The Risqué Target (25 page)

“You what?” Straining to understand her, he felt the muscles in his face crinkle, but then he relaxed, realizing it was more paperwork if an agent put two slugs into someone.

“That day I pulled the trigger, I wasn’t trying to kill you. I just wanted to show you I would if I had to. I knew there'd be no bullet in the first chamber.”

“I took all the bullets out,” he said.

“And it's a good thing you did, because the terrible twos hit me, and I pulled the trigger again.”

After catching on to what she was saying, he started to think about a few things. “The day at the airport, when I kissed you goodbye?”

“Yep. The terrible twos, but you just kept on doing it. Every time I satisfied the second kiss, you came at me with another, but I couldn’t very well tell you why I was returning your kisses but still asking you to stop.”

Holding back his cackle was difficult. “Let me get this straight. When I kiss you—”

“It's not funny,” she said, raising her voice. “It's never happened with anyone else, but thankfully, it's only when you, um… let me see… how to explain it.” She cast around for the correct word.

“When I peck you?”

“You make it sound like you're some kind of damn hummingbird, but yes. A quick kiss was what I meant to say.”

“What happens if you don’t get that second kiss or second whatever-it-is the terrible twos want?”

“Best way I can describe it,” she said, nibbling her bottom lip, “is that it’s like an addict jonesing for the next fix.”

“That bad?” He was taken aback by her candid answer.

“That bad,” she mockingly confirmed.

“So if I kiss you, then you'll do whatever it takes to kiss me again?” He smiled at the thought.

Obviously, she wasn’t too happy with his little jeer. “Yep, whether I want to or not.You think I like to feel this way?” Her tone reprimanded his devious, self-serving behavior. “I don’t, and it's not something to use to your advantage, Tantum. It’s hell to live with.”

“I know.” He sobered. “I'm sorry. You have to admit, though, that a man could kind of use something like that to his benefit. If he was that kind of man, I mean.”

“Yeah, but I doubt you're that type of man. It wouldn’t seem to me you'd need to pull out the card and use it. You can damn well get a girl to come back for a second kiss all on your own.” With a smirk, she folded her over her arms chest.

“I sure can,” he boastfully agreed, but the only girl he wanted was her, and he wanted more than her kisses. A hell of a lot more, and it went beyond her body. He wanted all of her, from her terrible twos right down to her tiny freckled nose.

“When are you leaving to meet the agent?”

Her attitude adjusted, now collected and curious. Odd. Skeptical of the quick change, he tried to read her but failed. The little kitten only purred at him with her baiting blue eyes.

“In an hour,” he said, still hovering on leery.

She stared at him, probably scheming something in that pretty little blonde head of hers, or still pondering his question about what her chart called “a mild disorder.”

“So, how long have you worked for NESA?” she asked, but he was well aware she already knew.

He decided to indulge her attempt at casual conversation, figuring anything would be better than arguing with her about going with him or, worse, having to handcuff her to something because of his concern. He was relatively certain she’d fight him tooth and nail on the issue, just as she always did. “About ten years.”

Her gaze roamed his face, lingering for a moment on his neck. “And the tattoo? When did you get it?”

“When I was eighteen. My closet school friend, Timmy Tinder, and I got identical ones. Timmy was a troublemaker, and my dad hated me hanging around him. I think that's part of the reason I did it, out of spite.”

“You mean just to make your father angry? Don’t you get along?”

“We're estranged, I guess you could say. We haven't talked in years.” He spoke matter-of-factly, as if it were the truth.

“But he's your father. Surely, you can forgive him for whatever he's done. People are more than the worst things they've done in their lives. You can't spite him forever.”

“But I can. Spite can be a powerful thing. It can motivate you into doing all sorts of things, like getting to the truth about Gregory Rowan and who killed him. He was on my watch, Nala, my responsibility, and he was killed.”

“So you'll stop at nothing to get to the truth, no matter what the risks are, no matter how dangerous the situation is?”

He thought he heard concern in her voice, but he pushed it aside. “Yes. My second assignment with NESA, they sent me to infiltrate one of the largest gangs in California, responsible for half the drugs and crime on the street. You know why they sent me in? Because of this.” He pointed to his neck. “The second-in-command was none other than Timmy Tinder, a.k.a. Tiny Tin, my friend.”

“What did you do?”

“He was corrupt, so I took his ass down. He's still in jail and will be for the next twenty years.”

“That must've been a little difficult.”

Sympathy. He didn’t like it one bit. “Not at all. That dumb-ass Timmy chose his path. He deserves to be locked away.”

“What about The Iris Flower? How long were you on that assignment?”

Now she was treading dangerous water, but he didn’t want to give way to his lack of desire to discuss The Iris Flower, conniving bitch that she was. “Nine months,” he said in a dispassionate voice.

“Wow. That long? She's beautiful, Valerie Barton. I've seen pictures of her. Did you have any feelings for her? I mean, I can only assume you were sleeping with her. Was it hard to—”

“What the hell?” Tantum was angry. He sensed everyone wanted to ask the question, but only Nala allowed the words to fall from her mouth. “No. I cared nothing for her. She was an assignment, and that was it.”

“Oh. I just thought—” she stammered.

“Well, don’t think. I'm capable of detaching myself from any subject, Nala. An old friend and yes, even a lover.” He brutally bit out the words, but she had asked for it by prying.

“I was just curious. You shouldn't feel bad about what happened to Gregory Rowan. It wasn’t your fault.”

“Enough. We've already discussed this, and it was my fault. I'm going to get ready. It takes about an hour to get to the drop-off site, and I need to take a shower.” He left the room.

As he stood in the shower, letting the warm water pelt his body, he thought of Nala.
That damn woman doesn’t know when to leave well enough alone. She keeps poking and prodding, making me think and feel about shit.
Feeling for anything was off limits.

****

Doing the dishes and wiping the counters seemed better than thinking about what Tantum had said to her, but once the kitchen was clean, Nala sat on the sofa with the past twenty-four hours running through her head. The bondage place was one memory that wouldn’t follow too far behind them having sex. She wasn’t even sure she could call what they did “sex.” The connection between them was inexplicable, and encountering it with any other man would be impossible. It could only be Tantum. It would always be Tantum.

She still did not know the truth about Gabe's death, or how Tantum might fit into it. She was also unsure how Tantum felt about her, even if she knew in her heart she cared deeply for him. There was no denying it, but she couldn’t tell him. He planned on letting her go when they found out the truth. But she wanted to stay. She needed to know more about the man who had brought down his good friend and hadn’t fallen for The Iris Flower. She hadn’t lied. Valerie Barton was known for her beauty and her wits. That was how the woman succeeded in pulling off some of the riskiest heists.

The stairs creaked, announcing he was on his way down. Her body tightened, tense and anxious, and she wondered what was wrong with her. She had to get a grip and come to terms with the fact that when this was over with, she had to leave him and go back to her own life.

His hair was damp and dark, but the wisps around his face and neck were almost dry. He blinked his beautiful blue-green eyes at her, and when he did, the image of him on top of her, his face tense and fierce while he pumped himself inside of her, flashed to her mind. No other man could compare to Tantum's strength, his power, or his sex appeal. It all poured out of him with no effort on his part, and she was sure he knew it.

“Here,” he said as his arm reached behind his back. His t-shirt stretched across his wide chest, and he pulled out her gun from the back of his jeans as he made his way to her.

She took it. Sitting on the sofa, molding her fingers around the cold metal, she glanced up at him. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

A smile lit up his eyes, and she dissolved. “Why? Do you still want to shoot me? It's loaded, Nala, every chamber, ready to go.” He shoved the tips of his fingers into the pocket of his jeans, still holding onto that sly smirk.

Is he daring me? A woman with a loaded gun?
“Today I don’t want to, but I can't guarantee tomorrow I won't.”

His look went from good-humored to dead serious. “I can't guarantee it either,” he said, but before she could try to read into what he meant, he continued. “I deactivated our phones. I couldn’t chance anyone finding us, and now that we've got the box containing the Rowan files, the stakes are higher. When I get back, I'll reactivate the phones and give yours back. I don’t want to leave you here defenseless. That’s why I gave you the gun. I hope this location is still secure, but just in case.”

She stood up and consumed the space between them. Her hand came out to his chest, and she gave him two pats. “I get it. Don’t worry. I'll be fine.”

His expression changed again from serious to threatening. “Don’t leave, Nala,” he said, his tone low but urgent. His hand touched hers upon his chest, and he gave to her two daunting little pats back. “I'm trusting in you to be a good girl.”

“You can trust me not to leave, Tantum. But a good girl? I don’t know about that.” She hoped to lighten his mood. She didn’t want him walking out the door angry and irritated. He might run into trouble, and she knew he needed to be clear-headed and ready. He had to come back to her.

And to her surprise, it worked. His eyes softened, and he palmed her face with his large, warm hand. She nuzzled into it, absorbing the infrequent but affectionate gesture. She recalled doing the same to him the night before, and how he'd tenderly kissed her palm. The memory sparked her inside, and she glimpsed up at him with the hunger she’d felt then.

He held her starving gaze. His free hand came to her other cheek. He delicately stroked her face. “You won't run?” He couldn’t hide the uncertainty in his hoarse tone.

She caught it, and shock sprang through her as she realized an ambiguous Tantum existed. “I'll be here when you get back,” she assured the newcomer.

He pulled her to his body and crushed her mouth with his. The kiss was packed with undeniable passion. It came quick and didn’t last long, but ended with the same result as any other time. It left her yearning for more.

Once she began to recuperate from it, before her eyes opened, he was already out the door. He left her wanting another kiss.

She decided she would be with him every night, with or without his consent. She'd hold him hostage if she had to, but she wasn’t ready to leave Tantum Maddox. Not yet.

Two hours, and it was going to be the longest two hours of her life. Needing to preoccupy herself, she opened up his laptop. “Damn it,” she cursed at the cue for his password. She sank back into the sofa and shot back up. She typed in his PIC number, which she had memorized from the NESA documentation. It had only been displayed in one place, but she'd seen it, and all her photographic memory needed was one glimpse.

The laptop obeyed, and just like that, she had access to his personal files. It was far too tempting, and she had to open his emails. She justified her invasive behavior by reminding herself that she’d had no privacy when he stripped her not once, but twice to put her in his t-shirt, without her knowledge or consent. She grimaced a bit, knowing it wasn’t quite the same thing, but she continued to be a nosy Nelly.

Her heart broke when she saw it: “
I've gotta get rid of her.”
Tantum had sent the message just prior to him coming down for breakfast.

The inbox response, from a number-coded email address, NESA identified, said, “
There's still a threat. You must continue the assignment. Don’t be a stubborn-ass. Gotta do it a little longer.”