No one could believe one man could wreak so much damage without help. And that was where Rick came in. I.I. was certainly damn sure about his guilt. He could see it in the way they were treating him. Giving them his permission to access his personal codes and files was just a formality, part of the game. Declining to sign would be futile, much like refusing to allow a police officer to search one’s car while his K-9 dog was sniffing around it.
Except for one thing. Rick knew any evidence they brought up would not be anything left by him. If they meant to set him up as the fall guy, he had better find out what exactly they were looking for.
“You seem far away, Agent Harden. Shouldn’t you be
somewhat interested in what we’re doing?” Harpring’s question was cutting, meant to put him on the defensive.
“I’m very aware of what you’re doing,” Rick answered, as he clipped his gold pen back into his breast pocket.
How could he not, when Harpring was going about things the way a good bureaucrat would. Like the EYES officer, Rick was an expert in regulations and paperwork. It was a world where things slowed down to a snail’s pace, purely to demonstrate how important being a cog of the wheel was. Never mind the wheel was falling off. That was somebody else’s problem. Harpring was here to do one thing, and one thing only, and anything else wasn’t of interest.
“And what are we doing?”
“You’re doing your job.” And that was all. Rick could understand that mentality because, hell, a month ago, he had been going through the same motions, ignoring the warning bells in his head telling him things were falling apart. As a result, he had almost caused Marlena Maxwell to die at Gorman’s hands because he hadn’t wanted to listen to others. He met the investigator’s eyes across the table and added calmly, “And I’m doing mine.”
When he had found out the truth, seen how blind he had been, Rick had been shaken to the core. He had almost repeated history by the sheer perversity of trying to avoid trouble. If Gorman had killed Marlena, Rick would have resigned. There was no way he could live through the knowledge that he had blood on his hands again.
“What do you do to keep busy nowadays, Agent Harden, now that most of your cases are suspended? What about the other men in your task force?”
In other words, were they busy shredding paper and hiding things? Rick allowed a small smile. “I’m sure you and other EYES officers have been documenting my moves around the department. I have been busy finishing up the paperwork for the last assignment so that everything will be in order for the next deputy director. Most of my men have been reassigned to the other task force teams for now, with maybe
two or three who are either on leave or have some current work to do. I’m sure you checked my routine—every hour is accounted for. I do have several private secured meetings coming up that I can’t disclose, so you will have to get special permission from someone higher up to locate me then.”
Harpring looked surprised that Rick had brought up the meetings. “You’re very sure of yourself,” he commented. “Do you think they will let you be part of any private secured meeting when they know you’re under investigation?”
“Again, you will have to discuss that with someone higher up than me,” Rick replied. “I’m just following orders. They want me at the meetings still, as far as I know. Unless, of course, you have privileged information?”
“Of course not,” Harpring said, his thin lips pursed disapprovingly. “I think it would have been best not to jeopardize security even further. In my opinion, they should suspend you while you’re under investigation, Agent Harden.”
“Maybe they mean to tell me that then.” Rick arched an eyebrow. “Or maybe they are all colluding with me, to keep me quiet about things I might bring up by accident.”
Harpring’s gaze sharpened. “Don’t say things you don’t mean, Agent Harden.”
Rick smiled again. He must be getting perverse in his old age, getting himself deeper in trouble than necessary. “Scary, isn’t it? I could bring a whole department down with me. Ortwo.”
“Threats won’t help you.”
“Why not? It sure is giving Gorman a lot of rope to play with.”
“We’re not negotiating with Gorman.”
“No? Then what are you looking for? Telling me might help expedite your search.”
Harpring looked startled, finally realizing that he had been led through an interview, instead of vice-versa. His mouth snapped into a grim line as he stared at Rick. “Do you expect me to believe that you know nothing about what we’re looking for?”
Every convict in prison always said he was innocent. Rick didn’t blame the man for not believing him. He shrugged. He would just have to do things his way, that was all. Harpring certainly wasn’t going to help him. “I know some things,” he said, then instinctively hazarded a guess. “For example, I know EYES is hot under the collar because there is an independent investigation of Gorman’s activities and I think maybe you’re under pressure to be the first to get to the finish line. How far off am I?”
Rick watched Harpring sit back on his seat abruptly. He smiled cynically. Bingo. He wondered whether Nikki would tell him everything before or after he had her naked under him.
Nikki watched from the front row as Rick Harden approached the podium. The operations chief of Task Force Two was making a special appearance to give a talk to the new trainees. Agent Erik Jones had given the introduction, a look of hero worship on his face, smugly telling the group that he had gotten the O.C. to agree to do this.
From where she was, she easily made eye contact. Or maybe he had been watching her with those cool green eyes, waiting for her to look up. He looked down at her directly as he greeted the crowd. Her heartbeat began to drum pleasantly.
Someone asked about information and access to it. Rick didn’t glance at the questioner as he replied. “There are small libraries in each directorate, but the main one is the CIA library, which has one hundred and forty-six thousand volumes, including twenty-five thousand books on Intel gathering. There are also close to twenty thousand newspapers and periodicals for those who are looking for more centralized sources.” He paused. “But of course, that kind of minute Intel gathering is meant as training ground. The hardest part is direct Intel, human intelligence, the kind where you have to get up close with your target, so you get your information firsthand.”
Nikki didn’t look away as Rick continued looking down at her. She knew he wasn’t here to introduce new recruits to the wonders of the CIA library. This was part of what was
happening between him and her. They spoke in a secret language that only they seemed aware of and she found it strangely erotic, as if he were touching her mind.
“What is the main test that recruits have to pass before they go to a different level?” someone asked.
“How to answer questions correctly.”
“Well, the Career Training Program takes a year,” the same person continued, “so I’d expect by that time, after having done stints in different directorates, I’d be able to answer questions correctly.”
“Is that a question?” Rick asked, glancing further back from Nikki to look at the man. Nikki could see the others turning around to follow Rick’s gaze.
“No, sir. I was merely stating what I was thinking.”
“Why would you need to repeat to me what I know when I’m available to answer anything you don’t know?” Rick’s voice was soft, but carried all the way back. Nikki didn’t have to turn around to know that the young man sitting behind her knew he was in a hole. After a small silence, Rick continued, “That, Mr. Bernstein, is a question that you have to learn how to answer correctly.”
Nikki wasn’t surprised that he called the man by his name. Rick would know everyone in a room because he would make it his job to know. That was how he was. Also, by being thorough and letting these recruits see it, he would show the good ones something that couldn’t be taught about Intel gathering—that it was a never-ending process, that it was a state of mind.
There was always someone to challenge the one who had all the answers. “How would you answer that question then, sir?”
Rick Harden’s didn’t even bother to look in that direction. His gaze returned to Nikki, warm and intimate. “Ask me that in a year,” he said. The class laughed.
“Any other questions?”
She knew a challenge when she heard it. After all, she was there to gather certain information, and he was deliberately daring her.
She licked her lower lip. “I have one.”
“Yes?”
“Are there rules about how much to reveal or hide from spouses?”
She watched him closely, but catching Rick Harden by surprise was an impossible quest worthy of Hercules. The man was in control of himself at all times. There was no change of expression or edge to his voice. Mesmerized, she watched him pull out a slim gold pen from his breast pocket. He wrote down something on his notepad, tore the page out, folded it, and handed it to Erik Jones to pass to her.
Nikki took the piece of note but didn’t open it, mesmerized by the dark green of his gaze. She always had a weakness for that color, she thought vaguely, as she held on to the paper.
“In that note is what I choose to share with you,” Rick Harden said to the hushed class. “How much you choose to reveal or hide becomes your responsibility. Would you want your spouse to be accountable for your job? It also depends on your spouse. Choose carefully.”
The woman sitting next to her nudged her. “What’s in that note?” she asked, curiosity getting the better of her.
Nikki shook her head and slipped the paper into her folder. She could feel everyone’s attention on her. “It’s the O.C.’s answer,” she said calmly.
“Yes, but what is it? Aren’t you going to share?” the woman persisted.
“Yes, aren’t you going to tell them, Miss Taylor?” Rick Harden didn’t break into a smile but his glittering eyes continued to challenge her.
“Your passing me a note is telling enough, sir.”
“But what about the note?”
When she shook her head again, he asked, “Why not?”
“I don’t share Intel,” she said.
She continued looking at Rick as the recruits around her reacted to the situation, clapping and laughing. Their communication was secretive, like that between old lovers with intimate gestures. She didn’t need to open the note to know what was in it.
Afterward, she read it when she reached the sanctuary of her car. His masculine hand was bold and unpretentious, like his message. There was an underlying sensuality in the way he wrote his R, in the old-fashioned cursive way, two loops on each top corner.
Rule number four. Come without underwear.
“A
lways go with your first instinct,” Nikki’s grandmother had told her. “Once you understand your center and how to listen to yourself, your choices will be clear, like the view from the mountain.”
It had been easier to listen to that advice when she was a child, with a young girl’s fancy. As time went by it was her second, and sometimes her third, option that became part of her life. How could she have known then that listening to her first instinct was impossible when she had to deal with men and agencies that controlled her fate? Compromise was an insidious thing, and before she knew it, ignoring her
chuung
had become a way of life. Until that fateful day when she was captured. Until she was alone, imprisoned in a dark cell, with too much silence.
Then Nikki had heard that wind chime. And thought of her grandmother.
She had been alone ever since. Even after her rescue, and her subsequent work with a different agency that controlled her lifestyle, she had held herself apart. She no longer compromised and had been known to defy orders. Fortunately for her, the program that had adopted her had a very convenient system for loners—it gave them lone assignments.
So here she was, called upon for one last lone assignment. All she had to do was listen to her first instinct and go with the flow. Finish the job. Complete the circle. Then maybe she would find some peace of mind.
But her grandmother had never met Rick Harden. She could not possibly have understood the way a look from this man would send her granddaughter’s center into a rush of pounding heartbeat and confused, excited thoughts. She could not have envisaged that his touch would burn right through, until center and being were meaningless, until all Nikki could think of was his hands on her body, his lips on hers, that there would only be heat and mindless need. No first instinct. And certainly no sound from her
chuung
.
Hence, Nikki was back to options. She could choose to stop this any time. Not go. Not get any closer to the fire. Not allow Rick to take her down this path. She knew he was playing on her fears. He meant to see how far he could push her before she gave up and ran off. Yet he already knew that she wouldn’t do that, so why was he doing this?
She shivered and tried to forget the fact that she wasn’t wearing anything underneath her dress. There was only one reason that he continued to test her, even when he knew she wouldn’t back off, and that was—he wanted her. No matter how much he didn’t trust her, he still wanted her, and through these rules, he was punishing her for how he was feeling.
Nikki understood what he was planning to do. Each rule was a way to strip her of her defenses. She didn’t need her fertile imagination to show her how. He had planted those sexual images in her head for some reason. Part of it had to do with his past with his wife.
That was why she had asked, bringing up the subject of spouse to see his reaction. But he was unbeatable, throwing the ball back in her court. By doing what he did, he had, she realized with sudden consternation, put her in the role of his spouse. She braked hard, bringing the car to a stop.
She stared at the traffic, then accelerated when the light changed. It was troubling to think that Rick might be responding to the memory of his wife, and not her. There were so many things she wanted to know about the woman that had
nothing
to do with her assignment. All very private things that brought heat to her cheeks.
When she reached her destination, she got out of the car,
breathing in the evening darkness, trying to calm herself by walking slowly. Letting a man come into her space was hard enough, but letting him touch her…
She couldn’t believe that she was here at all. She was very aware of the soft material of her dress teasing her. She stared ahead as she approached the building. She paused in front of the first flight of concrete steps. There wasn’t much between her and the tiger upstairs. A thin piece of clothing. And then…he would see her naked.
Her heart rose into her throat, and she tripped slightly. Nervously she checked the clip in her hair, wondering how she was going to take it off when her mind was on the bottle of shampoo in her bag. She swallowed the lump in her throat.
Staring upward, she studied the lit windows of the apartment building. She counted the floors. Right there. If she took one more step forward, she was going to faint from fright. She wasn’t ready for Rick Harden to see her naked. And what was he planning to do with the shampoo? The thought of him using it on her sent odd little trills of mixed emotions through her.
Nikki turned away from the building. She couldn’t do this. She would panic and everything would go wrong. She couldn’t bear to let him see her in a state of terror, it was better she get away while she could. Her instinct told her to believe in herself. She chose not to listen.
Unlocking the car, she slid inside and strapped on the seat belt. Breathing a sigh of relief, she rested her head back against the seat.
“Coward.”
Nikki let out a small gasp and whirled around. She would never know how he managed to get into her car, or how he knew she would change her mind. His shadow lounged back against the middle of the seat, as if he had been there all this time, just waiting.
“Why do you keep doing that?” she asked, stalling for time to calm herself.
His teeth gleamed in the shadows. He was enjoying this victory, second-guessing her moves and catching her by surprise. “Doing what, little bird?”
“Scaring me in the dark.” Irritation replaced shock. “And stop calling me that name.”
“Are you only afraid of me in the dark?” he mocked, and she saw the white flash of his teeth again as he softly repeated, “little bird.”
She snapped back around and put her hands on the steering wheel. “What am I supposed to do now, go back in there with you?” She was going to refuse. She would go home and work up the courage to do it another night.
“You don’t have to.” She heard him moving and eyed the rearview mirror, trying to see what he was up to. He leaned forward and his voice was velvet smooth. “We can do it right here.”
She stiffened. “Do it?” The car suddenly didn’t have enough air.
“Conduct your interview.” His hand wrapped around between the two front seats and touched her hair, unerringly reaching for the big clip that held it up. “But first you have to follow the rules.”
Nikki’s hair tumbled down and he caught it in one handful, pulling her head back toward the seat. She didn’t resist.
“I like this kind of car,” he remarked, as he leaned even closer. His cologne and unique scent tantalized her.
“You…do?” She concentrated on his movements, trying to decipher what he was doing. He held her hair with one hand. Where was the other…“Oh!”
Her seat dropped back and she was suddenly staring up at Rick. “I do. The seat adjusting lever is on the side, very reachable.” One hand still tangled in her hair, he reached into her bag on the other seat. “Those bottles must be for me. And were you brave enough to follow rule number four, I wonder?”
Nikki held her breath as his face drew closer, the dark outline of his masculine features sending her pulse back into orbit. His breath was hot and she caught sight of his smile again. His free hand caressed her jaw, then moved slowly downward. He lingered on the fluttering pulse on her neck, then continued lower. His fingers teased the soft round neck
line and crept just under the clothing, tracing the circle from one collarbone to the other. She closed her eyes.
“No. Look at me.” She obeyed. His eyes glittered back in the darkness. Pulling on her seat belt, he taunted softly, “Got you tied.”
Nikki immediately went for the release button, but his hand was in the way.
“I thought you said you weren’t afraid of me.”
“I’m not.”
“Prove it.”
He kept saying that, challenging her. She wasn’t going to let him win. It was difficult to think clearly when her heart seemed to have relocated and was pounding in her head. He was a complicated man, used to doing things his way. Control was essential to him, and she knew if she were ever to unlock his secrets, she had to gather her own courage and let go of a part of herself. It wasn’t him she was afraid of…it was her fear of losing control, that part of her that had always held her together through the darkest times.
But this isn’t the past and he isn’t them
. She had to find a way to stop her fear.
She followed instinct, reaching up with her right hand to trace the side of his face. He felt smooth. He leaned down a little more, so her other hand could explore too. His clean male scent invited her to be bolder. She followed the arch of his eyebrows, felt his eyelashes against her fingertips. His cheekbones. The strong line of his jaw. And miraculously, her fear diminished because this was Rick. Not a faceless enemy, not someone to whom she had to close her eyes because she didn’t want to acknowledge him.
This time it was different. She would look at him. Touch his face. Know it was Rick.
He turned, scraping his mouth against her palm. She gasped as the tip of his tongue teased a wet path and he bit the sensitive pad under her thumb. His hand moved under the collar of her dress. She stopped her restless exploration, her hands tightening.
“Don’t stop now.” He nipped the flesh between her thumb
and forefinger. “I’m just making sure you followed all the rules. Did you?”
Her reply was a whisper. “Yes.” She bit her lip as his hand moved lower, sliding over the top of her left breast.
“Such a brave girl,” he whispered back. “It’s too late to back down now. I told you, you couldn’t change your mind anymore.”
“And you won’t change your mind about answering my questions?” she countered. His hand stopped just above her nipple, and she held her breath for a long moment. She adopted his taunting tone of voice, “Or are you going to back down?”
She knew she had surprised him; he had thought to stop her queries by making a move first. Her body tingled with an electric need, responding to his slow touch, and if she hadn’t gathered her thoughts in time, she would have allowed him to take the lead.
“I wasn’t the one running away, was I?” he retorted. He slowly withdrew his hand, but the heat from his caress remained. She released a long breath, only to suck in hard again as she felt his hand skim her rib cage, playing with the seat belt, tightening it. There was no escape from the rules, she realized that now. He leaned down further, brushing her lips with his. His breath tantalized her mouth, he was so close. “First things first, little bird. Let me slow that heartbeat down a little, then you can ask your questions.”
He wasn’t doing that at all as she felt his hand slide down the length of her right thigh. She discovered that she couldn’t cross her legs when she was strapped down. Besides, the steering wheel was in the way. She didn’t think her pulse could go any faster, but it did. Her skirt was being pulled higher, baring her knees, then her thighs. His knuckles lingered on the warm interior of her legs. The cool night air brushed against her and she shivered, but her thoughts were filled with heated images of his slowly moving hand and where it was heading.
“I’m going to touch you all over. Make your body know my hand.” He covered her bared knee and she gripped his face tightly. “First my hands. Then my mouth. After that—”
He paused. He caressed the inside of her thigh, his trailing fingers inexorably moving upward.
“Rick,” she breathed. She had to say his name, to remind herself that it was he. She felt feverish, not sure about anything anymore, as she waited for his inevitable touch. She restlessly gripped his head, wanting him to go higher.
Something new was happening. She wasn’t even afraid of being tied. Her hands were free and she liked the feel of his face. His kisses were soft and seductive as if he knew how to soothe her. Her nightmares consisted of clawing hands and the smell of sweat. She hadn’t been able to get clean enough afterward. This was a sensuous journey that she had not thought possible again. A man’s hands could actually be persuasive. Tender. Patient. And his words weren’t leering threats, but silken promises.
“After that—we can talk.” His voice became intimately lower. He took his time. She bit her lip and looked into his eyes. She gave a choked little cry when his finger explored the crease between her thigh and hip. “Hmm. No underwear.”
She thought her heart was going to burst, and for an uncontrolled moment, she lost focus and panic returned. No, she silently screamed. No, no, no. “Don’t touch me,” she said urgently. If he did, she was sure those dark memories would come back to torture her, like every time before. Surely this time would be no different.
“Why?” To her relief, he didn’t find her sudden change of heart a turnoff. Instead he lazily stroked the soft crease that was so intimately close, seeming fascinated by the feel of her skin. “I’m already touching you.”
His finger dipped down, ever closer still, until she couldn’t bear it. Slivers of lightning streaked through her system, and she choked back the burning emotions building inside her. “Don’t. Not there.”
“Why are you afraid, Nikki?”
“Because it will hurt.” There. She had said it. And it stopped his marching fingers. Every time she had tried to get over her fear of intimacy, it had hurt. Every man who had wanted her had given up. She didn’t want Rick to turn away
like the others, but of course he would. No man wanted a hysterical woman who had no passion left.
“Hurt?” Again, she didn’t hear any surprise in his voice. She waited for his questions. They all always demanded answers. Instead, he gently asked, “Am I hurting you now?”
Not yet. “No. It’s not you.” Unable to go on, she let go of his face and reached out to unfasten the seat belt. He stopped her, covering her hand with his. “Rick, please—”
“Let me decide when to free you, little bird. The interview hasn’t even started yet.” His other hand moved and she choked back another cry when he touched her, his fingers tickling her curls. A coiled ball of need inside her burst and her head fell back heavily against the seat as she tried to focus on his words. “This hero you’re writing—does he hurt women?”