Fatal Courage: Shadow Force International, Book 3 (Shadow Force International Romantic Suspense Series) (3 page)

Threats. Nice.

Her stuttering heart hardened. Thankfully, she was speechless. If she tried to say anything, she’d probably lose it, so she shoved at his chest, pushing all her emotions into it.

Her shove met a brick wall.

Once she’d loved his solidness, his strength. Currently, she found it annoying as hell.

Like everything else about him.

Training, dammit.
Ruby could hear her boss yelling in her ear.
Don’t let him see he got to you. Turn the tables on him.

Taking a deep, cleansing breath, she set her face to neutral, dropped her hands from his chest. “I’m not helping you hunt down my partner, which is not your job anyway. You’re obsessed with Elliot because you’re jealous of him. Why won’t you own up to that?”

He traced her jaw with the same finger that had silenced her. “You think I’m jealous of Elliot Hayden?”

Her body shivered at the intimacy and she smacked his hand away. “You and I had a one-night stand, Jax, that’s all it was. One night. You wanted more and I refused. You thought you’d snap your fingers and I’d fall at your combat boots, and when the shit went down with Elliot and Abdel, you expected me to side with you. I didn’t and you still can’t believe it. You don’t respect the fact I’m loyal to my partner. You’re jealous of him.”

His chuckle was low and soft, raising goose bumps along her skin. “You want to know why I’m here watching your backside and asking for your help with Hayden?”

This should be good. The man was in total denial over his true motivations. “Why?”

“Because, honey.” He rubbed the pad of his thumb over her chin, raising more gooseflesh. “The CIA hired me to hunt him down.”

Chapter Two

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E
ITHER
J
AX’S
C
LOSENESS
was screwing with her brain, or he’d officially gone wacko. “Why would the CIA hire
you
to hunt down Elliot?” Ruby asked.

A noisy couple passed them. Jax waited until they’d disappeared down the hallway to answer. “They’re keeping Hayden’s escape under wraps for the time being because they think he may have had insider help. They don’t know who or what is involved, could be one of their own. Your boss contacted my boss and requested me personally.”

That was crazy. He was no bounty hunter; he worked for some bodyguard service these days—a waste of his talents if you asked her.

But no one cared what she thought and she hadn’t missed the insinuation that the Agency thought she was the insider. “While your previous SEAL training makes you a good tracker, you’re a bodyguard now. The Agency has plenty of people better equipped to find Elliot.”

A derisive snort. “You always knew how to attack a guy’s ego.”

“This isn’t about ego. If the Agency hired you, there’s a reason.”

“Maybe because I know Hayden.” He brushed a finger along her jaw again. “And I know you.”

It was her turn for derision. Ignoring the heat flooding her lower belly, she jeered at him. “Whatever you think you know, you’re wrong. No one sees the real me. No one. That’s why I’m so damn good at my job.”

“Is that so?” His finger strayed to her throat, her collarbone, traced the edge of the V of her dress, dancing across her considerable cleavage. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but I know how to make you howl at the moon, sweetheart.”

Gah. He would bring that up right now, trying to tilt her off center again. The full moon in Marrakech that night had been so beautiful, hanging, it seemed, right over their hut. The light coming through the window had created a perfect rectangle on the floor, where he’d laid her down and taken her. He’d teased her mercilessly with his tongue and fingers, bringing her right to the edge of her release, but never letting her go over until she’d begged him. Pleaded with him. He’d promised her earlier that evening that he’d make her howl and she’d scoffed at the idea. On the floor of the hut, in that bed of moonlight, he’d fulfilled his promise. She’d howled his name at the low-hanging moon when he’d finally given her what she wanted.

The rains had come shortly after that, sheltering them from the outside world. There were days, moments, she wished they’d never left.

She should have been out hunting down Mohammed Izala, and instead, she’d stayed inside the world Jax and the rain created. She ignored her mission. She had Izala’s coordinates, had a SEAL team waiting off the Strait who could capture him once she’d flushed him out of hiding.

But instead of following the lead her boss at Langley had sent her, she’d stayed in bed with Jaxon Sloan.

The worst of it was, even with everything that had happened since that night, she wouldn’t go back and change a thing.

Jax’s other hand slipped down over her hip, giving it a squeeze. He rubbed the silky material of her dress between his fingers, lifting it higher, brushing a leg against hers.

Her breath flew out in a rush, his touch was like no other. She couldn’t resist—even now, her body had a mind of its own. Melting into him, lowering her resistance.

Can’t breathe…

Have…to get away.

He knew her body inside and out after their one night together, but he didn’t know the first thing about the rest of her. Shoving him away, she slid from the wall and gulped a lungful of air, keeping one hand out as if that could hold him at bay. “I’m not helping you find Elliot.”

She turned on her heels and hustled for the back door. Adrenaline carried her, her ears peeled for the sound of him telling her to stop, her body anticipating the feel of his hands jerking her back.

He didn’t come after her, didn’t call her name.

Which was oddly disappointing.

At the door, she chanced a look back over her shoulder, saw him standing stock-still, one hand resting on the wall where she’d just been, his gaze on the floor. His muscled arm was covered with tattoos.

“Oh, and one more thing,” she said, letting her gaze roam over him. It could be the last time she ever saw him. She wanted to make sure she remembered every detail. “I don’t believe you’re a bodyguard.”

He didn’t look up, didn’t even acknowledge her. She burst out the door, setting off an alarm, and headed for the parking lot.

The night was warm. Too warm. Beads of sweat broke out along the back of her neck as she passed the couple from before getting handsy with each other near a black SUV. She wiped at a droplet of sweat that tracked down her neck.

Just like Marrakech
.

No, it wasn’t. Nothing compared to the heat of Morocco. Not even a muggy night in Chicago.

She placed her thumb on the rental car’s digital lock and a second later was inside, pushing the start button. The Ford hybrid came to life and she jetted out of the lot.

Elliot escaped
. Why? Why would he do that when he knew she was working at clearing his name? Tonight’s meeting with Little Gus would have put them one step closer…but now she was stalled again, thanks to Jax.

The man made her crazy. He was too big, too handsome, too assertive for his own good. To top it off, he was smart.

Damn smart.

Intelligent men did her in every time. Add a quick wit and a delicious body and she was screwed.

In all her years, she’d never found such a mix in any other man. The drop-dead gorgeous ones were full of themselves and never tried too hard even if they had a decent IQ. The overachieving geniuses, so focused on their minds, rarely paid attention to their looks.

But not Jax. No, siree. That man had it all—the looks, the smarts, the wordplay…she loved every minute with him, even when they were at each other’s throats.

The Marrakech mission had been like that. She’d found him annoying and overly confident when they’d started on their quest to pick up Abdel Al-Safari. A chemical weapons expert who contracted his services out to various terrorist groups, he had once worked for Saddam Hussein, eventually finding his way to Izala and the Moroccan 5.

She and Elliot had been assigned to covertly get him out of Morocco and to a secret facility in Spain for interrogation, but because Izala was a cunning, brutal terrorist, the Pentagon had insisted they take a Special Ops team with them.

A team of one, it turned out. While the rest of Jax’s team waited for them at the Strait of Gibraltar, Jax had accompanied her and Elliot across the African landscape to Marrakech. They’d picked up Al-Safari from the Moroccan spy agency and began the arduous task of moving him covertly out of the country.

Except on that fateful night, Al-Safari killed himself while Ruby and Jax were tearing up the sheets.

S
INCE
L
ITTLE
G
US
liked raucous, DJ-driven clubs rather than the sports bars and craft-beer pubs closer to his stomping grounds, Ruby wound her way out of downtown, past the tourist sites on Michigan and into the grittier section of the city. Traffic was moderately light, the Loop seeing more action than the streets. A nice change of pace, since, like any large city, Chicago had far too many cars and stoplights for her liking.

She also didn’t appreciate the car tailing her a block back.

Jax or Elliot?

Or was it someone else?

Too many enemies to count these days.

Losing the tail took her a few extra minutes, but it felt good to put her tradecraft to work rather than her body, and she lost the tail without any problem, taking off her wig at the same time.

If only clearing Elliot’s name were so easy.

Her apartment was modest, the most she could afford on her current salary. She parked in the tiny parking lot, the edges nearly overrun with wild bushes and trees, and secured her compact Sig Sauer into its holder on her thigh. Security wasn’t the greatest in this area, but the place rented by the month, and since she didn’t know how long this would take—plus her salary had been halved with her probation—she had to take what she could get.

Elevators were claustrophobic, so she took the un-air-conditioned stairs. Her modest one-bedroom was on the third floor and a little cardio would burn off the last of her adrenaline high.

The place allowed dogs and the smell of old urine and stale beer met her nose. Nerves still on edge from Jax’s appearance and the beat of the dance music still ringing in her ears, she nearly collided with her neighbor Dan as she went to open the third floor fire door.

He and Woodstock, his Pug mix, came flying through the heavy door and nearly toppled Ruby. She hit the wall with her back and Dan looked as surprised as she was.

“Sorry,” he called over his shoulder. His long, thin, red hair flew out around his head as he and the dog descended the stairwell. “Pee emergency!”

Ruby laughed as the fat Pug and her skinny owner barreled down the stairs. Not a lot of green grass around the place, but the overgrown lot behind the building served as the dog park.

Rubbing the back of her neck, Ruby continued on to her apartment door. The carpet in the hallway was worn, her door labeled 7. She hadn’t brought a purse so she dug the key from inside her bra.

Her fingers hit something out of place.

She grabbed it and pulled it out.

A piece of paper with a cell number written in Jax’s heavy, solid handwriting.

Damn it all to hell
. How had he managed that? Slipping his number in her bra while they were in that dark hallway?

She chuckled in spite of herself. The former SEAL had some skills. Even his tailing of her car hadn’t been too shabby. She was a CIA agent, after all. She’d had as much, if not more, training than he had on evading the enemy.

Shaking her head, she let herself into the apartment, tossing her key and wig on the table just inside the door.

The place was cooler than outside, but not by much. She turned on a living room lamp and headed for the fridge.

Standing in the pool of light from the refrigerator, she considered her options.

Water or water.

Crap, she’d forgotten to buy wine again. Hell, at this point, she’d settle for Kool-Aid. Anything cold and wet would do.

The refrigerator’s motor kicked in, reminding her it was probably an original to the place. Hot air seeped out from under the door, blasting her toes.

Closing the fridge door, she opened the freezer. Maybe the ice cream fairy had taken pity on her and brought her some double chocolate chunk.

Nope. Her fairy, the bitch, had let her down again. No chocolate ice cream. Just ice cubes.

The cold blasting her face felt damn good though. After her encounter with Jax, she needed to crawl into a freezer to cool off.

Too bad she couldn’t stand in front of the fridge all night. A cold shower would have to do. Taking an ice cube from the tray, she held it against the pulse at the base of her throat, closed the freezer door, and turned around.

Her heart froze and it had nothing to do with the cold trickle of water from the cube in her hand. In the shadow of the kitchen doorway, backlit from the living room lamp, stood a broad man.