by Joni Hahn
Really, Natalie?
“You’re very dark.”
He kicked his feet with lazy movements, causing small waves in the water. “I live outside.”
Perspiration already dotted her nape and mid-morning had just come upon them. In her opinion, spending time in the Nevada desert heat seemed masochistic.
“Why do you live outside?”
Frowning, he turned to her, his ice-blue eyes barricaded but beautiful. “Mitchell didn’t fill you in on my sordid past?”
She shook her head. “No. All he told me is that you were one of Robert Naylor’s best agents.”
With a sarcastic harrumph, Riordan stared down at the water. “Until six weeks ago, my home was a prison carved into the Altay Mountains of Mongolia. I spent three years in that hellhole, eighty percent of my days tied up in a dark cave, alone. Until my hands were crushed, the other twenty percent was spent defending myself against the guards or healing in their so-called hospital.” He flexed his fingers. “So yeah, I’m going to live outside.”
Natalie caught her breath. It explained so much more than his tanned skin. It explained his chosen isolation, his long hair, his scars, his defensive pride. I’m sorry threatened to blurt from her mouth but she held strong. That was the last thing he wanted to hear.
She clenched her fists in her lap. “Why were you there?”
“Naylor didn’t like the fact that I had a thing going with his daughter, Cassandra. He got rid of me.”
Natalie couldn’t keep her mouth from dropping open. Good God. The man had been sent to hell for falling in love.
Her clenched fists pulled tighter. The idea angered her. Infuriated her. But, she’d been taught to rein in her temper. She had an image to uphold.
Can’t let a crack show, now can we?
Sitting up straight, she swallowed before speaking. “How did you get out?”
“Naylor brought me here, to D.I.R.E., to break up Cassandra and her, fiancé. Ironic, huh?” He glanced at her with a sudden grin. “It didn’t work.”
Her hands gripped the edge of the pool. Holy wow. When the man smiled he actually glowed. He had a beautiful, white smile and one dimple in his left cheek. How he’d managed to keep his teeth in a prison like that was nothing short of a miracle. His brilliant smile appeared so contradictory to his rough, caveman-like exterior, it stunned her.
Keep your head, Natalie. He’s a patient.
Frowning, she cleared her throat. She didn’t dare go down that road.
“His daughter is engaged to a D.I.R.E. agent?”
With a slow nod, he stared at his feet in the water.
“Small world,” she said, her words sounding inadequate.
A bitter laugh escaped him. “You have no idea...”
If anything sounded personal, that statement did. He’d answered superficial questions up to that point. How would he handle something intimate?
She braced her arms on the concrete behind her. “How do you feel about her engagement?”
Hanging his head, he turned to face her with a cocked brow. “Really? You’re going full-on doctor on me? Is this where I lie down on one of the loungers and tell you my troubles?”
She matched his cocked brow. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were ridiculing my profession.”
He held up his hands in feigned innocence. “Not me.”
Lifting a shoulder, she said, “Mitchell is paying me the big bucks to be a full-on doctor, Riordan. If you want to lie down, please do.”
His gaze dropped to her breasts before a smirk crossed his features. “Care to join me?”
Been there, done that. And, it had ruined her life on so many levels.
She tilted her head. “What do you hope to gain with that question, Riordan? Outrage? Shock...?”
“Consent.”
His deep, gravelly voice shot a wave of gooseflesh over her skin. Why did her body scream God, yes, while her brain told her beware men bearing barbaric sex appeal? Rough, arrogant, long-haired men were not an everyday occurrence for her. This one oozed animal magnetism through every tanned pore of his scarred skin.
She sighed. “Riordan, let’s keep things profess-”
His soft chuckle stopped her mid-speech. “When I first saw you, I thought that’s why Mitchell brought you here.”
Stilling, she stared at him, hoping sand wouldn’t blow in her mouth. “Are you implying that I look like a-“
“Prostitute?”
This time, he stared straight into her eyes, his dark with appreciation. Her body tingled in places she hadn’t realized were still around, his smile rueful.
“No, but I thought that could be the only reason Mitchell would bring a woman to me. He knows I’ve been without a long time. You’re just not my type.”
What a complete and total Neanderthal. “Nor are you mine.”
With a shake of his head, he looked down at the water again. “Hell, I could see that right off.”
Something in his soft tone told her more stood behind that statement than the obvious. He considered himself beneath her. Growing up in the ranks of high society, Natalie abhorred pretentiousness. She’d been scolded a few times herself for speaking her mind in front of high-ranking officials.
In her eyes, equality ran across the board, regardless of social class or ethnicity. In Riordan’s case, they were just… different.
Regardless, she’d gained no headway traveling down this road. She needed to find some camaraderie.
Pulling off her college ring, she held it between her thumb and forefinger. “May I? It’s made of nickel.”
Glancing at her, his gaze dropped to the ring before returning to her face. “You’re proposing? I’m not a virgin so you don’t have to marry me to get me on that lounger.”
She cocked an eyebrow. “Wow, that was so… not original, St. James. Did you spend the last three years coming up with that?”
He laughed outright, the sound echoing off the cavernous canopy. Natalie couldn’t contain her grin. Laughter looked darned good on him.
“May I?” she said again.
His sober gaze studied her. Did he fear her touch, or the idea of going against his preconceived notion?
Probably both. “I promise I don’t bite.”
Rather than the smart remark she expected, he gave a brief nod.
With tentative movements, Natalie reached for his now dry hand. He felt warm to the touch, raw strength emanating from his artificial bones and rough flesh. He had capable hands, limbs that were just an extension of the man himself. Natalie had a feeling he could be enlisted to perform any task and would eagerly face it head on. When it came to dares, the word no would never enter his vocabulary.
If she ever went on one of those survival shows, Natalie wanted Riordan St. James with her.
Holding his hand, she set the ring upright on top before slowly moving away. It stood erect, just shy of his knuckles.
She felt her smile grow of its own volition. “You do have magnetic hands.”
His sky blue gaze roamed over her face. She felt heat bloom in her cheeks.
“I do. Once my enhancements are complete, my pull will be more powerful. I’ll have to control it with my brain.”
Cocking her head, she said, “And, you’re okay with that? With someone altering your body that way?”
He graced her with another bright smile. She took a deep breath and let it out.
“To be the only man in the world with the ability to attract and repel objects with his hands? To be one of The D.I.R.E. Agency’s super agents? Damn straight, I’m okay with that.”
The man knew what he wanted when it came to his career. It didn’t sound like Riordan had made a forced decision out of some sense of loyalty to Mitchell. If he lacked self-confidence as Mitchell said, his assurance proved a step in the right direction.
Clenching his hand into a fist, Riordan watched the ring tumble into the clear water. No sooner had she gasped than he dropped into the pool.
&nb
sp; She waited for him to resurface. When he didn’t show after long moments, her heart started to pound. “Riordan?”
The water lay calm, gently lapping against the side. “Riordan?”
He sprang from the water like a dolphin at play, his head popping up between her legs. Gasping, she shoved away from the pool, a foot braced on the concrete, her dress riding high on her thighs. His beautiful, pale eyes went from playful to dark as he placed the ring on the ground between her thighs - just inches from the crotch of her black thong.
She didn’t move.
Her mind swirled with images of him touching her there, slipping a finger under the lace. She could feel her body prepare for an invasion that could only take place in her mind. Yet, she did nothing to stop it.
Her legs fell open further. His breath rushed through his nose. Their gazes held, his dark as sapphires, hers clouded with visions of his hand on her.
Riordan’s gaze dropped to the hem of her dress. Her breath caught. Bracing both hands on the edge of the pool, he jumped out of the water, flinging heavy droplets over her.
Natalie held up her hands to ward off the dousing. What was she doing? Hadn’t she learned anything with Paul?
Heart pounding against her ribs, she snatched up the ring and shot to her feet. She grabbed her shoes.
“Natalie.” He grabbed her arm with a wet hand.
She flung it away.
Rushing to the fitness room door, she had to find Mitchell. She couldn’t do this.
“Meeks.” Riordan came up behind her.
Hurry, Natalie…
She grabbed the door handle just as Mitchell shoved it open from the inside. He glanced at her with narrowed eyes before turning to Riordan who stood beside her.
“I’m sorry, Mitchell, but you’ll have to get someone else.”
Mitchell’s thunderous gaze shot to Riordan, who crossed his arms over his chest.
“We’re up a creek then, Mitchell…” Riordan pointed at her with his thumb. “…because I’ll only work with her.”
#####
“You’ve got a Wednesday morning appointment at Natalie Meeks’ San Diego office.”
Foot propped on the nightstand, Riordan glanced over his shoulder as he shoved his blade inside his boot. Damn, he’d done it. Mitchell had actually gotten her to agree to see him after that nearly orgasmic exchange at the pool.
He dropped his leg to the floor. Riordan didn’t know how it had happened but one minute they were tip-toeing around each other, the next, he’d found himself wishing her black thong was made of iron.
Riordan flexed his hand. “I thought she refused to work with me.” Rolling up his jeans, he shoved them in the duffle bag.
Mitchell leaned against Riordan’s bedroom doorframe, hands crossed over his chest. “She did. Care to tell me why?”
“No.” He didn’t want anyone ruining his daydream. Natalie Meeks with her legs spread open before him and passion in her hazel eyes was a vision he never wanted to forget. A vision that had made for long showers over the last few days. A vision he’d give his magnetic hands to explore.
“Getting involved with a Senator’s daughter is asking for trouble, Saint.”
His gaze shot to Mitchell, who cocked a brow. Senator’s daughter? Hell, he should’ve known. Old politics were plastered all over her polish and proper etiquette. As for her improper etiquette, well, he’d like to know how deep it ran.
“Involved?” Riordan stuffed in some t-shirts and zipped up his bag. “I thought you hired her to work with me.”
Mitchell let out an impatient sigh. “Don’t play me, Saint. Your hard-on hit the door ten seconds before you did.”
Riordan couldn’t help but grin. “Was that a compliment?”
Lowering his arms, Mitchell blocked his exit. “Dammit, Saint. Her father can and will move mountains, whether they be Rocky, Altay or otherwise.”
Instant anger flooded his body. If Mitchell implied that her father could send him back to the Altays, he’d have to do it over his dead body. No one would ever have control over him like that again. Ever.
“Okay, fine.” He held up a hand to stop Mitchell’s tirade.
“Whatever it takes to get out in the field.”
Sure, you say that now when she isn’t around...
With a nod of agreement, Mitchell stepped back to allow him out of the room. Walking to the front door of his D.I.R.E. apartment, they headed down the hall.
“What have you heard on my money and belongings?” Riordan said. “Did Naylor wipe out my accounts?”
Mitchell hesitated a moment before speaking. “No, he didn’t.”
Stopping mid-stride, Riordan turned to his boss. “But...?”
“Someone else did.”
Dread settled in Riordan’s stomach. Sonovabitch.
Pulling out his phone, Mitchell stared at the screen. “Our attorney, Max, applied for new identification cards. Your applications were denied.”
“What? Why?”
“Your identity’s been stolen.”
What the hell? “What do you mean, stolen?”
“In the last two years, someone cleaned out your bank accounts, cancelled your condominium lease in Denver and bought a house on Coronado. They bought a new Escalade and gambled away thousands in Vegas.” Mitchell gave him a wide-eyed gaze. “Someone’s enjoyed the good life at your expense.”
Anger returned to fester in Riordan’s gut. While he’d spent his days getting beaten and starved, someone else had stolen his hard-earned money and lived it up.
Whoever said life was unfair, had no freaking clue. He’d find the bastard and make him pay back every damned cent.
“You are giving me unofficial permission to stake out his house, right?”
“No.” Mitchell gave him a dead-on stare. “You don’t work for Naylor any longer. Revenge doesn’t play a part in this, Saint. We’ll find him, but we’ll find him doing it my way.”
Riordan gritted teeth. Dammit. He had to get used to working for the good guys.
Well… they were good most of the time, anyway.
“How can I get back my money?”
“You can’t. We’re reimbursing you.”
He shook his head. Hell, no. Then he’d owe D.I.R.E. even more.
Picking up his bag, he started walking again. “Do you realize how much I had?”
Mitchell fell in step beside him. “Yes.”
Stopping before the D.I.R.E. roof elevator, Riordan pushed the up button.“Is this your way of holding me under your thumb?”
Mitchell scowled. “No. You’re a part of the D.I.R.E. family now, Saint. What happens to you, happens to all of us.”
Straightening, he swallowed hard. Riordan hadn’t had family since his mother died. Jack Crawford, his grandfather, had never given a shit about him. He’d lived for his daily high and nothing else.
“Look, Mitchell, I’m just not used to…” The elevator door opened. He followed Mitchell inside.
“Generosity?” Mitchell gave a half grin. “Consider it back pay for the last three years. You earned it.”
If he took the money, he could start his own search for the bastard that had used his money to live fat and happy. If he didn’t take the money, it’d be like a slap in the face to the one man that’d been there for him since he returned.
“We’ve started a ripple in his cover,” Mitchell said. “Max’s request will trigger an investigation.”
“Good.” I’ll get a shot at him.
The doors opened to the roof. They stepped onto the landing pad where Jaydan Rose prepared the D.I.R.E. helicopter for departure.
“In the meantime, I need you to cooperate with Natalie Meeks. I have a case waiting for you.”
Yes. A purpose. That’s what he needed more than anything. A reason for being here. A reason why he shouldn’t be returned to Mongolia, even though he returned to that cave each night in his nightmares, anyway.
“What is it?”
“You’ve heard abou
t the computer system breech of WorthMore Department Stores, right?”
Riordan nodded. It had been all over the news for the last couple of weeks. The accounts of millions of people had been hacked.
“Then, no doubt, you’ve heard about the computer system breech of McAlister Financial, and ShowStopper Ticket Outlets?”
“Yes, I heard,” he nodded. “They postponed ticket sales for the baseball playoffs.”
“They weren’t breeches, Saint. The actual computer systems were fried.”
Pulling back his head, he frowned. “As in set fire?”
Mitchell shrugged. “On the surface, it appears that way. What’s strange is that the fans on all of the servers were left functioning.”
“That makes no sense…”
Mitchell shook his head. “The systems were fried but the fans were left running, working perfectly. How does that happen?”
Staring out at the Nevada desert, Riordan thought aloud. “What do those companies have in common?”
“We’re working on that.”
He swung back his gaze to Mitchell.
“What I need from you, Saint, is inside intel. I don’t want to rely on outside reports. I want you to do a D.I.R.E. investigation, which hinges on you keeping things platonic with Natalie Meeks.”
Riordan waved away Mitchell’s concern. He knew better than anyone that an affair with Natalie Meeks would be a mistake. Not that Snow White would ever sleep with the Big Bad Wolf.
While he hung out in San Diego, he’d make up for lost time by picking up a few women. That would get Natalie Meeks’ passion-glazed eyes out of his head.
“Hell, she isn’t my type, anyway.”
The helicopter blades turned, working up to a fast whir. Mitchell raised his voice over the hum.
“Just go easy on her, Saint. She’s had a rough go of it lately.”
That statement surprised him, coming from a tough bastard like Jacobs. “Why? What happened?”
Mitchell just stared at him without a response. He should’ve known better than to expect an answer to a question about a senator’s daughter.
“Just don’t hit on her Saint, got it? Natalie Meeks is off limits.”
Chapter 3
“Hurry, Nat. Come quick. To the lobby.”
