Hidden Heat: Hauberk Protection, Book 4 (13 page)

Troy grabbed Cooper’s jacket with both hands and shoved him against the Humvee beside his Porsche. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing using my real name?”

The dog leapt to its feet, snarling, its fangs clamped around Troy’s wrist, but Cooper’s grin didn’t drop even a millimeter. “Relax,
Troy
, no one’s around to hear.”

“That you know of,” Troy corrected, not relaxing his grip on the other man. The dog’s teeth broke the skin; a bead of blood dripped down his wrist and onto the shepherd’s muzzle. “Call him off.”

With an infinitesimal nod, Cooper gave a command in German. The dog released him and sat back on his haunches, though his hackles stayed lifted and a soft growl continued to rumble from his throat.

Troy released Cooper and stepped back. “What the fuck’s your game, Davis? For all you know someone could be listening to us. Who knows who’s listening from how far away.”

“Relax, we’ve installed equipment that should interfere with any listening devices. You helped install it if I remember rightly.” Once he’d righted the satin lapels that Troy had pulled askew, Cooper pulled a matchbook from his pocket, curled
his hand to shield the flame and lit his cigar. The match burned nearly to his fingertips before the cigar glowed to his satisfaction. He blew out a long stream of smoke that dissipated in the crisp breeze. “So what bug’s crawled up your ass tonight,
McPherson
?”

Fuck. “I knew it was a mistake to come here.”

Cooper cocked the cigar in a Groucho Marx impression. “Coming is the reason most people visit the Rouge.”

Unable to find a curse adequate to meet his frustration, Troy snatched the cigar from Cooper’s hands and tossed it aside. Sparks showered across the tarmac in a brilliant blaze of orange as the cigar bounced to the far side of the driveway. “Fuck. Off.”

“Again, that’s the whole purpose of the club.” While the grin stayed plastered in place, Cooper’s eyes narrowed, the amusement draining from them like a switch had been thrown.

Ignoring the danger signs, Troy balled his fists in preparation to land his first punch. Before he could blink, Cooper grabbed him in a move Troy didn’t see coming. He landed face-first and off-balance against his own vehicle, Cooper’s arm wrapped around his neck, and Cooper’s knee in his back. “Watch your temper. This is not the place to bring that type of aggression.”

He had to hand it to Cooper. While Cooper might not work in the field anymore, he hadn’t lost any of his training. The chokehold he had him in left no room for movement; he either relaxed or he choked himself to unconsciousness. Strangely, the dog had not moved from his place at Cooper’s side. Troy pounded the side of the Porsche with the flat of his hand, signaling his yield.

“What’s got you spoiling for a fight?” Cooper released him and stepped back. “Or are you looking to have your teeth shoved down your throat?”

Troy ran a hand through his hair and blew out a breath. “I want to ask you about the guest house and whether I can book it for myself.”

Cooper shoved one hand in his pocket in what Troy knew was his way of attempting to appear casual when he was anything but. When Troy didn’t say anything more, Cooper gestured to the club. “Let’s go inside and we can discuss it over a drink.”

He followed the other man through a secret side entrance, Cooper swiping his security card in the reader so as not to set off the alarms. Few members knew this entrance existed. Most of the ones who did thought it led to the hallways used by staff so as not to disturb the members.

Instead of opening the door to the main club, Cooper slid a section of chair railing aside. He pressed the button that had been hidden by the wood and a secret door sprang open. Troy walked down to the landing and waited while Cooper secured the panel back in place behind them.

“Do Sam or Chad know about your bunker yet?” he asked as they trudged down the two flights of stairs, the shepherd’s claws clicking behind them.

“If they know, they’ve not said anything to me.”

At the bottom, Cooper lead him down the plain white corridor. They passed a large room resembling a small army barracks, a half-dozen beds lined up against the wall, their mattresses rolled up at the end of their steel frames. Beyond it was a small kitchenette, and the room with a metal table and two metal chairs they’d interrogated him after they’d freed Scott and the other hostages in Colombia.

To his surprise, Cooper continued toward the large steel door at the far end of the corridor, a door he’d never been allowed past during his last visit.

He waited as Cooper looked into the retinal scanner mounted on the wall beside the door. At the computer’s command, Cooper punched a number in its keypad. A click echoed down the hall before the door swung open to reveal another long, equally bland passageway.

When Cooper gestured for him to precede him, Troy hesitated. “Why are you bringing me here? Why can’t we talk in the bar?”

“Because I don’t want anyone overhearing what I have to say.”

Inclining his head in a shallow nod, Troy stepped through the door. His footsteps echoing off the painted cinderblock walls, he passed another interrogation room, this one a plain room with a large mirror at the far end, a metal chair bolted to the floor in the middle, wires and cuffs hanging loosely from its frame. As he expected, the next room was filled with electronic equipment for Cooper’s agents to use to monitor their subject’s blood pressure and voice stresses during their interrogations of whoever was in the first room. He’d gotten off easy with his questioning, he realized.

The next four doors were closed, preventing him from figuring out their purpose. Cooper directed him to the office at the end of the corridor. A massive oak desk, piles of papers littering its top, sat at one end of the room. The walls surrounding the desk were covered with screens displaying real-time satellite images from around the world. The dog slid past Troy and headed to a blanket-covered heap in one corner and lay down on it with a sigh.

“Take a seat.” Cooper pointed to one of the plush armchairs grouped at the closer end.

He chose the seat that left his back to the corner while Cooper walked over to the wall unit and opened a panel to reveal a bar. “What’s your poison?”

“You think I’d trust anything you’d offer considering the last time I did? You spiked my drink and I was out for almost twenty-four hours.”

Cooper chose a bottle of what was probably one of the world’s most expensive brandies and poured it into a glass. He returned with both the glass and the bottle and sat in the chair opposite Troy. “We had to get you out of Colombia and down here for questioning with the minimum of fuss.”

“You could have asked me to come with you.” He wouldn’t have agreed, but not being given a choice still rubbed his balls raw.

“You wouldn’t have agreed, and you know it.” He swirled the brandy in the glass, considering it, before he met Troy’s gaze again. “So why do you need to book the guest house? Who is your guest?”

Was he really going to do this? If he didn’t, would he lose Sandy because she thought him too boring? Fuck it, she wanted excitement in the bedroom. He could do that for her.

“I’ve been dating someone. She’s…” Delicate. Soft. Sensual. “I’m…” Not. He shook his head. He sounded like he was back in grammar school, right down to the short pants. “She has some fantasies I want to fulfill.”

“She craves being watched?”

“Amongst other fantasies.”

“Is it someone I know?” Cooper took another sip of his drink. “Sandy perhaps?”

How the fuck had he figured that out? Troy schooled his face so Cooper couldn’t read anything from his expression, though he wasn’t sure if he’d be successful “What makes you think it’s her?”

“Because you’ve had your eye on her since you first met her.”

The mask he’d donned slipped for a fraction of a second. “No, I haven’t.”

“Maybe you weren’t aware of it, but you’ve always lingered an extra second on her whenever she was around. More than any other woman you’ve been around.”

Son of a bitch. “Does it make a difference?”

“Not to me. As long as she’s agreeable to our requirements.”

“She will be. I don’t want to take her somewhere truly public. That’s why I’m—”
Selling my soul to you
. He shifted in his seat. “So can I reserve a suite any time in the future?”

“There was a cancellation this weekend. If you’re interested, it’s yours. But you’d better make sure she understands what’s required. Because Sam’s assistant or not, if she talks about what she sees while she’s here, I will go after her.”

Chapter Ten

Troy tapped on Sandy’s desk as he passed, their private signal that he needed to speak with her. Sandy picked up her notebook and followed him into her office, not quite closing the door behind her.

“Do you have any plans for this weekend?”

There was something in the way he said it that told her he wasn’t talking about a trip antiquing in the country. “I think I can arrange to free my schedule.”

The heat in his eyes was primal, untamed. “I’ve reserved a suite at a very special resort. I was wondering if you’d be interested in going with me.”

A whole weekend together? Uninterrupted by Jazz and her boyfriend. Where did she sign up? “Will you be on call?”

“Nope. I won’t even be able to bring my phone with me. Club rules.”

A club? As in Club Med? Or the Porte Rouge? How could she ask without letting on that she knew of that private sex club? As much as she wanted to jump up and down in excitement, she forced herself to perch on the chair on the other side of his desk. “So it would just be me and you in a hotel room all weekend. No interruptions?”

He reached past her and shut the door. “It won’t quite be just you and me.”

“Oh?”

“This resort isn’t quite like anywhere else you’ve probably been. It caters to clients with very specific tastes, where we can explore some of your fantasies.”

Holy crap, it was the Rouge.

Troy leaned one shoulder against the storage locker and watched Scott stripping the Glock. “You got any plans for this weekend?”

“Nope, why?”

“I may need your help. I’ve reserved a suite at the Rouge’s guest house for Sandy this weekend. I’d like you there to make sure her initiation goes off without any interruptions.”

Scott looked up, a question—and doubt—clear in his eyes. “Are you expecting me to have a threesome with you?”

“That depends upon what Sandy wants.” If that’s what she wanted, he’d give it to her, but only on the condition it was a one-time deal because he damned well didn’t want to have to watch any other man touching her regularly. “Mainly I want you to make sure that Cooper Davis doesn’t interrupt us.”

The door squeaked open as Hauberk’s youngest agent walked into the equipment room. When the newbie debated over what type of bullet to use, Troy wanted to growl. “Take some of each, kid. Take ’em all. Just make up your goddamned mind.”

The tips of Kris’s ears flushed bright red, but he grabbed his pistol, and enough ammunition to fight off an entire squadron and stalked from the room.

Once the door to the firing range closed behind him, Troy straddled the bench where Scott had returned to cleaning his gun. “So are you in?”

Scott swabbed the barrel with more attention than it deserved. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

Troy paced the length of the room, not speaking until he reached the end and turned around. “She’s always on about how she wants excitement. How boring it was back in Minnesota and that’s why she moved to D.C. It’s what she wants.” That he was willing to give her anything—even consider letting another man touch her—showed how deeply he was in over his head. “I thought about flying her to Palm Beach for the weekend. Renting a sailboat and teaching her about the joys of the motion of the ocean. Finding a secluded cove and having sex on the beach, but I can’t leave right now and I think this is what she wants.”

“Is it what you want?”

What did he want? Marriage? The house with a white picket fence? Children? Maybe. The thought of them wasn’t as scary as they’d once been. Not that she wanted any of it. So what did he want, he asked himself again and could come up with only one answer—her.

Tied up and blindfolded while he fucked her. Hard.

“Man, you’ve got it bad, don’t you?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re in love with her.”

“No. Maybe.” Shit. Maybe he wasn’t in love with Sandy. Maybe he was in love with the idea of having someone in his corner. Of holding that brass ring—or in this case wearing a gold one. Of having what Sam had with Rosie. What Chad may have rediscovered with Lauren. “I don’t know. We’ve barely started dating.”

“You’ve known her for two and a half years. It’s not a big leap from friendship to love.”

“It’s not love.” Even as he spoke the words, he knew they were a lie.
 

“So tell her you want to make it exclusive. You don’t have to commit any further than that. Yet.”

Why was he unwilling to reveal that he’d already taken that step? “So she can take me home to Minnesota and introduce me to her parents? ‘Hey, Mom and Dad, this is my new boyfriend. He used to be an assassin and he was exceptionally good at his job.’” He laughed darkly. “It’s all moot anyway. She’ll never want to get involved with me long term. I’m just a way to kick up her heels, to have an adventure while keeping things safe.”