Heat Seeker (28 page)

He felt her orgasm ripping through her, felt the clench of her body, heard the cry of pleasure that mixed with the sound of the water, and he lost his mind in the rush of her juices around the thrusting length of his cock.

He lost his mind and his control.

Throwing back his head, he gave himself to his own release. He felt it tear through his balls, drawing them tight to the base of his cock as his seed began to spurt from him, filling her, mixing with her release and searing his flesh as he groaned her name and poured himself into her.

It was like dying inside her, becoming a part of her, melting so deep inside her soul that he knew neither of them would ever be free.

It was like finally finding the home he hadn’t believed truly existed for him. And in that moment he knew why his fellow agents were so damned possessive and particular
about assignments such as the one Micah was working. He belonged to Bailey. He belonged to her, body and soul. And he knew from that moment on, never again could he allow another woman to touch, to take what was Bailey’s alone.

Clenching her rear in one hand to hold her to him, he fought to press his hand tight enough against the shower wall to keep himself upright.

Bailey’s legs were tight around his hips, shudders still working through her body as he fought to catch his own breath.

“I will always love you.” He couldn’t hold the words back. “Until my last breath, sweet Bailey. I’ll love only you.”

She sobbed against the pleasure, against the pain. Her eyes locked with his now, her body melded to him. She whispered, “I’ll love you forever.”

John only prayed that somehow, some way, they could have forever. Together.

RAYMOND AND MARY GREER
knew how to throw a house party, Bailey had to give them credit for that. The next afternoon as she eased away from the ballroom where a full buffet lunch and champagne bar had been set up, she marveled at the massive amount of money that had to have gone into the catering of the affair.

Chefs had been flown in from France, Greece and California. Fresh produce and seafood was brought in, as well as superior wines and champagnes. No expense was spared for this once-a-year party that Mary so enjoyed throwing. The fact that her husband used the event for his criminal activities was evil, in her eyes.

Mary was one of the gentlest ladies Bailey had ever known. During her childhood Mary Altman had been a strong guiding force for Bailey and Anna. She had taken the two girls under her wing, guided them in their coming-out balls and taught them how to laugh at themselves when their parents had exhibited disappointment or disapproval in them.

Slipping out of the ballroom, Bailey made her way through the foyer and away from the clash of voices. She couldn’t handle the crowd of overgrown teenage females any longer. That was what they reminded her of. They were mothers and grandmothers, yet they seemed to think they were still eighteen. The petty backstabbing and social climbing sickened her. Being a part of it was something to avoid at all costs.

As Bailey escaped the ballroom and moved quietly through the house, she was aware of the security cameras that followed her progress. Raymond had spared no expense in the security of his home, or his secrets. It seemed that every room she had been in so far, except bedrooms and bathrooms, were equipped with the electronic devices. Some of the larger rooms contained several of them.

Movement through the house was tracked diligently, the images displayed into a secure room in the basement level that was manned by several security guards.

Outside was no less secure. The evergreen maze was filled with them, the only privacy to be found there was in the sheltered, private grottos that Mary had insisted on and had spared no expense in creating.

The place was a virtual fortress, leaving her very little opportunity to slip into Raymond’s office and rifle through his papers. The good ol’ days of the spy game that her cousin Garren Abijah had once talked about were well and truly gone.

Everything was electronic now. Gadgets and sensors, virtual access and computer viruses. One damned near had to be a rocket scientist to figure out how to slip into secured areas undetected. That or have a team with varying skills covering every move.

She wasn’t a rocket scientist and she didn’t have a team. That left her at loose ends as she roamed the house and eventually made her way outside.

John was with the men, most likely pursuing much more interesting activities this afternoon. Shooting pool, playing poker, possibly out hunting. She would have given her eye-teeth to be socializing with the men rather than the women. Buying jewels and clothes wasn’t exactly her idea of a fun time. She wasn’t there to have fun. She was there to catch a murderous traitor and she had to admit, at least to herself, that she was beginning to grow impatient.

Her world, unfortunately, was still a man’s world. They conducted business, made financial decisions and ran the vast array of companies beneath their personal umbrellas.
The women spent their days with their charities, their shopping, lunches and social calenders. God, could that life get any more boring?

Moving through the house, she found herself drawn to the library. The intimate, cozy room was filled with books, reading nooks, and a fire that crackled cheerily in the hearth.

The warmth of the fire sent a soft glow of heat to the seating arrangement in front of it. As Bailey entered, her only thought was to curl up on the comfortable couch she and Anna used to share when they had slept over at Mary’s and reminisce on a childhood friend who should never have died.

Her hopes were doomed to disappointment. Moving toward the fireplace, a slight movement to her right had her swinging around, her hand going to the small of her back, beneath the cream-colored cashmere sweater she wore for the weapon hidden there in its butter-soft leather holster.

“Ease up, Agent Serborne.” From the shadows, one of the brokers invited to the house party stepped forward.

“Landon Roth.” She kept her hand on her weapon. “No one told me you had been invited.”

A wide toothy smile in a less-than-charming face was her answer.

Landon was one of those plain little men that one met sometimes. If you didn’t know him, didn’t know the pure genius and pure evil inside him, then he was so easily overlooked and underestimated.

“I rather had a feeling you would be drawn here.” Plain hazel eyes glanced around the room as he straightened the edges of his charcoal-gray jacket over his white shirt. Finely pleated pants and black leather shoes completed his appearance. He wasn’t short, he wasn’t tall. At five feet eight inches, he was just the right height to blend in. Neatly trimmed hair a shade of dark blond or light brown, she had never really determined which and thin wire-rimmed glasses.

“And what made you think I’d be drawn here?” she asked, careful to keep an eye on him.

He looked around again, a smile playing at his lips. “I
think a library rather becomes you, Agent Serborne,” he stated. “Classy, refined, quiet. An oasis of peace.” He clasped his hands in front of him. “I always rather saw you as a woman of class and refinement, though I must admit I never made the connection to the Serborne fortune until I arrived here. The CIA omitted that from your file, I do believe.”

She arched her brows. “I’ll have to remind them to correct that oversight.”

He chuckled at her response as he wagged a finger at her. “Very deceptive, my dear. Very deceptive. The past they created for you was quite inventive, I must say. Kansas farm parents, dead. No living brothers or sisters. An orphan with no family. Very, very good.”

“Thank you.” Bailey watched him carefully as he moved to the seating arrangement and took a seat in one of the comfortable wing-backed chairs.

“Do have a seat, Agent Serborne,” he invited as he waved his hand toward the couch. “We need to discuss a few details if you don’t mind.”

“And if I do mind?” she asked archly.

He smiled, a rather chilling curve to his lips that she knew was designed to inspire fear. She wasn’t afraid of him. Fear of Roth wasn’t something she had ever known. She was wary, though.

“I do believe as Warbucks’s emissary you are required to consider all brokers invited to this little get-together in the hopes of convincing you that they are the best man for the upcoming auction,” he pointed out. “I’d have to have to complain that I wasn’t given a fair and impartial chance at the job.”

“Last I heard, Warbucks didn’t exactly follow traditional employment guidelines.” She almost rolled her eyes at his statement. “Really, Roth, do you believe there’s an argument you can give that would convince me that you should have this job over John Vincent?”

“Your lover isn’t exactly the best man for the job.” His lips twisted into a curve of distaste. “If you were looking for a business partner, my dear, I’m certain you could have
found a much better match. One who at least understands the world you were born within.”

And of course, Roth would understand it. He was a distant runner in line to England’s throne, and raised amidst the pomp and arrogance of European royalty. His parents were aristocrats, cold and brittle, but even they were wary of the child who hadn’t seemed to have an ounce of mercy, compassion, or warmth.

He’d poisoned his nanny when he’d been no more than five. At ten he had nearly killed a playmate, a boy several years his senior. At sixteen he’d been under suspicion for the murder of his lover, who had been pregnant at the time. At the same time he had been suspected of cheating on finals at the prestigious school he’d been enrolled in.

At eighteen his parents had died in a suspicious vehicle accident. Roth had believed he would inherit the vast fortune his parents were thought to have had, only to learn that they had been little more than paupers living on the charity of friends and family.

“I’m quite satisfied with the lover I’ve chosen,” she assured him as she took a seat in the corner of the couch, watching him closely.

His lips twitched as he propped his elbow on the arm of the chair and ran an index finger over his upper lip.

“He’s a bit common, don’t you think, my dear? He doesn’t exactly have upper-class connections or a background that could complement yours. There are surely men much closer to your stature.”

“Men such as you?” she queried lightly.

“Precisely.” His smile was knowing, condescending. “I would be a much better choice. We could move mountains with the power we could attain.”

“I can already move mountains.” Bailey could also feel her skin crawling at the thought of this man touching her.

His lips pursed as dark hazel eyes narrowed on her.

“Even out the playing field, Agent Serborne,” he ordered her, his voice lowering, becoming rasping, a serpent’s hiss
of fury. “I don’t relish the idea of losing the particular contract.”

“The contract hasn’t been given yet,” she pointed out. “Warbucks makes the final decision, I only suggest the best man for the job.”

“The best man being that upstart Vincent?” he sneered. “He’s a worthless piece of white trash, and you know it as well as I do.”

“He’s worth quite a bit to me.” She eased to her feet, straightening as she watched him carefully. “The best man for the job is the one who can get the job done and done correctly. Unfortunately, your record doesn’t speak nearly so well for you as John’s does for him. You leave a trail of blood and a wake of suspicion in your path. We don’t need that.”

He pushed to his feet, a wave of red anger rushing over his cheekbones as he glared back at her.

“I get the job done.”

“John gets it done efficiently, without suspicion and without a mess. Sorry for your luck, but you’re falling way behind in the quality department here.”

She turned to leave the room. She’d had enough of his attitude and superiority. Landon Roth was known for his ability to get a job done, there was no doubt about it. He had the contacts and the reputation to make the sale. But he clearly wasn’t the best choice.

Turning her back on Landon Roth wasn’t the wisest move she could have made either. She knew his reputation, but she hadn’t truly believed he was stupid. Until she felt his knife at her throat.

“You’re a nasty little bitch,” he hissed at her ear as the cold steel caressed her neck. “I never did care much for you. Despite your vast fortune, you have no breeding whatsoever do you, you little whore?”

“
Bitch
and
whore
, your vocabulary is improving.” She drew in a hard breath as the razor-sharp blade bit closer to her flesh.

“I could leave you on this floor bleeding and go straight to dinner,” he snarled. “I’d relish the feel of it flowing over my fingers simply because you’re trash. Just as your whore-mongering little boyfriend is trash.”

Bailey lifted her eyes to where the all-seeing eye of the carefully hidden camera looked down on the library from above the door.

If security was watching, how long did she have? she wondered. If they weren’t watching, then she was simply just screwed.

“You won’t get away with it,” she warned him.

“Of course I will,” he laughed. “Warbucks can’t afford to have me arrested because then it would bring his own activities to light. And he would have to catch me to kill me, wouldn’t he, darling?”