Authors: Becky Barker
Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Contemporary, #General
* * *
How could she bear to go back and face them? Even for a trial? She loathed everything and everybody associated with Gregory Haroldson. The loathing had deepened over the past few months. It wasn't until she'd been free of it that she'd realized how profoundly the assignment had traumatized her.
"
Lexington
's a couple of hours north," said Kyle, glancing at her again. "You sure you're okay?"
She sensed his concern, but couldn't begin to explain her emotional turmoil. Hugging herself to ward off the deep-seated chill, she answered in what she hoped was a convincing tone.
"I'm fine."
"You cold?"
"A little."
He turned on the heat even though the temperature in the Jeep was plenty warn. The small, sensitive action made Rianna feel weepy and confused. She blinked back tears and stared out the windshield as they left the lights of town behind them.
Darkness settled around them as they hit the open highway. Her thoughts churned along with the echo of tires on the road. Memories of the months spent in Gregory's home kept whirring through her mind like a movie reel, making her more and more agitated.
She'd taken on a phony identity for a noble cause. But no matter how she tried to rationalize her actions, she still felt cheapened by all the pretense and deceit. She'd become someone she neither knew nor liked. Somewhere along the path to justice, she'd lost herself, and it scared the hell out of her.
Despite the warmth of the car, she could quell neither the chills coursing through her nor the sick rolling in her stomach. Each passing mile brought a more frantic need to run and hide. Not just from Gregory, but from life and all the emotional upheaval that went with it.
She'd known going into the assignment that the risks amounted to a lot more than physical danger. She'd been repeatedly lectured by Donald and warned by the psychologists. She'd read all the data and known what to expect.
So why didn't any of it comfort her now? Why were her hands as cold as ice? Why couldn't she steady the shaky, queasy feeling of shock?
They'd been traveling for less than an hour when Kyle slowed the car, pulled to the side of the road and shut off the engine. The unexpected action jarred Rianna out of her silent misery. She glanced around them, seeing nothing but shadows beyond the highway, and then she turned to stare at Kyle.
He took a deep breath, his chest expanding and then relaxing. Next he unclipped his seat belt and hers, reaching to gather her into his arms. The instant she realized he was offering comfort, she launched herself at him. Wrapping her arms tightly around his neck, she clung to him as though her next breath depended on the contact.
His arms tightened in response. He pulled her across his lap as she pressed closer, burying her face in the curve of his shoulder. He felt hard and wonderfully solid, his sweatshirt damp from the excessive heat in the car. He'd sacrificed his comfort to try to soothe her, and that made her feel even more pathetic.
He hugged her tightly, his warmth permeating deep into her bones, chasing away the coldness. A sob clawed at her throat, and a tremor shook her as she battled her personal demons.
"I'm sorry," he said roughly, rubbing his face against her hair. "I should have gotten to you sooner. I wanted to make sure none of the others were near, but I shouldn't have let Rudy touch you."
She shook her head in denial. "It's not just Rudy," she said, although his repulsive treatment had triggered her reactions. "It's the whole dirty business."
"Yeah, I know."
His low, soothing tone seeped into her ear and her heart. She realized that he really did understand.
"It's okay," he added, pressing a kiss to her temple. "You're just crashing a little. Don't be scared."
Rianna knew he'd experienced similar situations. Still, she tried to explain. "For a little while, on the boat," she whispered roughly, "I felt so clean and normal."
"I know."
Suddenly, she needed to let it all out, to get the terrible secrets off her mind. "I loved the power and adrenaline of living the lie, but I hate myself for feeling anything but disgust. I want Gregory punished, yet I wonder if I'm any better than him with all the lies and deceit."
"There's no doubt about that," he assured, gently stroking her back. "Bringing him down means avenging a lot of people and saving a lot more."
"I know. I keep telling myself that, over and over again," she whispered. "I know what I did was important, personally and professionally. It just makes me sick. All of it. The games, the deception, the running and hiding. I just want it to be done."
Kyle nuzzled her neck, still speaking quietly and calmly in her ear. "The psychologists warned you, didn't they?"
She nodded, rubbing her head against his, soothed by the contact. "I know all the psychological explanations. It's just harder to deal with the reality of it."
"Yeah," he gruffly agreed. "It's harder. Especially as deep as you infiltrated."
Rianna felt the increased tension in his body and hugged him even harder. She stopped wallowing in self-pity long enough to wonder what he felt and thought about her assignment. She'd let him believe she'd slept with a murderer and thief.
A heavy dose of guilt assailed her. Kyle had done nothing but
help
and protect her, yet she'd constantly doubted him and his motives. She'd deceived him by letting him believe a lie, and she'd used that lie to protect her own cowardly fear of involvement. It was past time to level with him, and risk a deeper involvement.
"I was inside the operation, but not as deep as you think," she confessed in a small voice. "Gregory and I were never lovers."
Kyle stiffened, and then eased her away until they could see each other. Moonlight bathed his taut features.
"Explain."
Rianna flattened her hands on his chest and dropped her gaze from the intensity of his. "Gregory's main interest in me was social status. I made it clear from the beginning that I wouldn't have sex until after we were married. He agreed, and kept his end of the bargain."
"He just wanted a pretense of normalcy?"
"Yes."
She dared a glance at him, but he looked even
more fierce
.
"So you didn't actually prostitute yourself for the assignment?" he growled, lifting her off his lap and putting some space between them.
His words stung, and her breathing stilled. Her next words were hard to get past the dryness in her throat. "That's what you think of me? That I'm some kind of whore who'd use my body to gather evidence?"
"You tell me what to think."
Rianna felt a small surge of anger, but it was quickly squelched. Sadness and regret followed. As much as she wanted his unconditional respect, she couldn't blame him for thinking the worst. She'd encouraged everyone to believe it.
"Gregory and I had a pact. He wanted a society wife, and I pretended to be penniless. That gained me entrance to his estate."
Kyle's gaze never wavered. He stared at her with unblinking intensity. "You're saying you never slept with him?"
"Never." The thought nauseated her. "He has a mistress. She's just not suitable wife material."
"Damn!"
His curse echoed loud and long as he continued to glare at her. She could almost feel him struggling with the truth. A myriad of expressions crossed his features—first shock and disbelief, then relief, and then renewed anger.
"We've been living in each other's pockets for the past few days, and you knew it bugged the hell out of me," he growled. "Why didn't you tell me the truth?"
She was silent for a minute as she studied his tense expression. Then she warily made another confession. "I didn't know if I could trust you."
He rubbed his jaw and stared out the windshield. Rianna held her breath, wondering if she'd completely alienated him with her honesty. When moments passed without any comment, she settled back into her seat and fastened the seat belt.
Kyle fastened his seat belt and reached for Rudy's cell phone. He handed it to her before starting the Jeep and pulling back onto the highway. His attitude didn't invite further confidences.
"Better call directory assistance and get the number for the
Somerset
police," he said. "Tell them where to find Rudy and that there might be a warrant for his arrest."
"What if he tells them we attacked him and stole the car? They might put out a warrant for us."
"He can't risk involving more law enforcement agencies. His only recourse right now is silence."
Rianna got the number and called the police department. She identified herself as FBI Agent Mary Sullivan, and gave them her shield number. Then she explained her belief that a wanted criminal could be located in the alley near the post office. She added a warning that Rudy was extremely dangerous and might have cohorts in the area.
"Done," she said as she clicked off the connection.
"Did he sound
podunk
or professional?"
"He sounded skeptical, but intelligent and willing to follow through."
Next, she dialed Sullivan's private number. He answered after the first ring.
"What the hell took you so long to call?"
His impatience brought a smile to Rianna's lips. "We've been a little busy." She briefly outlined their escape from the boat, the electronic bug and the run-in with Rudy.
"He's still tied up in an alley?"
"I just reported him to the Somerset Police Department. You might want to call them and corroborate my story. There is a warrant for his arrest, isn't there?"
"Damn straight. And we have Haroldson behind bars." His tone held deep satisfaction. "He's been denied bail, at least for right now. I'm hoping the bulk of evidence will prevent any judge from releasing him, but you can bet his lawyers are working overtime to get him freed."
"Yes!" she shouted, feeling a rush of triumph. She turned to Kyle and repeated the good news. "He's behind bars and denied bail!" Of Sullivan, she asked, "You found the videotapes?"
"All of them, plus a few more stashed in the hidden safe you told me about. The evidence is damning and indisputable."
"You're being especially careful?"
"I swear on my life. He's not gonna slip through any legal loopholes. We've got him, and he's gonna pay, thanks to you."
"No." Rianna shook her head, thinking about her father and all the others who'd lost their lives. "Not just me. So many people gave so much. They all deserve credit."
"Where are you now?"
She glanced at Kyle, wondering how much to say over the phone. "I'm not on a secure phone. We took this one from Rudy, so I'd better leave details 'til later. When do you need me in D.C.?"
"We'll need depositions as soon as possible. You know the drill. I'd like to get started Monday. Make your way back to the summer place this weekend, and we'll take it from there."
"Okay. I'll see you soon."
"Stay safe," Sullivan insisted, then broke the connection.
Rianna closed the phone and set it on the seat between her and Kyle. She briefly repeated the conversation to him even though he'd heard her end of it.
"Where's the summer place?"
"He has a cabin about an hour from D.C."
"You've been there?"
She shot a glance at him. His expression hadn't softened, and he sounded disgusted again. "I know how to get there." Her answer might not satisfy him, but she didn't want to deal with any more issues tonight.
Realizing she'd gotten really warm, she shut off the heater. "You can open a window if you want. I'm fine now."
"You're sure?"
"I'm sure." She tugged at the strap around her throat. "I'm hot now and this stupid collar is starting to strangle me. Where are we, anyway?"
She desperately wanted to believe they could outrun Gregory's lethal pursuit and make it to somewhere, anywhere safe.
Chapter 8
T
he ER doctor in
Lexington
ordered Kyle out of the room when he got ready to operate on Rianna, but Kyle refused to budge. He wouldn't leave her. Not even for a minute.
The last time he'd let her out of his sight, Rudy had grabbed her. He'd died a thousand deaths while that gun barrel was pressed against her face, and never wanted to feel that kind of fear again. Especially since the short-lived incident had triggered a violent reaction in her. She'd been handling her extraction from the undercover assignment in a safe, gradual manner until that point.
The doctor hadn't put up much of an argument once he'd introduced himself as Rianna's federal bodyguard. Fortunately, the doc had been so appalled by the implant that he'd removed it without asking a lot of questions. They'd gotten by with a minimum of detail.
The procedure only required local anesthetic and a couple of new stitches. The operation was over in less than an hour with the whole visit charged to the FBI through Rianna's real bureau identification, Mary Sullivan.
"You're sure you feel like leaving the hospital so soon?" Kyle asked, sliding an arm around her back and guiding her out the emergency room doors. They'd decided to leave the Jeep in the hospital parking lot and hire a taxi. Tomorrow, they'd rent a different vehicle.
"I'm sure," she said. "There's no reason for me to stay. It's no different than any other outpatient surgery. Besides, Gregory had the bug implanted while I was in his house." Her tone turned caustic. "He didn't even bother with antibiotics."
Kyle's hands clenched into fists. He hated the idea of that scum touching her or having any control over her, whether they'd been intimate or not.
Endangering her with a less-than-sterile surgery was just one of Haroldson's many crimes. Inserting a foreign body so close to the base of her brain without her consent would be cause for prosecution in most people's eyes. The man had a lifetime of atrocities to atone for.
He couldn't think about it now. He had more immediate worries, like keeping Rianna safe. Just the thought made his gut twist. Somewhere along the line, she'd become more than an assignment; more than his need to avenge a partner's murder; more than just a friend. He hadn't worked it all out in his mind yet, but he was fully committed to protecting her from harm.
The taxi driver took them to a twenty-four-hour shopping mart where they had a bite to eat and bought a few necessities. Then they hired a different cab to take them to a motel on the north side of the city. It was nearing
"Why don't you get cleaned up first," he told her after they'd done a complete security check, double-locking the door and window. The ground-level room was furnished in neutral tones like thousands of others in the chain—generic but clean.
"Suits me fine," said Rianna.
Kyle could see the strain of the day's events etched on her features. The fine skin under her eyes looked bruised and her face creased with worry lines. He had an unexpected urge to smooth away the creases and bring back her confidence.
"You're not supposed to get those stitches wet," he reminded, as she grabbed a shopping bag and walked into the bathroom.
"I know, and my hair's filthy. I'll have to improvise."
"Need help?"
His offer was sincere, yet the vision that popped into his mind was anything but pure. His memory conjured the image of her stretched out on a deck chair, her slim, shapely body glistening in the sun. Then he mentally removed the bikini—and felt a shaft of heat between his legs.
"No, thanks. I'll just be slow and careful."
Her calm rejoinder was further evidence of her exhaustion. She didn't even bother to berate him for the suggestion. Kyle smiled slightly, blocking the mental image and commanding his body to relax.
To pass the time, he sorted through the things he'd bought at the store: jeans, a couple of T-shirts and some underwear. The shoes he'd found at the cabin would be okay until he got home. He'd bought another pair of gym shorts for sleeping.
The only room available so late had been a single with a queen-size bed. That meant they'd have to share, and he'd have to make a strong effort to control his desire. A desire that had been steadily escalating since the first time he held the elusive Phantom in his arms.
Kicking off his shoes, he stretched out on the bed and grabbed the TV remote. The late-night offerings didn't hold much appeal, but he settled on the sports network to pass the time while he waited for his turn in the bathroom.
In less than fifteen minutes, the door reopened, and Rianna came back into the room. His
breath stopped at the sight of her, his muscles knotting and slow
heat curling in his belly.
The sleepwear she'd picked looked like a man's boxer shorts and a sleeveless white undershirt. It should have been plain, but not with the soft fabric molded to her damp body. She lifted an arm to adjust the towel around her head, and the action brought the shirt tight against the fullness of her breasts. She wore a bra, yet he could still see the outline of hard, round nipples.
Heat poured through him like roiling lava, slow and thick and scalding. A cloud of sweet-smelling steam engulfed him, making his muscles tighten even more, while his heart pumped a little too fast.
It would never do. They were both too tired to deal with sexual complications right now. Their relationship was too fragile, their future too unpredictable. Maybe a really cold shower would help.
Gritting his teeth, he clicked off the TV and rose from the bed. "You done in there?"
"It's all yours, but I could use a little help first, if you don't mind."
Kyle moved closer. Everything about her delighted his senses, so he feasted on the closeness. He wanted to touch and taste and explore. More important, he wanted to do anything he could to help her rest and recuperate from her ordeal.
"What's the problem?"
Her expression, though still weary, was relaxed. The delicate, freshly scrubbed features appealed to him far more than the perfectly made-up socialite demeanor. Everything about her attracted him like a magnet.
"I got my Band-Aid a little damp, so I took it off. Could you please put another one over the stitches?"
She handed him a fresh one and turned her back. His hands trembled as he applied it over the spot on her nape. Just the feel of her skin under his fingers sent erotic messages throughout his body, and had him aching for more. He dragged in a long breath, but that only served to pull her scent more deeply into his system.
"All set." He cleared the gruffness from his throat and grabbed some clean clothes. "I won't be long."
In actuality, it took him fifteen minutes of frigid water to calm his rampaging desire. Then he took his time shaving, brushing his teeth and drying his hair.
He hoped Rianna would be sound asleep by the time he returned to the bedroom, but no such luck. She sat at the top of the bed with her legs curled under her. Her hair framed her face in a perfect oval, the baby-fine tresses looking shiny, clean and soft. Her shorts and top did little to conceal all her tempting curves. The sight of her elevated his temperature again, to dangerous levels.
She gave him a gentle smile that sent his blood pressure soaring with the simple innocence of it. There was nothing sexual or deliberately alluring about her manner, and he didn't know if he liked that or not. He wanted her trust and wanted her to feel safe with him, but he didn't want things to get too platonic between them.
"Watching anything special or ready for some shuteye?"
"Sleep," Rianna assured him, clicking off the television. She set the remote on the bedside table and switched off the light. Then she slid beneath the sheet.
"Okay if I sleep on the left side?"
"No problem," he said. "I'll leave the bathroom light on and keep the door cracked in case you have to get up during the night."
"Thanks."
Kyle laid the Glock on the table next to his side of the bed. He was certain Rianna had the smaller gun within reach. He didn't expect any trouble, but they couldn't afford to get careless.
He wondered what she'd done about her little security pouch. She obviously wasn't wearing the neon-green bikini anymore or he'd have seen it through her white shorts. Warning
himself
not to dwell on that area of her body, he switched off his light. Then he stretched out on top of the covers and folded his anus behind his head.
They lay quietly for a while, adjusting to the unfamiliar sounds and shadows. Kyle tried to concentrate on everything but the warm, sexy, sweet-smelling woman at his side and how long it had been since he'd shared a bed with any woman. He thought back to the night Sullivan had called him. He'd been wishing for a woman in his bed. Now he had one, but had to curb his appetite.
He listened to the steady hum of the air conditioner. It drowned out most of the noise beyond the room. He studied the sprinkler system valve on the ceiling, trying to keep his mind occupied until boring details could lull him to sleep.
"Kyle?"
Rianna's soft, hesitant whisper of his name made his nerves go haywire. He dragged in a slow breath.
"Yeah?"
She waited so long to respond that he finally shifted on his side and faced her. She turned toward him, her gaze settling on his face, but she didn't say anything else.
"What's wrong?"
"Would you hold me?"
A wild surge of emotion exploded inside him, so strong that it sent a shudder through his body. He wanted her in every sense of the word, in every way a man could want a woman, but he knew she only needed reassurance. She wasn't asking for sex, just comfort and the intimacy of being close to another human being.
Still, he didn't hesitate. He gathered her, sheet and all, into his arms and pulled her against his chest. She slid one arm around his waist and snuggled her face into the curve of his shoulder. Pressing a light kiss on the silky softness of her hair, he urged her to relax.
"You need to rest."
"I can't seem to shut down my brain."
He slowly rubbed the small of her back, enjoying the contact, even through layers of clothes. "You're not still worried about Haroldson's men?"
"No."
"Then what's bothering you? Something specific or just everything?" he asked, keeping his tone light.
"All of it. The ugliness and deceit and my part in it. Even though I know how important it was to bring him to justice, I wish I'd never heard his name. Never learned all his dirty secrets. Never had to deal with him."
Kyle went still. "Did he hurt you? Does he have some sort of sick or perverted habits?"
"No. I was just another possession."
Anger roared through him, swift and uncontrollable. "How the hell could you stand it? Seeing him every day? Living in his pocket? Letting him believe he had the right to touch you whenever he wanted?"
Rianna stiffened and started to pull from his grip, but Kyle instantly tightened his hold on her. He cursed his own lack of control and willed himself to calm down, willed his muscles to relax until she felt comfortable enough to continue.
"Sorry."
"I understand," she whispered, hugging him briefly. "It makes me sick with anger, too, but I've spent half my lifetime working toward one goal. I want to see him pay for his crimes. Every time I felt sickened by the sight of him, I reminded myself of those long, lonely years."
"Long and lonely?" He didn't understand. "Explain."
When she didn't immediately respond, he tilted her head so that he could look into her eyes. Even in the darkness, he could see the turbulent emotion.
"Why was it so important for you to bring him to justice? He's just one of a thousand criminals the FBI wants."
It took a few moments for her to answer, and he had to strain to hear the response.
"He killed my family."
The cold, hard edge to her voice shook him as much as the bald statement. He knew he wasn't going to like the details, but he wanted her to trust him enough to offer them. Tucking her against his chest again, he murmured in her ear.
"Can you tell me about it?"
"I've never discussed it with anyone but Donald."
A spike of jealousy caught him unaware, slamming through his body and making his muscles bunch.
More slow
, deep breaths.
"So tell me."
A long minute passed. Rianna stroked his back, her hand soft and warm. He didn't know if she was searching for words or refusing to share the story, until she finally responded.
"My dad worked for Gregory a long time ago. As his accountant, Dad was the first to notice the money laundering and other illegal activities. He went to the FBI and agreed to testify, but Gregory managed to lay the blame on one of his bank managers. The charges against him were dropped."
"Leaving your dad to pay the consequences?" he put in grimly.