Explosive (The Black Opals) (12 page)

He drove across town, each mile closer to her house ratcheting the knot in his gut a degree tighter.
That nervous tension only pissed him off more. Ten years undercover. Ten years of dealing with high-tech bombs that could take out full city blocks with one false twitch of his hand. He knew how to handle a gun like it was a natural extension of his body. And yet one woman unraveled him like a cat with a ball of yarn.

Jayce rolled to a stop in Alyssa’s drive and killed the engine.
He sat for several moments, staring at the front door. Might as well look the exterior over first—it gave him that much longer to put off the inevitable confrontation.

He began at the garage, swearing to himself all over again at the obvious lack of any sort of security.
What had McTavish been thinking? Only fools depended on deadbolts and chain locks, given the sort of men McTavish and Alyssa worked for.

How the hell had she gotten mixed up with Parker anyway?

Jayce sighed, shook his head to clear away his anger, and moved around to the side of the house. Two stories of windows overlooked about fifty feet of lawn and the neighbor’s ranch-style home. No trees to give access upstairs, but the ground level windows were prime targets. Jayce stepped closer and glanced through the open vertical blinds.
Open, for God’s sake.
An office sat in partial shade; a darkened computer monitor atop a wide desk stared back at him. On the far wall sat three lockable file cabinets. Security might not be his forte, but it didn’t take a genius to deduce McTavish was asking for trouble.

He stepped back, and a twig snapped beneath his heel.
Startled, he glanced down at the tiny stick, and frowned. Beneath his boot, rain runoff wore the grass down to powdery dirt. Dirt that had been disturbed by a footprint his boot tread bisected. Another matching print disappeared in a crushed clump of dandelions, the heel print still obvious enough to be fresh.

A faint dark line just beneath the window sill brought Jayce to a crouch.
Had he not been looking directly at it, he would have assumed the darker soil was mere shadow. But at this vantage, clear bits of a fine, dark substance sprinkled the top of the dirt. He pinched some into his free palm and spread the particles around. Iron filings. What the hell?

Jayce dusted off his hands and stood.
Time to find his wallet and make that call. Someone had definitely been up to something here, and with the break-in at Alyssa and McTavish’s office, Jayce wasn’t taking chances.

He returned to the front door and knocked.
Seconds passed. Silent seconds with no hint of life from beyond the entry. Just his luck—he’d come by and no one would be home.

On a whim, he tried the door.
Much to his abject frustration, it opened easily. Clearly no one had felt the need to lock it after he left last night.
Are you trying to get yourselves killed, McTavish?

Gritting his teeth, Jayce walked inside.
His gaze pulled automatically to the stairs. Memories of the night before slammed into his awareness. He squeezed his eyes shut, blocking them out, and forced himself to cross through the living room to the stairwell. Determined to grab his wallet and be free of this place, he bounded up the stairs and came to a dead stop in the doorway to Alyssa’s room. Stunned beyond comprehension, he stared, unable to connect the scene before him with logic.

She lay on the bed, one lithe leg atop the tangled covers, one hand arched over her head and clutching the headboard.
The other fell between her legs and tangled in McTavish’s short hair as he lapped at her pussy. She arched her back, exposing her gloriously bare breasts, and let out a soft moan.

Fuck.

Jayce took a half-step backward, knowing he should damn well leave. But as much as he despised the sight of McTavish buried between her legs, there was something magnetic about the way Alyssa’s hips gyrated beneath the assault of his tongue. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t make his feet obey the order his mind shouted.

She flattened a foot on the mattress, used it to push higher into McTavish’s mouth.
Her raspy breathing filled Jayce’s mind and sent heat surging through his veins. In the early morning light, her distended nipples were even more alluring against her creamy skin, and the way they swayed with the movement of her hips left Jayce craving the feel of those hard little buds against his tongue.

“Don’t, stop,” she coaxed, breathless.
“I’m so, close.”

And she was, judging by her sharp pants, the way her teeth pricked her lower lip.
Hovering on an edge that belonged to Jayce.

Sense snapped into place.
Christ, she couldn’t bring herself to fuck Jayce alone, but gave herself openly to McTavish. Fuck that—not while he was standing here.

Jayce cleared his throat.
“Have you seen my wallet?”

Alyssa let out a sharp squeal and jerked upright in the bed.
McTavish whipped around, shock widening his eyes. The glint of moisture on his mouth made Jayce scowl.

“Jesus.
Knock or something,” McTavish muttered as he sat up.

So much for that party.
Resisting the urge to smirk, Jayce strode purposefully to where Alyssa had stripped him down and tossed the corner of the bedspread up, exposing the foot of the bed. He dropped to his hands and knees, swearing inwardly at the undesired tightness behind his fly as he ran his hand over the floor beneath the bed.

“I haven’t seen it, Jayce.”
Alyssa’s voice was unsteady. “What are you doing here so early?”

“Looking for it,” he answered, lowering himself further to the floor to get a better look beneath the bed.
Nothing but a forgotten sock lay beneath. And the rest of her bedroom was just as spotless. Damn it. Well, at least he could take a small degree of comfort in the fact he’d spoiled her fun.

He rose and frowned around the room.

“You sure you had it on you?” McTavish asked as he dragged on his boxer briefs.

Too afraid she’d see too much in his expression, Jayce avoided eye-contact with Alyssa.
No way in hell could he pull himself together enough right now and pretend this didn’t bug the shit out of him. She couldn’t have chosen a better way to tell him she didn’t think he was man enough for her. Yet somehow, McTavish was.

Jayce clenched a fist.
“Yeah, I’m sure I had it on me.” And he was absolutely certain he’d left it in the car, not this room.

A deeper concern edged out the frustration and anger Alyssa and McTavish produced.
His credentials were in his wallet. False ones, yes, but legit enough they’d link him to the CIA. And someone else now possessed that identification.

Someone who might have well been outside Alyssa and Brice’s house.

F o u r t e e n

A
rousal thrummed through Alyssa, gradually burning itself out the longer she sat, exposed, in her bed, facing down Jayce’s unreadable expression. A few minutes ago, she’d been blissfully fantasizing about him, not Brice, and hadn’t been the least bit ashamed as she pitched closer and closer to that frantic place of ecstasy Jayce created. Now, shame burned through her. Jayce looked so cold, so distant, and yet, she could swear she caught the hint of a smirk on his mouth as his gaze flicked over her.

Goading her?
Was the bit about his wallet all a ruse?

She threw back the covers that trapped her leg and slid out of the bed.
From her dresser, she grabbed a tank top and a pair of loose cotton running shorts. “Maybe you left it at the office?” she asked as she dressed. “I can look for you. I’m heading there.” Work would right her senses, and she’d lazed away too much of the morning with deadlines looming. Time to focus on the important things. Like the Anderson’s tax returns.

Jayce shook his head distractedly.
“I had it when I left.” His dark gaze cut to Brice. “You need window sensors, and I’m calling in a guy I know. I’ll be back with some temporary units.”

Brice cocked an eyebrow, but otherwise remained silent.

Alyssa glanced between them both. “What’s going on?”

With a sigh, Brice shook his head.
“Noth—”

“You work for two of the biggest pains in law enforcement’s ass, and you have
no
home security,” Jayce answered, his voice rising over Brice’s. He moved to the door, rapped a fist on the frame. “Fixing that is what I do.”

Just when in the hell had the two of them intended to tell her?
Alyssa opened her mouth to demand some answers, but Jayce bounded down the stairs, effectively terminating the conversation. Instead, she frowned at her best friend. “Is there a reason you were keeping this from me?”

He chuckled and gave her a rueful grin.
“Like I could keep it from you. I think we both were a little distracted last night.”

True.
Alyssa’s cheeks heated with chagrin.

“Speaking of.”
Brice eased from the edge of the bed and clasped her by the wrist. With a gentle tug, he pulled her into his warm embrace. Soft lips dusted the curve of her neck and shoulders. “Do you want to continue what we started?”

Unfortunately, as his hips brushed hers, she observed his cock no longer strained against the thin material of his briefs.
Just as well that his desire had dimmed, she supposed. Arousal might still flicker in her bloodstream, but Brice McTavish was never going to get her there at this point. Not when she’d turned to him out of habit and sheer companionship, and he hadn’t been who she wanted in the first place.

There was no denying it was Jayce her body hungered for.
Jayce her mind had concocted as she rolled her hips into Brice’s this morning and roused him from slumber with the not-so-subtle request. Jayce who could do more for her with one touch of his pinkie than hours of Brice’s skillful mouth.

Why, oh why, couldn’t she fall for the man standing in front of her?

She eased out of his embrace. “No. I’m not really in the mood anymore.”

Downstairs, the front door firmly banged into place.
A second later, Jayce’s pickup truck roared to life in the driveway. Definitely
not
the sounds she’d heard the night before.

She cut a quick glance at Brice, then furrowed her brow at the slight frown that registered on his face.
Had he made the same connection?

Alyssa shook off unease.
This was ridiculous. She refused to let herself be controlled by fear. A mountain of backed-up work waited at the office, and the Anderson’s not withstanding, she still needed to prepare the files she expected a subpoena to demand she surrender. Obviously no one was lurking around, waiting to attack. Otherwise, she wouldn’t be standing in her bedroom, watching Brice walk out the door, both of them perfectly unharmed.

She took a deep breath, huffed it out, and summoned a smile.
“Want me to cook breakfast first?”

He threw her a boyish grin.
“Not really hungry, but I’d kill for fresh coffee.”

“On it.”
She headed for the door.

Brice angled around her with a playful swat to her bottom, beating her down the stairs.
“Hitting the shower, then I’ll join you.”

The bathroom door thumped shut, and Alyssa allowed herself to simply stand on the stairs and breathe for a few seconds.
To absorb everything that had happened, and what had
not
happened, since last night. Tension ebbed from her shoulders and her lower back as she accepted the fact her decisions hadn’t been the wisest, and Jayce’s reaction was natural. He hadn’t wanted what he gave into. She shouldn’t have expected that the burn of desire would reveal anything deeper.

She didn’t
want
anything deeper. Couldn’t fulfill that end of the bargain without exposing herself completely.

And Brice genuinely seemed okay about the fact she’d turned him down when he’d been primed and ready for a robust round of morning sex.
Not that he ever really pressed it if she wasn’t in the mood. He was just being Brice. Patient, undemanding, Brice.

Feeling more at ease, Alyssa descended the stairs and wandered into the kitchen.

* * *

Jayce parked his truck in the back row of a strip mall three blocks west of Alyssa’s house.
He fiddled absently with his cell phone, dreading the call he must make. Clarke would have his ass for losing his wallet. Black Opals didn’t exist as far as normal CIA records went, and the fabricated credentials could lead to a hell of a lot of people poking around in Clarke’s business. People that would want answers. Answers Clarke would have to plan very carefully.

But there was no use trying to avoid the call.
Jayce sighed and tapped in the number he knew by heart.

Clarke
answered on the second ring. “Gotcha, Sandman, whatcha need?”

“I’ve got a little problem here, Kevin.”

A heavy moment of silence drifted through the line before Clarke asked warily, “What kind of problem?”

Yup.
This wasn’t going to go well. Better to just spit it out. “Someone’s got my temporary credentials.”

“Tell me I didn’t hear that right.”

“Yeah, boss, you did.” Jayce leaned his head back against the headrest and closed his eyes to an inward groan.

“Damn it, Honeycutt.
How the hell did you manage this?” Irritation sharpened Clarke’s voice.

“How about we just jump to the worst part?”

Like he chewed on nails, Clarke grit out, “There’s more?”

Oh, yeah.
Good thing he was half a continent away—Jayce didn’t want to be in the room with him when he learned whose hands his credentials might have fallen into. “Delfranco and James Parker ring any bells?”

“I don’t want to know.”
An exasperated sigh filled the line. “I
don’t
want to know.”

“Sorry, Kevin, but it’s pretty likely my credentials will end up in one of their hands.
My former best friend is Defranco’s defense attorney. His roommate is Parker’s accountant. I lost the wallet in their driveway.”

A stream of hushed oaths filled Jayce’s ears, followed by the heavy
thud
of something solid connecting with something equally dense. A good ten seconds later, Clarke spoke again, his voice eerily calm. “Like I said, I didn’t want to know.” He waited a beat, then exploded, “Son of a bitch, Honeycutt! I sent you on mandatory vacation. How’d you get mixed up in shit at your sister’s
wedding
?”

Jayce sat upright and drummed a hand on the steering wheel.
“Long story.”

“I’m starting to hate those two words.” He heaved a sigh, giving Jayce the distinct visual of the way he raked a hand through silver-brown hair. “Why is it all my agents suddenly need baby-sitters?”

Annoyance flashed through Jayce. He gritted his teeth, wrapped his fingers around the steering wheel. He remained silent, afraid if he responded to the snarky remark, he’d tell Clarke all over again exactly what he thought of his decision to hire Sasha Zablosky. Doing so hadn’t exactly gone over well the first time.

Clarke
muttered something unintelligible, then calmed. “Okay, I’ll take care of it. Guess I’m glad you called. Anything else?”

“Yeah.
I need a favor.”

“You need a
favor
, after you’ve lost your credentials?”

“Pretty much.”
Jayce smirked. Clarke might blow hot when he felt like someone had him by the tie, but if he’d truly been a dick, Jayce would have never stayed with the Opals. And sometimes, yanking Clarke’s chain was damned amusing. Though, admittedly, Jayce didn’t often do so. Not like some of the other Opals—Misha Petrovin and Alexei Nikanova being the most frequent offenders.

“What now, Honeycutt?”

Jayce lifted his gaze to the line of trees that separated the strip mall from the residential area where Alyssa and Brice lived. He pursed his lips, frowned momentarily. “I don’t suppose you can put me in touch with Kane Anderson can you? Last I heard, he was out this way.”

“Maybe, maybe not.
Why?”

“Like I said, I need a personal favor.”

“I hate those words even more.” Clarke muttered again. Papers rustled on the other end of the line. Then a series of clicks, as if he were typing, echoed through. “Kane’s wrapping up something in Seattle.”

Damn.
He sincerely hoped that was a lie and Clarke just didn’t want to disclose where, precisely, Kane was currently assigned. If Kane was working in Seattle, no way could he jog out here. “Can you have him get in touch with me A-Sap? I need to ask him something about a security system.”

“I’ll relay.
No guarantees.”

There never were.
“Understood. Talk to you later, boss.”

“I sincerely hope it’s not until you’re back in the office.”

Unable to hold in a chuckle, Jayce shook his head and disconnected the call. All complaints about Sasha aside, he couldn’t help but sympathize with the director. In the last several months he’d been dragged into a lot of shit that could have,
should
have been prevented. Jayce wouldn’t want to be in his shoes these days.

Well, so much for reaching any solutions regarding Alyssa’s security issues.
So far, today was turning into a total bust. He might as well go back there as he’d said he would, with a couple sensors, and look like he was capable of the professional claims he made to Brice. Not that he wanted to return. But he’d given his word, and since the majority of his life involved some kind of deception, he took his promises seriously the rare times that he made them.

He keyed the engine and rolled out of the parking space, dreading having to once again occupy the same square footage as Alyssa.

* * *

With the coffee brewing, Alyssa wandered down the hall and into her tidy office to check her email.
Saturdays were prime opportunities for quiet time, and she’d made it habit long ago to manage her own books and financial records. Like clockwork, each Saturday she read her personal email, balanced her checkbook, logged her deductions for the week, and recorded the other business expenses. In that precise order. When she finished, she turned on the local home improvements show and added to the fantasy list in her head of things she’d like to do around the house when time allowed.

Today, there would be no home improvements show.
She needed to work on the Anderson’s taxes. While she didn’t like taking work home with her as a general rule, given the recent chaos of her routine, it would be nice to sit down to some sort of normalcy when the coffee finished. She could regroup, refocus, and at least with black and white numbers, she maintained a degree of control. Nothing like this near-hysteria Jayce’s sudden unexpected arrival threw her into.

At the edge of her desk, her steps faltered, and she cocked her head to the disarray across her blotter.
Instead of the neat piles that divided expenses into categories, her desk looked as if someone smeared a hand across the surface, mixing everything up. The center drawer was ajar, and her chair had been pushed against the wall, not shoved up to the desk as she always left it.

Unease snaked down her spine.
The hair on the back of her neck lifted.

Rubbing at her arms to ward off a chill, she glanced around the room, unable to shake the nagging sensation someone was watching.

Knock it off. Maybe Brice was looking for something.

Even as she tried to make logical excuses, instinct objected.
Brice never,
never
fooled around in her office. If he needed something from inside, he asked her to retrieve it. Just as she did with his office in the basement.