Hard Target (2 page)

Moving closer, she removed her handcuffs from her belt. With one hand she grasped Simon’s right wrist and brought it to the center of his back. The starch of his cuff rasped her palm, the only barrier between her and his naked skin. The wide expanse of his shoulders stiffened and Alex tensed, thinking he might fight her, but metal jangled against metal as she snicked first one cuff and then the other closed without incident.

Taking a deep breath of humid night air, Alex forced herself to place suddenly too-small hands against her ex-lover’s torso. She tried to make the motions brisk. Professional. Yet every muscle she touched sprang memories free of hard biceps flexing with power as he poised above her. Entered her. And pushed deep inside.

Slight fingers and small palms gripped Simon’s flesh. First he tensed, then swallowed hard as the heat and pressure from those hands permeated his flesh. Gripping and grasping, they searched his torso…ass…thighs…calves. Memories of those same palms wrapping around his cock and squeezing downward, milking pre-cum in pearlescent beads from his slit, forced a shudder through his limbs.

Alex crouched low and Simon twisted to take her measure. Pink lips parted, cheeks flushed, she looked like every fantasy he’d made himself forget. Save one detail. Instead of the mane of ebony hair he remembered, a sleekly tied knot emphasized high cheekbones and lips tailor-made for kissing.

When, head held high, she’d stepped from the trees, time had frozen as pain, stark and raw, crawled out of a dark hole he’d thought long since filled. It’d taken everything in him not to move toward her. If only to fill that void before it sucked all the substance from his universe and left him incapable of any movement at all.

“Are you finished?” Simon issued the question from between clenched teeth when her fingers skimmed his calf for the second time.

“No, but I bet you are,” Alex said low. “You were always quick.”

In the face of her sarcasm, reality collided with the dream, evaporating tender emotion and stranding him in the icy blackness of an empty universe. After six years, disguising that void proved as easy as breathing.

“With you, sweetheart,” he said, “there was no reason to go slow.”

She blinked her surprise and Simon offered her his best Cheshire cat grin.

Tou-fucking-ché.

“Simon Jakes. You are under arrest—”

“I gathered that when you cuffed me.” He raised one brow at her. “Unless of course you were thinking of this as foreplay and your buddy is in the mood for a threesome?”

“Watch yourself, Dr. Jakes,” her partner snapped.

Sensing a rival for Alex’s dubious affections, Simon found himself bristling. He stared down the chestnut-haired agent. Neither man blinked until noise from the Boathouse grew louder and the entrance doors swung open. A blond giant of a man stepped out.

Simon suppressed a groan. Now they were all in for it.

“What the bloody hell are you doing?” Günter Faust asked. The length of his stride proved him livid and the high color in his chiseled cheekbones underscored the emotion. Ryan stepped toward him, one palm held up.

“This is none of your concern, Mr. Faust,” Alex said. “We’re taking Dr. Jakes in for questioning.”

Simon frowned. Questioning? Or arrest? He filed the information away for future contemplation and focused on his partner. Finding a way to get Günter untangled from this mess constituted the first objective. He’d worry about himself later.

Günter tilted his head toward Alex. “She one of your nutter ex-girlfriends?”

Cuffs tightening with the jerk of his shoulders, Simon snorted his response, half tickled and half perturbed at how close Günter had come to the truth.

“At least I’m not an
ex
-con,” Alex said.

Simon didn’t have to come up with a retort. Günter rounded on Alex, pushing up his sleeves in an aggressive gesture. That made her shut the hell up. She would quickly gauge the man to be at least six foot three of solid muscle.
Trained
solid muscle. While her hand-to-hand skills were undoubtedly more current, her advantage could easily be negated by Günter’s size.

Ryan stepped between Alex and Günter. “Are you aware of the nature of Dr. Jakes’ business with Max Gibbons?”

“No. He has no idea I moonlight.” Simon leveled a warning look at Günter before addressing Alex. “You got the cuffs on and I just confessed. Can we go now?”

“Wait just a—”

“He had no idea!” Simon cut Günter off again. “You want my cooperation? Leave him out of it.”

“You’ll give your
willing
cooperation?” Alex folded her arms under her breasts. “Not that your word is worth much, but can I take you at it?”

The front door swung open again. A petite woman wearing a gold sequined evening gown sashayed outside. Burnished highlights in her riotous mass of brown hair gleamed in the lamplight. Her eyes grew wide. Step faltering, she broke into a wobbly run, hampered by sky-high heels.

Hands thrown to her hips, Jenny Ainsley glared at Simon. “You said you’d call me if anything went wrong.”

One corner of his mouth quirked. “And I told you to stay inside tonight.”

“Another accomplice?” Alex tilted her head. “Ryan, I don’t believe we have enough handcuffs.”

Her not-so-veiled threat elicited a low growl from Günter.

“You know this woman how?” Alex asked Simon.

Günter’s placed a protective arm around Jenny’s shoulders. Whatever reply Alex might have made died on her lips as the door opened yet again. A man and woman exited, arm in arm, she with red-gold curls in a sophisticated updo and he with all of the presence only the truly famous possessed.

Oh.
Shit.

One dark brow arched, David Tallis stepped up to their little gathering. His girlfriend Kyra Martin on his arm, he examined each of them in turn. When his indigo gaze rested on him, Simon began to sweat. If they lost Tallis’ business, both he and Günter would lose everything. Their number-one client waited in silent disapproval. He clearly wanted an explanation for finding his employee in cuffs.

“Don’t ask any questions, David. Don’t ask and we’re even.” Günter pulled in and expelled a deep breath. “Everything forgotten.”

Simon widened his eyes at the peace offering. Günter’s willingness to let go of his anger over a press debacle David fomented last year was unprecedented. Honesty meant everything to the man, and he rarely forgave transgressions. Yet, he promised to wipe the slate clean if the musician stayed the hell out of Simon’s business now. David’s lips thinned, but he nodded his agreement to the bargain. Simon resisted the urge, but barely, to throw himself face first on the ground and kiss Günter’s feet.

“Go with him. Make certain there’s no press.” David addressed Günter then turned to his sister. “Jenny. You’ll stay here. With me.”

“We’re not taking anyone but Dr. Jakes.” Alex wrapped her hand around Simon’s arm and turned away from the growing crowd of unwanted witnesses.

Simon went without protest. Time to put a stop to this before the press really did arrive to catch Simon in cuffs. They’d been standing out in the open like this for close to ten minutes. He’d have to explain the whole business to Günter later, but not now.

Leaving her partner to handle cleanup and Günter right where he should be—which was to say uninvolved—Alex marched Simon toward the van. A smile twitched about his lips.

“Shut up,” she snapped when Simon chuckled, triumphant. “You’re not getting your own way. You’re getting my way.”

He snorted. “Sounds familiar.”

They approached the van and Alex withdrew a fob from her pocket. The van alarm chirped.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She took the bait though she had to know she’d regret it.

“Just what I said.” Simon shrugged. “You usually get your own way because it’s easier than wrestling you to the ground and stuffing a sock in your mouth.”

“I can’t help it if you’re crap at hand-to-hand.” Her shoulder jerked as she slid the side panel door open.

That was a bullshit comeback if he’d ever heard one. He’d bested her on more than one occasion. Though it hadn’t been a sock that found its way into her mouth after.

Alex motioned him into the rear passenger seat. The inelegant
schripp
of the seat belt as she pulled it out and settled it around his waist mirrored the ragged edge of his nerves. Being this close to her, her scent—a quiet crispness underlying the warmth of her herbal shampoo—made him curl his fingers into his palms with the urge to tug the pins from her hair. He snugged closer to the seat, digging the cuffs into his wrists in a concerted effort to keep arousal at bay.

He thought she’d step away and close the door. Instead, Alex reached for his breast pocket. Attempting to escape her touch, he hunched one shoulder, then realized her intent. One brow raised, he tilted his chin downward to follow the motion of her hand toward his chest. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

“I already frisked you and managed to survive the contact.” One slim hand poised over the lapel of his tux.

“Yes. But that was before…” Ignoring his warning, she reached inside his breast pocket for the documents she sought.

As he knew she would, she came away with a fistful of soaking-wet, dark-blue passport-shaped papers. Staring down at her hand covered in dark dye, she took a faltering step away.

“Great. Just great.”

Simon bit down on an obvious smile. “Can’t say I didn’t warn you.”

He’d released a dye packet in his pocket when he’d realized he was being watched. The ink, which hadn’t leaked through the jacket lining before she’d frisked him, had gone unnoticed until now. Oh, revenge. It tasted so sweet. Even in teeny tiny little bites.

Fingers splayed, Alex made a futile search of the glove box and swore when she came up empty.

“I didn’t know the FBI had a Smurf division,” Simon said, unable to refrain from laughter any longer.

Alex stalked toward the rear of the van. With a roll of paper towels and some glass cleaner unearthed from a bin, she proceeded to stand in the parking lot where she sprayed her hand repeatedly until Ryan returned. Walking with long, angry strides, the agent had Günter in tow.

Blue bottle poised over her hand, the sweet chemical scent of the cleaner permeating the air, Alex stopped spraying to watch her partner’s progress. “I thought he wasn’t—”

“He said he’d go to the press if we didn’t bring him along.”

Oh fuck. Simon’s stomach churned. The level of lies and subterfuge Simon had perpetrated in Günter’s company, under his employ, amounted to a Mount Everest of betrayal. Once he heard everything, their friendship and business relationship would disintegrate.

Alex tossed the towels in the rear. Günter said something about grabbing Simon’s go-bag from his car and disappeared across the dark lot. As they waited, Alex got in the backseat and continued rubbing at her hand.

“What happened to your…” A minute shake of his head accompanied dawning comprehension. “Dye packet?”

“Yes.” Alex glanced at Simon, her expression accusatory. “He destroyed the forged passport he was supposed to give to Gibbons.”

Stuffing down his worry over Günter, Simon popped his brows upward and gave Ryan a what-can-I-say shrug that held more remorse than he felt. Which for this, at least, was exactly zilch.

* * * * *

By the time they approached HQ, Alex’s anger with Simon boiled too close to the surface for comfort. She excused herself to change clothes while Ryan mock-processed their prisoner. Likely Simon knew the arrest was bogus by now, but he went quietly along with the procedural sham.

Chill air from the ceiling vent blew across Alex’s nape. She shivered and pulled her navy-blue polo shirt over her head. The FBI patch prickled her skin as it slid over her chest. Absentmindedly fingering the blue, white and gold emblem, she wrinkled her nose. God, she smelled like a Windex factory. Some peach-scented hand cream covered the worst of the stink, but her blue palm would only fade with time.

Buckling her belt and repositioning her holster, she assessed the evening’s events. While they’d technically botched tonight’s job, their true intent—confirming Jakes’ and Gibbons’ association—went off smoothly. According to intelligence reports on the organization Gibbons worked for, the FBI’s timing couldn’t have been better. Something big was about to go down and her boss wanted his team on the inside when it happened. Tonight, she and Ryan scored big-time.

Metal hinges squeaked as she closed her locker door. Stopping by her office, she adjusted the name plate on her desk and scooped up the three-inch-thick file of clippings, photos and reports she and Ryan had painstakingly compiled. This wasn’t revenge, she told herself, taking in the office she’d struggled to earn. It was her job to apprehend criminals like Simon. Shoulders squared, Alex turned off her desk light and stepped into the hall. Mind on the case and a cup of coffee, she ran headlong into a dark-haired man in an impeccably tailored navy-blue suit.

Assistant Director Larry Roberts loomed over her. “Going home, Agent Valentine?”

This time of night the empty hallways seemed to stretch into infinity, the glare of the white tile an endless path under the fluorescents. Fatigue made her blink more than she might have, but otherwise she managed to hold the AD’s flinty stare as he seemed to take her measure. He swept her attire, lingering on her jeans and sneakers.