Dare You to Run (14 page)

He leaned back against a retaining wall that had ivy trailing over it.

“I intend to use my doctorate, and I know having a career won't mix with being your first lady,” she said slowly.

“True,” Carl agreed. “You'll just have to get over that part.”

“We seem to have a difference of opinions on the definition of the word ‘bargain.' In my book, it means I get some of what I want too.” She was wasting her time but couldn't keep her mouth shut. Part of her really wanted to know what he was getting at. Curiosity was likely as good for her health as it had been for the cat.

“You want Vitus Hale for a lover. That's acceptable. Just keep it quiet.”

Her jaw nearly dropped. Shock held her in its grasp for a long moment as Carl chuckled at her. He straightened up and managed to stroke her jawline while she was busy attempting to figure out just what the hell he was thinking.

“You're quite clever,” he continued, his tone edged with admiration. “Managing to slip out and back right under the noses of your father's men. Genius. My man was quite impressed with your ability to cut and run so completely. He nearly lost you too.”

Her stomach felt like it dropped to her knees, the impulse to sputter out an excuse strong. That would just be letting him see her bleed though, and Carl was a shark. A dangerous one.

“I see I have your full attention.” Carl had turned deadly serious. All hints of playfulness were gone. She got her first full look at the man she'd suspected he had to be in order to be interested in working with her sire. Ruthlessness shone in his eyes just as brightly as she'd seen in her sire's.

“Now, Vitus Hale.” Carl forged on. “You want him for a lover? Can't really blame you. He is a magnificent creature.”

Her jaw dropped a second time as she caught the unmistakable glitter of lust in his eyes. Carl only grinned wider.

“You're gay?” She just had to know for sure.

Triumph flashed in his eyes. “You're cleaver Damascus, but I've been playing this game a little longer than you. Don't feel bad that you never guessed. I've spent a lot of effort making sure there isn't even a whisper out there about it.”

“Okay, your point. Fair and square,” she conceded, more than a little impressed. The Washington crowd was masterful at ferreting out juicy personal information. A chill touched her nape as she realized she now had another obstacle to deal with on her way to freedom, and Carl wasn't going to be simple to outwit.

Well, guess this is where you say how much you love a challenge …

Sarcasm wasn't helping very much. She was still standing there, facing Carl Davis and his plans for her.

He chuckled again. “I like your straight-to-the-point way of talking. No messy emotional tirades. See, that's what I need in a wife, the brains to know what to keep under the covers, both with the press and with me.” He shook his head. “I don't want to babysit your feelings.”

“You won't have to,” she said. “Because we're not getting married.”

“What? Because I want you for your brains and not your body?” he sneered. “Isn't that the cry of women everywhere? ‘Love me for my mind and not my body'?” He snickered softly but not so softly that she couldn't hear the disgust in his tone.

“As I said”—she cut into his amusement—“I am set on having a career.”

“One your father will never let you have.” Carl cut through her argument. “Better negotiate with me, at least I'm willing to give you some of what you want. You can have your lovers, so long as the children are mine. I can manage
that
much of a relationship with you.”

It was suddenly hard to breathe, like a rope was tightening around her throat. She put her hands behind her, as if that would somehow keep him from putting a ring on her finger. She needed to think, needed to keep focused. She had a plan, a solid one.

“Good.” Carl stated. “We've got things straightened out between us. My assistant will work out a courting schedule with your father's people.”

There was a clear warning in his tone. He stepped toward her then leaned over her.

“Don't make the mistake of thinking I will let you go now that you know my darkest secret, Damascus. Be your mother's daughter and we'll get along perfectly. You can have your lover and I will have your mother's Delacroix connections.” He reached out and stroked her cheek. It took all her effort to hold back the nausea that gripped her. “Home, hearth, family. That will translate into votes.”

And deceit, secrets, and games.

She drew in a deep breath and ordered herself to get over the feeling of impending doom. Colonel Magnus wouldn't let her go. She'd pledged herself to him, and he had warned her that he'd arrest her if necessary.

That idea gave her back her poise, which Carl took as a sign of agreement, walking up the path toward the house with a happy whistle on his lips.

Well, at least he wasn't interested in her body.

What a fucking relief.

*   *   *

“My reason is simple.” Saxon took another sip of coffee. There were dark rings under his eyes but he wasn't groggy, not in the least. “Tyler Martin is working for her daddy and I want his ass on a platter. I saw Ryland's reaction when you got near his little baby, so I'm sticking close. Maybe he'll lose it and try to take me out. Nothing I'd like better.”

Vitus considered his brother for a long moment. Agent Greer McRae was listening in, twirling a pen between his fingers as he tried to arrive at a conclusion before Saxon divulged his motives. That was one of the reasons Greer was a top-notch agent; it was also a reason why Vitus was considering smashing him in the jaw. The latter action was likely only going to get him a good fight, since Greer thrived on flesh-on-flesh contact.

The problem was, Vitus was spoiling for some sort of outlet for the emotional storm brewing inside him. What he needed was to apply his brain to the situation. His gut was telling him that and he needed to listen to his gut. Things went really bad when he didn't.

“I'm not waiting for Tyler to get set up for another shot at us,” Saxon explained.

Vitus nodded, understanding bursting inside his brain. “That little mess with Zoe Magnus was almost perfect.”

Greer was nodding. “Give the fucker too much time, and we'll get those toe tags he has picked out for us.”

Saxon pointed at Greer while hitting the coffee again. “So, I'm going to push on his sore spot. The Princess.”

Vitus frowned. He had his arms folded across his chest, and ended up gripping his shirt sleeves. Saxon didn't miss it. “What did she want bad enough to seek you out?”

“To tell me to pull you off her tail.”

“She's got four men dodging her footsteps,” Saxon replied. “Understandable, considering how many enemies her daddy manages to make. Since she's had a taste of just how willing they are to use her to get to him, it was really stupid of her to go on a solo outing.”

“She gave you the slip. No matter what else, that's worthy of notice.”

Saxon's eyes narrowed as Greer snorted.

“Or courageous,” Vitus said, getting back on topic. “But if that's the case … I have to start thinking about why she's worried about me.”

Memories surfaced from the previous night. Could he have misjudged her responses? Mistaking temper for fear? He didn't like how much he was returning to that question. It was starting to raise the hairs on the back of his neck.

“Don't go there,” Saxon warned him. “The bitch left you.”

“Don't call her that.” Vitus didn't wait to see if his brother was going to toe the line on that one or not. He sat down and logged into one of the computers sitting in the house they were using as a base of operations. It was pretty quiet at the moment because the mess from their last case was taking a long time to mop up. Tyler Martin had almost pinned stolen classified Intel on them and he wasn't above shooting an innocent girl in the process. He'd picked Zoe Magnus for the operation because the situation suited his needs, and those needs seemed to be exacting revenge on Saxon and himself.

But details were still murky. He and Saxon had plenty of suspicions but not a lot of hard data. Which left them with the fact that Tyler was working for Congressman Ryland when he should have been dead after a very hushed trial and an equally quiet execution. When you signed on with Shadow Operations, you accepted the fact that they meted out of their own justice. Someone had pulled some strings to save Tyler's neck and now the bastard was running Ryland's personal security. It wasn't hard to deduce who had pulled those strings.

“You've got no reason to get that look on your face.” Saxon followed him.

Vitus looked up, locking gazes with his brother. “Except that Kagan told me to stick on her six. Officially.”

Saxon's expression hardened, and the pen froze in Greer's finger. The tension in the room tightened, drawing curious looks from the newer members of the team who were working in what would have been a living room of the house if it were a home.

Saxon's jaw tightened and so did Greer's. The reason was simple.

Shit just got real.

*   *   *

Kagan toyed with a couple of shots of Tyler Martin in New Orleans.

“You do realize Martin is after your men?” Dare Servant asked from where he was sitting on the other side of room. “And you just assigned one of them to the very target who is going to lead him to the man gunning for him?”

“The girl has always been bait. Vitus Hale isn't stupid,” Kagan said.

“Shouldn't you clue your men in?”

“I don't have any iron-clad evidence,” Kagan explained. “Tyler wiggled out of the mess he made last time because of his contacts. The only way to get him is to follow the bait. The Hale brothers know not to turn their backs on Tyler. In fact, I'm pretty sure they understand exactly why I assigned them to the bait.”

Dare let out a low whistle. “That's a dangerous game.”

Kagan snorted. “This isn't the Boy Scouts.”

“Not even close.” Dare picked up a print showing Pratt. “This guy works for the Raven. I've been on the case for weeks now and no one alive has seen his face. His damn screw partners don't even know what his dick looks like. Makes them wear a mask.”

“That means he's someone with a public image, the kind of face even a gutter rat would know and exploit,” Kagan reasoned. “And someone who can pull strings.”

“I've got a feeling I'm going to be digging in for a long haul on this one,” Servant finished up. “But it was a spot of luck seeing Tyler down there. Since someone sponged his record clean, no one would have told you.”

Luck. Yeah, Kagan remembered Lady Luck. She was fickle, but every now and then she blew him a kiss. He considered the photo of Tyler in the French Quarter of New Orleans.

“I'm coming for you,” he said softly before he turned around and looked at a pair of pictures tacked to his office wall. There was nothing else on the wall, just the two service photos. Pictures of the men Tyler had gunned down while trying to set up Saxon and Vitus through the Magnus family.

Tyler might think he was safe. Maybe Lady Luck would desert Kagan and let Tyler slip away from the retribution he so richly deserved. Hell, it wouldn't be the first time the bad guy won.

Maybe. Then again, sometimes, the good guy won. And every now and again, the hero even got the girl.

They'd just have to see which way Lady Luck wanted it all to go. Once the ball was in play, it would all be in her hands.

*   *   *

“You strike me as a man who gets things done.”

Tyler turned and considered Carl Davis. The man had a practiced happy-go-lucky good-guy expression on his face, an expression he wore most of the time. He scanned the area before letting it slip into a more serious one.

“I could appreciate a man of your talents,” Carl continued.

“Good to know,” Tyler replied.

“I like knowing you were smart enough to track her over to her lover's house.” Carl grinned when Tyler's eyes widened. “She's my future bride. Of course I had a man on her.”

“Should have thought of that.”

Carl nodded an agreement, then fished something out of his pocket. “This might make a nice little addition to the evidence you're planning to plant.”

Tyler considered the oblong item before letting out a low whistle. “Only the SEALs have these. Must have been a bitch to get it off-base. Nice resources you have.”

“Remember that,” Carl said as he came in closer. “Remember that I'm the man going to the White House. Who I take with me as a running mate can change, but one thing that won't change is who I'm planning on being my first lady.”

“That a fact?” Tyler asked to keep the man talking. It was always best to let others do the chattering. He learned so much more that way than when he was asking questions.

“It's the only fact that should really concern you in the coming days,” Carl replied smoothly, but there was a hard promise in his eyes. “Mind you, she's my choice because of how the press loves her. Sweet little blue eyes and those ginger curls coupled with her desire to help sick children.” He lifted his hand to his mouth and kissed his fingertips before opening his hand. “Press candy all the way. And her rescue from the clutches of evildoers will spike my support numbers.”

He tapped Tyler on the shoulder with one fingertip. “Just make sure she comes home in mostly one piece and runs into my arms.”

“Got it.” Tyler turned and walked away before anyone noticed them talking.

He did enjoy it when life wasn't boring.

*   *   *

There was cake.

Damascus smelled it as she came around the corner and into the garden where the bridal shower was being held. Frosting was her fatal weakness, and the damn nutritionist her sire kept on staff never let her have any. She sniffed at the air, the scent of buttercream frosting tickling her nose.