The Risqué Target (5 page)

But when he started yelling something about Tantum taking away his fiancée, Tantum reached the end of his patience. He had no romance going, and if he’d had a one night stand with one of Sullivan’s women, it was entirely unintentional. “If I did, is it my fault you couldn’t keep her?” he shot over his shoulder as he walked away. Sounds of a scuffle behind him told him the asshole had gone for him and been intercepted by the other agents.

Next day at NESA, word had gone around the office that Sullivan had been given two options—resign or be fired. Later he heard the guy had gone to work for HAARP, the top security company based in Alaska. Good place for him, Tantum figured. The guy majorly needed to chill out.

But whoever the alluring woman with the multiple personalities was, Tantum was sure she was no girlfriend of Hark the asshole’s. As he started toward her, he liked the vulnerability that showed when she recognized him. Almost instantly she managed to swipe away her caught-off-guard expression. Instead, her eyes ran the length of his body. He enjoyed it, a stimulation almost as racy as being touched.

Oh yeah, you're going to be mine before the end of the night
….

Not taking his eyes off her, he casually strolled over. He gave Sullivan a quick once-over. “What is it you wanted to ask me, Hark? Because I was on my way to ask you something as well.” He paused and slithered his gaze back to Becky. “How it is that you know my date?”

Her eyes popped open, revealing more of the pale blue hidden beneath her lids. Her cute little freckles were covered up, and her lips were shaded by some dark pink color. If he’d had the good sense, he would have called it magenta just to rouse her.

Now he’d staked her out. He wondered what she was going to do. Her brows furrowed at him, but she remained silent, perhaps contemplating.

“Rebecca Downey?” Hark asked, pointing at the presently mute airport girl.

Rebecca. Tantum decided that was a more suitable name for her.

“She's your date? I haven't ever known you to bring a date to anything, Marcus.”

Tantum pulled his gaze from her baby blues. “No, there's a lot you don't know about me, Hark.” He leaned in closer and—standing over four inches taller—glared down at the feeble excuse for a man. “For instance, did you know that I don't like to share what's mine?”

Hark cowered back from the intentional crowding, and Tantum moved closer to her.

“Play nice gentlemen.” Her throaty voice came spiky and swift like a knife slicing through the escalating tension.

Tantum slightly tilted his head, viewing her from the corner of his eye.

“Rebecca,” Hark said, “it was nice meeting you, but I have to catch my plane in a couple of hours. I will leave you in the good hands of your date.” He tried for a rakish grin before he walked away.

Tantum didn’t bother giving Hark a second look, but the man had said one intelligent thing.
Yes, in my hands is exactly where she’s going to be, and very soon.

She didn’t back down from his hard-hitting stare, and his unabashed glances hit every inch of creamy flesh the revealing dress didn’t cover. “I believe—” She waited for his eyes to meet hers before proceeding. Once they did, she went on. “I believe you scared him off.”

Tantum shook his head. “You don’t want to get involved with someone like Hark Sullivan,” and that was the truth.

Her sleek brow rose skeptically. “So, you saved me for the second time today?”

Did I, or was I being selfish and wanting her all to myself?
He smiled, knowing the answer.

With her eyebrow still arched, she said “And your little statement about not sharing?”

He returned smoothly, “Why? Do you want to be shared?”

“Only possessions can be shared.
That
, Mr. Richards, is something I am not. I belong to no one but myself.”

Tantum wanted to smirk at the remark. After all, he might very well be taking a new toy home from this convention.

She gave off a vibe that nearly demanded him to take her. He wanted not just that, but to keep her, and that was something new. She'd distracted him from the moment he set eyes on her at that party. But she was also distracting him from his real reason for being in Boston. His Target. “I guess that sounds bad,” he agreed, making the ambiguity seductive.

Her eyes swooshed over his face.

He was a patient man. He waited.

A small smile developed across her mouth. It was she that came closer, her lips inches from his ear. “Don’t get any ideas. Unlike the café, there are too many people in here. Even for you, I hope.”

He didn’t move, and neither did she. He stared straight ahead, over her shoulder, and simply replied, “You'd be surprised.”

Her breath bathed his earlobe. “Would I now?”

What the fuck!
Goose-bumps rippled from his neck to his toes. “Want to find out?”

She sighed as if bored and pulled back from him, shaking her head. “Not tonight. I have a prior engagement.”

“And here I thought you'd invite me back to your room for a drink, maybe pick up where we left off at the airport.” He refused to let her off that easily. He'd imagined screwing her ever since he held her in his arms at the airport. His cock had been like a yo-yo all day because of her.

She smiled at him. “If I didn’t have plans….” Tapping her wine glass, she trailed off.

No, he wasn’t through with her yet. “If you didn’t have a previous engagement and you were going straight back to your room, I’d be invited?”

The word came out slow and sultry. “Absolutely.”

“Good to know.” Nodding his head in farewell, he turned and walked out of the room.

****

Nala punched the elevator button. The night had been totally unsuccessful. She was no closer to finding out what Tantum Maddox looked like.
But at least there was Marcus Richards
….
 No
,
Nala
. She wasn’t going to think about him.

For the first time, she was letting herself worry that after all, Tantum Maddox would remain faceless. The man who’d killed Gabe Cafferty was going to get away with it, and the thought sickened her.

She stepped out of the elevator. She knew she only had thirty-two feet to go, as she had gauged the distance earlier, but she was nevertheless tempted to kick off her uncomfortable heels for the remainder of the walk. She'd tolerated Marcus Richards’s egotism, so she decided she could tolerate her heels a bit longer.

As much as she wanted to avoid thinking about him, she wanted him. It was something she couldn’t deny. He was gorgeous and mysterious, with a body that screamed,
“Touch me! Feel my muscles and dare to go lower to the spot that will satisfy!”
Even though she’d lacked a ruler at the airport, Nala was convinced he was hung. His cockiness, that arrogance, it had to be coming from somewhere, and she thought it might be rooted between his legs. At least, she liked the idea.

When his eyes lingered too long on her, she hadn’t become annoyed as she’d done with Hark Sullivan. Marcus did it in a way that had her beckoning for more of his attention, like being back at school and wishing,
Pick me! Pick me!
She desperately wanted to play with Marcus Richards, but she'd had to brush him off. She couldn't risk the distraction. She had to find Tantum Maddox. Giving up a promising romp in the sheets was the least she could do for her murdered partner, Gabe.

The keycard slid through the slot and the door clicked. As soon as she entered the room, she kicked her heels off, took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and rolled her tense neck. She sniffed. Marcus Richards's cologne had clung to her clothes. She could smell him.

Shit
! She had to get the guy off her mind.

Her eyes snapped open as she got another strong whiff.

In her room, behind the small bar, stood one Marcus Richards, his arms in the air as if arrested, though she hadn’t yet gone for her gun. A wickedly charming smile lit up his face. His coat was gone, and his tie was undone and hung loosely around his neck. His shirt was unbuttoned to his mid-chest, revealing the curves of impeccable musculature beneath his hairless, golden-brown skin.

How will I ever be able to resist him?

“What the hell are you doing in my room?”

Despite his pose, his swaggering smile persisted. “I thought I was invited.”

“Usually when someone invites you somewhere, you don’t need to break in.”

“I was invited. But you weren't here to let me in. Your plans were obviously cancelled, because you came straight here after the party. From what you said earlier, I would
absolutely
be invited in such a case.” He flashed his white teeth at her. “And here I am.”

And there he is
…
.

It was what she had said, but he’d known very well it was an excuse, a polite send off. She didn’t know which she wanted to do more, pull out her gun and shoot him or take him up on his unspoken offer. A wild night behind closed doors.
Shit, why'd I have to snag him at the airport?
She already knew the answer.
He has a nice ass.

“Look, seriously. If you really want me to go, just say the word.” He started to lower his hands. “I'll leave.” His palms rested on the bar as he relaxed and waited for her decision.

Sex radiated from the man, and the only thing dancing in her head were sexual fantasies having nothing to do with sugarplums. His unstoppable body was perfectly cut, every line enhanced by some kind of muscle. A specimen of his magnitude shouldn’t exist. It was lethal to the female species.

“Or,” he suggested, “I could stay and fix you a drink.”

She couldn’t read him. His blank stare offered her nothing. The hunky chest beneath his shirt did, though. She imagined her fingers on each button, unfastening the rest of them. Before she made any decisions, she needed know something. He was part of the community. That much was clear. “First, tell me how you got into my room?”

He shifted a bit forward, the slight movement bringing him perilously closer in her imagination. “As I told you earlier, I'm good.”

She remembered that from the airport, along with the feel of his hard, boasting manhood against her pelvis
.

Was he fully erect? Stop that!

“If you can't tell me, then I must request that you leave.”

Running his fingers through his dark, thick hair, he sighed. “I make it a habit to become friends with an employee at every hotel where I stay. I wave some money around, and then, if I need something during my stay—”

“You do this at every hotel?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“Who
are
you?”

“A guy who’d like to spend some time with you,” he answered, looking straight into her.

She felt him touch her guarded womanly core.

“So, how about that drink?” he proposed with nonchalant diligence.

Why was he in Boston. Why in this hotel?
An assignment of some kind, clearly. “Bourbon, on the rocks,” she answered aloud.

He pushed his sleeves farther up his arms. “Comin’ right up, ma’am.”

She watched his every move. Or was that an excuse? The muscles in his forearms rippled when he lifted the bottle to pour her drink. A few swatches of hair fell over his forehead, over those strange blue-green eyes. He peered at her through the dark strands as he walked toward her with the glasses in his hands.

Something dangerous lurked beneath his hooded leer. A net was being draped over her, and she hadn't seen it coming. He had defeated her control with his raspy voice, ravishing smile, and provocative gleam.

No longer sure of her own intent, she snatched him by the wrists, trying to gain some of her dwindling power back. She wasn't sure what she meant to do with that power.

The glasses shattered onto the floor. Before Nala knew it, both her arms were behind her, held firmly together by one of his strong hands. He pushed her backwards. When she hit the wall, his face hardened. “My control is not something I give up easily, sweetheart,” he said, his voice low but harsh and imminent.

She couldn’t budge free of his sturdy hold. She inhaled sharply, but his stern expression didn’t falter. Other women might have panicked, but Nala had been through more than most. She remained calm. The option of kneeing him in the balls was still there. Allowing her body to become slack under his hostile grasp, lowering her voice to almost a whisper, she replied, “Yes, you strike me as that type of man, Mr. Richards.”