Agent in Training (9 page)

The worst part was he’d been right. She wanted him even though he was young—even if it went against policy. Even worse, she could hardly stand to be around him because of it. That was definitely a powerful desire. Especially considering that lust had never been prevalent in her life before now––before Nicholas entered the picture and sent her common sense straight out the window. Somehow she needed to put him out of her mind and focus on her father and her career. Those two things mattered. Certainly not some smart-mouthed man with an ego the size of Asia.

Instead of taking her usual route through the revolving doors, Shiloh decided to take the elevator to the basement where she’d parked her Lexus. She didn’t feel like basking in the sunlight or taking in the fresh summer air. She’d settle for the dreary, dank passageway instead. It fit her mood better.

On her way to her car, she heard a shuffling from somewhere in the garage. Shoes scraped the pavement behind her. She whirled, searching the dimly lit area, but all she saw was concrete walls and cars.

Her heart sped up, as did her stride. She reached inside her handbag for her keys and with shaky hands pulled them out. Another scuffing sound, nearer, distracted her and she stopped to listen. Silence.

Was her imagination running away with her? She’d never noticed how eerie it was down here alone. She fumbled and dropped the key ring onto the pavement.

She swallowed hard, feeling the hairs on the back of her neck charge.

Shiloh took a deep breath and leaned over to pick up her keys, mentally scolding herself for being paranoid. A hiss echoed in her ear. Then the driver’s side window of her car shattered, spraying pieces of glass everywhere.

Instinct had her dropping to the ground. Tempered glass cut into her as she frantically searched the darkness for any sign of a gunman. Where had the shot come from? What angle?

Her gun—she needed to get to her gun.
Don’t panic Shiloh. You can do this
.

Where was her purse?

Turning her head, she spotted the bag toward the back side panel of the car. She scooted on her hands and knees––slivers of glass cut into them. Another shot rang out, narrowly missing her right thigh. The impact threw chunks of concrete up. White powered mist filled the air.

The gunman’s trajectory had changed. She could tell he was moving in on her. She was running out of time.

With determination, she lunged for her handbag and pulled it to her. There was a bullet hole in the center.
Oh God
.

She withdrew her Glock. No gunsmith had to tell her it was now disabled. Freakish luck. Now what?

Her phone.

With shaky fingers, she reached back inside her bag, pulling out her cell.

She punched a button, noting that it said Nicholas Trent.
Great
. Why had she thought it a good idea to put all DNS agent numbers in her phone?

It rang once… twice.

“Trent,” his deep voice said.

“Nicholas, you have to list…”

“Director, I don’t need an apology.”

“Please, Nick. I’m in the lower-level parking garage…”

Another shot rang out, blowing out her right front tire. The explosion sent her scrambling backwards, and left her ears ringing.

“Shit.” She heard Nicholas say. Then nothing.

Was he coming? Could she blame him if he didn’t? Not really. Especially after what had happened earlier between them in the elevator.

Another round ricocheted off the concrete pillars around her, adding to the white smoke. The chalky air was getting hard to breathe. Whoever was shooting at her was playing a cat and mouse game because he should have been on her by now. He must know she didn’t have the use of her weapon.

Footfalls echoed in the distance—someone was coming.
Nicholas
. He was on his way. “Thank God.”

When she finally saw him, she rose and started running toward him.

From somewhere she heard the revving of an engine. The smell of exhaust filled the air. The combination of powder and fumes made her lightheaded.

A car barreled toward her, its headlights blinding.

She tried to move but was paralyzed. Her thoughts snapped instantly to her father and what would happen to him if she were gone. For a split second she speculated as to how long he’d survive at the mercy of the state. Not long at Oak Haven, she was sure.

She closed her eyes, afraid to watch the car hit her. Her body tightened, waiting for the impact... Someone rammed into her, and they rolled until they hit a concrete wall. Shiloh’s breath caught in her chest.

The sound of tires squealing forced her to open her eyes. She saw a black car speeding off, its taillights flashing as it hit a speed bump and bounced.

Nick lay on her, looking down into her face, a black smudge covering his left cheek. His breath came in deep, labored gasps.

With tenderness, he brushed a strand of her hair away from her nose. “You okay?”

Shiloh nodded. “You saved my life.”

Nicholas grinned. “Don’t tell anyone upstairs, all right? I’ll never hear the end of it.”

She returned his smile then became acutely aware of his weight crushing her. “I hate to sound ungrateful, but could you get off me?”

“Yeah, sure.” He blushed, something Shiloh had never seen him do before. A sign of vulnerability. She liked that. Maybe there were other interesting things she didn’t know about him––and suddenly she wanted to find out.

Her senses instantly rebelled when he relinquished his contact. The man definitely had an appeal. But she had to keep fighting it or she’d end up in his arms again, and a few caresses wouldn’t be enough this time.

She’d have to have all of him.

Nick stared at Shiloh as his breath slowly returned to normal. Her fiery hair was in total disarray and dirt covered her face, but she still looked good enough to make a meal of. Just the idea made his cock jump to attention. The woman was sex, pure and simple, and all he could think about was indulging in a little gratuitous gluttony. He didn’t give a flying flip that it was against DNS policy. He wanted to spend a night with her in his arms so he could get the damned woman out of his system. For once he wished he could read minds, because he’d give anything to know if she felt the same.

Nick extended his hand to help her up, and was pleased when she took it. The contact was like a lightning bolt sapping his strength.

He swallowed convulsively. Damn, what was wrong with him?

Once she stood, he noted the gash on her knee. “You’re hurt. Let me call upstairs and have them run the plates on that Town Car before I forget. We need a team down here to look for slugs, then we’ll call for an ambulance.”

“I don’t need one. I’m fine.” Nick glanced at her knee again. She was probably right. It was just a scratch. He grabbed his phone and dialed DNS headquarters, relayed all pertinent information, then hung up and re-clipped his phone onto his belt.

“Do you have a first aid kit in your trunk?”

She nodded.

“Where are your keys?”

“I don’t know. I had them.” She searched around. “There they are.” She pointed to the ground next to her car.

Nick picked them up and popped the trunk.

He rummaged around and found it under a large folder that read: Alzheimer’s Research. Why would the director have something like that in her trunk? Did she know someone with the disease? Obviously, there was more to Shiloh Templar than he knew.

Once he retrieved the kit, he slammed the trunk, and returned to her. Three agents appeared from the darkened tunnel, one of them his partner.

“What happened?” Hank asked, his face lined with concern.

“Someone took potshots at Director Templar,” Nick informed them.

“Do you have any idea how many?” Agent Bryant asked.

“At least a clip,” Shiloh said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Any idea why?” Freeman smirked at Nick. “And how did you get to the scene so fast, Trent?”

“I called him. I saw Agent Trent leave the office and knew he’d be close,” Shiloh answered for Nick.

Freeman took a small notepad out of his sports jacket and started writing, then looked at them again. “I see, and what did you see, Trent, when you got here?”

“The director was getting up from the ground in front of her Lexus and a black Town Car was racing toward her. I was able to push her away and roll her out of the path of the vehicle before she was hit.”

“Lucky for
her
,” Freeman muttered under his breath.

The emphasis the man used on
her
made Nick cringe. Why couldn’t they have sent someone besides Freeman? It was hard to be around the jerk after what he’d said.

“I’m sure there are slugs in her car or the concrete surrounding it. As you can see it was hit in the driver’s side window and left front tire. Now if you’ll excuse us, I want to see to the director’s knee.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

Nick frowned at Freeman as he led Shiloh to a concrete parking barrier. There was no resistance from her this time. He helped her sit, then opened the kit and rifled through it to find what he needed. With a steady hand, he tore open a packet and glanced at her. “This is going to sting.” He applied the white patch to her knee and she flinched. After he removed the pad, he leaned forward and blew on the wound, then placed a bandage over the gash and smiled. “All better?”

She returned the gesture with a smile of her own that made the gold flecks in her eyes sparkle. God, she was beautiful.

His libido decided to rear its ugly head. Again. If he didn’t get the hell away from her soon, he was going to kiss her right then and there, in front of everyone. To hell with what they might think.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Shiloh lay in bed, her thoughts tumbling over the incident in the parking garage. She was lucky to be alive. Nicholas had saved her and she owed him big time.

But how could she ever repay such a debt?

She prayed the gunman wouldn’t try again. After all, Nicholas couldn’t be with her around the clock. But somehow she knew this attempt on her life was just the beginning.

Who would do this? Obviously someone who had something against her. Grady Shepherd’s face came back to haunt her. No, it couldn’t be him. He was in Seattle. Thousands of miles away.

When she met Grady she’d already been with the CIA for six years and had been transferred to Seattle from Denver. She’d known from the beginning that if she wanted to advance within the Company, she had to go where they needed her. Seattle hadn’t been her first or tenth choice.

Three months into her new assignment, Grady had been reassigned there as well. He came from Houston with one strike against him. She hadn’t known what that was all about until he started coming-on to her. Bluebeard had nothing on this guy. He had belittled her every chance he got. But the physical affronts were the worst. He slapped her rear end casually each time he passed her in the hall, or offices, not to mention suggestively brushing up against her in front of other agents. Thank God that was in the past—a past best forgotten.

She refused to think about him again. No way… Couldn’t be Grady anyway. He wouldn’t dare come within a hundred feet of her unless he wanted jail time. Not with the restraining order she had put in place.

She rolled over and closed her eyes. Images of Nicholas’ handsome face surfaced and her body surged to life. Her nipples tightened and little electrical charges radiated between her legs.

Great, now she’d never get any sleep.

Her mind drifted back to the way Nicholas’ eyes had turned midnight blue while he bandaged her wound. His touch had been gentle, almost caring, and when he’d blown warm air on her knee, she’d just about jumped through the roof of the garage.

Had he liked her legs? She’d always thought they were her best asset.

She swallowed, forcing down a lump. Provocative images of his lean, naked body were embedded in her memory. His was the perfect manly form. And a trained athlete from the looks of him––with not one ounce of body fat.

She licked her dry lips and sighed.

What would a man like him ever see in her? He could have any woman he wanted.
Any young woman
.

She was thirty-five. Over the hill. With her biological clock running on borrowed time.

Young college-bound women in bikinis were more his speed—ones with silicon oozing from every pore.

Shiloh shook her head. Why was she doing this to herself? Another night of tossing and turning because of Nicholas Trent was stupid. Yet somehow she knew it was futile to try to sleep. "Okay stupid, now what?"

Maybe a little Ben and Jerry’s ice cream would help, with a drizzle of chocolate syrup on top––a poor substitute for what she really wanted.

Nick took a sip of his coffee and glanced at his watch. Midnight and all was clear.

Shiloh would scream bloody murder if she knew he was parked outside her apartment. He’d seriously tried to stay away, but after the threat, and now the attempt on her life, he could think of nothing but how to protect her.

While they were still in the parking garage, he was going to insist that an agent be assigned to stay with her, but that idea had instantly soured his stomach. He wasn’t about to analyze why. If he did, he was sure he wouldn’t like what he found.

So here he sat, in his Mustang, on an unauthorized stakeout, watching for anyone suspicious. Hell, in Washington DC everyone was a little shady, especially the politicians.

A tap at his window jarred him from his seat. He turned to find a woman making a roll-down-your-window gesture.

He hesitated a second, then cranked it down.

“What?” He eyed her from head to toe. She wore a blond, straight-haired wig––and not much more.

“You want a date, cutie?” Her voice was a high-pitched whine that instantly grated on his nerves.

“Sorry, I’m working.” He could flash his badge and get rid of her that way, but he didn’t want to do that.

She leaned onto his car, her wares practically falling out of her black tube top. “I could give you a fast hand job for twenty bucks.”