Agent U7: Keegan (The D.I.R.E. Agency Series Book 7) (4 page)

Her breath came faster. To have him inside her?

Stepping away, he dropped her arm, his grey eyes dark and turbulent. Her body screamed with longing. How could he just…stop? How could he do that to her and not feel something?

At a loss for words, she could do nothing but stare.

“Ready to go back?”

Her mouth dropped open. He really didn’t want her. Forget all of her pride, the games she’d played. Knowing he could do that to her, affect her that way and not reciprocate, burned a hole right through her chest where all of her newfound courage was stored.

Those stupid tears built behind her eyes again, but this time, she faced them defenseless.

“Keegan?” His hands cupped her cheeks, the pad of his thumb grazing her lower lip as he stared at her mouth.

“Clint…” Her voice caught.

He captured her mouth in a kiss filled with eager wonder, his lips soft, gentle against hers. Her heart sprinted with wild abandon, his own racing in unison beneath her palms. On the surface, the kiss could be called one of sweet exploration. Yet below, it burned with barely restrained hunger, a struggle of bravery versus desire.

The resentment and fear she’d felt with Cyrus proved absent, the detached lust of her recent lovers, a revelation. This kiss was neither, but a discreet display of all-consuming splendor, something she’d never conceived in her cynical mind, something made of daydreams and little girls’ fairytales.

All from a quiet scientist.

Pulling away, his grey-blue eyes burned with blue flames, his face flushed with arousal. His slashed brows told of his disorientation, his damp palms against her cheeks, his anxiety.

She had to strike before he allowed logic to intrude.

Hooking her hand around his neck, she rose up on her toes and captured his lips again, her kiss hungrier, needier than the first. When she plundered his mouth with determined need, he groaned aloud, his arms wrapping around her tight.

Gooseflesh sprouted along her spine to splinter through her limbs, her body tingling within his warm embrace. His urgent, yet patient kisses relayed the desire he’d refused to acknowledge. He wanted her, just as she wanted him. She may not be what he wanted out of life, but he couldn’t deny the hunger between them.

“Robinson.”

They jumped away from each other, breathing hard. Mitchell stood at the end of the small hallway. He nodded toward the area where the others were dining.

“Over here. Now.”

Grabbing her hand, Clint led her back to the table. His grip was tight, nearly cutting off the circulation in her fingers. When they reached the alcove, he let go and escorted her ahead of him. Mitchell watched them take their seats, a solemn Angela at his side.

He glanced down at the DNA tracker in his hand. “Tristan, stand in front of the door to the kitchen and don’t let anyone pass through.”

With a slight frown, his son got up and sauntered to the door several feet away. He stood before it, arms crossed over his chest.

“What is this, Mitchell?” Dar Naylor said, grabbing the back of his chair to twist around. “Afraid we’re going to walk out on your monologue?”

Raising his gaze to Dar, he spoke in a matter-of-fact tone. “Yes. Or run.”

The room fell into a deadly silence, all eyes on the D.I.R.E. commander. That’s when she realized the wait staff was nowhere to be seen. Whatever he had to say, it couldn’t be good.

“You’ve never been one for drama, Mitchell,” Rachel Monroe said, as she glanced away from her fiancé standing at the door. “Why the mystery?”

“No mystery, Rachel.” He patted Angela’s hand where it clutched the crook of his elbow. “Just precautions.”

Dar’s voice sounded ripe with sarcasm. “Well, we know who he trusts—or doesn’t trust. Don’t we?”

Aidan’s voice held a note of impatience. “Damn, Naylor, of course he’s going to trust his son.”

Cocking his head, Dar stared at his future brother-in-law. “My father didn’t.”

Jocelyn grabbed Dar’s hand and kissed it.

“Let me be clear on this,” Mitchell said, as he glanced around the room. “I trust everyone on my team. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be here.”

If he didn’t spit it out soon, she would walk out again. This was no place for business. It was a personal, special occasion.

“We ran Cyrus’s DNA through the tracker.”

She caught her breath. His gaze flew to her face. Her heart raced as it had in the hallway moments ago. Clint caught her hand under the table.

“He’s still locked away where we left him, Keegan.”

The air rushed out of her lungs, as Clint squeezed her hand.

“But, he has relatives.”

His grandfather was dead and they already suspected this Madam of being a relative, possibly his mother. Why did that warrant an interruption of the rehearsal dinner?

“Where?” Dylan’s grip on Teague’s hand tightened to white-knuckled. “Here in San Diego?”

Keegan’s heart galloped again, a sense of foreboding shrouding her in a cloud of unease. Mitchell’s voice held a cynical, perturbed edge.

“No, McCall. Here in this room. Someone here is related to Cyrus Matheson.”

Chapter 4

She should’ve listened to her gut.

Rising up from her seat, she ignored Clint’s wide-eyed stare and walked to her father’s side. She knew him, was sure of him—and, Natalie. However, she didn’t know the others. One of them was hiding something. One of them had infiltrated D.I.R.E. and made it into this room of top security, elite personnel.

Had she been rescued only to be imprisoned by Cyrus’s family again?

Rather than the eruption of conversation she’d expected from Mitchell’s statement, the room remained silent.

“A confession is in order.” He glanced around the room, his gaze expectant. “I won’t consider it an admission of guilt and we’ll speak in private.”

“You really think one of us are in with Cyrus Matheson?” Jaydan held out his hands wide, his brow furrowed. “How can you even go there?”

Mitchell held up the tracker. “This doesn’t lie.”

Clint’s low voice resonated. “Have you considered the person may not know they’re related?”

Keegan’s gut tightened, her palm squeezing her father’s arm. Coming from the man that appeared more like Cyrus than anyone in the room, Clint’s question seemed rather convenient.

I didn’t know I was related to one of the most dangerous criminals in the world
.
My bad
.

A skeptical huff escaped. At least Cassandra and Dar admitted their sordid past.

Mitchell’s blue eyes glittered as he stared at Clint. “I have—and deem it doubtful.”

“Considering how much Cyrus knew about me and my mother,” Hope said, glancing at her father at the end of the table, “I suggest you run my DNA. I think it makes the most sense.”

Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, Jaydan pulled Hope against his side.

Hope
. Of course. Her mother was the beginning of Clay Matheson’s master race initiative. Perhaps, Kimberly DePaul was Clay’s daughter.

“We’ve never had any relatives come up in the tracker, Mitchell.” Luke glared at him with heated accusation. “It can’t be Hope.”

“We’re on a new playing field now, Powers,” said Mitchell. “No one is absolved from this investigation. I’m having headquarters run everyone’s DNA—including my own.”

Keegan’s mind raced. Wouldn’t that make for interesting conversation? The head of D.I.R.E. and Cyrus Matheson. Or…

Angela.

What did they know about her? She’d taken the first time travel machine back to the future to avoid legal consequences. From what Jocelyn had told her, Angela wasn’t the most dependable person in the space time continuum.

She glanced at Clint. He reminded her so much of Cyrus. Both brilliant scientists, both blond, both…attractive. How could it be a mere coincidence?

Then again, they were nothing alike when it came to temperaments, attitude…kissing.

“What about Clint?” she blurted, before she realized the words had left her mouth.

He whipped around to glare at her, his lips pulled tight, his grey eyes stormy.

“I know Cyrus better than any of you,” she said. “If anyone reminds me of him, it’s Robinson.”

His low, logical voice held no malice or defensive derision. Only wondrous disbelief. “Is that why you kissed me in the hall?”

She caught her breath. He’d had to study her response to him. He’d had to pursue it despite the signs she’d given him to leave her.

Her gut had told her not to give into this attraction for him. Maybe she was falling into old habits after years of living with Cyrus. Maybe subconsciously, Clint felt comfortable because he was so familiar.

Her stomach swirled with defeat.

Clint turned to Mitchell. “I volunteer, too. I have nothing to hide.”

* * *

He’d heard it all. Him—related to Cyrus Matheson? No matter how much Clint may remind Keegan of him, he wasn’t related.

Are you sure about that, Robinson?

He shouldn’t shun the possibility. There was no telling how many brothers and sisters he had out there, although he’d never seen his mother pregnant after she’d had his brother. Clint knew James wasn’t out there. He’d taken care of that.

“So, we’re all stuck in this room until you receive the results?” Natalie said, her arm hooked through Riordan’s beside her.

“We have everyone’s DNA on file at headquarters. It shouldn’t take long. Please, go about your dinner.”

Riordan gave a laugh of disdain before Natalie leaned over to speak low. “Riordan, let’s just postpone. This feels wrong.”

Clint’s gaze flashed to Keegan. The instigator in all of this. She was so determined to have her way and let this wedding take place. Her obstinacy irritated the crap out of him.

That’s why her vulnerability in the hallway had been a shock.

He’d wanted nothing more than to erase the hurt in her eyes, to dissolve the tears she’d fought with valiance. He understood her stance on having the wedding, but sometimes—most of the time—logic had to win.

James had taught him that—the hard way. Clint had done his share of spoiling his little brother, trying to make up for the absence of Russ and Carol Robinson. James cried when the two of them were left at home with the nanny. He’d had temper tantrums the likes of which Clint had never seen again. Back then, he’d done anything and everything to make James stop crying.

Even going against his own gut.

He’d never do it again. Not even for Keegan.

“At this point, I have to agree with Natalie,” Clint said.

Keegan’s hazel eyes flashed with green gold fire. “Why should we listen to the most likely suspect in the room?”

“Now, wait a minute,” Tristan Jacobs said, shocking everyone. The quiet super agent didn’t speak up often. “No one is accusing Clint of anything. I’d bet my life on him, regardless of his heritage.”

Clint’s pride welcomed the support, despite his reservations. These agents had become his friends—he’d altered their bodies. They had to trust him. He’d sooner die than hurt them. They were his real family. His parents had done nothing more than provide financial livelihood.

The other agents voiced their support, while Keegan glared icepicks at him. To think she’d kissed him like he meant something to her only a few minutes ago. Now, he was the enemy.

“Look,” Riordan said, “we aren’t going down the road of suspicion. That’s exactly what this Madam wants. We’re not—”

A knock sounded on the door behind Tristan. Opening it, he took a note from a D.I.R.E. agent and shut it again. Walking over to Riordan and Natalie, he handed it to them.

Frowning, Riordan ripped it open while Natalie looked at it over his shoulder. His eyes scanned the cream-colored parchment before his nostrils flared.

“What is it?” Hope’s gaze went from the note to her brother’s face.

Snatching the letter from his hand, Natalie read it aloud. “Congratulations on your big day. Looking forward to it. M.”

Anger and worry twisted Clint’s gut. She was toying with them. It would be a big day for everyone, whether the wedding took place or not.

Dylan jumped up and started to pace. “We need to get every freakin’ D.I.R.E. agent on the planet here by tomorrow morning.”

Jaydan nodded. “And, we need to call in every favor we’re owed. Colonel Montgomery has connections, too.” He glared at Keegan. “I don’t give a flip if anyone thinks we can’t handle it. We can’t be in two places at the same time, and I’m not going to take a chance with Hope, Austin and Monica, or anyone in this room.”

“I have some people I can call.” Luke pulled out his phone as Annie squeezed Riordan’s hand.

“So, do I,” said Dan Meeks, reaching in his breast pocket.

“
Stop
. Both of you.” Mitchell’s voice boomed in the buzzing room. “Last time I checked,
I
was still head of this organization and
I’ll
make the decisions. We don’t know who she’s connected to or if she’s called in her own favors. We’re going to use our own personnel. That’s it.”

“Even if you can’t trust them?” Keegan said, avoiding Clint’s glare.

Mitchell looked at his phone, a frown marring his dark brow. He glanced up, his sharp gaze zeroing in on Clint.

Oh, God, no…

“Robinson. You and I need to have a talk.”

Denial squeezed her lungs in a vice grip, her intuition taunting
I told you so
. The truth burned through her gut like wildfire, while her body, her heart yearned for Clint.

Just moments ago, she’d found a peace and excitement in his arms she’d never felt before. The reverence in his kiss, the sheer humility had sucked her in with little resistance. She’d thought she’d found the peace she sought, but it had only been a disguise for the lies and sick obsession of Cyrus and his…family.

Dar said, “You involve us and now you’re going to question him alone? Why can’t we witness the interrogation? Robinson is one of us and I don’t know about the others, but I want to see the truth revealed myself.”

Jocelyn laced her hand through Dar’s on the top of the table as the others nodded in agreement. Clint had formed a bond with these men through their enhancements. They had trusted him with their bodies and were now in denial with her. Could he have harmed them in some way? Planted nanobots or serum like the Madam had done to Monica Montgomery?

Scowling, Mitchell glanced around the room before his gaze landed on Tristan. His son crossed his arms over his chest where he stood in the front of the kitchen door. He wasn’t moving.

Mitchell said, “This is not a democracy. If you don’t like it, by all means, leave. But, just remember who installed your enhancements and who controls those armbands you wear. This isn’t about loyalty, Naylor. It’s about safety and the survival of the world as we know it. It’s about fishing out our enemies and destroying them.”

He glanced at Clint, whose wrinkled brow and tight mouth screamed of bitter agony. She clenched her fists to keep from reaching for him.

“I’m not your enemy.” Clint’s words echoed in the silent room, lost yet looking for a place to land. His pale gaze glanced at her. She turned away, disgust and self-admonishment clawing at her insides.

“Maybe not knowingly…” Mitchell’s voice was small.

“Maybe not at all.” Clint spoke low, his fist punching the wall. The outburst was so unlike the Clint she knew, so unlike the unassuming, brooding scientist.

So like Cyrus.

“Rob—”

“
You
,” Clint said, storming toward Mitchell, his shoulders large, his face red, “You and Jim came to
me
, Mitchell. You sought
me
out, not the other way around.”

Mitchell stood up to him, his shoulders slumped. “I know.”

Clint jabbed a finger at his chest. “You always do your homework. You looked into my background. If anyone’s at fault, it’s you and Jim. If I’m the enemy, you brought me into the fold.”

“I know.”

Hand slicing through the air, Clint said, “I’ve shown you nothing but loyalty, Mitchell. Hell, I saved your life with Robert Naylor.” His gaze bounced off Dar and Cass. “I’ve given you the best of my knowledge and this is what I get?”

Her heart ached for him, an orphan in a room of his children. He perceived himself on trial, when it was only she that had put him there. Mitchell just took precautions.

“No one is convicting you—”

“I am,” she said, lifting her chin. “He knows too much. His knowledge, like Cyrus’s knowledge, is life-changing. It can change the world. If D.I.R.E. loses him, the organization is set back considerably. He’s got you over a barrel. D.I.R.E. is nothing more than a mercenary agency without him. What better way to bring down your enemy than from the inside? You pay for his research and technology, they benefit.”

The hurt in his eyes made her wince, her gut twisting in an agonizing knot. If he was guilty, it would make her attraction to him logical, make it the farce she wished for. She didn’t want to want him, didn’t want to think about that kiss and how much it had affected her.

His gaze clashed with hers across the room. “I’m not Cyrus.”

“Might as well be,” she said. “You’re just as dangerous.”

He snapped back his head as if she’d slapped him. He stared at her a moment before he backed away, his hands in the air. “You know, you’re right. I’m dangerous.” Turning to Mitchell, he said, “Just take me in. Anything to get the hell out of this room.”