For Her Eyes Only (14 page)

Chapter Seventeen

Out of the corner of her eye, she glimpsed a male figure.
Oh
,
God
,
Hank!
She reacted instantly.

She rolled her wrist, grabbing the restrictive arm. Her hand shot up in an open-palm strike to the chin, and she kicked her assailant between his legs with all her might.

He dropped to the ground, an odd little wheezing sound whistling through his lips. “Ow, Vic,” he coughed, “it’s me.” He huddled into a fetal position, clutching his groin.

Her jaw dropped.
Ryan
. Oh, God, she’d just— “Oh, Ryan, I’m so sorry,” she gasped, dropping to his side. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.” She put her hand out to...what? Rub his balls? She hesitated. She didn’t think touching him again would necessarily help, but she wanted to make him feel better.

He fended her off. “No. Don’t touch me.”

She bit her lip, cold seeping through her dark pants, slowly building an ache in her knees. The temperature had dropped considerably in the time she’d been in the cabin. She grabbed a handful of snow and packed it into a tight ball with clumsy gloved hands. She raised her hand, and Ryan flinched, eyeing the snowball.

“What the hell are you doing?” he rasped, eyeing her incredulously.

“Making you an ice pack.”
Isn’t it obvious?

He shook his head, and rolled to his feet. “Christ, first you try to pulverize them, then you try to freeze them?” He stood, hands on his knees, breathing deeply through his mouth. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“You scared the bejesus out of me, I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting you to pop out of the darkness and grab me.”

“I wasn’t grabbing you, I was...” he took a deep breath. “Whatever. Damn. Why were you running? I just wanted to make sure you were safe.”

“I’m sorry, Ryan. You startled me.”

Ryan nodded. “Duly noted. Won’t do that again.” He grimaced as he straightened. “Ow. Let’s get back to our cabin.” He held up a gloved finger. “But no running.”

“Has the games night finished, then? Is that why you were out?”

Ryan shook his head. “No. I left the others still playing when I realized Deborah had retired early. Kurt and Paula were still going at it on the air guitar, and the others were playing poker when I left.”

“Well, why don’t we—” she stopped. She was going to suggest they check out the other cabins, but maybe Ryan wasn’t up to it.

“What?” he sighed, waiting for her to finish asking her question.

She winced. “Well, if they’re preoccupied, why don’t we search the other cabins?”

Ryan hesitated. Then he moved his hips, just a little gingerly in one direction, then another, before nodding. “Okay, let’s do it. You’ll have to do whatever I say, though, okay? None of this tearing around in the woods.”

She nodded, thankful for the darkness that hid her blush. “Sure.”

He nodded again, then started to walk carefully between the trees. “Where did you learn that move, anyway? Your brothers?”

“Uh, no, my karate instructor.”

“Karate? What grade?”

“Red belt, going for my brown in a month’s time.”

“Huh.” He trudged through the brush, snow crunching underfoot. “Karate,” he muttered.

She followed, biting her lip. She would never dream of hurting Ryan, but, well, it was just a little bit funny.

They headed west, and Vicky mentally reviewed the map of the area. Jeffrey and Margie’s cabin was closer. Then Elliot and Jennifer’s was just a little further along. All the cabins were clustered together, but the forested landscape assured privacy and shelter from each other.

They’d been trudging through the snow and the pine needles for several minutes when she remembered what had sent her sprinting in the first place.

“Holy moley, you are not going to believe what I found out,” she said, and proceeded to fill him in on the events of her evening.

* * *

Ryan adjusted himself in his trousers as he rifled through Margie’s underwear drawer. His balls seemed to have found their way back to where they were supposed to be and the ache had subsided. He was conscious of Vicky as she looked under the bed. They’d closed all the curtains, but still didn’t want to risk detection by turning the lights on. Her torch streamed under the bed, and he tried not to stare at the backlit outline of her butt waving in the air like a haloed invitation.

He sighed with relief when his body responded to the view. At least everything seemed to work as it should. He shifted. Not to get a better view, of course.

She was wearing her cat-burglar outfit, as she’d called it when they’d made their way across. Tight-fitting dark pants, a form-fitting ski jacket and boots that he knew from experience meant business. Her strawberry-blond hair was hidden under a knitted cap, and the dark frame of color brought out the dark green of her eyes. She looked like some sort of sexy, deadly assassin.

She bumped her head on the bedside table and sat back on her heels and rubbed her forehead. Okay, so maybe a sexy, deadly klutz.

He forced himself to turn his attention to the job at hand. Focus on finding something about Jeffrey and Margie that could either confirm they were who they said they were, or confirm they were Simon and Jade Maxwell in disguise. That was the whole reason he and Vicky were at the resort. So far, they hadn’t got very far in their investigation.

They hadn’t spoken since they’d entered the cabin, and had proceeded to search the property. Surprisingly, with little communication, he and Vicky seemed to work quickly and efficiently, not hindering the other’s search.

He closed the drawer he’d been searching, and started to go through the clothes in the wardrobe, gently moving them this way and that to limit the noise of the hangers on the rail. So far they’d turned up zip. Jeffrey and Margie seemed to be exactly who they said they were.

He heard a swift intake of breath behind him and glanced over his shoulder. Vicky was looking in one of the drawers of the bedside table. He quickly crossed to her and peered over her shoulder, and had to stop his chuckle.

Inside the drawer lay a pair of padded handcuffs, a silken sash, a sleep mask—was that a whip? And a—oh, now that was just too big to be comfortable, surely? Vicky closed the drawer quietly, and darted a glance up at him.

He couldn’t resist. He gave her a thumbs-up signal and nodded at the drawer.

Damn, he wished he had a camera. Her expression was priceless. Even in the limited light of the torch, he could see her cheeks had turned a rosy red, and she quickly dropped her gaze and moved to search the bathroom. He eyed the drawer for a moment. Who would have guessed that Jeffrey and Margie liked their sex just a little less vanilla?

He quickly resumed his search, and found Margie’s jewelry pouch. He gave it a rudimentary once-over, absently noting the locket inside. He flicked open the catch. It contained a photo of a baby. He couldn’t tell if it was a boy or a girl. He turned the locket over. There was no indication as to the identity of the child. He frowned. Neither Jeffrey nor Margie had mentioned any children.

He looked up as Vicky left the bathroom. She shook her head. She’d found nothing. She crossed over to him, and looked down at the necklace in his hands. Her breath gusted over the exposed skin of his wrist, between where the cuff of his glove ended, and his dark sleeve began, and arousal sparked to his groin. Damn. She just had to breathe and he got hard.

She shrugged, and he replaced the locket in the drawer, just as they heard a card swipe in the lock.
Not again
,
damn it
. He switched off his flashlight and shot a glance at Vicky, who wore a deer-caught-in-the-headlights look. She quickly switched her flashlight off, too, and started to scamper to the wardrobe.
No!
They’d surely be caught. The bed wasn’t high enough off the floor to slide under. How were they going to get out of this one?

He grabbed her arm and pulled her to him, her body lurching against his. “Just follow my lead,” he whispered, staring into her panicked, confused green eyes.

He kissed her.

Chapter Eighteen

Vicky froze as Ryan’s lips met hers, his tongue sliding in to tangle with hers. Her heart pounded, she wanted to scream with the fear of discovery, and Ryan’s lips on hers had her forgetting all that. Her eyes slid closed. There was no hesitation, no tender introduction. Ryan went from hand holding to scorching rock god kisser in zero to three seconds, and she lost her equilibrium. She clutched his shoulders, hanging on as he kissed her ruthlessly, thoroughly, her brain turning to molten mush.

Heat rose within her, as though he’d just thrown a match on her libido, and the resulting blaze quickly grew out of control. Adrenaline melted into scorching need. She pressed herself against him, and he made a soft little growling sound in her mouth.

His gloved fingers delved into her hair, and her knitted cap fell to the floor. He angled her head for better access to her mouth. She moaned against his lips as his hand slid down to her backside and lifted her thigh, so that her groin cradled his. Desire flooded her core, her panties. She leaned against him, into him, as he continued to weave his magic with his kiss.

Bright light blazed under her eyelids, and it wasn’t until someone cried out that she realized it wasn’t his heat blinding her, but the overhead light.

Ryan lifted his head, eyeing her for a moment, his breath ragged, before he shifted around and gazed toward the door.

Darn
. Why had they stopped? It was just getting good.
So damn good
. Vicky glared at the interruption, then realized Jeffrey and Margie stood inside the doorway.

Their
doorway.

For just a moment, she’d completely surrendered to Ryan’s kiss, totally lost to sensation. Her cheeks flamed. And she’d even frowned at the couple for interrupting them. What was she thinking? What in hell’s name was Ryan thinking?
Oh my God.
Busted.

Margie’s face was stunned, while Jeffrey only wore a slight frown, his head tilting to the side. The man cleared his throat. “Er, just what the hell is going on here? How did you get in?”

Well, they’d used the all-access staff swipe card that Drew had given Ryan, but she couldn’t tell them that.

“We knocked,” she said, “and...”
And what?
Her mind went blank. It was over. Everything was over. They’d failed. Her shoulders sagged. Her arms still rested against Ryan’s body, and he hugged her a little closer.

“And the door wasn’t latched, so it just kind of swung open,” Ryan supplied.

Margie shot a quick, irritated glance at her husband. “You didn’t close the door?”

Jeffrey shrugged. “I thought I had, but we were in a hurry...”

* * *

Ryan ducked his head, and Vicky was surprised by the ‘aw-shucks’ expression he wore. He looked quite disarming and endearing. “Oh, man, this is so embarrassing. I told you this was a bad idea, sweetheart.”

Vicky frowned. “What?” What was a bad idea? Or rather,
which
idea was bad? Searching their cabin? Coming to the resort? Thinking she could be a field agent?

Ryan sighed as his arm rose to her shoulders and he lifted a hand in supplication to the surprised couple. “I’m so sorry. She does this every now and then.”

Vicky leaned in closer to him, and his arm tightened. Her hands fisted in his coat. She felt at once protected in his arms, yet exposed by his words. “What?” she whispered lightly to his lapel.

“Does what?” Margie asked, folding her arms, her lips pursed.

“Shall you tell them, or should I, hon?” Ryan asked, finally meeting her gaze with a glint in his eye.

I
have no idea where you’re going with this
. She moved her chin casually. “Uh...”

Ryan’s gaze lifted to the couple. “Please, if we tell you, could you please keep it to yourselves? It’s a little embarrassing, for both of us.”

Vicky’s cheeks grew hotter. She had no idea what he was going to say, but she had a bad, bad feeling about it.

Jeffrey shrugged. “That depends on what you tell us.”

Ryan nodded. “Fair enough. My wife sometimes needs a little, er, extra stimulation to, you know,” he said, rolling his hand between them meaningfully.

Vicky ducked her head to keep them from seeing her surprise.
Huh?
She darted a quick look through her eyelashes. Margie looked just as confused as she felt.

“I don’t understand,” the woman said, her frown deepening.

“You know,” Ryan said, his hand motioning again. Vicky felt like she was falling into a hypnotic trance as she watched the movement. “She gets a little, uh, hot, at the risk of getting caught. She likes to get it on in less-than-private places.”

“Oh, my God,” Vicky blurted, and Ryan lifted his hand to press her face into his side.

“Shh, Buttercup. It’s okay. I’m sure they understand.”

Vicky swore into his armpit, her words muffled by his coat.

“Oh,” Margie said.

“Well, isn’t that interesting,” Jeffrey said slowly.

Vicky cringed in the dark fabric of Ryan’s coat. She was going to kill him.

“Yes, and it’s always so humiliating when we get caught,” Ryan sighed.

Vicky choked, and Ryan patted her head, just a little forcefully. “There, there, sweetheart. See, they understand.”

His grip on her head lessened, and she peeked out from behind his coat. Margie wore an expression that looked like a mix between disgust and commiseration. Jeffrey, on the other hand, looked quite...interested.

“Do you get caught often?” Margie asked, as though trying to make conversation on a subject she found uncomfortable.

“Not too often,” Ryan said. “Although there was this one time in an elevator”

“Whoa, darling,” Vicky interrupted, finally finding her voice. “I don’t think they need to know all of our exploits.” She looked at him through narrowed eyes. “Otherwise we’d be sharing your stories, too.”

“Oh? Like what?” Jeffrey asked, not bothering to hide his curiosity as he stepped closer.

Ryan frowned slightly, and opened his mouth.

Vicky laughed. “Oh, I don’t normally dress like a burglar, Jeffrey. Ryan likes to role play.” What was good for the goose...

Margie gasped, and Vicky looked past Jeffrey to his wife. “You should see him in a centurion’s skirt. H.O.T.”

Now Margie looked interested.
Uh-oh.

“Babe,” Ryan said, his voice deep with promise, only Vicky knew he wasn’t being playful with the tight bear hug she suddenly found herself in.

Jeffrey slid his hands inside his pockets. “Oh, please. It’s fine. You can’t say anything that would shock us, right, Margie?”

Vicky remembered the contents of the bottom drawer of the nightstand and shuddered. This was going from bad to kinky nasty. She tried to block the terrified bile rising in her throat. If these two were the Maxwells, well, it could be a really bad night.

“Look, I’m so sorry, we shouldn’t have done this,” she said hastily, swallowing her pride and her dignity to maintain the ridiculous cover story Ryan had created for them. She was going to kill him with a dull, blunt weapon, something that would really, really hurt. “We should go.”

She started to walk toward the door, her head lowered. She tried to keep her breathing low, relaxed, although her heart tripped double-time in her chest. Adrenaline coursed through her body, her muscles tense—were Jeffrey and Margie the Maxwells? Would they see through their lies? Would she get a bullet in the back?

“Hey, why don’t you stay for a while?” Jeffrey offered nonchalantly. Vicky’s stomach muscles clenched like a corkscrew trapped in a cork.

“Jeffrey!” Margie protested.

“Come on, Margie, I’m sure we could have an interesting time.”

Margie paused, and gave them both a considering look.
Oh
,
heck.
Are they swingers?

“Oh, no, we couldn’t,” Ryan said smoothly.

Vicky shook her head.
Hell
,
no
. “Uh, no, embarrassment is a mood killer. Maybe next time.”

Next time?
Uh-uh
. She’d fess up to the real reason for their presence before there was a next time. She eyed Ryan as they left the cabin, apologizing profusely as they did so. He’d seemed quite comfortable with that particular excuse. Equally comfortable with proving it. It made her wonder—what else was Ryan prepared to do for a case? What had he done in the past, for the benefit of maintaining a cover?

Light from the cabin doorway spilled out, illuminating their path toward the woods. Snow crunched underfoot, and she just wished the light would wink out. But no. She didn’t look back, but she could feel Jeffrey and Margie’s eyes on them as they trudged away through the snow. Ryan caught her hand, and she squeezed it as they walked, listening for the shout that would call them back, expose them—maybe the crack of a gun, or the low whistling sound of a knife flying to her back in the darkness. Her breath gusted in front of her, hot and panicky in the cold air of the night.

As though sensing her rising panic, Ryan swung her hand a little, and his strong grip grounded her, settled her, just a little. They probably looked like a couple of teens, slinking off into the darkness after being caught in a hot make-out session. And it had been hot.

They eventually made it to the woods, and the light narrowed until it winked out completely. They’d closed the door.

“Oh, thank God,” Vicky said, her relief dousing the hot panic.

“Relax, Vic.”

“I’m trying to,” she muttered, and nearly tripped over a root in the darkness. Ryan caught her, his gloved hands warm bands on her upper arms, before he dropped them. He chuckled.

“I don’t know who’s reaction was funnier, yours or theirs,” he said as he resumed walking through the underbrush.

Her eyes narrowed as she fell into step behind him. “I can’t believe you said I like sex in public places. I’m going to get you back for that.” And her revenge would be wickedly delicious. When she finally figured it out. At the moment her brain was confused as to whether it should be relieved, panicked, or horny, after that little episode in the cabin.

Ryan shot a look over his shoulder. “You think telling them I like dressing in skirts isn’t revenge?”

Okay
,
horny it is
. Visions of Ryan in a leather-pleated skirt, all muscular thighs and calves, preferably bare-chested, exploded in her mind. She tried to summon some anger to cover up her arousal.

“Of all things you could come up with, you came up with that? How am I supposed to act around them tomorrow?”

Ryan stopped and turned to face her, frowning. “What’s the problem?”

Vicky gaped. “What’s the problem? Those two, who could be our killers, by the way, think I’m up for any kind of sexual adventure now, thanks to you. Even if they’re not our killers, it’s embarrassing to have to face them again after that.”

Ryan’s hands rose to his hips, and he shifted the bulk of his weight on to one leg. “Firstly, they think Cassie Winthrop is up for anything in the sack, not Vicky Hastings. Secondly, after seeing that stuff in that drawer, what do you think would be more believable to that couple? ‘Oh, sorry, we thought this was
our
cabin’? Or something that they could possibly relate to, find believable—like sex games?”

Vicky mimicked his stance. “Would you have stayed there?”

Ryan’s mouth snapped shut, and he blinked. “What?”

“Would you have taken them up on their invitation? You seemed to adopt that role so easily, I just wondered where you would draw the line? Are you prepared to sleep with the enemy?” She thought of all those cases he’d worked on, all of those bedroom situations he could have found himself in.

He shook his head, a smile of disbelief crossing his face that looked more like a grimace of pain. He took a moment before responding, advancing on her. “See, this is why you shouldn’t be in the field.”

She gasped, shock and hurt blasting through her at his words.

He gestured back to the cabin, now hidden behind the copse of trees. “You have to distance yourself when you’re on a case. I’m not here as Ryan Brennan, your friend. I’m here undercover to find two killers. You do what you have to do, to get the job done. The question is, were you prepared to go through with the lie? Were you prepared to do whatever it took to perpetuate your cover? To keep the mission on track? Sometimes in this job you deal with muck. You deal with dogs. And sometimes you have to lie down with them. You can’t afford to be precious about that, Vic.”

“Careful, Ryan. Lying down with dogs, you’re bound to pick up some fleas.” The pained words were out of her mouth before she could stop them, and his lips tightened, as though he was biting back a sharp retort.

He nodded. “You’re right, Vic. I’ve done things I’m not proud of, but I do them for good reasons. Remember the splash cash in the Philippines? Taking down that drug cartel in the Philippines also destroyed a human trafficking ring. I do this to save people, but the work is dirty. You either suck it up, Buttercup, and get on with it, or you get out.”

He lowered his hands and started walking, his shoulders an angry straight line against the mottled gloomy background of the snow-covered forest.

Vicky sucked in a shuddering breath as she watched him melt away into the darkness. She blinked back tears. She’d had no idea, and she didn’t know what to do. She thought she knew what he did, what the other MSA guys did. Hell, she’d told enough lies in her old job, but saying you carried a sales proposal when you were, in fact, carrying specs on top secret weaponry components just wasn’t the same. She’d always been convincing enough, had never really had a cover thoroughly scrutinized in those brief pauses at customs, or by curious security. How far would she be prepared to go to protect her cover? Her jaw ached, and she realized she was clenching her teeth. She thought she knew what her guys did. She was the one who gave them everything they needed to get the job done, right? From her ivory tower in Chicago.

She’d had no idea. Oh, sure, she knew he was no angel. Not celibate, either. Still, he’d given no indication of the price he paid to do his job. No complaints. No excuses.