Overkill (The Mammoth Book of Special Ops) (4 page)

When he found the kitchen, three floors down, Laine was already there. Cooking! “I thought you had a chef for that.” He gestured toward the pot in her hands.

“We do. But when I get the chance, I like to do it myself.” She moved the pan off the heat. “And this is pretty simple stuff. Some pasta and chicken.” With her head she gestured to the table and chairs by a window that looked out over a small terrace. “Sit.”

He sat, and in seconds she’d filled their plates and joined him at the table, already set with cutlery and two glasses of wine.

“Laine, I—“

“Eat, Tanner. Just eat. Please.”

Damned if her face wasn’t pink. “Not before I apologize. That kiss... I stepped over the line.”
And I’d do it again in a heartbeat.

She shook her head. “And I stepped out of character.” Looking at him, she added. “Which didn’t make it any less... fantastic.” She put down her fork. “But I didn’t ask you down here to talk about our misguided kiss.”

He let the ‘misguided’ comment go and stayed on the ‘fantastic’. Picking up his fork, he asked. “Then what?”

“I want to talk about my father.” She gave him her full attention. “And I want to know why you’re here.”

Tanner looked into her keen, searching eyes, and didn’t miss the cool intelligence behind them. Years ago, those eyes had been hidden behind glasses with big dark frames. Now nothing hid them, not shyness—and she had been shy—not uncertainty, and not her innate intelligence. Laine Derek had grown up to be the smartest, toughest, sexiest woman on the fucking planet, and he wasn’t going to disrespect that.

“You’re not going to like it,” he said.

“Try me.”

“I came here to kill your father.”

She blinked and her clear brow furrowed, then she pressed a hand to her throat as if to regulate her breathing. “Say again.”

“You heard it right the first time.”

For a moment, she sat still as marble, then she brought her hand back down to the table. “If you’re telling me this, I have to think, A you’ve changed your plan, or B you also plan to kill me—maybe with your pasta fork. After you’ve eaten, of course.”

He curled some pasta on the fork in question, but answered her before putting it in his mouth.
 
“First off, I never had a plan, I’m only the hired gun.” He ate the pasta, wiped his mouth with the napkin. “And second, I’d cut out my heart before I hurt Joe Derek.”
Or you.

“I don’t understand.”

Tanner, tired of playing it cool, and wanting some answers of his own, put down his fork and picked up his wine. “It’s your father’s idea. He wants me to kill him before he goes under the knife.”

She stood. “That’s insane! Why on earth would he want that?” Roughly, she shoved her long dark hair behind her ears, held it there, a look of utter confusion on her beautiful face.

“He says he’s afraid to wake up and not be the man he was.”

“The surgery isn’t without risk, of course, but the doctors are confident— This makes no sense!” She turned away, then back. “And why you? Why did he choose you? Is that what you are? A killer for hire?” The words were no sooner out of her mouth than she held up her hand, palm toward him. “Damn it! You’re a Raven, aren’t you?”

How the hell did she know about the Raven Force
? “What are you talking about?”

The look she gave him was withering. “Do not treat me like an idiot, Tanner. I’ve known about my father’s...
sub rosa
operation for years. I run Derek Industries, for God’s sake. That means I follow the money. Raven is very expensive.”

“I see.” One smart lady. And damn it, he was a sucker for smarts. His chest tightened over an alien surge of panic. A red alert. He could fall for this woman—fall hard.
Do not go there, Cross. Focus!
“How much do you know?”

She faltered. “No details. I know the work involves the illegal arms trade, sometimes drugs. In the last few years, anti-terrorism.” She paused. “And I know it’s important to my father.”

“The Raven Force
is
your father. And it’s not only the money. He’s a genius strategist, connected to the highest levels of government, both here and stateside. He knows—hell, he
vets
—every operative in the force. That kind of power attracts equally powerful enemies, for him, and the Ravens.” He rubbed his jaw. “My guess is that’s what this death wish of his is all about—what he knows and who he knows. He’s thinks this surgery will make him a danger to everyone involved. Everything he’s built.”

She eyed him warily, suspicion darkening her startling green eyes. “Maybe you agree with him. Maybe you’ll do anything to protect the Ravens.”

“I will.”

“I thought you said...” She straightened. “I’ll kill you if you hurt my father, Tanner. I mean it.”

“Jesus, I am not going to hurt him! Get that in your head and keep it there.” Running a hand through his hair, he added, “I’d rather hurt the other guy.”

“Other guy?”

“Joe knows hiring a Raven to kill him is not a sure thing. Especially this one.” He smacked his heart.“Hell, I’d be a nowhere man if it wasn’t for him turning my life around, getting my ass in the army, taking me on as a Raven.” He took a beat. “I think he’s got a back-up plan.”

“Then why call you in at all?”

He fired his finger at her. “Two points for the question. Another twenty if you have the answer.”
 
Her question cut to the heart of this mess, and he’d been turning it over—and over—in his mind since he’d got the call from Holister. Why him?

Silence.

Laine paced a bit, shoved her hair behind her ears again. She stopped abruptly. “Plan B. Of course!” She nodded her head as if to herself. “Dad always has a Plan B, and that plan ‘must run parallel and be as fool-proof as the first.” She looked up at him, her eyes wide.

Tanner nodded. He’d heard Joe say those exact words a dozen times. “Now all we have to do is figure out Plan B.”

“Come with me.” She marched toward the door.

A few seconds later they were in the library with its walls of books, expensive carpets, and massive male-sized furniture.

Laine went directly to the fireplace, ran her hand along the carved mantel, and gave it a tug; the fireplace swung open like a gate. Tanner arched a brow in the direction of the many bookcases, the usual cover for secret rooms.

She followed his glance. “Too predictable. Dad had this”—she nodded toward the electric fireplace—“put in when we first bought in Mayfair.”

“And he told you about it?”

“Not exactly. I pay attention.”

“Remind me never to cheat on you.”

Before she ducked to enter the small space behind the fireplace, she shot him a questioning look.

A few seconds later, she emerged waving a leather notebook. “Here it is.” She plopped it on the desk and pulled the desk lamp closer.

He read over her shoulder, then cursed, and paced halfway across the room.

Her eyes followed him—like a pair of damning lasers. “He wants you to succeed him as head of Raven Force, and he’s putting a billion-and-a-half dollars at your disposal for its operational expenses. The papers governing the funds are all in Switzerland. That’s why you’re here! First you prove your loyalty by not killing him, then you take over after someone else does.” She slammed the book closed. “God, how serpentine is that. And so damn like him!” She turned on Tanner, eyes blazing. “And it gives you a powerful reason to want my father’s death.”

He strode toward her, pulled her to him, and kissed the spite out of her. When he finally lifted his mouth from hers, he said, “What I want, Laine Derek, is you. You figure I have a chance at that if I murder your father on the road to our happy ending.”

She shook her head. “Not a chance in hell.”

“Then shut up and let me kiss you.” The kiss was rough, then soft, and about the time he thought he’d drown in it, he pulled back. He was damn pleased that she looked dazed and confused. “I told you we couldn’t be friends.”

Silence. “So you did.” She gave him an unreadable look, half frustration, half confusion. “I just didn’t believe you.”

“And now?” He let out a long breath, frustrated that he didn’t have time to take the kiss where it was meant to lead. But—given he had a killer to stop—sex just wasn’t on the agenda. Yet. He stepped away from her.

She gave him a hard but thoughtful look. “I’m getting it. Not sure what to do about it, but I’m definitely getting it.”

“Then hold that thought, because right now we have to talk about your father.” He took a couple of steps. “He’s scheduled to go to the hospital”—he looked at his watch—“in thirty-one hours. Right?”

“Right.”

“Then the kill has to be set for tomorrow night.”

At his use of the word ‘kill’ she turned ashen.

He wanted to take her in his arms, tell her everything was going to be okay. He also didn’t want to make promises he couldn’t keep. Right now they both needed to think, not feel.

“No one wants to die a second before they have to, plus he’s planned a dinner for, according to Collier, his closest friends.” He looked at Laine, who’d put a hand over her mouth, as if to contain her distress. “Joe Derek doesn’t plan to wake up.”

Laine leaned heavily on the edge of her father’s massive desk. What Tanner said made perfect sense. Her father had been planning tomorrow night’s dinner for a month now. A reunion dinner, he called it. He’d flown old friends in from Chicago, New York...

Damn him, he was saying good-bye!

“What’s wrong?” Tanner asked, taking a couple of steps toward her, then stopping.

“Thinking about him... planning all this, while I fussed and worried about him coming through the surgery.”
 
She shook her head. “Bringing you here. Hiring his own killer! Damn it, I could kill him myself! When he gets home, I’m going to call him on it and—”

“No, you’re not.” He came to stand in front of her, lifted her chin. His blue eyes were dead serious. “I need to know if he’s hired a Raven for this job. You tip Joe off and that won’t happen—he’ll find another way. Maybe cancel the surgery.”

Her stomach sank. He was right. If her dad was anything, he was determined. “Then what? How do we stop this insanity?”

He took his hand away from her face. “We play his game. But starting tomorrow night, after the dinner, your father doesn’t leave my sight until he’s on that operating table, meaning whoever he’s hired has to get to him through me. And that’s not going to happen. That’s a positive. Okay?”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure. But judging from that look in your eye, you’re not. So you’re welcome to keep those suspicious eyes on me—if it will make you feel better.”

“It will.”

“Fair enough.” Brushing her hair back, he took her face in his hands and kissed her forehead in the way he’d done so many years ago. Then he touched his lips to hers, and her knees turned to rubber.

“I don’t entirely trust you, you know.” She sounded too breathy. “No matter how much you kiss me.”

“I wouldn’t trust me, either.” He kissed her then, softly, slowly, his mouth whispering over hers. Her arms went around his neck, pulling him closer, until the hard length of him was flush between her hips.

He felt so good, so right...

“Have I told you how beautiful you are,” he whispered, taking the kiss deeper. “How much I love your mouth, that soft sound that purrs from the back of your throat when we kiss.” His mouth hovering over hers, his voice hoarse, he said, “I want to make love to you, Laine. I ache with wanting you.” He lifted his head, looked into her eyes. “When this is all over... is that going to happen?”

She should have hesitated, done at least a second or two of the I’m-not-that-easy routine. She didn’t. “Yes. That’s most definitely going to happen. If—”

“Shush.” He put a finger to her mouth. “I know the ‘if’.”

The dining room was immense, the table a mile long, and the guests formal. Tanner donned the tux which, thankfully, was soft-structured. He was comfortable enough at the dinner party in the role of ‘old friend’, and the swirl of conversation, clinking glasses, and occasional bursts of laughter provided enough distraction for him to keep a close eye on the dinner guests. Other than an initial clap on the shoulder, Joe Derek kept his distance. No surprise.