nothing much,” he finally said, saving her head from exploding. “Unfortunately.” A hint of a smile peeked at the corners of his mouth. “Your weapons were…interesting.”
“Uh-uh.” She wagged her finger. “Your turn. Tell me about Heinrich.”
He did an eye roll of his own and took a deep breath. “Heinrich’s getting ready to bring a large amount of Vamp into Baltimore.” Simple statement. Nothing alluding to what his role would be.
“Oh God.” Her face lost all its lush color, and her breath exited in a whoosh. “I have to stop him.” Her words were barely a whisper.
“Come again?” There’s no way he heard her right.
“When? When is he making the drop?” She looked like a ghost—her face a sheet of pure white, matching the one she clutched to her body.
He paused. “A few weeks.” Not an exact date.
“How—” She swallowed hard. “How do you know?”
Another deep breath. Shit. He was going to get fired for this. Bye-bye promotion. Bye-bye getting my team back. Bye-bye life as I know it. “I’ve been tracking him.”
She nodded as if he’d t
old her something she already knew. “So you’re what? FBI? CIA?”
His gaze dropped to one of the white pillows on his bed.
“If you don’t tell me, I’ll still find out. It’s easier this way, trust me.”
“I’m sure,” he muttered, resisting the urge to roll his eyes again.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He laughed without humor. “After that sad display of recon you put on—”
“You—” Her eyes flared, then simmered. “You knew?”
“A blind man could’ve spotted the five of you. Why were you watching me? And how did you know I went to Club Hell?”
“We…” Looking away, she muttered, “We GPS-ed your truck.”
“You, what?”
She flinched but didn’t apologize.
“I’m the last person you need to worry about. I’m a federal agent for Christ’s sake!”
“How were we supposed to know?” She met his eyes with a look of doubt that cut right through him. “You looked like a threat.”
He waved his hand toward her in an up and down motion. “Are you safe?”
She didn’t say anything.
“Are. You. Safe?” He managed through tight lips.
She gave a stiff nod.
“You’re naked in my bed. Did I touch you in any improper way?” He didn’t consider the kissing inappropriate. If he’d acted on the thoughts that had ran through his mind, that would have been improper.
She didn’t comment and must have sensed his anger brewing—maybe it was his nostrils flaring and his chest heaving—because she snapped, “I don’t remember.”
Her doubt in him as a man, a protector, caused a sharp pain in his gut as if he’d been stabbed. He slowed his breathing and unclenched his fists. Changing gears, he said, “Let’s talk about your weapons. Where exactly did you get the air horn? The pepper spray was nice, too.”
She shrugged. “A family recipe.”
“You mean to tell me that pack of women across the street made them?”
She hesitated. Then nodded.
He laughed, unable to believe his ears. “So what’s the story? You all moonlight as crime-fighting superheroes at night?”
“Neighborhood watch—”
“Neighborhood watch!” He swiped a hand over his short hair.
“We’ve had a few incidents on the street, so Grandma felt it best to arm ourselves.”
“With pepper spray that gives third-degree burns and air horns that make ears bleed. What else have they come up with?”
She readjusted the sheet, lifting it damn near to her ears, and crossed her arms. “I don’t think I should tell you.”
“You better, Blondie. I want to know what I’m dealing with. I have to make sure one of you isn’t hiding in my bushes, waiting to spray me with something that’ll blind me. I’m rather fond of my vision.” Grinning, his eyes raked over her body.
A rosy flush bloomed on her cheeks, but she didn’t turn away this time. “No, it’s your turn. Tell me who you work for and what it has to do with Viktor Heinrich.”
His gaze locked with hers for a full minute before he realized he’d have to give her something. He took another deep breath. “DEA. I’m on assignment to watch Heinrich’s operation here in the city until he makes the drop. We have a team ready to bring him in.”
Her shoulders relaxed. “Good. I’ll help.”
“No.”
“But—”
“I work alone.” For now, until he got his team back. If he ever got them back. His head pounded at the thought.
“But you said you have a team—”
“Not my team! A team!” He rubbed his temples. “Jesus, woman. You would try the patience of a saint. Can’t you just sit quietly and do as you’re told?”
Her face twisted away.
“Look, Samantha, we’ve got this handled. I’m monitoring Heinrich’s movement around Club Hell and reporting back to the team.” He gritted his teeth, preparing for the next statement. “They’ll be ready to bring him down. They’re professionals. The best.” He personally trained each one, so he knew they could handle anything.
She turned back to him. “I’m coming with you whether you like it or not.”
Damn, she was pushy. “Didn’t you just hear me? It isn’t my choice!” He was losing control. The rage building from the latent pain his fuckup with Lorena had caused—the bullet he had to dig out of his chest, the loss of his team, his best friend, the demotion, and the death of the little boy in the village—had finally come to the surface. Her insistence wasn’t helping. “Damn it, Sam! I’m not going to be there!”
“Well, I will!” she said just as loud, crowding into his personal space. “When is the team going?”
He had to laugh. “Are you fucking kidding me right now? You’re neighborhood watch. Your job is to make sure people don’t let their dogs shit on the sidewalk without picking it up, or remind your neighbors to lock their goddamn doors at night. This isn’t baby games, Samantha. This is serious. Viktor Heinrich is fucking serious.”
Her face, turning an unsettling shade of red, scrunched up like she’d just sucked a lemon. “I’m—”
“No!” he burst. “No! No! No! And that’s final! You’re not going!” Goddamn it. He had to close his eyes and concentrate on breathing before his head exploded. This woman was the most stubborn person he’d ever met.
“I’m going.”
Did she have a death wish? Because he was seriously thinking he’d help her out. He wouldn’t even need inventive weapons. A good strangling would do.
“You’ll never know when it’s going down.”
She gave him a smug smile.
“You’ve lost the element of surprise, babe. Now that I know you’re watching me, I’ll be more careful. Like I’ve been doing the last two days. Get anything on that audio device of yours lately?” His smile was smugger.
Her teeth were grinding into powder, he was sure of it. “How?”
“How, what? How have I been able to do my job without you pains-in-the-ass getting into my business?” He crossed his arms, the muscles in his back burning from the tension. “That’s for me to know.”
At her determined pout, he asked, “Why does it matter so much to you anyway? What’s your beef with Heinrich?”
A grave shadow fell across her face.
He didn’t expect that reaction, and he sure as hell didn’t like seeing it. His arms dropped to his sides. The anger drained from his body. “Samantha?”
Chapter Thirteen
She turned to the plain white wall, staring blindly. “My father went missing while working with Heinrich. He was a cop. Undercover. And just one day stopped communicating with his handler.” Her jaw shifted to the side and one corner of her lip lifted grimly. “It’s been years and no one’s heard from him. Everyone at the station thinks he’s either ashamed because he turned dirty or he’s…dead.”
“Jesus.” Logic clicked as he swallowed the large ball in his throat. Baltimore. Drugs. Cops. The port. Heinrich. “Your father was Davy Harper.”
She turned back to him, her eyes bright as sapphires. “You knew him?”
“I knew of him. Read the case file.”
Everything he’d studied about the case rushed into his mind. There’d been nothing in there about Harper being dirty. The file suggested he’d been killed by Heinrich, who hadn’t been convicted because they never found Harper’s body. Heinrich wouldn’t be so lucky this time around. His sorry ass would rot in jail for the rest of his life when the team got hold of him.
Survived by his daughter, the file had said. The realization hit Ash hard, erasing any remaining anger, replacing it with understanding.
“What do you know about my dad?” she asked. “Anything specific? Anything I can use to try to find him?”
To find him? Christ. The woman had balls of steel and the stubbornness of a mule. What person willingly searched for a family member who’d been associated with a dangerous d
rug kingpin like Heinrich? Especially since she didn’t have resources at her disposal like Ash and his teammates.
“Like you said, he was undercover,” Ash said, “working for Heinrich, who was trying to smuggle a new drug into the port. The file suggests it was an early version of Vamp. Your father managed to uncover Heinrich’s plan for the new drug before”—he lowered his voice—“before he was killed. Samantha, I’m sorry. The file said Heinrich killed your father.” He looked her over, so small and fragile in the moment. She stiffened at his comment and jerked her pale face to him. Her lips quivered. She did her best to fight off the onslaught of the shock, but a single tear dropped down her cheek before landing on the cotton sheet. “He died a hero.” He had to make sure she knew that.
“H-how do you know? How can you be sure he’s gone?” She swiped her hand across her cheek. “Everyone at the station is sure he was dirty. Why would the DEA automatically assume he’s dead?”
“No one can be a hundred percent sure. They never found…” His throat constricted to the point that he almost couldn’t get the words out. He inhaled deeply and then thrust the words past his lips. “They never found his body.”
She didn’t react, which told him his revelation wasn’t news to her. “Then no one knows for certain,” she said, her expression hardening. “He might still be out there. Heinrich might have him locked away somewhere. At his mercy.”
Aaaaaaand he just gave her the push she needed to start looking for him. “He might, but Samantha, the chances of that are—”
“Possible. It’s still possible, Ash. It is.”
Sure, anything was possible, even if it wasn’t probable. But he wasn’t going to tell her that. Whatever lingering emotions she’d had about her father, whatever suppressed pain she’d endured, Ash wasn’t going to make it any better by telling her to lose hope. To give up and move on. Even though that’s exactly what she needed to do.
What about you? You’re not so different with your pain. Why don’t you give up on that shit with Lorena and move on?
“Tell me more about Vamp,” she said. “What’s Heinrich’s play?”
No sense keeping his cover at this point. She obviously wasn’t working for Heinrich. And she deserved to know what her father had been wrapped up in. “It’s in paper form. Small and virtually undetectable. Which is probably how they’re smuggling it in and getting people hooked so easily. I watched a bartender at Club Hell drop it into a woman’s drink. It evaporated instantly. No trace at all. I imagine the same is true if you smoked a cigarette wrapped in Vamp paper. It doesn’t take much. The shit’s potent. Just a small portion would do it.”
On Her Six (Under Covers) Page 11
