INTO DANGER (Secret Assassins (S.A.S.S.) Book 1) (33 page)

She laughed at the image, then pulled his ear hard.

“What?” he growled, flicking his head away from her pinch.

“That’s for noticing T and labeling her a hot chick,” she scolded. “And no, Pierre isn’t part of GEM. He had the connections, and saw I had the potential for my kind of work.”

“What’s that?” The scowl remained. “He just thought you’d make a good assassin?”

“Darling, look at it this way. I had no schooling, no money unless I played mistress to some rich man, no family to help me out. I could have a boring job as a waitress or I could be trained to take care of myself.” She shrugged. “I chose the second option and never regretted it. There are advantages to starting a new life. And I was perfect for GEM. The fewer family encumbrances the better. So next time you see Pierre, be nice to him. Without him, I would still be a naive woman with a Southern twang trying to make it.”

“But you would still be a smart mouth.”

“Oh yes, that, unfortunately, must be in the genes of whoever my parents were.” Marlena smoothed away his soft hair from his forehead. “So, satisfied with the little story?”

“Not really. But it’s a start. What about a significant other? I told you I wasn’t married.”

She considered lying, but tried evasion instead. “There’s no one now,” she said. At his frown, she sighed. “I’m not good at relationships, Stash. They don’t work well where I’m concerned. I’ve always been a loner, probably from being a wild child growing up, and don’t trust easily. Men don’t find me good girlfriend material.”

She snuggled against him, and it felt so good. She hadn’t snuggled like this since she was a kid. He hugged her closer, and she felt him kiss her forehead.

“What’s good girlfriend material? You mean they don’t like your cooking?”

She sniffed. “I can cook very well, thank you very much. Just not traditional stuff. If you think you’re getting turkey for Thanksgiving and a white picket fence,
et cetera
, if you think I’ll always run home in time to iron your shirt and dust the kitchen, if you’re even planning on a Suburban with summer holidays at Disney, then you don’t know me.”

Oh, but Steve knew her. He was listening intently. Her last revelations were interesting; she was being defensive again, as if someone had tried to make her do all the things she mentioned. Some poor sot had tried to change his Marlena. Steve had no intention of doing that.

“Hell, Lena, I’ve been a SEAL all my adult life,” he told her. “I can’t do half the things normal people do. I have enough trouble trying to remember my mother’s birthday in the middle of a gun battle. I understand where you’re coming from, believe me.”

Marlena sat up and kissed him. It was a slow, satisfying kiss, and for once they weren’t fighting about who had the upper hand. It had a different kind of passion, something indefinable that left him wanting so much more.

“So are we okay now with my past?” she asked solemnly. I can’t tell you everything, Stash. You know that’s the first rule in covert training.”

Steve still felt jealous, but at least he now knew more about Marlena’s background and where du Scheum stood with her. He supposed no one could ever truly let go of one’s first lover, as du Scheum obviously was to Marlena. He scowled again. Cradle snatcher. He couldn’t help it. Marlena made him feel possessive in the worst way.

“You going to tell me about what you found out at your office today?”

He understood she changed the subject on purpose because he was probing too close again, but they’d gone a lot further than he had anticipated, so he was willing to let it go for now. “I saw your Pierre going up into the secured floors in our building today.”

Marlena cocked her head. “Pierre meets with many different people because he’s always trying to curry government contracts. That’s how he gets to be so influential.”

“Only the top brass give out the contracts, Lena. My department deals with information, not government contracts. The only thing du Scheum can get from TIARA is buying and selling of information.”

“You think Pierre knows the leak?”

“He could be the top suspect, don’t you think?”

She slowly shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

“Maybe that’s because you’re too close,” Steve suggested.

She tensed slightly on his lap. “I never get too close to anybody,” she said, and Steve knew he’d said the wrong thing. She was no longer soft and pliant in his arms, and her eyes were smoldering flames of blue. “I’ve taught myself to weigh every situation—”

“Percentages and probabilities,” he interrupted, using her favorite maxim.

“That’s right.” Her mouth curled derisively. “If we want to talk about emotions in the way, how about your jealousy blinding you to facts?”

“Facts? I’ve got plenty of facts. I checked out du Scheum, Lena. He gives TIARA freebies all the time.”

“So?”

“Look, tell me something. How were you able to dismantle all those electronic eyes and bugs we installed? It’s because you recognized the type, didn’t you? Du Scheum’s company had the contract for the latest micro surveillance and thermal cameras and that’s why you could so quickly dispose of all the equipment.”

Marlena shrugged. “So?” she asked again.

“So he has access to TIARA. He deals with electronics, so he has to have classified access codes. Then whoever monitors the equipment for TIARA could easily be paid to work for him. At the party I saw him deep in conversation with some very interesting characters, some who might be interested in TIARA intel. So he sells. You tell me that isn’t a possibility, Lena. I would say there is a high percentage of him being a leak.”

She didn’t say anything as she sat there, staring back at him. “Everything in that laptop is a collaboration between his and the government’s scientists,” she told him. “There was no need to steal it at the conference, then offer it up for bid.”

“A setup,” Steve said.

“You’re saying Cunningham isn’t the culprit, that what he said that night were all lies?”

“Well, I haven’t thought it out that far yet,” Steve conceded, “but it was in du Scheum’s house and he didn’t seem very surprised or upset.”

“Pierre seldom shows that kind of emotion,” Marlena said, but she was frowning now. “He wouldn’t need to use me, Stash. Those parties and meetings are his. No, I’ve known him too long. If he had planned to abscond with Project X-S-BOT, he would have done so without the need of this charade.”

“You still care about him,” Steve accused, temper rising. Why couldn’t she see how illogical she was? “You’ll try to let him off scot-free while he continues to betray our organizations.”

Her temper flared just as quickly. She jumped off his lap and started to walk away.

“Where are you going?” he called after her.

“It’s obvious we’re going nowhere with this teamwork,” she said, turning to face him, hands on her hips. “We can’t even talk about the operation without you getting uppity about Pierre du Scheum and I having a past. Well listen, Steve McMillan. Just because we sleep together now doesn’t give you the right to question my judgment or my ability to get the job done. If you think Pierre is the leak, bring me the evidence; don’t cajole me into accepting your verdict just because you like it that way. I can make similar cases with Harden, with Cam, with everyone in that office, but without evidence, it’s nothing.”

Steve took in a deep breath. Maybe he did overdo the jealous lover bit. “Come back here, Lena. Let’s start over. We’ll go through the list of names one by one, and this time I promise I won’t interrogate you or your past.”

“Later. I want to be alone now.” She turned to go, then turned back again. “And you’re using the spare bedroom. I want my space back.”

Steve watched her stalk away, fighting the urge to get off his seat and go after her. She needed space, so he would give it to her. He didn’t think she was going to try out that recipe she was reading for him. He had tons of files to read in his laptop anyway. He had downloaded files of the tapes of Marlena in her apartment to review. He needed to get all the facts together and present them like a soldier, not a lover. Once this thing was out of the way, then he stood a better chance with her. He smiled ironically at the thought. She would like that—he was starting to think of them in terms of probabilities and percentages, too.

Marlena remained in her room while he ate alone. Room service wasn’t bad, but he wished he didn’t have to eat by himself. He looked at the closed door of her bedroom. He wanted to be with her, but hell, a man had his pride. She wanted her space, so be it.

Later he lay in bed, laptop on his lap, files and folders strewn all over. He would much prefer to be doing other things in bed, he thought, tapping the down arrow on the keyboard as he read. He would much prefer to hoist an AK-47 and run through the jungle chasing real enemies than shadows. He would much prefer...

The door opened. He glanced up. His room was in semidarkness as he was using just the bedside lamp. The backlight from the hallway illuminated her figure as she stood in the doorway. His breath hitched while he lay there waiting for her to speak. He could see every womanly curve of her body through her nightie. Hot images of what that body felt like under him invaded his mind, replacing dull facts and file links. He leaned back against the big soft pillow and tried to relax. He couldn’t contain a rueful smile when the laptop slid sideways, falling to his side. How could he relax when the sight of her woke up the part of him that had suddenly developed enough Herculean strength to throw aside laptops and files? He didn’t attempt to hide the telltale bulge tenting the bedsheets. Hell, he was in his room.

She took a step in. “I can’t sleep,” she said, her voice very soft.

“Why not?”

“The bed is too big.” She took another step into his room.

“You come in here, you’re in my space,” Steve warned. “And in my space, I rule.”

She kicked the door shut with one bare foot.

***

E
yes closed, Marlena wriggled on top of the pillow as teasing fingers drew patterns on her naked back. The man could drive her wild with his tongue and hands. She could almost forgive herself for giving in to her needs last night and coming into his domain. As he’d said, he ruled in his space. Totally. What he did to her had her seriously considering the possibility he’d been trained, like some operatives she knew, to imprint women, making them sexually responsive to his touch.

Every part of her had responded to his touch. He’d made her lie there while he explored with his lips and tongue. It was slow torture because he took his time—tasting, nibbling, licking, biting. Every touch brought incredible pleasure as he zeroed in on all the sensitive spots of her body. He kissed her neck and then went lower. Her breasts tingled from his attentive tongue. And he went lower still, delving into her belly button, moving downwards toward the ultimate goal. He ignored her urgent hands, moving upward again to explore her aching breasts, sucking and caressing. She begged. She didn’t want to, but she did.

He’d ordered her to hold on to the top of the intricate bed rails and not to let go. She’d obeyed, waiting breathlessly as she watched his dark head moved back closer to where she needed him to touch.

“Do not let go of the bed,” he’d warned, “or I’ll stop.”

He hadn’t given her time to reply. Any snarky comment would have been lost in her gasp, anyway, because he’d suddenly parted her legs over his shoulders and buried his head between them.

Oh, Lord. That tongue.

She’d gripped on tightly, as he pushed her higher. His mouth moved over her tender flesh. Such torment. Such mounting pleasure as he teased and cajoled, teased and kissed. He knew how to kiss indeed. And finally, he took her clitoris in his mouth and did something with his tongue that locked all her muscles and made her scream his name.

Over and over his tongue pressed firmly against her, keeping her coming. His fingers entered her as his mouth continued sucking softly, playing with her wetness until the agony of needing him inside her was unbearable. She let go of the bed and grasped his hair, trying to pull him up.

He was unyielding to her demands, finger-fucking her while pleasuring her clitoris. She was half-blinded by the madness of sensation, until she just gave up and lay there, riding that orgasmic wave. It was only then that he’d climbed on top of her, the male weight flattening her breasts as he settled between her legs and pushed, his erection heavy and huge, sliding against her swollen clitoris in another attack of sensations.

His space. His rule. His slave. She’d surrendered to him like to none before as he fucked her in that slow way that always made her burn inside. It was an unquenchable fire and he’d taken his time loving her, fucking her until they both burned from the explosive heat of their desire.

Now, lying here this morning, she was feeling too sated to attempt to analyze the situation anymore. She always preferred to sleep alone, but last night she’d swallowed her pride and gone to Steve because, of all things, her bed felt bare without him. If she thought about it really hard, she knew she would start doing something totally uncharacteristic of Marlena Maxwell. She would start panicking.

“What are you writing?” she asked, more to stop the disturbing direction of her thoughts than anything else. His fingers were tracing words on her back. Eyes still closed, she followed the letters, frowning as she mentally formed the words. “My mermaid?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“What does that mean?”

“I had a lot of M words to describe Marlena Maxwell,” he explained, “but this stuck.”

She couldn’t see anything mermaidlike about herself. “Mermaid?” she asked again. She turned her head a little, opening an eye. “You think I’m a fishy woman? Are you insulting me?”

He grinned down at her. His finger drew a straight line down her spine, then gently scraped upward again. “A mythical creature from the deep. A siren that supposedly beguiles and drowns unsuspecting sailors.”

“Oh, is that what I’m doing to you?” She laughed, amused at the thought of herself with a fishtail. She asked wickedly, “If I sing, would you come?”