by Dawn Ryder
“I think I do want to know.”
He walked in a circle around her, his steps slow and measured. Calculated.
“I get the bug-out gear, the fake windows, the whole ultra-secret hideout-house thing,” she said as he crossed behind her. Standing her ground was harder than it should have been. Their midnight romp had done exactly what she’d suspected Saxon might have been plotting: It cultivated new trust between them.
Mercer stopped next to her. “It’s about trust. You already called that right on the money. It loosens lips because it builds trust fast. Sex cuts through stress like nothing else.”
“So a hideout is outfitted with pleasure toys?” She pushed the drawer closed, feeling slightly offended. “Bet that one will never end up on a budget report the taxpayers see.”
Mercer flashed her a wicked grin. “I doubt it.” He looped an arm across her body and moved up behind her. “We can play later.”
She wiggled but he held her in place. “Not interested. Thanks. I like a live show.”
“Admit it. You want me to twist your insides.” He held her when she would have stepped away, settling his chin next to her ear. “You won’t find the sort of satisfaction I give you while you’re in control, Zoe. It doesn’t work that way. Nothing in life does. If you want a mega high, you have to take an extreme risk.”
“How many times have you done this?” She didn’t care for how wounded she sounded but she just couldn’t seem to control the urge to ask him.
He kissed the side of her neck. “First time.”
She snorted in disbelief. He let her go when she pushed on his arm. She made a beeline for the bedroom doorway, needing some space between herself, Mercer, and the drawer of toys. He’d reduced her to a cinder with his body; there was no way she’d survive dealing with him armed with power tools.
“Why is that so hard to believe?”
She stopped in the doorway and turned around to look back at him.
“I could just as easily assume you bar-hop with your girlfriend and pick up one-nighters all the time.”
“I don’t,” she said.
“But it’s the same logic, Zoe. I met you in a bar. Your friend was coming on to me. Birds of a feather flock together.”
He had a point. She lifted her shoulders in a shrug. “Fine. You don’t make a habit out of working girls over for evidence. I’m just a special case.”
His expression tightened. “Actually, you are. I’m putting my neck on the line for you because I think you just might be telling the truth.”
“I am.”
“Good.” He started toward her and she ended up in the other room. “Time to prove it.”
He cupped her elbow and guided her around to the kitchen table. A laptop was set up.
“No one can navigate your system. Give up your encryption codes. We want full access to your hard drive.”
She landed in the chair. Mercer flattened his palm on the tabletop as he leaned over her.
“Do it now, Zoe, or you’re full of shit and I’ve risked my neck for nothing.”
It felt like a gavel had landed, the sharp sound piercing her heart like a bullet.
“It’s not a code.”
The laptop had a shot of her home system on it. The sign-in screen so familiar, while the situation so very strange.
“Wrong answer.” Mercer’s tone had turned arctic. He reached behind him and pulled out the gun.
“I didn’t say I wouldn’t do it,” she snapped as she typed in her password. “I said it wasn’t a code. I like puns and I’m a language gal. It’s not like I’m the only one on the planet who keeps their personal computer protected.”
The screen changed, opening up to her desktop. She hammered in a few more passwords before making it into the security settings. A window popped up on the upper right-hand side of the screen with Saxon’s face on it.
“We’re in. This will take some time.”
The window closed.
It felt like something in her heart did, too. Which was stupid, because she knew better than to let Mercer get anywhere near her heart.
But it felt like he was making himself right at home.
* * *
“ETA?” Tyler was back on Saxon’s phone, eighteen hours later.
Mercer’s words rang very true and Saxon was having a hard time finding any reason to discredit them.
The logic was sound. There was more to the case than Saxon had on his data file.
“Are you dead or something?” Tyler demanded as the silence lengthened.
“No sir,” Saxon answered out of habit.
“Estimated time on that hard drive intel?” Tyler pressed the issue.
“Couple of days.”
Thais looked up, her eyebrows lowering: He’d just doubled the time she’d given him.
“The Magnus girl is a language specialist. At least six different languages are floating around in this thing. It’s going to be labor-intensive.”
“No one sleeps until it’s done.”
The line went dead. Thais was still watching him. Saxon shook his head. He stood up, taking a walk to the curb as he contemplated his misgivings.
Something was off. Zoe Magnus had given them access without a single delay tactic. Either the hard drive was wiped or she was innocent. He propped his foot on the retaining wall that ran along the driveway and leaned over as if he was tying his shoe. Instead he reached into his sock and pressed a button on a small cell phone he had Velcroed to his ankle.
His brother would know differently. The little microphone was a direct link to Vitus. The one Saxon had kept hidden since Vitus had been kicked to the curb.
They were still blood, and blood was thicker than anything else.
Saxon made his way back into the house. Thais had her nose stuck to her computer screen. She was scanning the hard drive off Zoe’s home computer. He moved behind her and into the back rooms of the house. He felt only a momentary twinge of guilt before slipping through a false cabinet and out an escape tunnel.
Besides himself, only Vitus knew it was there.
It wasn’t very big. He had to army-crawl through it, his elbows bruising long before he made it the four hundred feet to the end. Saxon surfaced behind a dense shrubbery in the side yard of the house at the base of the hill. The home owner was a senior citizen who was well known for his dislike of trespassers. But he was equally well known for his love of napping on his back porch. Off to his right, Saxon had a clear shot of the man’s sneaker-clad feet.
Saxon slipped into the house and into the man’s clothing before borrowing the mid-1970s sedan sitting in the driveway. Vintage cars had lots of things going for them when it came to espionage. Like no computer chips. Tracking had to be done from the license plate, and the ones on this car were so dirty, they likely wouldn’t register. It also wasn’t a vehicle assigned to his team.
It was time to make sure someone was watching his backside. Treason had a nasty history of running deep and into places no one thought to look. Was it as simple as the Magnus family?
Maybe.
Then again, he’d be ten kinds of a fool if he failed to factor in that two of his men were dead and the strike had come right after his more experienced men had left. That might have been a lucky accident for his experienced men or inside knowledge on just when the new kids would be taking a round of duty. He sure couldn’t take a chance on it being just a lucky break for their sniper.
Vitus was the last one anyone would suspect of backing him up. The reason was simple: everyone thought Saxon was dedicated to his career. He and Vitus had decided to let it look like Saxon cut him off after Vitus messed up. Nothing was farther from the truth. Saxon was going to clear his brother’s name, just as soon as he could prove it. But it looked like today he would be the one going to his brother for help.
Saxon had the feeling he was going to need that kind of an ace in the hole.
He didn’t like the feeling at all.
* * *
“Why are you mad at me?”
Zoe looked up from the book she was reading. Mercer was watching her from the sofa. The air between them was full of tension and had been since that morning.
“I thought you wanted a chance to prove your family innocent,” he went on, pressing the issue.
She sat up. “My wants have never factored into this situation.”
His eyes flashed with a warning.
“On the business side,” she clarified.
“Fine.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Still doesn’t explain why you’re giving me the silent treatment over letting us onto your hard drive.”
“I object to you pulling your gun.”
And she really wished she didn’t. Because she was losing the battle against keeping the lines from blurring. Caring about things like the way he interrogated her. The guy was an agent, not her boyfriend. Being considerate had never been part of his MO. He wasn’t a nice guy and she really needed to get her mind wrapped around that.
“Do you trust me, Zoe?”
His question caught her off guard. He offered her a half laugh. “Don’t go blaming me for not doing something you aren’t ready to do yourself yet. Trust takes time.”
She picked the book back up but didn’t really see the words. All she saw was the mess she seemed stuck in the middle of.
Life sucked.
* * *
“So you called me.”
“Don’t be a prick,” Saxon warned his brother.
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Vitus said as he joined Saxon in the underground fallout shelter. A grandfather of one of his buddies from high school had built it during the Cold War era. The house had burned down long ago, leaving an empty lot with decade-old fruit trees. Without a structure on it, the only people who ever crossed onto it were kids looking to grab a little fresh produce. No one ventured back far enough onto the rocky desert lot to notice that several of the boulders were fake and covering vents and access ports for the water and sanitation tanks. Best of all, no one could trace the ownership of it to him. It was still in his buddy’s name. A friendship lost to the decades that separated him from the carefree youth he’d been. A relationship that had purposely been allowed to go dormant, so there wouldn’t be a connection.
For a moment, he felt a bitter taste for how cold he’d managed to make his life. But his reasons kept him warm. Someone had to hold the line. Hold it against men who lived and breathed for greed. Men who didn’t give a rat’s ass for the blood spilled when they sold their classified information. They lived in glass towers. Drove exotic sports cars, and had women throwing themselves at them. All over the almighty dollar.
It sickened him.
It stoked up the fire in his belly. Looking around, he admired the plain interior of the fallout shelter. He preferred it to a penthouse. Preferred it to shallow companions who would hamstring him just as soon as it benefited them.
The shelter was maintained. Twenty feet underground, it was two hundred square feet of secret meeting place. Saxon settled back in a chair as the air-purifying system made a soft hum in the background. Vitus went to the tiny kitchen and helped himself to a cup of fresh coffee.
“What’s rubbing you wrong?” Vitus asked over the rim of his mug.
“My dead men,” Saxon started off. “New kids. Got capped ten minutes after shift change. Mercer brought up the fact that the sniper could have dropped him or Zoe a dozen times but waited until they were together. Seems like someone wants everyone silenced, which means this will all become a nice, neat, cold case.”
Vitus drew off a sip of hot joe, waiting for more information.
“The Magnus family isn’t striking me as the treason sort.”
Vitus cocked his head to one side. “Agreed. Doesn’t mean they aren’t, though. We’ve been surprised before.”
“True.”
Saxon stopped talking. He toyed with the cup of coffee waiting on the small table next to him.
Vitus recognized his cue. “You wonder if someone isn’t looking to cover their tracks.”
Saxon nodded. “Someone high enough in the ranks to get orders handed down to me.”
It wouldn’t be the first time. Both of them knew it. One of the hardest parts of being on secret teams was the rather real fact that sometimes people liked to pin their dirty work on you. The plans tended to include death as a means of making sure you never got the chance to defend yourself. That possibility loomed over them both now like a hungry raven.
“Did you recover any evidence?”
Saxon shook his head. “Couple of hard drives. My team is working on them. Tyler gave me an ass kicking over getting it done pronto.”
The air purification system was the only sound audible for several minutes.
“Move your team and the girl,” Vitus said.
Saxon raised an eyebrow. Vitus put his mug down and shot him a hard look.
“Move the cheese, see who comes after it. That’s where you’ll find your answer.”
“I need you for that,” Saxon said. “Why do you think I’m here? I need to go off grid. See who has a problem with it.”
Vitus rolled his eyes. “Could have cut to the chase, bro.”
Saxon shrugged. “Wanted to make sure your brain still worked.”
“Don’t start,” Vitus warned his brother. “I know what I did. Spend your time worrying about your boy Mercer. He’s got it bad.”
“I noticed,” Saxon agreed. “The problem is, I need someone looking after her who won’t mind being glued to her.”
His brother scowled at him. “Don’t you think you should let Mercer make his own choice about screwing his career?”
“Like you did?”
Vitus stuck a finger out at his sibling. “Warned you already. I fell for my target and she tossed me aside the second her rich and powerful daddy sent the limo to pick her up and take her home to Washington, DC. Difference between me and Mercer is you sent him into the chick’s bed. So you owe your man honesty.”
“You just didn’t have the discipline to stay out of your mission’s pants.”
“My fuckup. I own it.” Vitus shrugged. “Makes me rather useful now. Since no one remembers I’m alive.”
“Yeah,” Saxon agreed. “The useful part. I still think people remember you. The respectable congressman doesn’t strike me as the type to forget who snatched his precious daughter’s cherry without his blessing. He’s got plans for her. A man like him doesn’t know how to do anything but use people. Family member or not.”
“Well, she could have stayed with me but she left. So she can deal with her pops.” Vitus tossed the remains of his coffee into the sink. “I’ll get Mercer moving.”
Saxon nodded. He lingered over his coffee, giving his brother half an hour to clear out of the area before he emerged from the shelter. The old man was finished with his nap by the time Saxon pulled the car back into the driveway. The owner never noticed, unable to see past the thick, overgrown bushes that grew in front of the house windows. Saxon tucked the keys back under the sun visor and disappeared down the access tunnel.
* * *
“We’re moving.”
Zoe looked up as Mercer appeared in the front room again. He shoved his cell phone into his pocket and gestured her toward him.
“You’ve got five minutes.”
Her belly tightened, the tone of his voice making her suspicious.
“Your team couldn’t have found anything on my hard drive. I’m not a spy.”
Mercer stopped for a moment, looking surprised by her comment. She scooted off the bed, leaving the book where it had fallen.
“We’re clearing out because Saxon is moving base camp.”
She pushed her feet into her boots and tugged on the laces. “I’m hearing a tone in your voice that says there’s some kind of significance to that. Care to share it with me?”
Mercer was checking his gun and looked at her over it. “Not right now.”
Great. She wanted to ar
gue but remembered the bikes.
Bug-out gear …
Squandering her last few minutes with plumbing didn’t seem like a wise choice.
She bit her lip and ran to the bathroom before her five minutes was up. She sort of hated him at the moment.
Yeah, well, that feeling will pass.
She didn’t care for how sarcastic her inner voice was getting. Just because her willpower deserted her when the guy touched her was no reason for sarcasm.
Yes it is.
Shut it!
“Come on, Zoe.”
Mercer hooked her biceps the moment she was close enough, pulling her through the door and out into the garage where the bikes were. He tossed one of the jackets at her before shrugging into the second one.
“Can you handle a bike?” he questioned her.
“Shouldn’t you have asked me that a little sooner if this is our bug-out plan?”
He cut her a hard look. “Wasn’t ready to trust you. Now the choice is being taken from me. Can you handle the bike?”
She nodded.
He’d picked up a helmet but froze with it in his hands. “I’m the only thing between you and a sniper, Zoe.”
The helmet ended up perched on the seat of the bike. He wrapped his fingers around her elbow and pulled her close. “Don’t ditch me. You’ve got nowhere to go. Call your brother and all he’ll be able to do is worry about you.”
“My brother has friends.”
“And all of them are documented somewhere,” Mercer replied, cutting through her argument. “Do you think Saxon didn’t make sure he had all the information on your family before he started this operation?”
“I get it.” She jerked against his hold. “Let’s go.”
He held her, pulling her closer. “I don’t like it either, Zoe, but I’m here, trying to keep you alive.”
There was a note of sincerity in his voice that touched something inside her that truly needed a little compassion. He wasn’t the right person to seek it from. As in the Way wrong person but beggars can’t be choosers.
She grabbed the helmet and put it on. Mercer watched her, uncertainty flickering in his eyes. Well, at least she had company. It was little comfort. He handed her one of the backpacks and opened just a panel on the garage door.
