Sutton waited in the shadows of the alley across from Mark’s condo, watching the glow from the windows. A wind caressed her cheek with cold fingers. She shivered.
The lights in the condo went out. Thank goodness. She shifted her feet. It had been an hour since she’d gotten here. A police car sat out front, along with a crime scene van. Moments later, three people came out, carrying large toolbox-like containers and wearing coveralls. They got into the van and left. Shortly after, the police car left.
Sutton pulled out her lock pick set. The lock on the glass front door took her less than a minute. She took the stairs to the sixth floor. Yellow crime-scene tape crisscrossed Mark’s door, but it didn’t interfere when she picked the lock, or ducked under it to get inside. She shut the door behind her and pulled out her pen light.
She didn’t bother with gloves because, by the black dust coating a lot of the hard surfaces and doorknobs, the police had finished processing the scene for fingerprints. They’d probably already found hers here. Another set or two wouldn’t make a difference, especially because they wouldn’t look again.
A cursory walkthrough of the apartment revealed she was alone. Her rubber-soled boots were silent on the hardwood. She avoided looking at the tipped-over dining room chair in the living room. It made everything too real. She ached body, mind, and soul, and if she focused too hard on Mark’s murder, then she’d break. “And I can’t break yet. I’ve got shit to do.”
And now she was talking to herself.
She figured she had until daybreak before the cops or anyone came back. That gave her a solid four hours before she had to leave. Not that she planned on staying that long.
She started with the main living area. Mark had been in the CIA for fifteen years. He’d have somewhere secret to stash a weapon, important documents, and maybe even a go-bag. The hall closet revealed a small duffel packed with a spare set of clothes, spare ammo and magazines, an extra wallet with a credit card and about two hundred in cash. His go-bag.
But no weapon.
The safe in his bedroom closet was open and empty. That would be where he’d kept his everyday weapon.
He would probably hide anything important wherever he kept his backup weapon.
She wandered the apartment as she thought. Mark had loved puzzles. He also had nieces and nephews who sometimes came to visit. That meant that his backup weapon wouldn’t be readily accessible. She chewed her lip. But it would have to be accessible enough if he truly needed it.
She walked back into the bedroom and stared at his bed. Somewhere accessible but where a kid couldn’t get it. She played her penlight over both sides. Though made, the right was a bit more rumpled. She went to that side of the bed and ran her hand behind the headboard, under the bedframe and around the night table. The drawer held only a mystery book, reading glasses, and a few condoms.
She sat on the bed. Where was his hiding spot? Maybe she’d pegged Mark wrong and it was in the kitchen. She stood and the floor creaked under her weight. She glanced down. Most people put a carpet of some sort under their bed so they wouldn’t have to step on a cold, hard floor first thing. Mark had bare hardwood. She shifted her weight again. Another creak.
No way.
She dropped to her knees and held the flashlight in her teeth. She pressed all the boards closest to the bed. One shifted slightly. She shoved it hard and it popped up. She lifted it aside and smiled.
A Sig Sauer and ammo lay inside, along with a keyring with two keys, money, and a passport declaring Mark to be Canadian. She studied it. A fake, but a good one. At the bottom was a piece of paper with an address on it.
Was it his safe house? Mark had told her once that he had one. She’d thought it was paranoid and humorous at the time. But now she wondered what the man had been into. Would he have hidden something there? Had he had anything to do with the missing list of agents?
She couldn’t, wouldn’t believe it. Not until she had proof.
She put the address in her pack, along with the keys, but left the weapon and ammo, since she already had her Glock. She replaced the board with a hard shove.
She headed to the kitchen. “Please tell me you’ve got something good to eat, Mark.”
She opened the fridge. Some questionable Chinese food leftovers, some eggs, milk, and the usual. After opening a few more cupboards, she decided on a quick peanut butter and jam sandwich. It tasted like homework and after-school specials. She washed it down with milk.
After putting her dishes in the dishwasher already crowded with dirty dishes, she went to the bathroom. She closed the door and turned on the light.
Holy hell, she was a mess.
Soot from the explosion covered her face, her hair was a tangled mess, and her T-shirt was ripped. She’d have to borrow a sweater from Mark. She eyed the shower longingly but knew that was pushing it. How stupid would she be if the cops came back while she was showering?
She washed her face and hands, and dug through Mark’s drawers until she found a comb to unsnarl her hair before putting it back into a ponytail. She cleaned up the bathroom and switched off the light. Fed, clean, and mostly ready. She’d grab a sweater of Mark’s and then head to the address he’d given her. In his bedroom, she longed to lie on his bed and shut her eyes just for a moment. Instead, she went into his closet and shone her light onto the shelves there.
The one hoodie she saw would fit over her leather jacket. She instead grabbed a soft blue sweater. Big but not too thick. She could fit it under her jacket. And man, it was soft. She’d bet it was cashmere. Mark had liked the finer things. She shoved it in her pack and headed out.
As she strode through the living room, the front door swished open. Her heart leapt and then landed, ready for action. She dove against the wall, out of sight of the door. The hall light flicked on, blinding her. She ducked back into the bedroom just as someone entered the living room.
She weighed her options. She could hide, subdue the person and escape, or kill the person. But until she knew who it was, she couldn’t make that judgment call.
She peered through the crack between the door hinge and the wall.
Nothing. And no sound.
Whoever it was had gone silent.
She liked this less and less. There would be no hiding.
Dim light shone into the bedroom through the partly open doorway. The bedroom was large, with a big enough area between the bed and the en suite for an uninhibited fight.
She pulled out her gun. She didn’t want to shoot anyone but the killer. If it was some security guard or police officer, then she’d have a hell of a time later explaining why she’d pulled a weapon. But it couldn’t be helped.
With her weapon raised, she stepped away from the door and into open space.
The door burst open. Someone big and fast entered. Instinct stopped her from pulling the trigger. Then the gun was knocked from her hand.
She countered with a neck strike and an elbow to the head. A grunt of pain and then she was shoved. Hard. She flew back a few feet but kept her balance. Strong fucker.
Then she saw his silhouette.
“Ryan?”
“Did you have to hit me so hard, Sutton?”
“What the fuck, Ryan? I could have killed you. I had a gun!”
Even in the dim light, she saw his familiar, heart-breaking grin. “But you didn’t. You’re a good shot and you’ve got good instincts. You knew it was me.”
She grabbed her weapon off the floor and shoved it back into her shoulder holster. “You’re assuming a lot. I haven’t seen you in years.” And those years had been kind to Ryan. Even in the dim light from the hall, she could see that he looked almost exactly the same. And it made her yearn for things she couldn’t have. “What are you doing here?”
He kept his arms loose by his sides. “I’m here to bring you in.”
Options and exit strategies flew through her head, but she kept her face and breathing calm. “Why would you want to do that?”
Ryan eased himself back until he blocked the door. “It’s my job.”
She shifted her weight onto her toes. Nice and easy. She pretended she didn’t know he was leading the team that tracked her. “Since when? I thought you were a consultant.”
He shrugged and she couldn’t help but admire the breadth of those shoulders. “I’m also consulting for DHS.”
“I knew you wouldn’t like retirement.”
“Why don’t you make this easy, Sunshine? I know you’re innocent. I can help you.”
Her heart leapt at his words. And not just the fact that he believed she was innocent, but also at the use of the nickname only he had ever used. One she hadn’t heard in years.
No, her mind said. His job was to bring her in. He’d say anything to get her compliance.
“Two men are dead,” he said when she didn’t reply. “You were the last one seen with both. And now top-secret files have been found on your work laptop. It doesn’t look good, Sutton.”
Sutton took a step back. “What files were found on my laptop? What are you talking about?”
“Stolen military secrets.” He watched her carefully.
What the hell? “Someone must have put them there.”
He just nodded and she didn’t know whether he believed her or not, or whether he even cared.
“You need to come with me,” Ryan said. “I think you’re in over your head. Why don’t you let me help you figure this out?”
She didn’t say anything, but his offer seemed genuine.
“Come in with me.” He held out a hand. “We can get to the bottom of this.”
She just stared at him. She wanted to take his hand. She yearned to take his hand, to have him protect her, and be by her side again.
But he wouldn’t be by her side. He was no longer hers. He was someone else’s lover now. And he wouldn’t protect her. No. His job was to bring her in, and he’d do anything to accomplish his mission. Including lie to her.
“You’re working for DHS,” she said. “They think I’m the traitor and a killer. You know I’ll be buried in some cell on a black ops site until they find that list. And if they never find it, then I’ll never see the light of day again.”
“I won’t let that happen.” He seemed so earnest as he held out a hand to her. “Please, Sutton.”
She stepped back into a fighting stance.
His gaze flicked to her feet before he dropped his hand. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
She snorted. “Don’t you remember the last time we sparred?” She remembered. It had been glorious, and left the two of them hot, sweaty, and needing a private area. But they had been evenly matched. Where he relied on strength and skill, she relied on speed and sneaky moves. In a straight-out match, there was no way she could win. That’s why she always fought dirty.
Ryan sighed. “I was holding back, Sutton.”
She grinned, exhilarated for some reason. “So was I.”
His eyes narrowed just slightly, his only warning. He rushed her, probably hoping to catch her off guard, but she’d been expecting it. She spun to the side, sending a punch at his head. She missed, but he didn’t. The force of his blow to her ribs made her stagger as pain lit through her. It had been the same spot the bike had hit. She couldn’t help but let out a little yelp.
“I don’t want to do this, Sutton.” But he didn’t drop out of his fighting stance.
Damn it. She had to be faster.
The door was at her back but she wouldn’t make it one step unless she took him out, and the only way to do that was with trickery. She couldn’t pretend to be hurt to lure him close or into making a mistake. He was too smart for that.
A plan came to mind, just as he attacked again. She managed to block the strike to her head, dodge the kick and whirl away again, but she didn’t focus on trying to hit back. Even the adrenaline of the fight couldn’t completely cover the aches that suffused her body. She wouldn’t last long and what she was about to do was a huge gamble.
Please let him not have changed too much.
Her back was to the bed now. She had nowhere to go but forward. She lashed out with a strong roundhouse. He didn’t move back, but into it. Shit. He caught her leg. In defense, she hooked her foot behind his back and yanked him closer, right into her fist. He ducked his chin at the last second and her blow glanced off his cheek. He continued his momentum and plowed her backward right onto the bed, landing on top of her. With her leg hooked behind him, he ended up between her thighs, keeping one high with his arm. In that position, no matter how much she struggled, she couldn’t roll him off her. She growled and glared, so frustrated she could spit. She struck both sides of his head at once. He cursed and reared up, grabbing her forearms and slamming them into the bed.
“Are you done?” he snarled.
“Never.” She would never give up. And she was glad he was angry. It matched her anger. He’d always been able to make her spitting mad, and it was long past time to return the favor.
She had one leg free and she pulled it up. All it did was settle Ryan more firmly between her legs. She hated that her body responded to him in that position, but this had been the man she’d spent night after exhilarating night with for years. Her body remembered. Her body wanted. And from the feel of hardness pressing at her core, his body wanted too.
She pressed her lips together. But her mind didn’t want.
“Give up,” Ryan said. “I don’t want to take you in in cuffs. You know I’ll win whatever fight we—”
She kissed him.
His lips were firm against hers, denying her a response.
At first.
She kept kissing him. Using her lips, her tongue to seduce Ryan. Her Ryan. His scent. The feel of him on top of her. It was her Ryan. She might never have another chance, so she gave herself over to it, kissing him as if it were the last time. And it would be, of that she had no doubt. So she put her heart into it.
His lips softened and his mouth parted with a groan that sent heat ripping through her. He took over the kiss, his tongue sweeping inside her mouth, and she reveled in the sheer dominance of it. He released one of her hands and dragged his down her arm and then into her hair, where he cradled her head, angling it for greater possession.
She almost lost her wits as she tumbled after him down a path of desire. Her freed hand had a mind of its own, wandering over his broad back, touching the solid bands of muscle there, before sliding down farther. She cupped his hard ass and squeezed. He growled in response and yanked her head back, breaking the kiss.
“I still have to bring you in.”
“I know.” She kissed him again. Just one more kiss. She hadn’t planned for this, for being sucked into wanting again, for the ache that only he filled.
He still held one of her hands. She squeezed his fingers with hers, relishing the contact. Her other hand roamed up over his back again, luxuriating in his strength. His lips, tender one moment, bruising with intensity the next, continued to distract her. Her heart thundered and she wanted, needed, to lose herself.
She moaned and stretched both hands overhead, touching the slatted headboard of the bed. One of his hands followed, as if to drag hers back to him, while his other hand found her breast and molded it in his palm. Heat flared in her and she sucked in a breath.
Focus!
She only had one chance. The zip tie she’d slid from his back pocket easily slipped around his wrist and it took less than a second for her to secure it to the headboard. He no longer held her legs. She used one to swing up and against his neck, pushing him back and off-balance. She rolled hard to the side, out from under him, and off the bed.
He roared and lunged after her, but stopped short because of the hand she’d zip-tied to the bed.
“Let me go,” he said quietly but with more menace than a stalking serial killer.
She grabbed her pack and slid it on her shoulders. “That is so not going to happen.”
He slumped on the bed, but she wasn’t fooled. He was far from being a victim. “Did you even mean it?”
The kiss. He was talking about the kiss. She stared at him. He raised his head and his gaze made her take a step back, before she remembered herself.
“Did you mean it?” he asked again, the steel in his voice undeniable.
How the hell was she supposed to answer that? It had been a ploy to get to the zip ties that he always kept in his back pocket. If she told him she’d almost lost herself in his kiss, he’d just use it against her. She couldn’t trust him.
“You always keep your zip ties in your back pocket,” she said. “Maybe you should try not to be so predictable.”
His dark eyes turned predatory. “This isn’t going to end well for you, Sutton.”
She tilted her head as she surveyed him. “Is that some sort of threat?”
He scowled. “You don’t know what you’re up against.”
This statement made her smile. She’d worked for the CIA and with special ops for close to fifteen years. She knew exactly what she was up against.
“Don’t follow me.” She then grinned. “Oh wait. You can’t.”
Pissing him off would only make him hunt her harder, but she embraced the challenge. She laughed as she slammed the condo door behind her.
Ryan listened to Sutton’s laughter as she exited the condo. He hadn’t expected that kiss. It had almost derailed him. Lust surged in him at the memory. He’d known seeing Sutton would be a shock, but kissing her…
Sutton had always been his weakness. He couldn’t think straight with her around. It had made working with her when she’d been attached to his team a bit hellish at first, but both of them knew how to keep it professional when on a mission. It was when the mission was over that his brain leaked out his ears.
As it had done during that kiss. He lay back against the pillow for just a moment to savor the feeling of her hands roaming his skin, her body under his and her mouth against his. Damn. He wanted her.
But it wasn’t to be. And it would only interfere with his mission to bring her in safely. Why the fuck wouldn’t she trust him to help her? He put that thought aside for later. Enough time had passed. Sutton wasn’t coming back.
He grabbed the knife strapped to his ankle and cut the zip tie. Then he pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed a number.
“You’ve reached Lexi’s Pizza Palace. What can I do for you?”
He stifled his chuckle. No need to encourage her. “The bug has been planted. Have you got her?”
A pause while the woman did whatever magic she did with her computer. “Yes, sir. She’s lit up like a Christmas tree. You’ll be able to find her anywhere now.”
He smiled. Point for him. “Excellent.”
“Oh, and boss?” Lexi said. “There’s a big, mean-looking dude here who’s looking for you.”
“Dante?” It had to be.
“Yup. I told him to park it until you got back, but he’s making the men nervous.”
That made him chuckle. Dante did look like a MMA fighter, but his looks hid his brilliant mind. “How about you and Mack?”
“Nah. We’re good. Mack is fine with him, so I am too. She’s a good judge of character.”
“Okay, I’m on my way back now. Keep the trace on McRaven going. Let me know if she does anything interesting.”
“Copy that.”
Ryan’s smile stayed with him as he traveled back to DHS. He couldn’t wait until he saw the look on Sutton’s face when he tracked her down.