My Spy: Last Spy Standing (10 page)

Desire washed over her, again and again, in ever-strengthening waves. He made her want things that...

Her brain stopped. Her body took over.

Wow, okay, she missed being with a man.

* * *

H
E
WAS
SO
turned on he couldn’t see straight. Lust took over his body. Testosterone flooded his brain. What few brain cells were still working were overtaken by confusion. And surprise that he could still respond to a woman like this.

He wasn’t sure if he felt hopeful or resentful about his body’s overwhelming response to her.

Plain and simple, she knocked him on his ass.

He wanted her now, here, hard and fast. He couldn’t see beyond that.

He eyed the washer hopefully. He could lift her on top of that, wrap her endless legs around his waist. His body hardened for her. “I want you,” he said in a rusty whisper as he pulled his head back a little.

“Yeah, I think I got that,” she responded in a weak tone.

Her beautiful eyes were hazy with passion, turning him on even more.

He swallowed a groan. “I don’t want to want you.” He didn’t want the complications that would come with it. He kissed her again, anyway.

It felt a lot like falling. He didn’t like falling. He’d spent months falling all over his face in physical therapy after he’d gotten his new legs. Thinking of that made him think of what would come next, in a normal encounter between a man and a woman who wanted each other.

Taking off their clothes somewhere upstairs.

She melted against him. Some feeling that was a lot softer and lighter than he was used to lately pulled him forward. He pulled back. She made him want things he didn’t want to need.

* * *

S
HE
WAS
BREATHING
hard and hoping he wouldn’t notice.
He didn’t want to want her.
Well, other than the part of him that obviously did. Was it pitiful that she desperately wanted him, aching with need between her legs?

She was so damn stupid. She’d tried this before. It never worked. And it was her fault. She would always put Katie first and whatever guy was in her life would want to come first. Completely reasonable.

The kiss had been great, but she couldn’t, shouldn’t, go too far down this road with Jamie. The longer she let this go on, the more hurt she’d be at the end. One guy she’d fancied herself in love with had asked her to put Katie into a home so he could move in and they would have some privacy.

That had caught her off guard, broke her heart, made her feel stupid that she’d thought he was different than the others. And here she was, thinking the same again, about Jamie.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.” She shouldn’t have kissed him back. “This is not going to work between us. It’s not working for me.”

He stared at her. Shook his head. “I apologize if I read you wrong.”

He hadn’t. He’d read everything right, had done everything right. She’d wanted him, wanted him still, even right now, wanted nothing more than to go back into his arms and be kissed silly all over again.

She was tempted beyond words to throw all caution to the wind and just do that, let the chips fall where they may. Except she’d done that before, and the chips always fell on heartache. She was an intelligent woman. She wasn’t going to make the same mistake over and over again when it came to men.

He didn’t need to know that her knees were still weak from his kiss.

Quick. Say something unaffected and clever.

Not a damn thing came to mind.

Then she blurted, “Did you check both lists?”

He blinked, looking at her as if she was from another planet. “What both lists?”

“The prison keeps two separate visitors’ logs. One for general visitors, the other for the attorneys and whatever. That’s maintained separately. And they won’t show what attorney visited what prisoner.”

The heat in his eyes simmered down little by little. “That sounds stupid.”

“It’s to maintain attorney-client privilege,” she told him, proud of herself for sounding like a professional instead of a moonstruck teenager, even if on the inside she felt more like one than she cared to admit. “Could be Jimenez’s lawyer was the one who took him the hit order.”

Chapter Nine

On his way home, Jamie called into the office and asked Ryder to put in a request for the new set of visitors’ logs. There also had to be court records that would show who had defended Jimenez during his incarceration. They would have to jump through a couple of hoops and wait for warrants, but they could definitely get the information.
Progress in the case.

Which was a good thing, especially since his liaison with the deputy sheriff was getting worse and worse. He was definitely going in the wrong direction with Bree. She was completely right. He’d been way off base, way out of line.

He wasn’t looking for a relationship. There was absolutely no reason to stir things up with her. Good thing she had a sober head on her shoulders and saw their mistake for what it was.

He’d gotten carried away with her. It wouldn’t happen again.

The kiss... He drew in a slow breath then released it as he pulled into the parking spot in front of his apartment. It wasn’t going to happen again. Definitely.

Maybe she’d forget.

Maybe she barely noticed, he tried to tell himself as he drummed up the stairs. Then he swore at his own stupidity. While the kiss had been completely unprofessional, it was also utterly unforgettable.

He’d been a hairsbreadth from pushing further. Common sense, mission objective and regulation be damned, he’d wanted her, then and there, all the way. Which meant one thing: time to take a giant step back from Bree Tridle.

He showered using a plastic chair since he couldn’t stand under the water, drew the blinds, went to bed. He refused to think about her or how she’d felt in his arms, but then, of course, he dreamed about her. In his dream, their interlude didn’t stop with kissing. He woke a little while later in a haze of heat and lust, pulled the pillow over his face and forced himself back to sleep.

This time, his dreams turned darker. He was in the torture chamber in the hills of Afghanistan, in the cave that had been converted into a prison just for him. Outside the iron bars, enemy fighters held the family who had sheltered him after his chopper had gone down. He was the sole survivor of his team. With two broken legs.

The first week, they tortured him to gain intelligence. He resisted. The second week, they tortured the family: husband, wife and children. He almost talked then. The third week, when the family had been reduced to bloody corpses, his tormentors had turned their attention back to Jamie once again.

They moved from hooking him up to batteries to chopping off body parts. They’d leave his tongue for last, so he could tell them what they wanted to know, they’d said. Everything else was fair game. They’d started from the bottom up.

By the time he was rescued, he was mad with pain and more than half-dead from blood loss. And a different man from the one who’d taken that chopper in.

Ex-beauty queen Brianna Tridle needed a man like him about as much as she needed a shot in the head, Jamie thought as he woke, then dressed grimly and got ready to go into the office, then out on patrol again.

He needed to pull back from Bree and keep his distance.

* * *

B
REE
HAD
JUST
gotten
home with Katie when she got called into work.

“Jesse called in from the liquor store. He caught a fella with a fake bill. He’s holding him at gunpoint. I can handle it if you want,” Lena offered.

Bree always had the weekends off so she could be with Katie. She drew a deep breath as she thought for a second, then came to a decision. “I better go. I’m supposed to liaise with Agent Herrera on the counterfeiting.” She watched Katie go into the kitchen for a snack. “I’ll call Eleanor over to stay with Katie. I need someone to watch the house.”

“I’m on my way.”

“Thanks. I appreciate it.” She hung up and called Eleanor. “Any chance you could come over for an hour or so? I have to go out on a call.”

“Anytime, hon,” her neighbor said on the other end. “You know how much I love that sweet girl. Spending time with her is a pleasure. I’d just be sitting home all lonesome, anyway.”

“You’re going to run into a good man one of these days.”

“I’d take the one you had out in your front yard yesterday.” She chuckled. “If you tire of him, you just send him my way.”

“He’s not my boyfriend or anything,” she started to say, but Eleanor was already ringing the doorbell. “Okay, I’m out here.”

Bree opened the door and they put away their cell phones simultaneously.

“Thank you. I really appreciate this.”

“Just as long as you have cookies in the cupboard.” Eleanor’s sweet tooth was as bad as Katie’s.

“Always.”

“Hi, Katie, sweetie.” The older woman walked in. “I was a little lonely tonight. Mind if I come over? I like your TV better, anyway. It’s bigger.”

That’s how they played it lately, since Katie, twenty-three now, had been asking why she still needed a babysitter. Bree wouldn’t have hurt her feelings for the world, but she wouldn’t compromise her safety, either.

“I’m going to run out for a minute. You two have fun,” she told her sister. “Leave me some cookies.”

Eleanor walked her to the door to lock it behind her.

“Lena will be by in a few minutes,” Bree said. “I just... With the vandalism thing...”

“We’ll be fine,” Eleanor said. “Don’t you worry about us, hon.” Then she added, “So about your young man?” And watched Bree speculatively.

“It’s not like that. He’s just a friend.”

“Honey, a man puts in that kind of labor on your front yard and he doesn’t send you a bill in the mail, it’s more than friendship.”

“It’s not the right time for me for anything more.”

“You can’t still be thinking that. It doesn’t have to be either Katie or a man, Bree. You’re so reasonable and flexible about everything else. You know what a guy like this is called?”

“Jamie?”

Eleanor gave a quick laugh. “A keeper. Think about it.”

She promised nothing, but walked to her car and got in. She glanced back at the house as she waited for Lena.

She wasn’t terribly worried about safety. Jason wanted
her.
If he ever escalated to the personal-attack stage, he’d be coming after her, and she could handle him.

She waited a few more minutes. Called Lena.

“I’m five minutes away.”

“All right. I’m going to get going here. I don’t like the idea of Jesse holding anyone at gunpoint.”

He was an ornery old geezer who’d had a father and grandfather in the bootlegging business. Jesse had cleaned up his act and took his status as the first upstanding citizen in his family seriously. He was way past retirement age. He claimed he’d owned his small store since before the flood. He protected his turf. He’d been known to put the fear of God into any kid who showed up for liquor with a fake ID.

She called Agent Herrera on her way over. “Got a new counterfeit bill. I’m on my way to pick it up and take a statement from the person who tried to use it.”

“I’ll drive over.”

She gave him the address, then turned down Houston Ave.

A small crowd had gathered in front of the liquor store by the time she pulled up front, gawkers watching through the glass as Jesse kept a young, gangly guy pinned in place by the checkout counter.

“Deputy Sheriff.” She flashed her badge, although most of the people there knew her. “Nothing to see here. Please, disperse.” She got out of the car and strode straight to the door.

She wasn’t scared. It was South Texas. Most everyone out in the country had a gun or two. Most knew how to use it. Jesse was cantankerous, but he wasn’t a hothead.

“It’s Bree. I’m coming in, Jesse.”

She put her hand on the door handle, pushed it in an inch, then said again, “Jesse? It’s Bree. I’m coming in.”

“Come on in, darlin’. I got you one here.”

“I appreciate it. How about you put the gun down?”

Jesse lowered his rifle. “You takin’ him in?”

“You bet.” To get the man away from Jesse, mostly. She turned to the younger guy. This one she didn’t know. “I’m Bree Tridle, deputy sheriff. How about we go down to the station and talk about that twenty?”

“Yes, ma’am.” The kid seemed mighty motivated, looking between the door and her.

“Do you have ID?”

The kid dug into his pocket and handed over his driver’s license. Garret Jones, age twenty-two, lived a few towns over.

“All right, Garret, I’m going to take you in for a short interview.” She looked at Jesse behind the counter and gestured toward the twenty in front of him. “Is that it?”

Jesse nodded. “Yep.”

She pulled a rubber glove from her back pocket, an evidence bag from the right and bagged the money. “I appreciate the call. Go easy with the gun next time. Just a call would be fine,” she added, just as Agent Herrera walked in.

He looked Garret over.

“You want him?” she offered.

“You take him in,” he said. “I’ll ask a few questions here, then I’ll be coming in, too.”

“See you later, then.”

“Thank you, Deputy.”

She got the kid in the back of her cruiser without trouble. He didn’t say a word all the way to the station. She didn’t push him, either. Agent Herrera would be questioning him, although she would ask to sit in on it. Whether counterfeiting fell under the CIA’s jurisdiction or not, whatever happened in her town was her business.

Another hour, she figured. Then she’d be heading back home to Eleanor and Katie. Maybe she would take them to the mall for window shopping. They were all in need of a break.

* * *

J
AMIE
DROVE
DOWN
the deserted dirt road along the border. Everything was quiet. He’d been watching the flat expanse of arid land, keeping an eye out for the slightest movement as he talked to Shep over the radio.

“Ever been in love?” The words popped out of his mouth without warning, surprising even himself.

“Repeat that?”

“You ever been in love?”

A stretch of silence followed. “I had girlfriends.”

“I mean real love.”

“Hell, no. Who needs that aggravation?”

Exactly. “Come close?”

Another stretch of silence. “Kind of liked someone. Didn’t work out. Bad deal all around.”

“How bad?”

“She cost me my job, stole my car and set my house on fire. That’s all I’m going to say about that,” he added gruffly. “And I’m going to have to kill you if you ever repeat it.”

“Understood,” Jamie said with full sympathy, sobered more than a little. This was exactly the kind of confirmation he needed. Walking away from Bree was the right thing to do. He’d known that all along. And now Shep agreed.

His phone was buzzing. He glanced at the display. “Gotta go.”

The labs at Homeland Security worked around the clock, and he’d marked his evidence “contact with results immediately.” They were calling back.

“All right, give me the good news,” he said.

“Both envelopes were sent by the same person. Jason Tanner.”

Bree’s old stalker. She was right. Better this Jason guy than the alternative. At least the mess at her house wasn’t connected to the smugglers.

“Thanks.” He hung up, a little relieved. Her stalker had nothing to do with the smuggling. He was free to walk away.

Except, no way was he going to be able to do that, not after kissing her, not after meeting Katie, not after seeing the destruction in her front yard.

Despite his best intentions, he’d somehow gotten tangled.

Oddly, the thought of that didn’t bother him nearly as much as he’d thought it would. Bree was one of a kind. She was... All right, so he had a soft spot for her. There, he’d admitted it. Didn’t mean he had to act on it. Ever again.

While that thought felt very self-righteous, it also felt incredibly depressing.

He was about to call her to let her know about the fingerprints when his police scanner came on. He caught the code first.

Fatal shooting.

Then came the address in a staticky voice, and his blood turned cold. He whipped the car around and shot down the road like a rocket, calling Shep.

“There was a shooting at Bree’s place.”

“Go. I can call Mo to cover for you.”

“Thanks.”

His car couldn’t move fast enough as he flew over the uneven road, his heart thundering in his chest.

When he hit the actual paved roads and had to worry about other cars, he kept hitting the horn in warning, flying around them, putting every bit of his training to use. Then he reached her street and saw the police cars in her driveway for the second time in two days.

Caring about someone was a heart attack and a half, he decided.

He squealed to a halt and jumped out, his blood running cold as he registered the shattered living room window. He pushed his way inside, but an officer stepped in his path.

Then Officer Delancy, coming in behind him, spoke up for him. “He’s with Bree.”

“Where is she? Is she hurt?”

Delancy shook her head.

He could breathe again. “Katie?”

“It’s the neighbor woman.”

He hurried down the hallway and into the living room. An old woman lay on the floor, her chest bloodied, cops securing the crime scene.

He went in as large a circle around them as he could, ran up the stairs. “Bree?”

“In here.” The words came from the back.

He caught sight of a neat master bedroom and sparkling-clean bathroom as he made his way to her, to Katie’s room where Bree was sitting next to her sister on a pretty pink bed.

Katie was rocking, wide-eyed, talking too loudly. “Eleanor. Eleanor. She. She. She...”

“Shh. I know. It’s okay.”

Katie’s gaze flew to Jamie, and the look in her pretty dark eyes broke his heart. “Eleanor is not sleeping.”

“No.”

“You can fix her. With unicorn magic.”

“I can’t, Katie. I’m sorry.”

She rocked harder and moaned, ground her teeth.

He flashed a helpless look to Bree. “What happened? What can I do to help?”

She had shiny tracks on her face. She shook her head as she stood.

He walked over to her, then stopped short. He’d almost pulled her into his arms. But she didn’t want that. She’d been pretty clear about it. He shoved his hands into his pockets instead. That bullet had been meant for her, he knew without a doubt, and the thought about killed him.