Atomic Beauty (4 page)

After connecting the external hard drive via USB port, she punched a few keys and then his hard drive was being copied—a copy she was making for herself. The files she was about to transmit to Sanctuary would need decryption but that would be done by the tech team. Certain the data Murdock needed had to be on Jace's computer, Erika dressed and pulled together her belongings. This was it. Her assignment was almost over.

Certain pain was coming and Erika needed to face it head on.

This should feel like she'd just struck gold. Another slam dunk on the most difficult tracking case she'd ever encountered. Transmitting this data would be another notch on her professional belt.

Instead, she felt like a traitor.

She snagged her satellite phone from her purse, and texted her boss to let him know the data was about to be on its way. Murdock would be thrilled. He'd been showing the signs of stress from this case more than usual lately. He needed this closed and she wanted to give her boss and mentor peace of mind. This data was the ticket. Murdock deserved the win. He'd been too good to her since her father died to let him down.

Erika took a deep breath, and then uploaded the files to a secure Sanctuary server.

After, she tucked the thumb drive in her handbag. She told herself it was for backup, but even she knew it was a flimsy lie. She needed to analyze the data herself even though Murdock had strictly forbidden it. Her orders were clear: transmit only.

Murdock would tell her she'd gotten too involved, wanting to know more than her pay grade allowed. He always told her she thought too much for an officer. Maybe that was true, at least partly. The real keep-her-awake-at-night reason was that she had fallen for Jace and needed to know just how screwed up he was.

Her phone buzzed in her hand.

“Trash the new coat.”

The order was clear.

Kill Jace.

Erika's mind screamed
No!
even as she snapped into action, pulling her SIG Sauer out of her purse. Silently, she moved to the bathroom, not exactly sure when the whistling had stopped. The migraines played with her hearing like aftershocks following an earthquake and she could hear only ringing in her ears at times.

This wasn't the time to question her strategy to get so close to Jace, and yet that was exactly what was happening. There'd been no other way, she reminded herself. She'd had to take it slow and let him get comfortable. If she'd acted too quickly, he would've pegged her for an officer and killed her on the spot. Taking it slow, giving a little to get a little, had been the correct course of action. She'd evaluated the risks and made a decision.

Learning those little things about him was part of the job she was required to do. Like knowing he liked hash browns from Hennessey's because of their kick. And that the tangled barbed-wire tattoo on his shoulder covered three distinct scars, all of which had been acquired at different times based on the tissue damage. And that when he slept, his breathing was so low, his snore so soft and comforting, she had trouble going to sleep without hearing it.

The danger in this approach had always been there—the possibility of getting too involved. Developing real feelings had never been a blip on the radar.

Lesson learned.

She'd spent time with Jace, gotten involved in his life and developed feelings. Period. Stupid mistake.

The government finally had what they wanted, so Murdock gave her the code to eliminate him. It wasn't like she hadn't known this was a possibility all along.

Standing there, her gun leveled at Jace while he was in the shower, her pulse beat against her chest like a hammer. Her brain ordered her finger to move, to pull the trigger, but that finger rebelled. Her vision blurred. For a split second, she feared another attack was coming on.

She needed to shoot Jace. He was right there. Officers didn't question their boss's orders or have guilty consciences, especially when they owed them as much as she owed Murdock. To assuage her remorse for shooting Jace, she'd make it quick and clean.

So pull the fucking trigger already, Erika.

Her body trembled, a slow quake that began at her core and spread through her chest to her arms, her legs. Her hands shook fiercely.

By not following orders, she wouldn't just be letting down her mentor, she'd be committing an act of treason. To complicate matters, her head hurt and her insides churned.

This wasn't the headache returning. This was her body refusing to do what she'd commanded.

A sickening feeling engulfed her, rendering movement futile.

There in the bathroom, gun leveled, pain pierced her skull to the point of nausea. She tried to speak but no words came. Only shrieking, shooting agony pounding both temples.

What the hell was going on? She had no idea what her body was doing. Refusing to do the job wasn't an option.

Only one thing was certain.

This
wasn't going to happen. Erika engaged the safety and tucked the gun in the waistband of her jeans.

As she eased a step back, blistering heat exploded inside her head. Dropping to her knees in agony, she battled against the tremors.

Blackness engulfed her the moment her head banged against the cold tile.

Erika blinked her eyes open, trying to break through the haze clouding her mind. All she could think about was the need to run, to get out of there. Urgency roared through the fog swamping her brain.

The last thing she remembered was hitting her head on the tile floor in the bathroom and the impending sense of doom urging her to get to safety.

So how did she end up tucked under the covers in Jace's bed?

Her blood ran cold as fragmented pieces of information came back to her. She and Jace had made love. Something else had happened, too. But what? Had she stayed the night?

Try as she might to reach out to her memories, they were out of her grasp. In fact, she couldn't account for large gaps in time over the past few days. And where the hell was Jace?

She pushed up to sitting position, her head raging.

Forcing movement, she performed a quick inventory of her body. Her clothes were on. Nothing seemed broken or injured, although it hurt to move. Her gun was still tucked in her jeans, knife in her boot. So, no one had touched her weapons. She had no recollection of getting into Jace's bed voluntarily.

What else had she brought to his place? Her purse. Where was her purse? Frantic, she surveyed his apartment for her handbag, scanning every surface and corner until she located it on the floor tucked against the bed.

Gingerly, she moved toward it, ignoring the drums pounding inside her ears.

How much did Jace know?

The thumb drive and her satellite phone were still tucked inside the zipped compartment on the inside lining of her handbag. He hadn't touched her weapons and that had to be a good sign. Unless he was baiting her, letting her get closer on purpose to lower her guard before he struck.

The image was in stark contrast to the man who'd stood vigil over her while she'd been sick and exhausted. He could've done anything he wanted to her and didn't. Didn't that speak to his intentions?

Confusion clouded her judgment. Those damn headaches made it hard to think straight. Another one was forming, coming over her like a storm cloud, darkening the sky.

The sense of urgency was mounting, escalating, and all Erika knew for certain was that she needed to get out of there. She picked up her purse and raced for the door. Fear was a pit bull nipping at her heals.

The overwhelming need to get back to her place propelled her legs forward. It was a force stronger than the headache building.

Opening the door, bursting into the hallway, she froze at the sight of Jace rounding the top of the stairs.

“What's wrong, baby-doll?” Concern creased the lines on his forehead. His blue eyes fixed on her as he moved toward her.

“I have to go.” She pushed past him, knocking his shoulder back, making a run for the elevator.

He didn't make a move to stop her. He just stood his ground. “Stop, dammit. Don't run away. We need to talk. I called your employer, Erika.”

Battling nausea, she put her hand on the wall to stop herself from falling as she pushed the elevator button for the fifth time.

“I know you lied about working there. They said they'd never heard of you. What the fuck's going on?”

“Nothing. I'm a freelancer. I don't technically work there. So what? It's none of your business anyway.”

“Let me help you through whatever it is you're going through,” he said, his voice laced with the tenderness from last night.

God help her, she wanted to believe he could. If he'd figured out her true identity, he was one hell of a liar and that scared her even more because she wanted to believe in him.

“I'm fine. I just need fresh air.” She turned away so he couldn't see her face. The truth was she wasn't fine. And she feared she'd never be fine again. If he hadn't figured her out—God, was that even possible?—then maybe she could come back later. He'd been in a hurry to leave. Had he been in such a rush that he'd tucked her in his bed and then disappeared? It was possible. If he'd pinned her for being an officer then he would've made sure she couldn't go anywhere until he got back.

“Bullshit, Erika.” The amount of hurt embedded in those two words kept her feet rooted even as the elevator doors opened.

“I'll call you later.” Walking away from Jace was taking all the strength she had. Another headache was gripping her and she couldn't risk staying this time. Even if everything inside her wanted to turn around and run into his arms—a weakness she couldn't afford.

No way would she glance back, either. One look at him and she'd cave.

She'd already disobeyed a direct order and allowed him to live. She had some serious explaining to do at Sanctuary. That, she could deal with, not this. Looking into his eyes again would knife her. She'd bleed out.

Besides, what could she do? Quit her job and join him? Disappear? Go on the run with a man who was wanted by her employer—the US government?

There had never been a time when Erika had considered a man over her job. She was her job. She had to live her job. Anything less and she wouldn't survive a day in her world. That meant making sacrifices. Forsaking other things—husbands, white pickets, kids—which felt less of a sacrifice when Erika considered that with her background she'd suck at them anyway. Kids deserved normal and she had no idea what the hell that was.

Except being away from Jace made her feel empty and confused, even though she'd convinced herself long ago that she didn't want the whole marriage and minivan thing. That rarely worked out anyway. But the boyfriend thing could've been good. With Jace.

A hollow ache settled in her chest as the elevator doors started closing.

Erika punched the button for the ground floor, and then made a huge mistake. She looked at Jace one more time.

* * *

All Jace could do was stand there and watch Erika go. He'd tried to keep up the facade, even threw out that he'd called her work even though that was a lie. He knew everything about this relationship had been wrong and yet he'd been powerless to stop it.

Erika was a spy. He'd suspected it the first time he'd seen her in the bar. Then, when he'd pulled off her boots last night, the proof was there in the form of metal that weighed less than eleven ounces. He'd carefully placed her boots back on so she wouldn't suspect that he knew and a few other pieces had fallen into place. He knew exactly who her father had been. Against all better judgment, Jace wanted to get to know her better. To—hell, he didn't know—talk to her like a normal person for a change. Nothing about Jace's family life had been ordinary, except to outsiders. Keeping up appearances had mattered to his social-climbing parents, and they'd been experts. The first time Jace had realized the bruises on his mother's arms didn't come from gardening he'd headed straight for his father's home office to confront him. His mother had stopped him and begged him to leave it alone. She'd said that she loved his father and that the abuse was her fault. Jace had retreated into his own world when he'd realized he couldn't help someone who refused to see the real problem.

And right now Erika was in the same boat, so he let her walk away. Telling her what he knew would make things worse for her. Wouldn't change the job he had to do, either.

Maybe the past few months on the run had been making him soft. It was weakness that had him wanting to hold Erika all night. He'd been doing this job too long, been too lonely. Or maybe he thought he'd found someone who would finally understand his twisted life.

Jace did a mental head shake. None of that mattered. It was almost over. As soon as he knew for certain how deep Murdock was in, Jace would disappear. Making contact with Erika would be writing his own death warrant.

What if he'd told her the truth?
It wouldn't matter.

She'd find him and kill him, or he'd do the same to her. Either way, one of them had to die. His feelings for her complicated the situation. Hell, his whole career had gone FUBAR in a matter of weeks—why not his emotions, too?

Fuck.

He gripped Erika's locket in his palm.

He'd expected Sanctuary to send someone, so he was already prepared, just not for her. If only she knew what was really going on, what this was really about.

Would it change things between them?

The memory of Jace standing in the hallway, wounded, burned Erika's retinas. By the time the elevator doors opened again, there'd be no erasing the image. When she lay awake nights at her family's cabin in the lower forty-eight, it'd be him she'd think about, miss, want, need. Not have. Not ever have again.

Her lungs seized at the reality of leaving Jace behind forever and even the crisp afternoon air couldn't bring reprieve fast enough. Tears burned the backs of her eyes.