Kiss the Enemy (Slye Temp) (15 page)

He once admitted to having it cut sometimes just for when he came home to her after a long mission.

Had he done that this time?

Was she really going there?

Tonight was not the night to open doors to the past. She couldn’t stand here and pretend everything was fine when it hadn’t been in so long, and wouldn’t be until she knew who in the agency had screwed her two years ago. “What’s up, Gage?”

He continued to unload food on the island space she used for a table as he spoke. “I told you the Banker was in the states.”

“Right.”  That confirmed Margaux had gotten solid intel after all, but she shouldn’t have gone off on her own. Sabrina ran her hand through her hair. Still damp. “Any idea what he’s gathering mercs for?”

“We’re working on it.”  He put the white bag on the floor then turned to her. The kitchen hadn’t seemed small the whole time she’d lived here.

Gage had a way of taking over a room without a word.

He stood three feet from her, drinking her in with his silence.

At one time, that would have been too far away, but now it was too close. She’d had a sniper trained on him the first time they’d met after the blown UK op, but he kept chipping away at her, determined to tear down walls she was just as determined to reinforce.

But being alone with him was testing her engineering skills. Her heart was trying to kick down her walls from the inside.

He took a step toward her. A test to see if she’d balk or back away.

She wouldn’t run. Her gaze skipped over the island where he’d placed only one plate. “Aren’t you eating?”

“No.” He took another step, closing the gap to inches.

“Why not?”

He lifted his hand, reaching out to touch her but it stopped in mid motion.

She tensed, wanting to feel those fingers more than a junkie crashing, wanting a hit, and cursed herself for the weakness.

He dropped his hand. “I can’t stay here and not touch you.”

Damn him for looking at her as if she were still his world. If he touched her now, she wasn’t sure she could tell him no. Time had a way of dulling the righteous fury she’d banked day after day.

He waited for a sign from her. That rigid control he held with an iron grip prevented him from seducing her and risking the fallout. And they both knew he could do it, which was why letting him inside had been a mistake.

She wanted him, too, but if she gave in to her body tonight would she be able to face herself tomorrow?

His fingers grazed her cheek and, to her detriment, she shivered at the contact.

“Are you going to stand there and tell me you don’t miss us, Sabrina?”

“No, but neither am I going to put aside what happened and act like nothing has changed.”

“Nothing should have changed between us,” he argued.

“But it did.”

A look of sad resignation crossed his face before it settled into irritation. “Does your stubborn pride keep you warm at night?”

That’s all it took to back her away from committing emotional suicide. “I could ask you the same about your conscience unless you’re ready to give me the names of everyone who knew about the UK mission.”  She waited a beat, hoping just once he’d bend his inflexible belief in the agency.

His jaw hardened.

She had her answer. “No? Just as a I thought.”

“The minute I know who tried to kill you, you’ll know. I can’t promise he’ll still be breathing by the time you get to him. Not after I spent two years wondering if you were alive or dead.”

He meant every word. She didn’t want to believe him, but her damned heart had trusted him once and wanted to trust him again. And if she was completely honest, she was lonely, but for only one man’s touch. Her heart and her loyalty warred. Giving in to Gage would be betraying Josh, Dingo and the others on that team who had barely escaped with their lives that night.

Josh’s female contact had bled out in his arms.

Her team, no, her
friends
had placed unquestioned faith in her, and she’d given hers to Gage. She said, “You want me to trust you but you don’t trust me.”

“That’s not true.”

“Then why won’t you share what you know about the UK op so we can figure it out together? From where I’m standing, it looks like you’re protecting someone.”

Gage put his fist up against his forehead, eyes closed. “One of these days you’re going to realize—”

“What?”

He lowered his hand, sounding worn around the edges. “That you aren’t the only one with wounds from that night.” 

She saw something that she’d never seen in Gage’s eyes. Vulnerability. He was tearing her heart apart again. “I can’t do this with you right now, Gage.”

“I know.”

“No, you don’t.” Sabrina stepped away, anything to break the tension rolling off him. “I have an agent—”

“Who disappeared from the Trophy Room two days ago.”

She caught herself before she asked how he knew. His resources trumped hers all over the place. “What else do you know?”

He could have evaded, but he didn’t. “That a female agent on your team disappeared after busting a DEA operation. Same agent?”

She had a feeling he already knew the answer to that and wanted to see if she would play straight with him. “Margaux has been after the Banker since he killed our liaison on the FBI case against Ryder last year. She listened to the hit go down on a live cell phone call and took it personally. She got bad intel from a snitch that had been solid for three years. Now the DEA’s out for blood.”

  “They’re the least of her problems.”

Just the way he said that gave Sabrina a whole new level of worry for Margaux. She asked the question she didn’t want to hear the answer to. “Why?”

“We’ve been after the Banker for three and a half years. No one has gotten close to him and survived.”

Sabrina leaned back against the counter next to the sink. Easier to breathe over here without every inhale drawing in Gage’s scent. “Margaux’s tough to kill, and I’m not ready to give up on her being alive.”

“That’s not what I’m saying. If she’s dead, you’ll find out soon enough because the Banker makes an example of anyone who crosses him. But she entered the Trophy Room alone. No sign of being coerced.”

Sabrina stood up straight. “She was after intel. Had to be.”

“Who
is
Margaux?”

Sabrina had worked miracles to wipe out Margaux’s identity and technically did not owe her anything now that Margaux had walked away, but she’d given her word to protect her. Plus, Margaux was still her friend and Sabrina cared what happened to her. If Sabrina told Gage what she knew about Margaux, would he feel duty bound to share that information?

He sure as hell didn’t feel the need to share anything on the UK with her.

When she didn’t answer, his chest moved with a sigh of an ill-fated messenger. “We’ve been working with the FBI on the Banker for a while, because it was only a matter of time before he entered the US. The FBI learned of instructions for a meeting with the Banker being passed off at the Trophy Room. A woman entered dressed as a call girl known as Violet. The real Violet was tied up in her apartment the whole time this was going down. There are witnesses who saw the impersonator walk up to a Russian mercenary called Dragan Stoli who’s in this country to meet with the Banker.”

This could only be more bad news, but Sabrina asked, “What’s this woman’s status according to the FBI?”

“The woman who impersonated Violet is suspected of working
for
the Banker.”

Sabrina scrambled for an argument. Margaux had been made up so well only Nick had recognized her that night. “There’s no evidence that Margaux was the one who—”

He held up his hand. “We both know it was Margaux. Her fingerprints haven’t shown up in any database, but a file was delivered anonymously to the FBI. There were photos of Margaux being made up to look like Violet and the makeup artist has already given a statement to the FBI, confirming a photo of Margaux as the woman she did a makeover on four hours before the Trophy Room fire. As of now, Margaux is persona non grata and an enemy of the state.” 

What the hell, Margaux?
How was Sabrina going to be able to help her if she couldn’t tap her government resources?

“But if you hear from her, have her contact me. I’ll take any lead on the Banker or Dragan. No promises, but if Margaux helps take either one or both down, I’ll do what I can in return.” Gage stepped up close and put his hand on her cheek. “I know how you are about protecting your people, but you need to distance yourself from her or you’ll go down with her.”

She stepped back. This was the difference. His people were CIA agents. Hers were her family. “I’ll let you know if I hear anything, but I’ll bring her in myself before I put her in the crosshairs of the FBI or the CIA.”

“She’s already in the crosshairs.”

CHAPTER 17

Logan watched the Quonset hut his kidnappers used for a headquarters. He didn’t have to look over at Margaux—that was the name she’d gone by back in France—to know that she was in trouble. He could hear her trying to keep her breathing shallow and quiet.

Her right hand had swollen until she couldn’t close her fingers.

He’d fed her all the water they had and sweat poured out of her.

Once Logan had found the camp, he’d had to make a wide arc to get Margaux to the rear of the Quonset without drawing any attention. Hunkered down this close, he could hear voices through the screened windows.

Their kidnappers now had at least ten men again based on what Logan had translated from the shouting going on in the hut. Most of the men were out hunting for Logan and Margaux, but three had just returned to camp and their leader was stroking out over their returning empty-handed.

They had more men coming soon with dogs that could track.

There was no time to get Margaux away from here and she wouldn’t get much farther without antibiotics he hoped like hell were in a First Aid kit in that hut. As it was, she’d never make it to any place he’d consider safe enough to leave her and he’d figured out that she’d rather suffer and stay with him than be left alone. Not much for the outdoors.

He felt a tug on his shirt and turned to where she sat on the ground next to where he squatted. He leaned close to her and whispered, “What, Sugar?”

“We’ll wait until night when they’re asleep.”

“You need antibiotics now.”

She cursed. “Is
that
why we came back here ... and risked getting caught?”

He squatted down so he could put his arm around her shoulders and speak right into her ear. “We’re not going to get caught. As soon as those three leave, you’re going to cover my back while I take out the leader and get what we need.”

She thought on that a minute and turned to him, her voice barely loud enough for him to hear. “I’ll walk ... into the yard. Draw him out. You pick him off.”

No fucking way. Instead of arguing, he just shook his head. “The leader won’t step outside that building.”

“How ... do you know?”

He made up something on the fly. “I’ve been listening to them. I understand the language.”

She swallowed hard. Her face was so pale it glowed in this shaded spot. He’d never forget the way that same face had looked when he’d made love to her in Paris. How could you forget a woman who was pure passion? One you lost yourself in every time you were buried deep inside her?

That hadn’t been part of the plan back then.

He’d needed her fourth-floor apartment that gave him the perfect location for watching a target. He’d ended up with a woman who made him want to break all his hard-and-fast rules about remaining alone.

Suspicion was a natural part of his being, and for the past hour, he’d been seeing their time together in Paris through different eyes. Had she really been an American on a work visa? Or had she been one hell of a trained operative back then at the age of twenty?

He’d been so sure
he
had seduced her.

Had it been the other way around?

He’d checked on her at her job their first couple of days together, then decided she didn’t present a threat. Not to his mission.

His heart had been another story.

Someone inside the Quonset hut let loose with a vicious curse.

Logan turned back to listen. The leader barked out orders in guttural Spanish. He ordered the three men to go back out to search for the escaped prisoners. He warned his men not to forget what would happen if all of them did not make their deadline in two more days.

What the hell was that deadline all about?

The three men cursed and complained but walked out then refilled their canteens from a pump attached to a barrel. Logan licked his lips, craving a drink, and that barrel had to be filled with treated water.  

He hadn’t told Margaux that he’d used the last tablet two hours ago when he’d found a stream. If he didn’t get her meds soon, water wouldn’t matter.

Once the men disappeared in different directions, Logan gave it twenty minutes to be sure they were far enough not to hear gunshots through this thick vegetation.

Margaux caught his arm. “Help me up.”

Those three words had to be tough for her.

This was the same woman who’d refused to accept any money he offered her in France to help with her expenses. She took nothing that smacked of dependence. She was also the woman who had destroyed him for other women. She’d been so sweet and loving, just as mysterious and secretive back then, but he hadn’t cared.

Maybe he should have taken a closer look, but being with her had been the only time he’d ever felt alive.

For a short time, he’d actually started thinking about what it would be like to have someone for more than a few nights. He’d been so sure of himself and his skills that he’d taken all she’d given, never doubting that she was only a bartender, and never expecting to see her again.

She’d been the one to state the no-strings-attached rules.

Nine days was all it had taken to become addicted to her scent, her laugh and the feel of her in his arms.

How the hell had she ended up in this situation?