Her Secret Agent Man

by Cindy Dees

  She stared at him for a long moment, and then wrapped the towel absently around herself as she continued to hold his gaze. She felt for the doorknob and pulled it the rest of the way open. And then she was looking at him directly, her eyes smoky with passion.

  A step toward him. And another. He willed her closer with his gaze, his male flesh pounding with desperate need to have this cat-eyed beauty. Right now. She put one knee on the bed.

  And then he lost his formidable control. He surged up, wrapping her in his arms and tumbling her on top of him. Her skin was hot and damp, and she burned him alive with the fire in her eyes. He tugged at the towel. It slid from between them and he flung it aside.

  Her hungry mouth captured his, as incendiary as the rest of her. Ah, good Lord, her breasts felt exactly as he’d imagined against his chest. And then her tongue was inside his mouth, swirling and dancing around his. Somehow, he managed to want her even more ferociously. His lust was downright painful as he dragged her higher against him, devouring her mouth like an addict way overdue for a fix.

  Her silken legs straddled his hips and he groaned as her burning flesh rubbed against him. He was dangerously close to exploding. She laughed deep in her throat, a husky, throaty sound that was pure sex. Who’d have guessed that inside sweet Julia lurked such a tigress? She was driving him plumb out of his mind!

  But the further he spun out of control, the more fear gripped him. Finally, drenching terror overwhelmed his lust and made him break out in a cold sweat. Control was the one thing he must not let go of. Dared not. The beast within surged, clawing at his sanity. A driving need to do violence roared up like a volcano from deep within him. No! Not to Julia!

  He tore his mouth away from hers, panting wildly in his struggle to wrestle down the strange, primitive urge inside him. How long he fought it, he didn’t know. But gradually he became aware of her soft hands cupping his face. Her dark, worried eyes gazing at him.

  Dammit! He’d almost lost it completely, and he hadn’t even had a blackout or a nightmare! Dread coiled like a viper lurking in the detritus of his mind. He had to get control of himself. And having sex with Julia sure as hell wasn’t the way to do that.

  He rolled out from underneath her and stood up, pushing his hand through his short hair. He swore viciously, reining in his disgust at himself enough to mumble, “Dammit, I’m sorry, Julia. I’m a bastard.”

  He stumbled to the shower and turned on the hot water full blast. He braced his hands against the cold tile, his head hanging low. He hardly felt the water’s scalding needles stinging his skin. What in the hell was he going to do? His career, his life, was slipping through his fingers like sand, and he couldn’t seem to snatch a single grain of it back.

  Julia lay naked on the bed, stunned. What had just happened? To her and to Dutch? One hot look from him, and she’d walked straight into his arms and his bed without a second thought. Was she crazy? She knew better than to let down her guard with him. Every time he looked deep into her eyes, she lost another piece of her heart.

  He obviously wanted her so bad he could hardly stand it. She was sure of that. How any guy in his right mind walked away from a woman who was as eager as she was to jump into the sack, she had no idea. But the self-discipline he could muster up was nearly beyond her comprehension. Thank goodness for it, or heaven only knew what kind of mess she’d be in now. She had no business even contemplating sleeping with a man, much less one who planned to kill her.

  Abruptly aware of her nudity, she hastily pulled on her clothes. She fished around in Dutch’s coat pocket and found his keys. She needed his Internet-capable computer. It was time to end this game.

  She slipped out of the hotel room and hurried down to the parking lot. She found his laptop in the back seat, next to a plastic grocery bag of food. She grabbed both and headed back to the room. She slipped the key card into its slot and pushed the door open. And only managed to gasp before a hand slapped over her mouth, cutting off all her air. Panic slammed into her almost as hard as the big, hot body behind her did. Dutch.

  He must have recognized her in almost the same instant she recognized him, because the iron hand fell away from her mouth and she stumbled as she was abruptly released from his powerful grasp.

  He demanded, “What the hell were you thinking, going out by yourself? You could’ve been jumped and snatched before I had any idea there was a problem.”

  His jaw rippled with tension. She sighed. He was right. She hadn’t stopped to think about her safety before she’d raced out to get the computer.

  “And for God’s sake,” he lectured, “if you do get separated from me, announce yourself before you come barging back into the room. I could’ve broken your neck!”

  She looked up into his eyes and asked gently, “Do you honestly think you could ever hurt me?”

  His anguished blue gaze met hers. His answer sounded torn from his throat. “I don’t know what I’m doing half the time anymore, dammit.”

  “I went out to the car to get the laptop so I can get to work on downloading Eduardo’s records.”

  He nodded grimly. “I’m gonna go shave and finish getting dressed. Have at it.”

  She noticed for the first time since he’d nearly scared the life out of her that he was shirtless. His stomach and chest were a breathtaking mass of muscle. He was so beautiful to look at it practically made her ache.

  Somehow, she tore her gaze away from him and sat down at the room’s desk. She plugged the computer into the phone jack the hotel provided. Finally. Access to his computer. Maybe she could find the Charlie Squad bank account number while she was at it. Bypassing the minimal security on his machine was a piece of cake. It was designed to keep out a casual hacker—not a banker and security expert like her. She scrolled down through the directory of files on the machine, looking quickly for one that might have the bank account number in it.

  “So tell me something, Dutch,” she called through the open door of the bathroom. “How come a good-looking guy like you is still single?”

  A snort over the sound of water running in the sink. “No time.”

  No sign of the information she was looking for, although there was a cluster of encrypted files. Probably not a good idea to break into them right now when he could stroll out of the bathroom anytime and see what she was doing.

  She asked aloud, “Meaning you don’t have the time or you don’t make the time?” Her fingers raced over the keyboard, signing the system on to the Internet. No answer from Dutch. She glanced up and saw him staring at her in the mirror.

  “Why do you ask?” he rumbled warningly.

  She typed in her password to the server she usually used. A welcome message flashed on the computer screen. She shrugged. “Just trying to get to know you a little better. I mean,” she added, “it’s not like it’s any surprise to me that you’re single.”

  The water cut off abruptly. Damn. He stepped out into the bedroom, shaving cream smeared all over his face. “Why’s that?” he demanded indignantly.

  She grinned to herself and, accessing a search engine, typed in a search command for Eduardo Ferrare and a bank in Hong Kong.

  For the last few weeks she’d been methodically searching every major bank in every major banking city in the world. That account was out there somewhere. She’d find it eventually. It was only a matter of time.

  As the computer hummed, performing the search, she looked up from the keyboard. And leaned back in her chair, captivated by his reaction to her comment. His shoulders were all bunched up around his ears, and she could see his jaw muscles moving, even under a layer of shaving cream. Oh, he was really annoyed. Didn’t like having his romantic prowess questioned, did he?

  Amused, she answer lightly, “Well, you’re such a control freak, I can’t imagine any woman putting up with you for too long.”

  “A control freak?” he all but bellowed.

  She bit back outright laughter. “Well, yes.”

  He spun and stomped back into
the bathroom. She watched him in the mirror pick up his razor and begin slashing at his face with it.

  She commented blandly, “Be careful, there. You wouldn’t want to slit your throat by accident.”

  She caught his glare and looked away hastily before she could laugh aloud and further bruise his ego. She noticed information was beginning to scroll across the computer screen. She leaned forward eagerly, scanning the information rolling down the screen.

  Bingo. She typed commands furiously and more information popped up. It was true. Eduardo did have a bank account in Hong Kong that he’d tried to hide from her. Her ace in the hole.

  She’d stumbled across the account number and password inside Eduardo’s private address book by accident a couple of years ago. That mistake was the only reason she even knew about the account’s existence. What she’d lacked was the name of the bank. She’d had no way to search for it without being traced through her father’s computer system.

  For the last few weeks, she’d searched furiously for the information. With access to that account, plus the thirty million dollars she’d stolen, she could exert enough financial pressure on Eduardo to force him to release Carina.

  Today, she’d found the bank in Hong Kong. It had an account in the name of Eduardo J. Ferrare. It had to be her father. How many people with the name Ferrare had VIP bank accounts in Hong Kong, for goodness’ sake?

  She entered her father’s password and asked for the total current value of the account. The computer blinked, accessing the information.

  She jumped as Dutch turned out the light in the bathroom and stepped into the room behind her. Crud. She had to go. She couldn’t risk Dutch seeing this information. Not yet.

  She reached for the power switch to turn off the computer, and as her finger approached the button, an answer popped up on the screen. She stared at it for a millisecond of utter disbelief and then hit the power button.

  Oh. My. God.

  Chapter 8

  Dutch thrashed against the tangle around his legs. The damned gillie net wouldn’t let go of him. He had to get moving. One of their guys was down, and a hail of lead was flying over his head.

  “Report!” he bellowed into the throat mike over the sound of the gunfire. “Who’s hit? Where are you?”

  “It’s Simon. I’m at your—” a gurgling gasp “—ten o’clock. Don’t come—” another liquid rasp “—over here. Too hot.”

  That was a death rattle if he’d ever heard one. Dutch cursed foully. Not Simon. Not his kid brother. “Hang in there, you little twerp,” he yelled in his mike. “Don’t you die on me!”

  He jumped up and took off running in Simon’s direction. The green-black jungle seemed to stretch on forever around him, slow-motion flashes of hot lead zinging past in a red laser pattern all around him. He zigzagged and leapfrogged side to side as he fired randomly to his left at the unseen ambushers.

  A scream from in front of him. He hit the dirt, rolled, and came to a skidding halt in a firing position with his rifle against his cheek. The scene before him came into focus just as one of Ferrare’s men leaned down, knife in hand, over Simon’s prone body. Dutch barely felt the bullet slam into his own leg, so intent was he on the macabre scene playing out before him.

  “Nooooo!” he screamed. He pulled the trigger over and over until the rifle clicked, empty…

  Dutch lurched awake, bolt upright in bed. He rubbed his palms across his sweat-soaked face and realized his hands were shaking. Bad. His whole body was shaking, in fact.

  Simon. An agony of loss ripped through him. He’d always known his brother died a violent death. How in the hell could he have forgotten the way his brother had suffered? The way Julia Ferrare had set him up to suffer? A need for vengeance sliced through him, as cold and sharp as an assassin’s stiletto.

  Her body language at the computer earlier shouted that she’d found some or all of what she’d been looking for. She’d almost suckered him in again. Almost convinced him she was basically a decent person who was just the victim of her father’s machinations. But look what she’d done to his baby brother. Only a viper of the worst kind could do that to another human being and live with themselves.

  Julia rolled over and mumbled something at him. God, he needed to hurt her. To make her feel the pain Simon had felt. He literally shook with the effort to hold his hands still at his sides. How long he fought himself, he couldn’t say. By the time he finally beat back the violence humming through him, he was drenched with sweat. Exhausted.

  Still breathing hard, he tried desperately to remember more about the ambush, but nothing came back to him. Just a flood of memories of Simon when they were kids, raising hell and becoming men together. Entering Charlie Squad together. He’d always protected his little brother. Taken care of him. Until that night in the jungle. He’d failed Simon big-time then.

  He must have dozed off, because he woke with another lurch some time later. He was startled to see light creeping around the curtains. He’d slept through the rest of the night? Thank God. Maybe a couple hours’ sleep would hold at bay any more of those blasted nightmares. Were he not in the habit of being so brutally honest with himself, he’d pretend he wasn’t scared of the damn things. But he was. And it galled him. What kind of soldier was afraid of his own brain? A crazy one about to be out of a job.

  He slid out of bed quietly. Julia was still sleeping peacefully on her side of the king-size bed. Lord, she was beautiful. How could she be responsible for so much hurt and betrayal? A fleeting taste of last night’s rage soured his tongue.

  He pulled on his pants and a shirt and shrugged into his coat. He’d slip out and get some breakfast for them. He let himself out of the room quietly, strode down the hallway and trotted down the stairs. He reached for the handle of the exit door and froze.

  He spun away from the clear glass, plastering his big frame against the wall. Out of sight of the four men peering in the windows of his SUV.

  Son of a—

  He slid along the wall slowly, easing away from the door. When he was clear of the men’s sight line, he turned and sprinted for the stairs. He burst into the room and Julia lurched awake. He ordered sharply, “Get up. We’ve got to go. Now.”

  Her eyes were huge and black as she stumbled out of bed and pulled on her clothes. He stuffed what little gear they had into his coat pockets. No time to wipe down the room for prints. Besides, the bastards knew they were here. No need to cover their tracks.

  He tucked the laptop under his arm and headed for the door the second Julia’s head emerged from her sweater. He eased the door open and peered out into the hallway. Clear. He stepped out with her close on his heels and headed for the front of the hotel, away from their pursuers. They approached the crossing hallway. The elevator dinged, announcing its imminent arrival on the second floor. A gut instinct honed over years of fieldwork exploded a warning in his brain. He reversed course rapidly, grabbing Julia by the arm and spinning her around to run beside him in the opposite direction.

  “Where to?” she gasped.

  A long hallway stretched before them. He dared not return to their room. A maid’s cleaning cart stood at the far end of the hall. It was a long distance to cover in a few seconds, but an open doorway stood beside it. If they could just make that door…

  He put on an extra burst of speed, stretching his long legs into a full sprint for their lives. He half lifted Julia, propelling her along beside him.

  “Jump!” he ordered at the last second before he went airborne.

  They dived for the door. He twisted and landed on his shoulder. Julia landed on top of him and he absorbed the impact with a grunt.

  He looked up and saw a maid drawing breath to scream. Crap. And then Julia was talking low and urgent in rapid Spanish.

  She clambered off him and he climbed to his feet beside her. He listened as she quickly explained to the maid that the two of them were running from Immigration agents who were after her. The maid nodded sagely, pulled her cleani
ng cart all the way into the room, and closed the door behind her. Damn, Julia could lie like a pro.

  The woman eyed Dutch critically. In Spanish, she said, “He will be a close fit. But I think we can get him out the usual way.”

  The usual way? What the heck had they stumbled into here? Some sort of underground railroad?

  Julia frowned and gave voice to his thoughts. “The usual way?”

  The maid smiled. “You are far from the first illegal to come through here. We take care of our own.”

  Julia thanked her with warm sincerity and a graceful offer of compensation for the risks the woman was offering to take. Dutch’s Spanish was fluent, but Julia was working the woman so well that he kept his mouth shut. The maid was visibly responding to Julia’s gentle, compassionate nature. If he didn’t already know Julia’s true nature, he’d buy her act hook, line and sinker. Here was full proof that he was standing before a truly accomplished actress.

  He tuned back in to what she was saying. “…so we ride in the cart to the hotel’s laundry and then a couple of the maintenance guys will carry us outside? Are you sure they can pick up my friend? He’s pretty big.”

  Dutch sighed. The bane of his special-ops career—his size. Sometimes it was damn hard to hide six and a half feet of muscular body.

  “Where will they take us once we’re outside?” he murmured to Julia in English.

  She turned to the maid and relayed the question. He blinked at the maid’s answer. A Dumpster? Could be damn dangerous if a trash truck came along and tossed them in its crusher. But the maid went on to explain that they’d signal the driver by tying a cloth to a handle on the Dumpster so he’d know he had human cargo.

  Not a bad scam. “What’s it going to cost us?” he asked under his breath. “I’ve got about two grand in cash on me.”

  Julia smiled and turned to the maid. “Is a thousand dollars cash thanks enough to all of you for the risk you will be taking?” She added apologetically, “It’s all we can spare at the moment, but we can get you more if you need it.”