Killer Secrets

by Lora Leigh

  He had a million different details to see to. If Diego Fuentes had been decent enough to apply his genius to a legitimate business then he could have enjoyed a far healthier lifestyle. And perhaps Ian could have respected the man whose blood he shared.

  And though he hated admitting it, Ian knew they were possibly too much alike. They were just on wrong sides of a war and the fine line between decency and immorality.

  He had to deal with Fuentes and Sorrell, Ian told himself, he couldn't afford to worry about Kira in the mix. Pushing himself out of the chair, he stalked to the door of his bedroom suite and jerked it open, intent on doing the job he had set for himself that night.

  The supply lines had to be changed and the product insured. Until he caught Sorrell, he had to show the bastard that the Fuentes cartel had the best supply lines, the best underground network, and most efficient men in the business. That was the reason Sorrell had pinpointed Fuentes to begin with. Because the cartel moved its drugs with the least amount of difficulty or interference.

  Ian had caught on quickly after entering the business to how Diego and his father before him had set up the cartel's vast network. They didn't just have drugs going into every nation of the world, but they transported weapons, information, and a vast array of other illegal products. Pirated software and music, clothing and accessories. Even, at odd times, criminal figures looking for escape.

  The cartel had it all, except terrorism. Diego Fuentes had never allowed himself to be infected with the fanatical beliefs that drove such men. He'd supply them with arms; after all, according to Diego, that was business. But he would not allow the network he had worked a lifetime to build to be threatened by the infiltration of terrorism.

  At least he had a line in the sand, Ian thought mockingly. He could infect babies with drugs, murder his own people, make whores out of runaways, and kidnap helpless young women, but he wasn't a terrorist.

  Breathing out roughly at the thought, he flicked his fingers at his bodyguards—Deke, Mendez, Cristo, and Trevor—and headed to the study.

  The four men had been working on suggestions for the new supply routes as well as security for the warehouses and transportation.

  He stood in the middle of the study as the others entered. Cristo, shorter than the others but no less dangerous, closed the heavy door as Trevor Mandrake moved to the safe in the wall, coded in the combination, and pulled free a hand-sized electronic box and flipped it on.

  Trevor moved around the room, watching the digital and analog displays before giving Ian a short nod that everything was okay.

  The first three months he had been with Diego, he'd had to sweep his study as well as his bedroom each time he entered it. The son of a bitch had been determined to spy on him. They would fight over it, agree that Diego wouldn't spy on him, then Ian would find more bugs. Diego had finally begun realizing the futility of it in the last few months.

  "We haven't found a bug in a while," Deke said. "The old man giving up?"

  Ian shot him a chiding look. Diego Fuentes didn't give up, he just waited until a person was suitably comfortable.

  "The villa next door was leased today," Trevor announced, moving to the desk as Ian sat down in the sinfully soft leather and stared across the gleaming cherry top. "Kira Porter and her uncle Jason McClane moved in this evening. I did some preliminary background checks. They're coming up clean."

  Trevor powered up his laptop, coded in the security passes, and brought up the file he had pulled together on Kira Porter. It was amazingly in-depth.

  Ian leaned back in his chair and stared at the file Trevor was currently scrolling through. There was nothing about her work as an unofficial agent for the DHS, and nothing in there concerning her code name, Chameleon.

  "This woman is no one to fuck with," Trevor said, his voice unaccountably serious. "She has a black belt in Tae Kwon Do, training in heavy weapons and hand-to-hand combat. Her cousin managed to buy her a six-month training session with a team of off-duty SEALs ten years ago. She goes back for four weeks once a year to renew that training. Her bodyguard, Daniel Calloway, is one of the original SEAL team members that trained her. They train almost daily from what I understand. And the few times anyone attempted to kidnap McClane's darling niece, they turned up dead within weeks. He doesn't take prisoners, he makes examples."

  "Makes sense to train her," Deke mused. "McClane is protective of her. She's the only family he has left."

  "Enough about Ms. Porter." Ian leaned forward and hit the command key, closing the file Trevor had been scrolling through. "She's an interesting event in our otherwise dull lives, I realize, but we have our own business to conduct." He flicked his fingers from the laptop to Trevor, an indication to use the equipment for the reasons they were there rather than going over information that, as far as they were concerned, had nothing to do with the business at hand.

  "Okay, delivery routes and points of transport." Trevor pulled up the satellite map on the laptop. "Here's the current routes." He highlighted the mountain passes and broken roads that led to several makeshift airfields and shipping ports. "We've had reports that Sorrell has men watching two of those routes, here and here." Trevor pointed out the routes into the U.S. "This could be the line he's wanting to use to transport the explosives and men for the strike rumored to be in progress against America."

  "He's escalating against us to grab those lines," Cristo Mendez pointed out. "Not that I give a damn what happens to a few hundred U.S. soldier boys, but if they grab those lines then that mess is gonna slap back on us," he growled.

  "Let's move the lines for now," Ian suggested. "See what he goes after when we switch. The lines as they are lead into California and then Nevada, and the second one has a lead into Annapolis. Let's see how we can reroute them while still making it appear we're unaware of his spies. I want to know what this bastard intends to use the Fuentes lines for."

  Ian listened to the others' suggestions, watching the computer screen as Trevor and then Deke laid out the new supply routes and calculated the risk factors.

  There were no hidden roads anymore, satellite recon had canceled those out. Now, the major job was to keep the product en route, get it to its location and do so with the least amount of bloodshed. Because the various agencies weren't going to make it easy on him. As far as they were concerned, he was a traitor now. A SEAL gone bad, and they were out to fuck him. They had no idea of the danger America was facing if Sorrell managed to grab the Fuentes power hold.

  But Kira knew the truth, and Ian needed to know exactly what she intended to do with that truth.

  * * *

  Seven

  KIRA KNEW IAN WOULD COME to her. How she knew, she wasn't even going to guess; when it came to the things she knew about Ian, her perception worried her. The things they seemed to sense about each other was almost terrifying.

  Kira hadn't even known the woman that resided within herself. She had been the Chameleon for so long, that when Ian awoke that emotional, sexual part of her last year, she hadn't known what to do with herself, or how to handle it.

  She was learning though, and if she had to learn, then he could learn with her. He couldn't convince her he wasn't working an operation here. She knew better. As he knew her in all her guises, she knew him as well. And she was waiting on him.

  The security her bodyguard Daniel and her uncle Jason had laid along the perimeter hadn't included the stone fence between the two villas. She wanted that clear. She wanted a straight, easy path for her bad boy SEAL to get to her.

  Traitor, he was called. The order that had gone out from the law enforcement agencies worldwide was capture only. They wanted information; they wanted to crucify him in public for his defection to the other side. They wanted to make an example of him.

  He had excellent security; she had to give him that. The four men he had gathered around him were considered the best killers in the Fuentes cartel. Or in the world. They were hard, jaded, cynical, and paranoid. And they knew no fear. They
were also die-hard Fuentes soldiers and completely loyal to Diego.

  There were already three confirmed attempts to kidnap the reigning Fuentes heir. And two attempted assassinations. Ian had already lost a previous team of security personnel that Diego Fuentes had placed around him.

  As she lay back, propped up on her pillows in her huge bed, holding one of the steamy romance novels she invariably got off on, she watched the figure that stepped through the open balcony doors.

  His dark blond hair was loose, framing his quiet expression. The tobacco-brown eyes were lit with an inner fire that burned inside her as well.

  He was restraining himself. She could see it in the tension of his shoulders, the determination in his expression.

  She laid the book on the bedside table, though she did nothing to cover the black boxer-type panties and matching tank she wore.

  She hadn't dressed to seduce. She'd be damned if she would allow him the excuse that she had enticed his hard-won control. Besides, seduction wasn't on her agenda. There were no lies between them, they both knew why he was there, they both knew the hunger rising between them wouldn't be denied for long.

  "You're not leaving, are you?" He was a straightforward kind of guy. She liked that. And his voice assured her that he wasn't accepting excuses this time.

  Ian stood at the foot of the bed, one hand gripping the heavy post beside him as he stared at her with banked fury.

  "No."

  The curse that sizzled from his lips told her that wasn't an answer he wanted to hear.

  He stared around the room then, before pulling a small electronic box from the pocket of his slacks and flipping a switch on it.

  Kira came to her knees in the middle of the bed, excitement lancing through her body.

  "It's the new model?" She knew the wand Jason had used, for all its technological advancements, was nothing compared to what he held in his hand.

  He flicked her a dubious glare. "Down, girl. You're not getting it."

  Kira pouted as she placed her hands on her hips and watched him impatiently.

  "You could at least let me look at it."

  "Not on your life. I'd never get it back." He left the device on as he set it on the dresser across from the bed.

  Kira stared at it, fascinated by the little blinking lights on the monitor, dying to get her hands on it. She was a freak for security electronics, and the so-far rumor-only Type X electronic detector made her salivate. It detected not just analog or digital listening devices, but also hyperbolic equipment trained in the vicinity as well as GPS technology.

  She dragged her gaze from the fascinating little toy and back to the mesmerizing man.

  "I don't need your help." He stood at the foot of the bed once again, tension humming through his body.

  "There's a price on your head," she informed him. "It might be for capture only, but that doesn't make you safe."

  "I'm aware of the price and the fact that it's rising daily," he told her softly. "I want you to leave, Kira. When this is over, I'll find you . . ."

  "If you're still alive to do so?" She moved from the bed, pacing to the small table across from her and the bottle of wine and glasses set out there. "I'm not willing to wait."

  "I can have you pulled off this," he told her then.

  She had known he would play that little ace he thought he had.

  She poured two glasses of wine before turning and moving to him. He accepted the glass, still frowning at her, his brows lowered broodingly.

  "I have carte blanche, being a contract agent and all." Kira kept her voice to a mere breath. "You can't pull me off anything, Ian."

  Frustration gleamed in his eyes. Kira sipped her wine, returned to the bed to stretch out on it and lean back into the mound of pillows.

  He still held his wine loosely, close to his thigh, staring at her, working through this new complication, as well as the obvious arousal straining his slacks.

  The white cotton shirt he wore outside his pants hung nearly to his thighs, the ultrasoft material giving him a relaxed though sophisticated appearance.

  "Would you like to discuss it?" she finally asked, bringing her glass back to her lips.

  "Your security is slipping," he informed her then. "We have the information on your training and your SEAL instructors."

  "Of course you do. So do all the bad guys." Amusement curled through her. "A knowledge of strength is the best deterrent when it comes to those believing they can slip in on me. If you checked my past out at all, you'd know I'm heavily into deterring problems."

  And being prepared.

  He brought the wine to his lips, sipped, then turned and walked back to the sideboard where he placed the delicate glass beside the bottle. When he turned back to her, Kira glimpsed the barely restrained dominance eating at him. His control was shaky, as shaky as her own. Especially when his gaze slid to her breasts where her tight, hard nipples pressed into the thin tank top.

  "Do you get off on fucking traitors?" he asked her then. "I wonder if your boss knows about that?"

  Kira rolled her eyes. "You're not a traitor, Ian."

  "You can't know that for sure, can you, Kira?"

  She let a knowing smile shape her lips. "If that were true, you would have already attempted to kill me, not protect me. Forget the protection stuff, okay, lover? It doesn't work with me."

  She tightened her thighs, an instinctive attempt to hold back the moisture collecting there. She was so wet, so hot, that she knew if he touched her that an orgasm would be imminent. And if she didn't get off this time, then she was going to shoot him herself.

  "What does work with you?" His gaze flicked over her body again. He knew she was aroused, knew she was aching.

  "It's according to what you want."

  "You. Out of Aruba," he snapped.

  Kira sighed with amused indulgence and almost laughed at the male frustration that flashed in his eyes. "It's not going to happen. Do you have any other desires that you'd like to pass by me?" Her gaze flicked to his thighs then back again as her brow arched in mocking curiosity.

  It wasn't a subtle hint, but she and Ian had passed subtle the first time he had slipped into her condo in Atlanta nearly a year before.

  "This is fucking insane." His voice changed, became harsher, more grating as his fingers went to the buttons of his shirt.

  Kira tensed. Sudden, almost violent arousal poured through her body, speeding her heart to the point that it nearly strangled her as she fought for breath.

  The buttons were loosened slowly with the fingers of one hand, revealing a wide, muscular chest covered with a mat of short, silky-looking black hair. Not too thick, but not thin, just enough to rasp a woman's nipples, cushion or warm them. Her nipples throbbed at the thought.

  "Then why are you here?" She could feel the perspiration building between her breasts, moisture gathering more thickly between her thighs.

  Rising, she came to her knees once again, watching, mouth watering, as he shed the shirt, shrugging it from his broad, well-sculpted shoulders with a ripple of power that echoed in her womb.

  "I'm here because I'm crazy," he murmured, his legs shifting as he pushed the shoes from his feet while loosening the slender leather belt and the catch of the cool cotton slacks he wore. The zipper eased down.

  Kira's lips parted, her breasts rising and falling furiously as she fought for oxygen. The air was indolent with lust now, thick, heavy, nearly impossible to breathe.

  "Are you just playing again?" she whispered, suddenly desperate to know. "Please, Ian, don't play with me. Not this time."

  "No games tonight, Kira. Not from either of us," he growled. "And so help me, I better get the woman rather than the agent, or you'll pay hell for it."

  The slacks cleared his thighs, revealing the thick, heavy length of his erection. It was furiously engorged, the mushroomed crest flushed dark and throbbing, a glimmer of precum glistening erotically.

  "You always get the woman, Ian."

  Sh
e licked her lips, easing closer, on hands and knees now, starving for a taste, just a taste of the rich male essence tempting her.

  "You're as fucking crazy as I am," he snarled, reaching out, gripping the thick strands of her hair and pulling her back to her knees.

  Dominant, powerful. It was there in his face, it raged in his eyes.

  "I want to taste," she moaned, drugged now on the power, the hunger radiating in his gaze, and the arousal-based adrenaline pumping through her veins.

  There were erogenous zones where she didn't know there were erogenous zones. Hell, every damned cell in her body was erogenous at the moment.

  "Me first." The other warm arm wrapped around her hips, jerking her to him as his wants, by right of might, became uppermost.

  As his head lowered, hers snapped forward, her teeth nipping at his lower lip before his fingers pulled her back. The sharp little burn of pulling hair had a shaky groan whimpering from her throat. She loved it. Needed it. She wasn't submitting. Fuck submission. He might be an alpha male, but by God, she was his match.

  Her hands lifted, her nails raking over his chest as his gaze pinned hers. Her lips parted, teeth clenching, as she drew in a ragged breath.

  He didn't flinch from her nails. Instead, his lips curled into a sexual, sensual smile of acknowledgment as the reddish-brown lights in his eyes fired to a darker, burning hue.

  She loved it. There was no male irritation because she wasn't simpering at his feet. And there was no submission in his gaze either. Just pure, blazing hot, male hunger and challenge.

  "I don't give in," he told her, that raspy tone sending shivers down her spine.

  "Neither do I." She let her fingers play in the silky hairs that grew low on his abdomen.

  "I'm stronger," he promised her.

  She smoothed her palms up his stomach, his chest.

  "I sure hope so," she crooned as she captured a hard male nipple against her thumb, and pressed, just enough. "Oh Ian, I definitely hope so."

  His lips slammed over hers as his hands gripped the hem of her top and jerked it over her breasts. He released her lips, just long enough to wrestle her out of the material as she tried to capture his kiss again. She needed the taste and heat of it. The incredible feel of his lips moving over hers, dominating hers despite the sensual struggle she put up.