SLEEPER (Crossfire Series) (20 page)

She looked up at the brick wall, her rope hanging loosely, waiting for her. Damn it. She couldn’t climb it without getting rope burns. She was very aware that her upper body strength wasn’t what it used to be, even with working out regularly all these years. She hadn’t actually practiced endurance and wall climbing. She could sacrifice her nails and do it, of course, but she’d wanted Gunther to look at his TV and see how effortlessly she was doing it.

She needed those gloves. They had a special sticky film sprayed on them to ease her climb. But after putting on her regular winter gloves, she’d left them on the train.

“Stupid bitch,” she muttered.

She wanted to make an entrance, to show Gunther what she was made of. The man didn’t have enough respect for her capabilities, and she wanted to teach him a lesson. Killing was too easy. She’d always liked a little flair in her work. She still smiled at the memory of one of her best dramatic moments: she’d ordered one of her men to lop off the long hair of her CIA boss’s wife, and she had hand-delivered the box to him herself before her escape. How she wished she’d been there to watch his face, but he would have done it in private anyway, and her time had been running out. She’d needed to disappear quickly or be caught.

But, yes, that had been the highlight of her final days in the States. Too bad her man had fucked up. Somehow her final revenge hadn’t finished with that woman’s death. How that tiny little thing had managed to escape was a mystery to Greta, but her sources had reported the woman had escaped and her kidnapper had been killed and his body burned in a fire.

Greta shook her head. She’d to stop gloating here. Gunther wasn’t dumb. He was probably waiting for her to show up.

She smiled. What could be a grander entrance than to ring the doorbell? He wouldn’t kill her, not yet anyway. People were expecting her at home and her death would point to him, since he’d been assigned to assist her. No, he just wanted to put her in a bad light so he could be the next big spy.

“Not of my stature, you won’t,” Greta murmured. He was incompetent at best. To jeopardize a whole mission just to get ahead in his standing was simply foolhardy. She was valued because she did her job to perfection. All her work was immaculate. If she said she was going to get a special explosive device, she would. If she was told to demonstrate how she could slip it undetected into a crowded, secured area with big political names in attendance, she would. She wouldn’t have dreamed up a stupid scheme using some stupid unknown woman who had a few illegal things in her past to go there and blow herself up with all of them.

Greta went to the front gate and rang the door chime. She stood there calmly as the electronic camera zoomed in on her.

Granted, had Gunther succeeded, he’d have gotten extra points for ridding them of a few powerful enemies. He’d have been rewarded for that, but Greta was very sure they wouldn’t have approved of his brash disregard for the original orders. And that was why she would always be better than this new breed of operatives.

The wrought-iron gate opened just wide enough for one person to slip inside. It closed behind her as she walked up the path toward the front door. As she approached, it opened by itself, like in some ghost movie. She stepped onto the doormat and wiped her boots with deliberate care as she looked inside.

* * *

How was it possible to be aware of so many details about a woman just by watching her walk into the room?

Reed gripped the shopping bags tightly. Lily’s skin glistened with droplets of water, her long legs flashing every time the flap between the two ends of the towel opened up when she took a step. She dabbed the side of her face with a smaller one.

“I told you I was in the shower,” she said, walking back into the bedroom and tossing the small towel onto the bed. She picked up a bottle of lotion from the nearby dresser.

He watched her for a moment. He’d forgotten how much time a woman took to get ready. It always fascinated him to see all their rituals before they even put a piece of clothing on.

“There’s a phone in the bathroom, Lily,” he pointed out as he stepped closer.

She shrugged again as she poured some of the cream onto her palm. “I didn’t hear anything. What did you want?”

Reed placed the bags at the end of the bed. “I forgot to ask for your shoe size,” he explained. “You should have everything else in these bags, though. We’ll just get the shoes afterward.”

He watched her rub the white milky stuff up her forearms and shoulders. “Afterward” had never sounded more erotic. He sat down on the bed.

She turned toward him, surprise in her eyes. Her hand held on to the knot in the front of the towel. “Don’t you ever think of any other form of payment?” she demanded.

“I don’t want your money. You need that for other things anyway,” he pointed out. “And for now, you need me.”

He tugged again. She still resisted him. She had the most beautiful eyes, not totally black but a dark chocolate brown that reminded him of hot fudge on ice cream. Every time he looked into them, he wanted to lick her.

He smiled. “Of course I do. I’m going to help you get ready. It’s my clothes you’re going to wear, so I should at least get to see you put them on.”

He knew those words would rile her. He was beginning to enjoy seeing that glint of temper in her eyes. That meant her focus was on him and not just on running off. For some reason he didn’t care to explore just now, he didn’t want her to think of him just as a way to get what she wanted. He pulled at the handful of towel in his grasp. She grabbed on to the knot tighter, at the same time lifting her leg to direct a kick.

“Uh-uh, no hurting your savior,” he said, easily catching her leg and tilting her sideways. Unbalanced, she fell forward and had to grasp his shoulder with her free hand. The fruity scent of body lotion tempted him. “The first rule of kicking at your opponent is to not worry whether you’re naked or not. Besides, I wouldn’t mind the scenery.”

He’d read in her file that although she wasn’t trained in martial arts, she knew how to protect herself. As he steadied her, he ran a hand down her calf, feeling its slender strength. He’d like to take her swimming and watch those legs kicking underwater. She would enjoy surfing. He was sure of it.

The image of her on a surfboard took away a little of his enjoyment. If wishes were horses…

“So why didn’t you pick up the phone?” he asked again instead. There was no way she couldn’t have heard the ringing, even with the water running.

“It stopped ringing by the time I heard it,” she said, her eyes not meeting his as she leaned down to kiss him.

“Liar.” Reed reached up and pulled the knot out of her hand. The towel fell to the floor. He tried to ignore the parts he really wanted to touch. He wondered whether she’d really been showering. The towel was dry.

“Did you get any condoms?” Lily asked, still landing soft kisses on his lips.

He was glad he was wearing clothes because he wanted to pull her down into his arms and forget about protection. “No.” He certainly wasn’t going to get Petr to do that part of the shopping for him. Besides, she was trying to distract him. Trying to ignore her hand massaging the back of his neck, he ran a light finger over the bandaged gauze wrapped around her arm. It was barely wet. It should be soaked through if she’d been showering. “I didn’t see any downstairs.”

“So how are you going to dress me?” she teased. “Are you sure you have everything I need?”

“Everything is there but underwear,” Reed told her. Her soft caress stilled as he reached for the bottle of lotion on the bed. “I like the idea of you not wearing any.”

She straightened up. “You aren’t going to do that to me again,” she said. Her eyes were so dark they were black now. “Not when you aren’t joining me.”

“Call this foreplay.”

She wanted to distract him. He decided to turn the tables.

Reed squeezed a generous amount onto her stomach. He smoothed the cream upward, enjoying the silkiness of her skin. Her tummy went taut with anticipation as he ran his palms up her rib cage. If she wanted to play who could distract whom the most, she was going to lose. He cupped both her breasts. They filled his hands as she inhaled sharply.

Reed thought about all the secrets she was hiding from everyone. He gently teased the pink nipples into little hard nubs. “You won’t answer my questions. Your body’s response is more truthful than you are. You know what? I don’t mind sitting here and doing this all day. Sooner or later, you’ll have to give me some answers.” He looked up. “Later is okay with me.”

He reached for the lotion again. She looked at him, her breathing a little faster.

“What do you want to know?”

“Who’s after you, for instance. I was shot at too, you know, so I’m more than a bit curious. And why do you need so many passports? What are they for? Tell me where you’re going.”

Where is the explosive device? Is someone still in control of you?

Her hands moved up to hold his face. “That’s too naked for me,” she whispered.

Reed had a feeling that her answer was very close to the truth. Llallana Noretski had hidden herself for so many years that talking about herself would be tantamount to being stripped naked emotionally. Except that, at this moment, she was trying to distract him physically.

“I know,” he said in a low voice. He wanted her to capitulate emotionally. That was the only way to find the real Lily. Still holding her gaze, he squeezed out a blob of lotion. He rubbed his palms and smoothed the thick liquid onto her soft skin. He would gladly play her game because he planned to win. “But that’s the fun of foreplay. I get to strip you one layer at a time.”

“Do I get to do the same thing?” she asked huskily. “And I don’t mean rubbing skin lotion all over you.”

“Ladies first,” he told her with a small smile.

It was crazy. He wanted her to want him for more than just his help; he wanted her to want him enough to share all her secrets with him. In a way, not being able to have sex with her was good. He didn’t want her to think he just wanted to fuck her. He wanted more than that.

It was a crazy thought, but he was thinking of saving her for himself.
Not possible.
The woman was wanted by a bunch of agencies. But he’d be lying to himself if he didn’t admit that he was playing with alternative scenarios. He’d, after all, been brought up a Vincenzio, and Vincenzios always found a way to buy and keep secrets.

* * *

Greta sipped on her coffee as she studied the man sitting across the table from her. She wasn’t easily surprised, but Gunther Galbert had certainly done that this morning. She hadn’t expected him to be breakfasting in his greenhouse, surrounded by tropical and semitropical plants and miniature fountains. Of course, he had a computer on a cart beside him, from which he could monitor anything he wished. But at the moment, he appeared to be immersed in his food.

“You sure you don’t want some?” he asked in German.

She shook her head. “No, thank you.”

He was probably a dozen years younger than her, but with the trimmed beard and professorial clothing, he looked older. She’d dealt with him a number of times when she’d worked in D.C., passing information back and forth, and he’d always struck her as more of a courier, but here he’d been playing her like a seasoned operative. She wondered what he had in store for her today.

“I like doing business on a full stomach,” he said.

“I wasn’t aware we were doing any business together,” Greta said.

“You’re still angry at the little trick I pulled on you, aren’t you?” He wiped his mouth, then pushed his chair back. “You should’ve known you’d be tested now that you’re back in the game.”

She peered up at him as she took another sip from her cup. She licked her lips, savoring the strong taste of good coffee. “I’m not back in the game,” she lied smoothly. “I’m retiring, remember?”

“Come, come. If you were, why did you choose to have the weapon hidden in one of your nephew’s dropped CIA weapons caches?” Gunther lit a thin cheroot. He inhaled deeply, closing his eyes with enjoyment. After a moment, he added, “The old Greta I knew would have found a better way of delivery, one that wasn’t so risky.”

She didn’t like the way he used the word ‘old.’ “I was in a hurry to get out of the States,” she said, then realized belatedly that she’d fallen into a trap. He was making her admit that she’d been on the verge of being caught. She amended, “I wanted to be the one to handle the item myself, since this is my last job for the Agency.”