Defenseless (6 page)

I can’t get air into my lungs fast enough. “Yeah,” I say half-heartedly. My walls go up fast as they came down. “Did we lose them?”

“Let’s keep moving. Were you able to get a description of the guy behind me?” He grabs his phone. “Six-foot-three, short black hair, tattoo on the left arm, wearing a white shirt and black shorts. Mediterranean descent, spoke in either Italian or Spanish, but couldn’t hear enough.” He speaks into the recorder.

I stare, trying to process what the hell just happened.

We were kissing, or I was kissing him, while he was watching the person following us and guiding us away.

I’m the CIA agent.

One of the
best
CIA agents.

I’m the daughter of the former Director of the CIA. I was born and raised to be the best.

Mark just did my job. He was in control, acting.

But I stopped acting somewhere back there, and that’s a problem.

A very big problem.

W
e get back to my apartment and I check for anything out of place. My house is a map—everything leads me to something else. I follow the exact same routine each day, and if something is missing or even a half an inch off, I’ll know.

“So the guy moved too fast for you?” Mark asks me again.

“Are you hard of hearing?”

“Why didn’t you ever bring me here before? This place is different.” He looks around at my things and adds, “I’m just surprised. I figured you’d have his name already. Aren’t you like a super spy?”

“I don’t have X-ray vision. Plus, you were spinning me and moving me. It’s kind of hard when I’m not leading.” I turn and glare at him. “Stop touching things!”

“Oh . . .” he nods. “You’re one of
those
kind of girls. Got it.”

My jaw falls slack. “What kind of girl is that?”

“Tell me again how you failed to get the description of the other guy.”

I want to slap that damn smirk off his face. Instead, I decide to focus on what we know and what I need to do. First, is to learn why I’m being tailed. Second, find out who it is and if it’s the agency behind it, which wouldn’t surprise me. My father had me shadow people after they took leave. We needed to be sure they weren’t doing, well, exactly what I’m doing.

I can’t make any mistakes this time.

“Mark,” my tone is serious. “We need to talk. In here.” We enter my very seemingly girly office.

“Never pegged this one.”

“You make an awful lot of assumptions, buddy.”

I know I’m not the typical girl. I don’t give off the makeup and hair vibe, but I’m the fox in sheep’s clothing. I should buy stock in Sephora with as much as I spend. I love to feel like a woman, especially because I live in a man’s world. It’s my one indulgence. Well, that and shoes. And purses. Okay, I’ll just say I have a serious shopping addiction. Just because I fight like a man doesn’t mean I can’t feel like a lady.

He steps close, and I defend myself against his presence. The fact that he affects me at all doesn’t bode well. I’m not sure why this man out of any can make me slip even a little. Could be because I haven’t gotten laid in far too long. Sure, I’ll go with that. I need sex, and then I’ll be over this little . . . whatever it is.

“I think you’ll be happy to know I’ve been wrong more often than right. You’re nothing like I expected. I imagined your office would be colder, sterile, like the illusion you give off.” His eyes don’t move from mine. “Instead, it’s warm, beautiful, and comforting, which is what I think you are deep down. You have a tough exterior, but inside, I think there’s more.”

“Don’t pretend like you know me.”

“I know more than you’d like,” he jeers.

“You think that.”

“Princess, there’s a lot a man can tell about a woman when her tongue is in his mouth. I know you wanted me. I know your breathing was shallow, your heart was racing.” He steps closer. “You loved fisting my hair, pulling me into your body. You kissed me like I gave you life.” He shifts even closer. “I could do it right now, and you’d let me.”

I move toward him this time. I see in his eyes that he’d be all too happy for another round. I’m not playing this game, though. I’m here for one thing—to avenge my father’s death. To destroy the people who’ve made my life miserable. This is an assignment I can’t lose, and Mark won’t be the variable to thwart my plans.

“I’ll tell you what I want.” I smile and then take my lip between my teeth. Seduction is a game I’m very good at. “I want you . . .” I pause, closing the distance. “To let me show you . . .” My body moves sensually as I push nearer. My hand presses against his chest as I move him back.

His eyes darken. “Show me what?”

Putty in my hands.

“Trust me?”

He smiles and wraps his fingers around my arms like a vice. “Fuck no, I don’t. I see through you, Charlie. You may be good at playing this game, but you don’t know who your opponent is.” Mark pulls me against his body. “You underestimate me, but I sure as hell don’t think you see me as a threat.” His lips close in.

What is going on? This isn’t what should be happening. Again.

“Which is your biggest . . .” He glides closer. “Fucking . . .” His lips ghost across mine. “Mistake.”

He can read me. He sees through it, but I’m the world’s best actress. It’s time to play as if I expected this. “Ahh!” I step back, smirking. “And you just played right into my trap. If we’re going to work together, you’ll need to be better at figuring out the end game.”

He releases me and bursts out laughing. He clutches his stomach as it rolls through him. “Okay, Charlie. Whatever you say.”

This new emotion runs through me. I’m not sure if it’s embarrassment or fear, since I’m not acquainted with either. He terrifies me, though. The fact he can sense when I’m bluffing seeds doubt. What if Mark is somehow involved in all this?

“Maybe we should talk another time.” I start to second-guess reading him in.

“What?” he asks in disbelief. “You’re joking, right? Because I didn’t drive up here and save your ass to have you back out.” Mark’s arms cross as he plops himself on my chair. “You want me gone? You’re going to have to drag my ass out.”

“We can’t cross lines. There’s too much at stake to even remotely play games with each other.” I go for honesty. Maybe if he sees, he’ll stop pushing the buttons I wasn’t aware I have.

“I agree. You’ll have to keep your hands to yourself.” He raises a brow.

“Is everything a joke to you?”

“Pretty much.”

“This won’t work,” I huff.

“Start talking, Charlie. We have a mutually important issue here. I don’t know what yours is, but you know mine. If anyone is at a disadvantage, it’s me. I came on your terms. I would’ve much rather had the upper hand.”

That’s partly true. I have the cards and the information he wants. Mark, Jackson, and Aaron are the ones who are trying to wade through the dark. Of course, I don’t have anything solid on who’s pulling the strings, but I have a hunch. I know Al Mazir is involved. They tortured Aaron for information he didn’t have. And if Mark knows a name that Aaron figured out, I would bet my house that’s why he’s here.

I know bluffing. I know dying before giving up anything. I also know very subtle things the human body can’t lie about. But as well trained as I am, and as damn good as I am, I have a tell.

“I have to be able to trust you, Mark. I need to know that no matter what, you’re in this. One hundred percent.”

Mark stands. “I will find the information I need with or without you. I think if we work together, we’ll accomplish a hell of a lot more and a lot faster. Trust works both ways. How do I know the CIA isn’t somehow involved in this? What if you’re trying to gather something from me? I don’t know if you are, so I have to trust you. You’re not the only one taking a risk, but answer me this . . .” He seems to weigh his words. “You know everything about me, I’m sure. You know how long I was a SEAL, my service record, the medals I’ve been awarded, and the people I’ve killed, but what do I know about you?”

“Nothing,” I answer, because he’s right. “It’s meant to be that way.”

“Exactly. So again I ask, who is taking the real risk?”

“We both are.”

“Wrong answer,” he says and turns to head out the door.

“What are you doing?”

He stops at the threshold. “Leaving. When you’re ready to tell me everything, no holds barred, feel free to call me. Until then, good luck, Charlie.”

My mind is at war. I have choices, we all do, but hesitation isn’t something I have time for. Mark is my best shot at having someone smart, cunning, and ready to do whatever needs to be done for answers. He won’t flinch if we have to do something unethical.

The choice is mine, and maybe I’m playing into his hands. Maybe he isn’t being transparent, but my gut says he is. “Stop,” I command. “I’d rather save you another trip here.”

He turns, walks back in the room, and resumes his last location. Mark doesn’t gloat or rub it in my face. Instead, he sits quietly and waits.

I turn on the monitors behind the one-way mirror, press the button that engages the steel door, effectively locking us in and ensuring no one can overhear, and activate the high frequency noise in case someone planted bugs. The trap door under my desk opens and I pull the file out.

“You’re going to share the name of your decorator,” Mark jokes.

I can’t say I don’t enjoy the awe in his eyes. I have more safeguards in this space than anyone could guess. But I needed a place where I could escape, hide, and sometimes lock myself away. “You’re not high enough on the food chain.”

“I joined the wrong government agency.”

“It’s okay. I’ll let you look at my toys.”

His gaze shifts to my breasts.

“I’ll play with them, too.” His green eyes deepen. “Your toys, that is.”

“Sure, that’s what you meant.”

He shrugs as if it was only natural to be caught staring. “They’re eye level.”

I shake my head and sit next to him. It’s time to get to work. Each minute we spend doing this is a minute my finish line gets farther away. “So, how much do you know about Al Mazir and the cell that held Aaron?”

“I know this isn’t the first time I’m hearing that name.” Mark’s voice is smooth as glass.

“Well, allow me to enlighten you.”

“First, I need to know something.”

“What?”

“What’s your first name?”

“Not on your life, Dixon.”

“You look gorgeous, darling,” my mother appraises as I enter the ballroom. I’m a little late, so I expect the zings to start very soon. It’s not within her to hold back.

“Not nearly as breathtaking as you.”

She pushes the orange satin between her palms. “It was your father’s favorite color.”

The one trait I share with my mother is her love of clothing—especially designer fashion. Priscilla Erickson doesn’t dress in anything cheap. Her purses are all coveted, and don’t even get me started on the shoes. I’ve requested all of them be left to me in her will. I could sleep in her closet and be happy.

My dress is a deep navy-blue silk ball gown. It has thin spaghetti straps and a plunging neckline, which I had to tape to ensure I don’t have a wardrobe malfunction. But the back is where the magic happens. The hemline has a small train—the entire reason I bought the dress—and there’s practically no material all the way down to my butt. It’s luxurious and sexy, yet it still appears classy. To finish it off, I wore my strappy gold heels.

“Your hair would’ve been better up.” Zing number one is out of the way.

“I thought it would be better down, but thanks for the suggestion.”

“I don’t see why you wouldn’t want to show off your neckline,” she continues. “You’d look so much prettier if we could see your blue eyes. But you keep them covered by your bangs.”

I sigh and close my eyes. I wish we could just stop. She’s all I have other than Dominic. We don’t have a large extended family. Both my parents were only children, and my grandparents passed away before I was old enough to remember them. But my mother insists on keeping me at arm’s length.

“Mother.” My knight in shining armor appears.

“Dominic!” she squeals in delight. “You look positively perfect. Unlike some people.”

Zing number two. I’ve got at least four more to go.