Blindsided (24 page)

“Oh baby.” He didn’t give a damn about Uncle Sam’s prying eyes any more. In one motion, he swept her out of the chair and plopped down in the corner where he cradled her in his arms.
 

She squeaked, tensing as if she might resist the offered comfort, but then almost immediately turned her head into his shoulder, letting the hot tears saturated his shirt. The feel of her lithe body curled up against his for the first time took the edge off his anger and he found himself noticing things that he shouldn’t have been noticing at this time. Things like the flare of her hips from her narrow waist and the firm roundness of her breasts pressed against his chest. Only the muffled sniffling as she tried to regain composure kept him anchored to reality.
 

“Bastard.”

Yeah, Whitesman was. Teigan was almost looking forward to their showdown later.

“Shh. We’ll fix this. We’ll fix it.” He stroked her back, offering what slim reassurance he could.

“No.” She pushed back, struggling up out of his lap, her chest heaving as she hissed a slew of ripe names at him, ending again with, “Bastard.”

Oh, that’s right. She means me.

“There is no fixing this,” she hissed at him. “So don’t try to appease me with more false promises.”

He lurched to his feet, reaching for her arm. “Aria I didn’t—”

“No!” She broke his grip with the swipe of her hand.
 

He opened his mouth to defend himself but she shook her head, holding her hand up, palm out, signaling his silence. His hand curled into fists, but he held his peace, letting her get it out.

She sniffled, turning her back on him as a hand came up, presumably to brush away more tears. It took her a minute, but eventually her shoulders stilled and she blew out a long breath. “My language was uncalled for. I apologize.”

“Aria—”

Her head jerked side to side, the tumbled waves dancing down to her slender waist. “It’s okay. It’s actually a relief.”

She believed he’d betrayed her and she thought it was a relief? “You’ll have to explain that one to me.”

“The best kept secrets are those nobody knows,” she said, reiterating his own thoughts from earlier. “Too many people know about me. Even though I was going to run, I knew it was only a matter of time before I would be brought in. This way I don’t have to wait anymore.”

She had been going to run, hadn’t trusted him to keep her secrets. And from her vantage point, she’d been right not to. “I didn’t betray you, Aria,” he tried again.
 

“Oh? Then who did?” she asked, her fingernails curling into the fabric of her slacks. Her voice was laced with doubt, not that he blamed her. If their positions were reversed, he wouldn’t exactly trust him either.

“I had to bring certain members of my team into my trust in order to pass off the info you gave me as our own. I should have known John wouldn’t protect you as a source. He figures my objectivity with you is shot because I want to sleep with you.”

The set of her shoulders stiffened. “Well that’s pointed.”

“Not the only thing pointed right now,” he mumbled under his breath and shifted, trying to unobtrusively relieve the discomfort in his groin that was a result of holding her.
 

She spun around, nostrils flared as if scenting the air. Immediately, her eyes widened in another one of those intriguing instinctual reactions of surprise and a blush bloomed on her cheeks.
 

The corner of his mouth twitched. Was she really that unaware of his attraction to her? “Sorry. Force of nature.”

“Hmm.” There was an answering twitch at the corners of her mouth, which was immediately smoothed back out into an impassive expression. “And you playing the caveman a moment ago went toward restoring your appearance of objectivity, how? I’m assuming this is all recorded to security feed.”

“I don’t give a damn.”

She lifted her chin. “You should. It’s your ass that will be suspended.”

Point. But he doubted his objectivity was really in question any longer anyway. What mattered was getting her out of here. He stepped closer, toe to toe with her, his hands on her upper arms. “You’ll have to talk to Whitesman. Tell him everything.”

Whitesman would get the information from her one way or another, and since he’d have to kill the bastard if he so much as laid a finger on her…well, it would be better if she cooperated.

She drew a deep breath, blew it out again.

“I’m sorry, Aria.”

She nodded, indicating she believed him on that, if nothing else. He noted that she didn’t say she’d willingly talk to Whitesman and was about to press the issue when she diverted him with a question. “Where is Willis? I was afraid he might do something stupid when he found me gone.”

Ah yes. Willis. Then next she’d be asking about Garret, or that dumb mutt Frodo. Jealousy threaded her icy fingers into him.

“Willis is fine,” he told her, dropping his hands. “He didn’t try to storm the Agency if that’s what you were worried about. The old bastard came to the house and blackened my jaw instead. He has an imaginative mind when it comes to retribution. If you will, tell him to spare my innards.”

The corner of her lip quirked up. “Threatened to gut you and feed you to the crows did he?”

“While still alive.” He shuddered.

“That’s one of his favorites. The others don’t bear repeating.”

“I hate to imagine.”

“How about Matt? Is he ok?”

Matt? Who the hell was…oh, the bodyguard who was hospitalized. “Willis said he should be all right. He got caught with a sedative dart and had a stronger reaction to it.”

He watched guilt strike her. Her arms grabbing her middle as she tipped her head down, dark brown hair falling like a curtain over her face, but not before he caught the crumpling of her features and the glimpse of white teeth biting her lip.

And this was the woman that Whitesman thought could be a danger to society? Idiot.

“Don’t, Aria.” He once more engulfed her in his arms, rejoicing in the fact that she didn’t pull away and that she let him support her shaking body. “The doctor told Willis that Matt would be okay. Willis is safe back at your mansion, with Frodo, who’s also safe, in case you were wondering.”

That got him a slight chuckle and the shivering convulsions of her body stilled under his hold. They stood like that for a long time, the only sound in the room their even breathing and the thud of his own racing heart in his ears.
I could hold her like this forever.
 

Forever? Where the hell had that come from? Six days ago, his life goal had been a month of vacation days filled with hours on end with his hands stuffed into the innards of his Storm. Then he’d top off that by a relaxing evening at the bar, and maybe even a quick hook-up with one of the many girls who always seemed willing. He’d never thought of himself as a forever kind of man. Yet he was thinking about it with her. The impossibility of the idea struck him all at once. Not only was Aria in a class all her own, but there was no way Whitesman would allow him any kind of Forever with a
Viadal
.
 

His arms tightening around her as an inarguable thought burned itself upon his mind: Mine. And he’d do whatever it took to keep her.

“They’re never going to let me go, are they?” she asked softly, the words, all but lost in his chest, drew him from his spiraling thoughts. “They’re going to tuck me away in some care facility just like the others.”

“No.” He brushed a kiss onto the top of her head. “I won’t let them.”

Her head shifted back and forth slightly against his chest in what he supposed was disbelief. “And how are you going to stop them?”

“I’m not going to give them a choice,” he said, his voice hardened with resolve. Whitesman’s worst nightmare was about to come true.

Chapter Sixteen

August 3
^rd
2104: 1832 EST

“And you think this will work?” Willis asked from where he was pacing the far end of the Idyllis Mansion foyer. Teigan glanced up, blinking the elderly bodyguard into focus, his eyes gritty with fatigue. The only thing sustaining him at this point was sheer will.
 

He was working on 36 hours without sleep, and only four hours in the 24 before that. How the fuck did the V-10 do it?

Teigan had arrived here four hours ago, going over the plan with Willis. Now they were waiting for their guest to arrive to get the ball rolling. After leaving Aria—re-chained and alone, which had about killed him—Teigan had sent Whitesman a com, telling him that his prisoner was now willing to answer questions.
 

He hadn’t even had to do much to convince Aria that speaking to Whitesman was in her best interest. She’d hacked into enough files that the truth serum was not a surprise to her, and given the clammy sweat of fear that had formed on the hands gripped within his own as he’d mentioned the serum, he had quickly come to suspect there were other, less pleasant, methods of persuasion that the government had used on the V-10 during interrogations.

The com sent, Teigan had made short time leaving the Agency. He hadn’t wanted to be within the boundaries of Whitesman’s ultimate authority for longer than was prudent. It was only a matter of time before Whitesman finished conducting his interview with Aria, and then he’d turned the force of his anger onto Teigan. Teigan would gladly meet the heartless bastard face-to-face, but not before he’d ensured that he could keep his promise to both Aria and Willis. Teigan was going to see Aria released from her prison, even if he had to take the Agency apart brick by brick to do it.

“It will work,” Teigan assured Willis. Yeah, he was putting a lot of faith on his assessment of Whitesman, and not just Whitesman either, he was putting a lot of faith on the American people as well. Now he just had to hope to God the country he had loyally served for almost a dozen years wouldn’t let him down.
 

The skin around Willis’ eyes crinkled as he narrowed his eyes. “You’re betting a hell of a lot on this hand.”

Willis was right. He was betting it all that the public would find the breakdown of governmental boundaries far more alarming than one heiress’ genetic makeup. “Isn’t that
we’re
betting?”
 

A bell chimed, and with a last glaring look, Willis moved to the viewer by the door.
 

“It’s her, and one of her crew,” Willis said, his tone somewhat surprised. Teigan wasn’t. The com Willis had sent with Cameron, one of Aria’s drivers, had been very enticing to someone like Bonnie Porter.

Willis palmed the door open and then waited with hands folded behind his back, every inch the calm, immovable butler. Teigan watched on the view screen as the woman, dressed in a slimming black suit, and her jean-clad assistant made their way up the outer steps.
 

The woman stopped at the top of the steps, a wide smile on her fuchsia painted lips as she offered her hand to Willis. “Bonnie Porter, Today’s Entertainment.”
 

“Willis Bondsman, it is a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Porter.” He shook her hand, and then stepped back into the grand entry. “We will be conducting the interview here, so you may set up your equipment wherever you like.”

She looked around the vast room, no doubt getting a feel for atmosphere and acoustics. What she saw must have pleased her because she gave a quick nod of approval.
 

Her eyes fell on Teigan, who leaned against the carved post at the base of the stairs. “And this is?”

“Evans.” Teigan inclined his head. “Don’t mind me. I’m just here to observe, make sure things are factual and such.”

Of course Ms. Porter wasn’t satisfied with that. She arched an over-plucked eyebrow, giving him an icy look. “And are you the family solicitor? Or perhaps a
friend
of Miss Idyllis?” Her eyes lighted with the last thought.

He shrugged, giving her a cocky smile. “Or something.”

That got a second raised brow to match the first and a disapproving pout, but she moved into the room, making a beeline for the most comfortable set of armchairs that flanked the antique reproduction hearth.
 

“Homey.” She settled into the large wing back chair and smiled. “Yet grand.”

Her assistant hurried over, laying his case down nearby and popped the latches. Extracting six recorders and their stands, he moved in a large circle around her, setting them up at equal intervals. Teigan wasn’t worried about getting caught on the feed, the scope of the recorders would be just far enough to make a 3-D image of about a five foot radius around the center point. Just enough for Bonnie and her victim.

She looked up at Willis. “We’re ready. You can tell Miss Idyllis.”

Willis cleared his throat. “I’m afraid Miss Idyllis won’t be joining us this evening.”

Bonnie bristled, her back stiffening, “Now look here, I was promised an exclusive, one-on-one interview with Miss I—”

“Miss Idyllis has been detained,” Teigan put in for Willis. “Surely you heard of the commotion at the studio this morning.”

Ms Porter’s eyes bugged out, Teigan watched her tongue touch her top and bottom lips before it disappeared back into her mouth.
Oh yes, Ms. Porter, you’re about to get the juiciest morsel of your career. In fact, this might qualify as a nine course dinner
.