“No faces? Nothing to nail these bastards down?” he asked in a quiet voice since Sam was in the en-suite.
“The security cameras at the airport aren’t stellar. Pretty pixelated, and these guys did a good job hiding from them. I’m doing what I can, but I’m not optimistic.” Jess tightened her blonde ponytail before folding her arms.
“Teteruk’s photos probably ID’d our men.”
Jess cleared her throat when Sam exited the hotel bathroom.
He looked over to see that she was dressed for work in a red skirt, white silk blouse, and nude heels. She smoothed her hands down the sides of her skirt, and he tried to forget the soft, sweet flesh beneath the stiff fabric.
It hadn’t taken him long to discover this woman was just like him. Hard on the outside, but packing a lot more on the inside.
He could see through her walls, maybe because they were so similar.
“We should’ve been checking who had access to you and your father’s keys sooner.” Jess flicked her index finger at the notepad of names on the desk, drawing Owen’s attention back to the mission. “With everything else going on, we overlooked the obvious.”
Her father. He wondered how Senator McCarthy’s talk had gone with POTUS yesterday. Wouldn’t he be worried about continuing the event, with his daughter’s life on the line? Maybe he’d convince the president to, at the very least, postpone Wednesday’s benefit.
“We’ve all been a bit out of it,” Owen professed a moment later.
Last night, for instance, had taken an unexpected turn. One minute he had been observing security footage, and the next, he’d been confessing his feelings like a guest on some talk show.
After their heart-to-heart, he had jerked himself back to business, forcing his gaze onto the camera footage until he’d felt his eyes practically bleeding. But despite his efforts, his mind had remained stuck on Sam.
He gave an internal shrug as he thought about it. Maybe his response was some sort of self-defense mechanism. Nature’s way of preventing him from losing his mind with everything going on.
“Did you have a productive night?” Sam asked, directing her question to Jess.
Owen knew she wouldn’t answer with anything other than a generic statement.
“I made some progress on tracking the bug in the smoke detector, actually.”
And Brad and Jason’s murderer is gone. He couldn’t tell Sam about that, though—not in front of Jess. “What’d you discover?”
“Five vendors received bugs with that batch number. The thing is, those vendors feed into about one hundred other companies. I’ll work on narrowing down the list this morning.”
“Good.” Owen strode to the desk and pressed play on the footage he’d saved last night. “See this guy?” he said to Jess. “He’s in a hoodie, and he’s keeping his head down and away from the camera. He’s not quite as tall as the deliveryman, but he’s hanging back near the door, waiting to get in.”
He fast-forwarded a couple of minutes later to show one of Sam’s neighbors entering the building; the guy in the hoodie followed her in. “My money is on either her intern or this guy.”
“I’d prefer the intern since Hoodie Guy has no face.” She checked her watch. “Liam and Asher are downstairs waiting for you guys.” Jess turned to Sam. “Your intern should be arriving at your apartment by eight, right?”
“Yeah. He usually makes it to the office by eight thirty.”
Jess nodded. “Well, you guys will be inside waiting for him.”
Owen rose and stood alongside her. “I don’t think we’ll need four of us to face a twenty-three-year-old intern.”
“No, but it sure as hell will scare him.” Sam smiled. “The guy’s even intimidated by me.”
Owen cocked his head to the side. “Can you blame him?”
“If he knows something,” Jess began while jerking her thumb in Owen’s direction, “these guys will get him to talk.”
“If he’s innocent, which I think he is, what’s to stop him from telling the police about this chat?” Sam asked as she crossed to the bed to grab her phone.
When she passed by, he could smell her perfume. It was sharper and more distinct. Heavier. It must be the take-no-prisoners scent she wore to work.
He still hated the idea of sending Sam to her office later. It was too exposed. Even though he’d be watching, he knew the odds. What if someone got to her first?
All this risk because the president wanted her to publicly announce that her proposal now had his support.
“We’ll make sure Phillip doesn’t tell anyone about us.” Jess gave her a reassuring smile, smoothly covering for Owen’s silence. “Our people started cross-checking the other lists of names you sent me last night. Nothing yet, but we’ll keep at it.”
“Okay.” Owen turned to Sam. “Ready?”
Sam nodded, but hesitation flitted over her features. She was a civilian, he had to remind himself. She was a woman not used to being caught in the crossfires of a mission, even if she had originally joined her father’s team to get retribution for Brad—a gutsy move that most people wouldn’t have taken.
Owen forced his booted feet to the door. He needed to get out of that small room and breathe in some fresh air. If he could just clear his head . . . then, somehow, he could reset his focus.
Chapter Fourteen
Asher and the Aussie Liam were sitting on her couch, and she couldn’t help but smile at the two Navy SEALs occupying nearly every square inch of the piece of furniture. Muscles upon muscles. Tattoos. If they didn’t fit the stereotype of a Teamguy with their swagger and looks, she didn’t know who would.
Why am I thinking about this? Then again, it was better than facing the reality, that her intern could’ve invaded her privacy and watched her naked. Ugh.
“Your place is pretty eclectic.” Liam eyed the pouf in front of her leather chair near the couch. “That Moroccan?”
“How’d you know?”
“Been to Marrakesh a few times.”
“Of course you have.” She thought back to her trip to Morocco and the vendor who’d insisted she buy the pillow-like seating slash table. She had a habit of bringing items back home from all around the world, and now her apartment was filling up—she’d need a bigger place soon. “Got it in Casablanca.”
“Ah, a romantic city,” Liam said as if remembering something, a grin teasing his lips.
Asher rolled his eyes. “Ladies-Man-Liam, what can I say?”
“What?” She smiled, but then her skin popped with goose bumps, and her whole system seemed to suddenly slow down at the sight of Owen exiting her bedroom.
He had a funny way of calming her when she needed it—but he also had the ability to excite her body to epic proportions at insane times.
She must be on an episode of some dramatic TV show. This couldn’t really be her life.
In real life, would two people have sex in the middle of everything going on? Maybe she and Owen were both equal parts screwed up, so much so they couldn’t even respect their own limits. Would they be able to reset the boundaries?
It’d been easy to avoid messy and complicated relationships over the years since she hadn’t wanted a new relationship. But, in a few days, this man had blown through every one of her barriers and had left her only wanting more of him.
“No new bugs, right?” she asked when Owen stood before her with the same device that federal agents used to sweep her home and office during their random checks.
“We’re good.”
Her cell began buzzing, and it had everyone whirling toward it as if the device were an explosive. She grabbed it off the bar counter and grimaced.
“Who is it?” Owen came up behind her.
“Javier. He just sent me a text. He says I owe him drinks because he got dragged to the Oval Office last night.” She set the phone back down. “This whole thing is getting out of hand.” She’d never thought a photo would have tangled her up in a spider web of such proportions. “I
t’s ten past eight. He should be here soon.” She turned to face the room, noticing Asher’s booted foot propped on her two-thousand-dollar coffee table. She wasn’t pretentious, but she could imagine her mother’s jaw hitting the floor.
Liam flipped through a copy of a women’s magazine that had been on the end table. He spun it lengthwise and angled his head. “Sixty-nine ways to spice up your bedroom.” He flicked an index finger at it. “It’s got graphics.”
“Is that porn?” Asher snatched the magazine.
Liam’s eyes nearly twinkled before he winked at her. His second wink of the morning. She was beginning to wonder how many women he’d wooed with that wink. “Damn, I thought men were bad.”
She rolled her eyes, but then sucked in a breath when Owen’s hand wrapped over her wrist and pulled her closer.
“You have a hell of a lot of red lingerie in your dresser,” he whispered into her ear.
Liam’s gaze swerved away from her; he cleared his throat and looked out the window. Asher kept his eyes on the magazine, his brows drawn together, scrutinizing it as if it were a book written in ancient Chinese.
“You noticed that while checking for bugs, huh?” She knew what else he’d probably found: her vibrator.
“Makes it hard to do my job with that kind of distraction.” His voice, low and rough, scraped over her skin.
“I’ll be sure to”—she took a breath, forgetting where they were and why they were there—“remove such distractions if you ever need to check again.”
He parted his lips to speak, but no sound came out. The apology shone in his eyes, though. It was as if he had just done a quick reality check, heard his own words, and realized they had no business exchanging sexual banter at a time like this.
At the sound of a lock turning in the front door, her heart climbed into her throat.
“It’s time,” Owen quietly announced to his buddies.
The men were on their feet, more intimidating than ever with their black military boots paired with jeans, and tees that showed off biceps roped in veins.
Owen pointed to the hall, motioning for her to get out of sight.
Surely Phillip wasn’t dangerous, but she’d follow his orders.
The door creaked open before she heard Phillip shriek, “What the hell!”
“We need to talk,” Owen growled, and from her vantage point, she saw Asher and Liam lunge toward the kitchen in two quick strides.
“Don’t make this hard,” Asher yelled, and she could hear urgent gasps for breath.
She peeked around the corner and found Phillip pinned to the floor.
“Why the hell did you run?” Owen’s knee pressed down into the center of Phillip’s back.
“Phillip?” She rounded the hallway for a better view.
Phillip pivoted his head to the side and looked up to find her. Her dry cleaning lay crumpled inside the plastic on the floor.
Asher kicked the door shut and blocked the exit, while Liam helped Owen lift Phillip to his feet.
“What’s going on, Miss McCarthy?” he asked, his eyes narrowing.
“Why’d you run?” Owen asked again.
Sam held up her palm. “You guys did scare the shit out of him. He probably thought you were going to attack.”
Phillip nodded his head. “Yes.”
“I think you can let him go,” she said softly and folded her arms.
Owen and Liam released their hold and then took a step back as Phillip smoothed his hands down his dress shirt.
Owen nodded his head her way, which she interpreted as an offer to take point. “Phillip, do you remember that deliveryman from my office last week? The one you chased down?”
He squeezed his eyes closed, and sweat dotted his hairline and the sides of his face. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Did you ever see him before that day? Did he ever ask you to do anything for him?”
“I-I think I need to sit.” He slowly walked toward her living room and dropped down on her couch, covering his face with his palms.
“You can talk to me. Please, this is a matter of life and death.” She hadn’t expected to get anything out of him, but now, looking at him, she knew she’d been wrong.
His black shoe tapped against the rug beneath the coffee table, and his leg trembled.
“Why were you in Samantha’s apartment for so long last Monday?” Owen came up alongside the couch. When Phillip remained silent, he added, “Someone bugged this apartment.”
His eyes darted to Owen’s face. “What? No! It wasn’t me.”
“Then why are you so nervous? What were you doing up here for so long?” Owen folded his arms, his biceps popping. Cue the extra intimidation factor.
He swiped the sweat from his face and looked up at Sam. “I was looking around. Being nosy. I’m so sorry.”
“You were looking through my things?” Like she needed another creep invading her privacy. “What the hell, Phillip?”
“You’re this strong, powerful woman, and I can’t help but . . . but be attracted to you.” A mortified flush raced up his neck and over his cheeks. He shrugged. “Being in your home is the closest I’ll ever get to being with you.”
She pressed a hand to her mouth and turned away, not sure what to think or feel.
“You didn’t answer the question about the deliveryman.” Owen’s voice was rough and intense; it even had the hairs on her arms standing up. “Answer me. If you lie to me, I’ll find out.”
“No, it wasn’t him.” Phillip’s voice was little more than a squeak.
“But someone?” Owen raised a brow.
Phillip finally nodded. “I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you, but he threatened me.”
“Who? What’d he say?” she rushed out, her spine bowing at the news.
“Four weeks ago, some guy showed up at my apartment with a mask. You know, the scary kind? With only the eyes cut out?” He cringed. “He offered me a lot of money to make a copy of your key.”
“Oh my God. How could you?” Betrayal cut through her tone. All this time, she’d thought he was just a nervous guy, but one of the good ones.
“I didn’t! I refused.” He shook his head, his brows pinching together. “I was worried he’d kill me if I didn’t cooperate, but, uh, surprisingly, he only said he’d kill me if I ever told anyone about the offer.”
“I’m not sure I believe you.” Owen motioned for Phillip to stand, and he obeyed. “Did anyone else ever approach you? Make threats?”
“No. I swear.” His gaze darted back and forth between Sam and Owen.
“Do you believe him?” Owen glanced back at Sam.
“I honestly don’t know,” she murmured.
Owen scrubbed a hand over his jaw and stepped back from Phillip. “I want you to go to work and pretend like this morning never happened.” He cocked his head to the side, staring into Phillip’s eyes. “That man who showed up at your house, he’s nowhere near as scary as I am. You got it?” His voice could pave a road, it was so hard and heavy.
Sam stepped forward. “What? We’re letting him go?”
“Fire him after we catch the bastard. If this guy is keeping tabs on you, he’ll suspect something if Phillip doesn’t show up to work,” Owen explained. He turned back toward the intern. “And if you’re lying to me—”
Phillip’s palms went into the air. “I’m not,” he half-cried.
She glared at Phillip. “You should’ve told me. I could have protected you.”
“When we started, you warned me that we could get threats,” Phillip said. “But I was too scared to report it. I’m sorry.”
She didn’t know what to say, so she left the living room and went to her bedroom, closing the door behind her, in desperate need of space.
Her hands landed on the door, and she tapped her forehead against it a couple of times, trying to regroup. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted her dresser and saw that the top drawer was ajar.
A hard sigh fell from her lips as she went over to it. Hesita
tion passed over her; instead of closing it, she pulled it open. Owen’s hands had been in that drawer not too long ago, and she could still smell his cologne in her room. She was becoming as heightened to smell as he was. Somehow, that thought lightened her mood.
Her fingertips skimmed the lace inside, and she shifted the garments back to reveal the silver and pink object her friend had gotten her for a gag gift on her last birthday.
Two sharp raps at the door had her shoulders flinching. “It’s me.”
“Come in.” She could get used to hearing Owen say it’s me, like he was hers and she was his—like it was natural for him to be there, to be part of her life.
“You, uh, need to pack a few more things before we get out of here?” His eyes fell upon the dresser before journeying back to her face. “Although, I don’t think I could handle watching you pack that piece of hardware you’ve got in there. The idea of you in bed doing that, with me sleeping on the couch . . .”
“Funny.” The word teased over her tongue and between her teeth as she closed the drawer and faced him.
He leaned into the frame of the doorway. “But in all seriousness, if you need to let loose again, I wouldn’t blame you. I could take a shower or something while you’re, eh-hem, taking the edge off.” He lifted a brow. “It’d be a very cold shower, but I’d do that for you.”
Desire surged hot and hard in her chest and spread through her limbs, a sharp contrast to her feelings just minutes ago, when her intern had been pinned to the floor. “Oh you would, would you?”
“A sacrifice I’d be willing to make. I couldn’t stand between a woman and her needs.”
She stopped just shy of him and folded her arms. His gaze dropped to her cleavage. “And what about your needs?”
He slowly dragged his focus back to her eyes. “My needs don’t matter right now. All that matters is keeping you safe.”
Her lips twisted at the edges as she tried to conceal the threat of a smile. “Well, sex should be the last thing on my mind right now, don’t you think? Given what’s going on.”
He shifted his stance and pulled the door closed, which had her hands bunching into fists at her sides. The brooding swirl of lust in his eyes pierced right through her, and she backed up against her tall dresser, a dresser that had been her great-grandmother’s—passed down over the years. Generations of lace . . .
Stealth Ops Series Box Set Page 38
