On Her Six (Under Covers) (6 page)

Ash gritted his teeth. “Yes, sir.”

Landry sighed. “Christ, Cooper. You think I want you off doing grunt work? Of course not. I want you with the rest of the team at Heinrich’s compound. You’re the best agent we’ve got. Well, you were, before you got involved with
that
woman
.”

His teeth clenched harder. Fucking Lorena.

“Tyke’s leading your team fine,” Landry continued. “But he’s not you. Know what I mean? If things were different…if you hadn’t…” He sighed again. It was a rare reaction from the man who was usually so buttoned-up. “You know why I have to do this. Just follow orders. Keep a low profile and stay out of trouble. For your sake?”

“Yes, sir.”

It should have been Ash’s job to bring down Viktor Heinrich. Not sitting on the sidelines watching his second-in-command take over leadership of his team. He hadn’t spoken directly to Calder or Reese since they’d left Argentina. Neither of them would talk to him. Hell, maybe Landry told them to back off. That Ash was a lost cause and would drag them down with him.

He dropped the phone from his ear and looked down at the offending item. Waiting for the wave of pissed-off to pass, he gathered his thoughts and dialed Tyke.

Get a grip, man. Do your job.

As usual, Bryan Tyke picked up on the first ring. “What’ve you got?”

“Not much. Yet,” he said, knowing Tyke would question his ability to collect intel. “We’re getting close. I had a run-in with a Vamp this morning. Went after a woman on the street.”

“Shit,” Tyke hissed. Tyke might be a big mean bastard, but when it came to protecting the innocent, there was no one more devoted.

“There’s been no sign of Heinrich. But I just got here, so there’s time.”

“He’s been active at his compound,” Tyke said. “Adding extra security. It looks like the drop’s gonna happen there. Sawyer said his team hasn’t seen anything out of the ordinary at Heinrich’s house. You got anything else?”

Ash ran down the events of the last twenty-four hours, making sure to call out that he’d be paying a visit to Club Hell. He figured that fell within the purview of observation. If the Vamper said he got his stash at Club Hell, then Ash was going to check out the place and see what else he could learn about Heinrich’s operations.

As for Heinrich himself, all of his activity had been at his compound in Upper Marlboro, a city about thirty minutes east of Washington, DC. Tyke and the boys had that covered. And Sawyer and his team were watching Heinrich’s house in Alexandria, VA. The mission was to figure out Heinrich’s plan for Vamp and who his supplier was. Heinrich was expecting a large amount of Vamp in the coming weeks, and they needed to be ready to nail the son of a bitch and his supplier. Or at least Tyke, Calder, and Reese needed to be ready. All Ash was good for was stopping annoying blondes from getting themselves shot.

Knowing him too well, Tyke said, “Remember, Coop, you’re hands-off. Don’t try to be the hero because you need to prove yourself. Let me know what you find. Reese, Calder, and I will move in if needed. This isn’t your fight anymore.”

But it should be!
His fist tightened on the phone as he made an incoherent sound like a grunt. He glared out the kitchen window into his small yard. The fence between his property and Blondie’s leaned, ready to fall if a stiff breeze pushed it. He’d have to remember to fix it before he left. He sure as hell didn’t want to give her another reason to bitch at him.

“Look, man, I’m just following orders,” Tyke said. “Remember those? That’s what got you in this situation in the first place. Director Landry said you’re stuck there doing bullshit work until you get your head on right. That’s the way it is. You knew that when you signed on. You made a decision; you gotta live with the consequences.”

Another grunt.

“You’re pissed off, I get it. You think I’m happy with the way things went down? Hell, you know I’d turn the reins over to you today if I could. Do us both a favor and fly right. Then things can go back to normal. Got me?”

A huffed grumble was all Ash could produce in response.

Tyke took a deep breath and let it out in a quick rush. “Like talking to a goddamn brick wall. It’s Buenos Aires all over again.”

Ash sucked air into his lungs with a sharp hiss.

“That got your attention, didn’t it, asshole? Remember that while you’re out in the field
not
following orders.” Before Ash could say anything back, Tyke snapped, “Call when you’ve got more.” The phone went dead.

Tempted to throw the goddamn phone, he simply ended the call and shoved it into his pocket. Being excluded from the group was the worst sort of punishment, and Landry knew that. He was part of the team, but at the same time not part of the team. He was exiled. Left to gather information, then pass it on to Tyke.

And it was killing him. He wasn’t the kind of guy to sit and watch others save the day. When he started something, he for damn sure finished it. And because of one stupid mistake with one beautiful woman, he was now on his own until he could prove to the director that he could listen to orders. That he could carry out his assignment without getting anyone killed.

He whirled from the window in search of something to take his mind off—

He took one step and froze. All thought about Tyke and his shitty comments evaporated as an eerie sensation crawled up his spine. The hair on his arms stood on end.

Someone was watching him.

He hated that feeling. Always had. As a Special Forces sniper, he’d been trained to blend in, go unnoticed for hours, even days. Now, standing out in the open, it made him seethe with anger. He loathed being spotted when he didn’t choose to be.

Casually, as not to tip off his prowler, Ash proceeded up the stairs to the front bedroom overlooking the street. Standing at the edge of the window, out of plain sight, he scanned the area. The street was clear except for the usual neighborhood cars. Using the light from the street lamps, he searched trees and row house windows, paying special attention to the second story. A professional would be up high to make sure he had the tactical advantage.

Where are you, you son of a bitch?

Then he saw it.

A red blinking light. In the top left window of the house across the street. The same house Blondie had gone to after their incident with the Vamper this morning. An older woman around Maybel’s age had opened the door. Ash had written the exchange off, given the older woman’s surprised reaction when she’d opened the door. But now, he was starting to think there was more to the story than just Blondie telling her neighbor about a drug addict.

Locating his night-vision binoculars, he focused on the group of bodies standing behind the light. Five women—
women!
—two of whom he recognized. The first was the pushy one with the dog. And the second was Blondie.

He groaned. “You gotta be kidding me.” Who the hell were these women?

Definitely not cops. They couldn’t be, right? Apart from Blondie, the rest were as old as Maybel.

If he didn’t get these women off his back, his cover wouldn’t last another day. Landry would quarantine his ass behind a desk for the rest of his miserable career. Christ, Tyke would have a field day if he heard a bunch of grannies duped Ash. Obviously ignoring the women hadn’t helped.

Maybe he needed to do the opposite.

Within seconds, he hatched a plan. If old women had nothing else, they at least had propriety. And he was going to exploit the hell out of it.

A harsh cackle tore from his chest as he thought about the ridiculous length he was about to go to save his career.

Chapter Six

Sam couldn’t breathe. No scratch that, she was panting. No, she was suffocating.

Heinrich?

He’d mentioned Heinrich—the same dirtbag drug dealer who had been involved in her father’s disappearance. Her pulse leapt, pounding against her skin. What did that have to do with her neighbor? Was he involved in a deal with Heinrich? Or worse, was he working for Heinrich? Did he know anything about her father?

Sam and the grannies heard everything he’d said. The red and black eyes. Chalky skin. Club Hell.

Then nothing.

The women huddled on folding chairs in Rose’s narrow spare bedroom, situated at the front of the house. It was the room Sam used to stay in when her dad was on assignment. The same daybed with pink lace pillows and a small white nightstand still decorated the room.

Estelle and Celia wore headphones, tuned in to any sound John Black made. Sam perched in front of the television monitor hooked to the video camera Maybel operated. Rose held binoculars,

“What’s he doing now?” Sam’s words were clipped. She spun to the window. “Do you hear anything? Anything else?”

Celia and Estelle both shook their heads.

“He’s doing a lot of grunting.”

“Maybel, can you see anything?” Sam asked.

She, too, shook her head from behind the video camera.

“He’s involved in something,” Sam said. “Viktor Heinrich. The port. This isn’t a coincidence. It has to have something to do with Dad’s case. It just has to.”

None of the women contradicted her theory.

“Keep eyes on him,” Sam insisted. “Where is he now? I want to know every move he makes.”

“We lost him,” Estelle said. “He was near the couch, and now he’s…gone.”

“Gone?
Gone?
He can’t be gone. Keep looking.”

The ladies surveyed his house.

Silence.

Sam had never been very good with silence. “Anything?”

“Nothing.”

She didn’t feel anything but the pounding of her impatient heart. Not the soft carpet beneath her bare feet. Not the sweep of cool air from the overhead vent. “Where
is
he?”

“I think…” Celia began. Sam jerked her head to the woman. “Wait.”

“Wait, what?” Sam bit off. “Celia,
what
?”

“I hear something. Music, I think.”

“I have movement,” Maybel said from behind the video camera. “Top right window. Lights just went on.”

“Got it.” Sam lifted high-powered binoculars to her eyes. “There you are, you—”

Wow.

Not expecting the view, Sam stopped breathing.

He stood in the middle of the empty room, with music blaring, completely nude.

As in
naked
.

His entire front bare for them to see.

He appeared to be doing a workout routine on the hardwood floor. Since the room was empty, there was nothing else to look at but him.

Tear your eyes away. Tear. Your. Eyes. Away.

She tried, God she tried, but she physically couldn’t. She was transfixed by his body, corded with muscle. His movements fluid with every twist. Massively wide shoulders, strong arms, and a firm abdomen flowed into a tight waist and sculpted legs. She couldn’t begin to describe what lay between his legs. That, too, deserved praise. Holy. Hell.

Sam’s mouth went bone dry.

Ten hours.
That was her first coherent thought. He must work out for ten hours a day to have a cut body like that. No real human man could achieve it otherwise. Or he’s an alien. That was the only other explanation. He was an alien from Asgard or Krypton. Yeah, that had to be it. Chris Hemsworth had moved in next door.

The only sound emanating from the room were the breaths each woman heaved while watching him curl his hunky arms with weights and then do jumping jacks.

Up, down, up, down.

Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale.

“Is everyone seein’ what I’m seein’?” Estelle spoke in a breathy tone. “I’m not imaginin’ his throbbin’ banana bouncin’ like that, right? It’s really happenin’?”

“Uh-huh,” Maybel said behind her, fixated on the room with binoculars. Sam thought the older woman might have even licked her lips. “He appears to…” Her throat rippled as she swallowed. “…
enjoy
working out.”

“Well,” Estelle spoke, barely audible, doing some swallowing of her own, “he might be a drug dealer, but at least he’s…
fit
.”

“Uh-huh,” Maybel said. “Fit.”

Sweat streamed down his muscled chest, mingling with the light dusting of dark hair. Sam imagined running her tongue along the path, tasting the salty sweetness of his tan skin. It probably tasted like sunshine. She’d never wanted to taste someone’s chest so badly in her life. A primal need to lick him all over grabbed hold of her and refused to let go.

God, the way his strong legs flexed and constricted.

Her own skin heated; small droplets of moisture collected over her body. What would his lips and tongue feel like on her? A shiver ran through her at the thought.

A burning ignited in her lower abdomen—a yearning that seemed to grow and take over. Her fingers and toes went numb, and she was sure her heart had dropped into her stomach. Something inside kept mounting, reaching; for what, she couldn’t explain. Her breathing picked up and her chest heaved with each of his movements. A strangled gasp escaped so quickly she couldn’t stop it.

This was a man who knew how to use his body. God didn’t give people muscles like that and not show them how to put them to good use. She wanted to squeeze his butt and run her hands along his thick thighs, making them clench under her touch. She wanted his strength around her, grabbing her hard and leading her to a place she’d never been—teaching, guiding, stroking.

She felt wanton. Wild. Daring.
Hot
.

She shook her head. Where were these thoughts coming from? She’d never had such vivid images flash through her mind.

At twenty-eight years old, of course she’d dated. But no one had ever inspired the insane horny-as-hell feelings coursing through her.

“Oh my.” Celia’s gaze darted toward the mauve carpet. “I shouldn’t…we shouldn’t be…” She shot from her chair, the force of her movement making it wobble and snap closed. She turned from the window, walking as far as the doorjamb. Away from the show, but not completely out of the room.

“I’m not sure this is a good idea anymore,” Maybel said next. “I feel like we’re spying on the man in his element. Just doesn’t seem right.”

With the break in silence, Sam started to come back to earth. Her heartbeat slowed, and her body belonged to her again. She blinked twice to clear her head.

“I agree,” Rose said, placing her binoculars on the folding table under the window. “We can leave the audio on, but maybe turn the video off.” She glanced at Sam as if questioning her thoughts.

Her thoughts…what exactly
were
her thoughts? She couldn’t seem to locate them at the moment.

Up, down, up, down.

Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale.

Sam waited for Estelle to chime in.

She didn’t. She remained at the window, binoculars glued to her eyes, not uttering a peep aside from her deep sighs.

Sam dared two more peeks before agreeing with her grandmother that it was indeed wrong to spy on her naked neighbor. She did have limits. And morals. Grandma had made sure of it. Staring at him with everything under the sun shining back at her—bobbing and weaving, glistening in the soft evening light, inviting her womanly desires to partake—wasn’t right.

No matter how good he looked.

And man, he looked good.

So good.

With every sliver of willpower she possessed, she peeled the binoculars from her eyes and turned from the window. She checked to make sure the audio recorder was still on and then followed Rose, Maybel, and Celia downstairs to the kitchen.

Maybe they could try again in an hour or so. He’d have to be done with his workout by then, right?