Hard Target (22 page)

Günter placed a hand on his shoulder and Simon stopped pacing. “What?”

“She can probably kick
your
arse, mate. She’s fine.”

“Yeah.” Running his fingers through his hair, Simon shook his head. “But she’s not bulletproof.”

“Hey guys?”

“What is it, sunshine?” Günter dropped his hand and faced his girlfriend.

Simon sat at the table and pretended to fuss with the police band app on the laptop while he performed searches on Alex’s name and
FBI
.

“I think I know why Downing is interested in the awards ceremony…” Now she had the room’s full attention. “He owns a load of mining interests in a country run by a President Alistair Boswani. The humanitarian award recipient.”

News coming out of Africa recently hadn’t been pretty on the mining front. Many countries engaged in unsafe mining practices that exploited the health and well-being of both workers and the ecosystem. Some tides were turning thanks to the efforts of a vocal minority, but the battle had been uphill and the victories hard won.

“What’s Boswani’s story?” Günter asked.

Light from the laptop flickered across Jenny’s pert nose as she scrolled through a website. “It appears he’s shut down all of Downing’s diamond mines.”

“The man has so much money it shouldn’t matter.” Simon perched his chin in his hand and searched his memory for the most recent money laundering transactions he’d completed for Gibbons. It’d be a safe bet they were actually for Downing. “Unless he was running a lot of his funds through the exports…”

Even Simon couldn’t be sure. The layers of deception involved in big-time money laundering ran so deep he couldn’t and wouldn’t have all the pieces. It was a safe guess, however, to assume the story lay somewhere in that direction. Cut off Downing’s mines, cut off a major arm of his overall operation.

“So you’re thinking if he kills this Boswani fellow it’ll free up the stranglehold on Downing’s mining operations?” Günter asked.

Jenny’s ponytail bounced as she nodded, emphatic. “And the president would just be collateral damage.”

The digits on the clock cycled to 8:00 p.m. “I can’t wait for Alex any longer. I have to transfer that stuff to Downing.”

Movement on the security feed from the lobby caught Simon’s attention and he watched as the doorman held open the lobby door for Alex. She struggled with three large pizza boxes, but still smiled and took time to chat with the man.

Long minutes went by until the buzzer sounded. By that time, Simon already stood by the entrance to the flat. He flung the door open without looking at the security monitor, and his stupidity earned him a bark from Gun. He didn’t care. He was too busy staring at an unharmed Alex laden with enough food to feed an army.

“Where the hell have you been?” he snapped.

Smile falling from her face, she pushed the cartons into his chest and stalked past him into the flat. The scent of pepperoni wafted to Simon’s nostrils as the bottom-most box warmed his hands. Trailing Alex into the kitchen, he mentally kicked himself for behaving like her boyfriend. He had no right to question her unless he admitted to caring about her.

Shit. He really did. He cared about her.

Plates rattled as she took them from the cabinet and placed them on the counter alongside silverware and napkins. Shoulders tight, movements jerky, she laid out dinner for them all before pouring herself some milk.

Arms crossed over his chest, Simon watched her, unspeaking, and waited for her to look at him. When she did, he said, “I’m sorry. Thank you for dinner.”

She nodded and moved to step past him. Gently he encircled her upper arm with his hand. The well-defined muscles of her biceps flexed under his fingers as she tensed to jerk away then visibly willed herself to relax. He turned her to face him and lifted her chin so he could brush her mouth with his. Candy sweetness, glossy, smooth and warm, met his lips. Running the tip of his tongue along the seam of her mouth, he coaxed her open and swept inside for a fuller taste. When he finally lifted his head they both breathed heavy.

“I was worried about you,” he said. “Why didn’t you answer your phone?”

Points of color blossomed at the ridges of her cheeks. Simon, brows drawn together, willed himself to await her answer.

“They took the fingerprints from me. Wouldn’t let me have access to the data.”

“Shit.”

“Wait. I’m not finished.” She placed slender hands on the gentle swell of her hips.

Simon folded his arms once more and jerked his chin at her. “Go on.”

“I waited until everyone went home and broke into the lab.”

“Alex!” Hands dropping to his sides, he gaped at her.

He didn’t know whether to kill her or kiss her. That she’d risk so much for him struck him at once as absurd and amazing. The idea he hadn’t trusted her with his own piece of news gnawed at him, but he justified his actions with knowledge of what a betrayal would mean to Lily.

Swallowing visibly, she said, “I owed you.”

The husky hitch to her voice said she found the moment as emotionally upending as he. And while he knew it should make up for everything—that she wanted it to amount to an act of atonement—the tiny, sane part of him that remained knew the scars he still bore from that year in prison couldn’t be healed by this or any other gesture. Eventually he’d have to ask himself if he could look far enough past his internal demons to allow Alex to remain in his life.

For now, all he asked was, “What did you find out?”

Producing a folded piece of paper from her pocket, she held it out to him. He took it and opened the precise creases, flattening them on the counter before he bent his neck to read the data sheet.

He scanned it and read it again. “How can this be?”

“For whatever reason, he wanted you,” Alex said. “He took his time and set things up so you couldn’t refuse.”

Ice formed in Simon’s veins, trickling outward with glacial slowness until it encased his limbs in a cold fury that crackled like frozen lightning. “I’m going to kill him.”

While before he would’ve celebrated if John Downing were caught in a vicious crossfire, now he wouldn’t settle for anything less than being the one to pull the trigger.

“So, how’re we going to do this?” Slouching on the couch in jeans and his tight black t-shirt Simon appeared every inch the tired rogue. Every few moments he glanced at the digital clock on one of the LCD displays in a nervous tick.

Jenny pushed herself off the sofa and rubbed at her lower back as if it ached from sitting too long in one position. “Anyone want tea?”

“Sounds good,” Gun answered.

Simon just grunted and looked at the clock again.

“No thanks. Coffee?” Alex asked.

“Sure.” Jenny left the main work area to putter around the kitchen.

Alex found the sounds of running water and clinking dishes oddly comforting. It had been a long time since she’d experienced that sense of homey companionship. Probably not since she’d spent time with Simon had she eaten with someone else outside of a restaurant, and her mother had never cooked.

Memories of a dark-haired, wan-faced woman swam hazily before her mind’s eye and Alex looked up from the laptop monitor. Placing the pizza crust she’d been nibbling onto her plate, she focused on the chrome and glass around her. Thinking about her mother never went anywhere good, and they had a B&E to plan. Somehow they had to get into the MoMA tomorrow night, swap out the frames and escape without leaving evidence. The telephone repair plan was out. So now what?

Jenny handed her a mug of coffee as the buzzer to the flat sounded. Alex glanced to the security display at the same time as Simon and Gun. Ryan stood outside, his go-bag slung over his shoulder.

Alex’s heart leapt with relief and then plummeted with worry. What if he was there to tell her the FBI was on their way to arrest her for the fingerprint incident? Simon stood and walked to the door. Opening it, he hesitated for a moment before stepping aside to allow Ryan in.

“Dare. What brings you here?” The unspoken question,
How in the hell did you know where to find us?
lingered as Simon crossed to Alex and dropped a hand to her shoulder.

“I didn’t tell him,” Alex said, staring up at Simon, but his attention didn’t waver from Ryan.

Ryan took a measured step forward and the two men faced off. Alex shifted her attention between the suited Ryan and the now thoroughly bad-boy Simon whose fingers tightened on her shoulder. At the territorial waves coming off her ex, Alex shivered. She’d never seen him act this way and she found she liked it. Maybe a little too much.

Something silent passed between the rivals and Ryan nodded, giving Simon one last look that said,
If you hurt her again I’ll make you suffer
.

Simon removed his grip from Alex’s shoulder.

“Ryan, what’s going on?” Alex asked.

“I’m here to help you plan for tomorrow night.” Ryan, as usual, appeared perfectly guileless as he dropped his go-bag into a conference chair and began unpacking his laptop. “And to give you a warning.”

Tousled hair and big brown eyes made him perfect for undercover ops that called for someone amiable and ingenuous. Alex narrowed her gaze. She’d seen this man charm his way past more than one mark’s defenses and she’d be damned if she’d be played now. Something was up.

Stepping up to him, she got in his face. “Who sent you?”

“Nobody, Alex.” Hurt flickered momentary, here then gone, in his expression. “We’re a team. Or have you forgotten?”

He looked to Simon then to her, his meaning clear. Alex crossed her arms over her chest, not knowing what to say. If she could have Simon as her partner on this op, would she? Instead of Ryan? Or was there something more behind his question?

She shook her head. They’d always just been friends. He’d never given any indication he’d wanted anything more. His strange mood was about their op. Nothing else. “It’s not a choice, Ryan. The AD set me up as his handler. You know that I can’t keep you close without arousing suspicion.”

“And how close have you been keeping
him
?” The unexpected snap to Ryan’s tone as he pointed at Simon told Alex she’d misread the situation completely. Her partner wasn’t hurt. He was completely pissed off.

“Look—” She searched for a way to douse the flaming poop she’d apparently stepped into, but Ryan cut her off with a slice of his hand.

“Tell me.” He leaned in so close she could feel his breath hit her face. “Did you willingly give him the security password he used to hack into our systems tonight? Or was that something you let slip in the heat of the moment?”

“I—Jesus, Ryan… What?” She couldn’t have heard that correctly.

Simon slunk into the kitchen. With an expression on his face that said he’d like nothing better than to redirect the topic of conversation. Günter, hand extended in solidarity, met Ryan near the table.

“I’m Günter Faust, Simon’s business partner. And this is my…our…er…”

“Jenny Ainsley, Günter’s girlfriend and company research assistant,” Jenny finished for the flummoxed man.

“Actually, she’s an accountant.” Günter dropped Ryan’s hand to jab his thumb at Jenny whose expression narrowed dangerously. “And my girlfriend! Definitely my girlfriend.”

“Not an accountant,” Jenny muttered, her tea mug muffling her words as she sipped.

“Do you have a projector?” Ryan’s motions as he withdrew equipment from his bag were tight and jerky, the only sign he was still angry.

Alex kept quiet though his revelation gnawed at her. Had Simon done something tonight without her knowledge? Or was Ryan fomenting discord between them to test her loyalties?

Simon returned to the main meeting area. “Projector. Display.”

An image of the document open on Simon’s laptop sprang to life on a monitor that had previously been showing a muted talking head at CNN. Alex eyed Simon carefully as he adjusted a setting on the device. The jump of the pulse point near his ear gave him away as stressed, while the hard set of his jaw highlighted his anger. Muscles from the back of his neck down the line of the arm he used to direct the mouse pointer appeared rigid—rock hard and unyielding. His movements came in tugs and jerks, not the easy grace he normally exhibited. Two times she’d seen him like this and both were when she knew he’d been apprehended in a crime.

She’d finally decided to ask him about Ryan’s accusation when Ryan pointed to Simon’s laptop. “Mind if I…?”

Simon gave a magnanimous sweep of his hand, sarcasm dripping from his fingertips so vividly Alex wondered why toxic green vapor trails didn’t follow. She closed her mouth and decided to let Ryan put on his dog and pony show. Undoubtedly he’d tell her what she needed to know when the time came.

“So…” Ryan began to insert a USB device into Simon’s laptop.

A blur of motion preceded Ryan’s arm jerking upward. The agent flew from his chair so fast Alex almost didn’t have a chance to observe Simon’s actions. A sweep of Simon’s legs had Ryan on his face, the arm attached to the hand holding the USB device in a painful-looking chicken wing. Simon pressed his knee to the middle of Ryan’s back and pried the agent’s fingers open.