INTO DANGER (Secret Assassins (S.A.S.S.) Book 1) (6 page)

Steve grimaced. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t done info gathering before. He’d dealt with similar situations that had required him to sweet-talk a woman into giving him information. He glanced in the direction of the bathroom. The sound of water running and music came from behind the closed doors. What was so different now was that he felt myopic. Whereas, in fatigues, everything was twenty-twenty—black was black; white was white. Now he had to fight himself, his new team, and his instinct. That, as any experienced soldier would tell him, was suicidal in any mission.

He surveyed the group of shopping bags, picturing Marlena emptying them all over the plush carpet. He wanted her. What healthy hot-blooded man wouldn’t? What he was fighting was something more than the usual urges. He just wanted to know her. What drove a woman like her to be on the other side of the law? And why didn’t her background bother him? He ought to be disgusted, abhorred by her nature, but he wasn’t. Was Marlena really so good at manipulating him that he would be blind to what she was? He shook off the thought.

Sitting down on the big bed, half listening to the water in the background, Steve played with all the stray wires and parts courtesy of the same woman on his mind. Then there was his second problem. His mouth twisted, as he threw one of the micro eyes in the air and caught it, then repeated the motion. Task Force Two was a different kind of team. He was a sudden replacement, and not from the usual ranks. The admiral had told him the transfer would add to his skills for later. He’d been trying to fit in since day one. Not that his new team weren’t good operatives, far from that. But they weren’t military and they didn’t like his methods. CIA training was very different from SEAL training.

As for his instincts...well, his instincts were either still as trustworthy as he believed, or he was going to get the worst dressing-down from the admiral in the history of the STAR SEAL teams. His restless gaze caught sight of Marlena’s small suitcase by the dressing table. His back straightened. And maybe, just maybe, Steve McMillan was still a damn good SEAL operative.

He looked toward the bathroom door briefly. She’d been in there ten minutes. All he needed was another five. Picking up the suitcase, he strode out of the room and headed to the kitchen. He placed it down on the kitchen table, then looked up at the hidden camera eye.

There was a small rocket pocket gun, a silver Walther PPK and the Bersa from last night, with a silencer. He used the tablecloth to handle them, checking the chambers. Surprisingly, the weapons weren’t loaded. Leather gloves. A jewelry box. There was a small black book. He didn’t have time to do more than flip through it. Poetry? Looked like poetry. He frowned. Glancing up at the electronic eye, he shook his head, indicating that he didn’t think the book was important. Then he pulled out a laptop. A small Toshiba. There wasn’t enough time to turn it on and check it out, so he just took note of the type of laptop. Then he signaled that he would join them later and replaced all the articles back into the suitcase.

Not much progress, but he had something to work on later.

***

T
he game of hide-and-seek, Marlena mused, was a game of percentages and probabilities. She understood the risks she took too well. One too many—and she was due for one too many—and Marlena Maxwell’s life would be over.

She quietly stepped out of the shower stall, leaving the water running. Noise was also a great mask if there happened to be some listening device she’d missed. She pulled a mini cell phone, the size of a compact, from her purse and turned the music down.

“I’d hoped your number is still the same,” she said softly when she got through. She smiled, then continued, “I heard you were going to be the courier. This will have to be quick—I have company. I’m bringing somebody and I want any files you can find on him.” Pause. “Of course he’s good-looking, and no, you can’t have him. Get your own.” Pause. “Steve McMillan. Possibly CIA. I have his driver’s license number.” She gave it. “Can’t say. I’ll try to find out whether he has any bad side.” She laughed. “You’re right. I’ll have a good time finding out. Bye.”

Marlena wondered what Steve was up to. She was sure the man wasn’t merely sitting out there docilely waiting for her. She’d changed the safe combination, so he couldn’t get into that so quickly. Maybe he was waiting for the right moment to kill her.

Sobering thought. She cocked her head, looking at her reflection. Fear was a familiar feeling in her profession, but she’d been trained to see it as a good thing. Fear kept one alive. Yet nothing about Steve McMillan played with her fears; rather, it was anticipation he called up. A thrilling, nervous energy that made her feel slightly more reckless than usual.

Hide-and-seek. Keep him so close he couldn’t see what she was hiding. That was a good plan for now. But how close? The little query brought that nervous energy again, quivering in her stomach. How close? The voice in her head repeated softly. Her blue eyes in the mirror mocked her. For once she had no answer.

She walked barefoot into the bedroom, taking in at a glance the different boutique bags and the slight crease on the bed. She stood there for a moment, enjoying the image of him sitting there on that bed, waiting for her.

It had been a long time since she’d had a man doing that. She’d discovered a long time ago that men didn’t like role reversals. They didn’t mind it if they were gone and their women waited for them, but ask a man to do the same, and the relationship was doomed. A man, she’d found out the hard way, couldn’t wait. Of course he’d then lie to cover up.

“May I come in?” Steve asked from the doorway.

Marlena turned to face him. Tall, broad-shouldered, and easy on the eye. A mouth that could kiss away any excuses. Women would snatch him up just like that, CIA or not. And, she concluded with a touch of irony, he didn’t look like a man who liked to wait.

She turned away. “I had fun today,” she said as she picked up one of the bags and emptied it on the bed.

Steve sensed her withdrawal. It was difficult to read the woman, but her moods were discernible to him. She ran the gamut between teasing and calculated. Right now she was neither. She was wearing a large T-shirt with a cartoon of Tweety Bird on it. Without makeup, her hair damp, she looked ridiculously young. The look she’d just given him reminded him of the time after their first kiss. It made him want to pull her in his arms and hold her.

“I didn’t,” he complained.

Her lips curled slightly. “Your job’s to amuse me, not yourself.”

“Is that what you were doing, amusing yourself?”

She held up a dress against her body, smoothing away the wrinkles. “Well, somebody has to.” Glancing up, she added, “Amusement is much better than boredom.”

Well, well, if that wasn’t an acknowledgment from the lady of being lonely, he didn’t know what was. He stepped a little closer, handing her another bag to dump out. “Is that your secret then? To go through life amusing yourself?” He had the urge to find out what motivated a woman like Marlena. “Take what you want, enjoy it, then leave—no responsibilities, no conscience?”

Marlena paused in the middle of pulling out a long double strand of pearls from a large, flat, golden box. “Oho, judging me, sweetheart?” She climbed up on the bed, so she could reach over his head and loop the long necklace around his neck. One hand twisted around the dangling strands, and using them like a rope, she pulled until his face was close to hers. “Do you know what I do when I’m no longer amused?” she asked ever so softly.

“Kill?” Steve countered, feeling her tightening her hold. In a minute the pearls would be so many little pieces all over the bedroom. But he didn’t want to break the necklace, or her hold on him, so he inched closer.

“Is that your final answer?”

“Can I call on a lifeline?” he quipped.

Her eyes were so blue he could drown in them. “Are you in trouble?”

He was sinking fast. “No. I’m not the one with people threatening me.” He was so close he smelled the scented soap she used. Deliberately he looped the remaining length of the necklace around her neck, trapping both of them together. Her pupils flared, darkening the blue to that deep underwater darkness that had made him think of mermaids the first time he’d looked into them. Not again. No mermaid, he reminded himself. In defense, he added, “I’m not the one in danger.”

She made a sound of disbelief and jerked her hand. Steve was surprised the necklace hadn’t broken apart from the strain. Or maybe it was just the tension in the air he was feeling.

“I rarely sleep with a man on a first date,” she murmured against his lips, nipping softly.

“I don’t have sleeping in mind,” he assured her, trying to capture her lips more securely. Far from it.

But she resisted, seeming to be satisfied with just exploring his lips with her teeth and tongue. “I rarely do anything with a man on the first date,” she said.

“You don’t have to do a thing,” he promised. Her whispery kisses were driving him crazy. Impatiently he tugged on the necklace so she had to tilt her head up. “I’ll do everything.”

Her lips were softer this time, and he teased them open the same way she teased him. Again he tried to deepen the kiss, but her hand between them loosened its hold enough so she could pull back from him.

Forget those pearls. He went after her, using his weight to pin her down on the bed, among the clothing, bags, paper, wiring. Her hands mussed his hair as she pushed her tongue into his mouth and boldly met his.

It occurred to him as he became thoroughly immersed in having her tongue explore him that she was the one doing the kissing. It was a novel feeling, being kissed like that. It made him aware of other things about her, how the perfume of her shampoo clung to her skin, how surprisingly soft her body felt beneath his, how one of her thighs was pressing firmly between his legs. He was the one in danger here...and he hadn’t done a thing yet.

A low, rumbling sound broke the spell. Marlena pulled back, surprised.

“What was that?” It came again, a longer disturbance this time. Realization dawned in her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Steve said. He couldn’t be more embarrassed.

Marlena started laughing, that unexpectedly delightful and infectious chuckle bubbling out of her. “Well, I’ve never made a man that hungry before.”

He found himself laughing back. “I’m sorry,” he apologized again. He was willing to continue but his body had different ideas. He was a man used to two things—lots of food and hard training. There came another grumble, and the two of them both broke up in hysterics.

“It’s my fault,” Marlena gasped out. “Really, I should have let you take lunch.”

“You’re not hungry?” What did the woman take for energy?

“Mmm...well, food wasn’t on my mind a minute ago,” she teased, smiling, “but let’s raid the fridge you claimed is full of my favorite things. See what we can come up with.”

He remembered the cold cut chicken. The big carton of mint chocolate chip ice cream. And groaned. Surely he was going nuts. He was thinking about food when he had a woman under him, in a bed. Where were his priorities?

She read his mind and chuckled again. “My ego is shot all to hell, Stash. To lose to food...I guess the tummy complaints weren’t the moving violation you had in mind?”

“No.” Reluctantly he lifted himself to a sitting position.

They had both forgotten about the necklace tangled around them, and Steve pulled Marlena up with him as well. Laughing aloud, she steadied herself by flattening her palms against his chest.

“Mmm,” she murmured, distracted. Her splayed fingers traveled up and down the front of his T-shirt. “Nice and hard. I was quite jealous of that tailor today. He was touching you all over. You must work out a lot. I can feel all your muscles.”

Oh-oh. Warning bells rang in his head. His physique hadn’t been sculpted in the gym. He had scars and calluses earned in battle. She might start asking questions when she saw them. “I like outdoor sports,” he told her, trying to ignore what her hands were doing to him.

“What kind?”

The lady was good with her hands, but he wasn’t going to be conned into slipping up. “Jogging, running, swimming, outdoor stuff.” Thinking of his scars, he added, “Football and boxing.”

“We’ll have to exercise together if we have time,” she said.

“Sure.” He doubted that she would like the stuff he did. He began to unwind the long necklace, taking it off her first, since it had somehow twisted into a double knot near his neck.

She barely paid attention, seemingly finding the hard ridges of his abs fascinating. She tried to pull his T-shirt out of his pants. Normally Steve wouldn’t stop any beautiful woman wanting to explore his chest, but her questions had left him wary. He was learning she was always after something else.

He looped her hands with a chain of pearls and brought them to his lips, kissing her fingertips softly. Her blue eyes gleamed back at him, but he couldn’t tell what she was thinking. “Fair is fair,” he told her. “You want to see what’s underneath, you have to show me what’s underneath that silly Tweety Bird shirt.”

“It’s not silly. Tweety Bird is my favorite cartoon character.” She pulled her hands loose and worked on the knot holding them both prisoners.

“Your favorite cartoon is a bird?” Steve asked incredulously. Somehow he couldn’t picture Marlena watching cartoons. And certainly not a bird. At her gesture he lifted his chin up and patiently let her untwist and unwind.

“Yup, even have a tattoo of Tweety.”

“Where?”

Her answering smile, small and secretive, instantly made him want to go on search mode. “Where?” he demanded again.

“There, free at last,” Marlena said. The long double strand of pearls swung loose. She eyed it admiringly. “I must say you look good in pearls.”

“It doesn’t go with my shoes,” Steve dryly mocked. “I want to see that Tweety Bird.”

“All in good time, Stash, all in good time. Let’s go fix you something to eat first, hmm? Are you as good at cooking as kissing?”

Steve reluctantly stood up. “We’ll both find out.” He didn’t want to go but he remembered the tablecloth he’d used to handle her things. With her keen eyes, he should really double-check to make sure there were no smudges.