The Spy Who Saved Christmas (2 page)

She straightened her back. Her D-cups jutted out even farther, the glittering tank top she wore under the open shirt stretching enough to show a clear outline of her nipples.

Maybe if Lara hadn’t been in the room, seven tables down by the window, he would have been more impressed. But she was there, and she threw him off his game. So instead of suggesting to Jen that they go someplace private to talk some more, he asked, “How about dessert?” And told himself that he was only stalling because if he stood up he might draw Lara’s attention.

When Jen’s foot ran up his leg under the table, he sighed with weariness and pretended it was pleasure. If it came down to it, if it was the only way to get her to talk, he would sleep with her. The terrorist group he was investigating was in the endgame of something big. They were ready to make their move, and he still didn’t have any idea what was going down or where.

Even if hitting the sack with Jen meant ending his career, or that she couldn’t be prosecuted because he would have messed up her case, he would do it to save lives. That was his priority. And he was determined to keep his eyes on the prize. He’d been in the business too long to toe any line without asking questions, to obey any rules that went against his better judgment. Too many lives had been lost. He’d
taken
too many lives. Something inside him desperately needed to make up for that. He would do whatever he had to do this time. There were no limits.

If only Lara would get up now and walk away.

Instead, she looked up and straight at him, blinked once, hard, before her eyes grew wide with shock, her face going pale.

“Hey, you know what?” He pushed to standing. “Forget dessert. Let’s go someplace more private.”

Jen picked up her purse and stood at once. She was game.

He left a couple of twenties on the table, enough to cover their dinner, tip and then some. Jen’s smile widened as she put on her coat. Whatever anticapitalist principles the cell embraced, she sure didn’t look like she was the enemy of money.

Lara was standing, too, saying something to her date, her eyes still on Reid. She looked softer, a little curvier than he’d remembered. She moved forward, her elegant black silk dress clinging to a body that had nothing to do with planklike photo models and everything to do with filling a man’s hands in the most perfect way.

He shrugged into his jacket, took Jen’s arm and pulled her behind him toward the door.

Lara’s step faltered. Then she gathered herself and kept coming toward him.

He figured the distance to his car. They weren’t going to make it. The gig would be up the second Lara called his real name, Reid instead of Dave. They were at the door. Through it. He scanned the parking lot that took up one full block.

The lights of the city blocked out the stars in the sky. The buzz of New York filled the air, the sound of millions of cars and people. To the locals, it was a beloved symphony. The tourists usually found it energizing and exciting. The constant buzz annoyed the hell out of him. How was a guy supposed to hear his enemies coming?

He pulled his keys from his pocket. “Hey, why don’t you get in the car? I better pop into the bathroom before we leave. I’ll be back out in a minute.”

Jen pulled her coat together as she reached for the keys.

Then several things happened at the same time.

Lara came out the door—sooner than he’d expected. Could be she had run. She wrapped her arms around herself as the wind hit her. “Reid? What are you—”

Her voice was lost in tires squealing as a dark SUV whipped up to the sidewalk and two masked men, one in the passenger seat and one in back, opened fire.

Reid dove for Lara, vaguely aware of Jen hitting the ground like a pro behind him. He gathered Lara against his body and rolled for cover behind a massive sign that advertised the restaurant.

A bullet penetrated the sign just an inch from his face, a good reminder that flimsy barricades, car doors and such, only stopped bullets in the movies. But at least the cover kept the shooters from being able to take exact aim.

When the shots had quieted for a second, he stuck his head out. The SUV was backing up to get closer to them. He shoved to his feet and yanked Lara up, dragging her behind him, lunging for cover behind the closest car, then the next and the next as bullets pinged around them. Then he was by his own car at last, and the next second they were inside, and then he was driving, getting the hell out of there, having momentary advantage in going forward while their pursuers had to drive in reverse.

The last thing he saw before he shot out onto the busy boulevard was the dark SUV turning around to follow, and Jen’s lifeless body in a pool of blood, illuminated by the light over the restaurant’s entrance. An image straight from the scene-ending shot of an old-fashioned thriller.

Except this was real life,
dammit.
And he had just lost his most promising asset in a top-priority case. His teeth ground together as he stepped on the gas, weaving in and out of traffic.

“Reid?” Lara’s voice sounded uncharacteristically weak.

She was pressed into the seat as far as she could be from him, looking like she was seeing a ghost. Which she was, in a way. As far as she knew, he’d died a little over two years ago, the night he’d lost all control with her at the bakery.

“I don’t understand—”

“Hang on.”

He couldn’t afford to be distracted now. He scanned the rearview mirror and swore under his breath.

He should have shot back at the bastards. If he’d got them, Jen would still be alive, his narrow doorway to the cell still open. If he’d injured them, the FBI could have interrogated them. If he’d shot them dead, fingerprints could have still been collected. Clues. Links to something.

Instead, he’d lost Jen and gained absolutely nothing.

Gained Lara’s life,
a small voice said inside. And he found that as badly as he’d messed up tonight’s operation, he couldn’t work up any serious rage. Which didn’t mean that plenty of anger didn’t simmer below the surface.

Still dazed, Lara was straightening in her seat, gathering herself. “But you died in the fire.”

He turned down the next street, took another turn, then another, going in the opposite direction he had been before. He watched his rearview mirror for the dark SUV, but couldn’t see it. “I don’t have time to explain.”

Why in hell did she have to show up in his life now? Why did she have to show up at all?
Ever.

She put her seat belt on with hands that were unsteady but not shaky. She had good hands. Working hands. Strong. She was no shrinking violet. Even now, minutes after escaping mortal danger, she was pulling herself together. Lara Jordan was one tough chick. He’d always liked that about her. As much as he ever let himself truly like anything about anyone.

For the most part, he was big on keeping his distance.

Of course, there’d been a time or two when he’d slipped. Like their one night together. He hadn’t made that mistake since. If sex was offered and the time was right, he took it. But he was always up front about what he was and wasn’t willing to give. There was no loss of control, no passionate coming together against all reason with…with a virgin who had stars in her eyes, for heaven’s sake!

His teeth ground together. Between the shoot-out he was leaving behind and the memories that were quickly surfacing, sending heat straight to his groin, he was getting more morose by the minute.

“Where are we going?” Her voice was nearly back to normal.

“Someplace safe,” he bit out, even as his mind worked a mile a minute trying to think of such a place. He could only come up with one.
Oh, hell.

“Who were those people?”

He turned left at the next light. “Not now.” They’d finally made it to Brooklyn. He pulled up a familiar street, slowed in front of an unassuming row house, hit the garage opener, pulled in, closed the door behind them immediately.

She peered through the darkness. “Is this where you live?”

“Mostly.” And he’d never,
ever
brought anyone here before, friend or foe. He would have to move now. Dammit.

He grabbed her hand and dragged her across the seat, out on his side as he left the car. He froze in place for a second when she stumbled against him. “I’m not going to turn on any lights. Just follow me.” Stepping away from her, he punched in the security code then opened the door that led inside.

She tripped a couple of times, not knowing the terrain, but he couldn’t slow for her. He wanted them in the den with its reinforced walls and his arsenal of weapons close by.

“Here.” He stopped by the hall closet and handed her his Kevlar vest. “Put this on.”

She obeyed without a word.

Then they were all the way in. He pushed her down onto the couch and went to stand by the window. The street was quiet. Not that he allowed himself to relax. He’d been in the game far too long to make that mistake.

“What happened back at the restaurant?” she asked.

And he closed his eyes for a second against the voice he hadn’t forgotten in the past two years, the voice that had said,
“Yes, oh yes, Reid, please,”
as she’d come apart in his arms on the bread table in his bakery, another undercover job that had turned into a disaster.

The muscles clenched low in his belly.

“What are you involved in?” She folded her arms in front of her awkwardly, the vest, a little big on her, limiting range of movement. Moonlight glinted off her full lips, off the dimple in her right cheek.

He turned fully toward the window, getting her out of his peripheral vision. She was nothing to him. A hot memory from his past. There was no reason why the sight of her on his couch, in his house, should bother him at all. She had no power over him.

She could have had.
He’d realized that early on. Which was why he’d made the decision to never go back. He took her power away by reducing her to a memory, a sexual fantasy. He could take her out when he wanted to, and he could put her away.

“Are you involved in something bad?” Her voice held a new twinge of nerves.

He gave a short bark of a laugh. “What do you think?”

Silence stretched between them.

“I’d like to go.” Her dress rustled as she stood.

He turned back to her, which was a mistake. The black silk clinging to her thighs did nothing for his focus. He fought the impulse that was pushing him closer to her. “You can’t.”

“Reid—”

“They saw me leave with you. It won’t take long for them to ask a waiter who you were with in the restaurant. Then they’ll go and ask your boyfriend about you.”

He swore under his breath. Somehow, his cover had been blown. The shooters would connect Lara to him. Her boyfriend was probably being worked over right now. Chances were good the poor bastard wouldn’t live to see the morning.

“I need to go home.”

“By now they know where you live. It’s not safe.” He gentled his voice with effort. “You can stay with me.” Until he could get the authorities to take custody of her and figure out long-term protection. Which, he hoped, could be arranged in the next couple of hours. He had to get back out there and find Jen’s CD before anyone else did.

That CD was his holy grail. The cell’s leader had trusted Kenny with its safekeeping. There had to be something on the damned CD that would provide a clue on the planned attack.

“It’s all over now,” he told Lara. For her anyway. For him, there was still a long way to go. “I’ll make sure you’re protected.”

Instead of thanking him for the offered protection, all hell broke loose as she flew at him.

“Why isn’t it safe to go home?” She grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him, looking ready to tackle him if necessary.

She’d always been a strong woman—had gone to school on a sports scholarship, been sidelined by a knee injury, had taken over her uncle’s butcher shop when the guy had retired.

He captured her wrists, tried to pull her against him to subdue her. Easier said than done. She was almost six feet of wriggling fury.

“They’ll go to your house,” he tried to talk sense into her.

And then she started fighting in earnest, this time to get away from him, her eyes on the door. “Let me go.” Her arms were wheeling like windmill paddles.

“Lara?” He caught an elbow in the chin, and swore under his breath. All he needed was to get his arms around her, but she wouldn’t cooperate.

“I have to get to Zak and Nate.” She kicked him, backward, viciously in the shin.

“Whoever they are, they’ll have to take care of themselves.” How many men did she have in her life?

“Are you crazy?” She screamed the three short words, elbowing him in the chest this time, doing her best to cause permanent damage. “They’re babies.”

Babies.

The guy at the restaurant was probably her husband. A cold sensation spread through his chest. Which was beyond insane. He barely knew her. She was a mistake he’d made two years ago. A momentary loss of control that should have never happened. What did he care if she’d gotten married since then?

He almost had her where he wanted her when, suddenly, she dropped her whole weight in some self-defense trick, and took him to the floor with her. But he was too quick to be shaken off so easily. He was on top of her the next second, his hands restraining both wrists above her head as he used his weight to hold her down in a pose that brought back some old memories and woke up his body.

She strained against him, which didn’t help any. “If anything happens to Zak and Nate, I’ll kill you. Do you hear me?”

He was aware of the curve of her hips under him, her long legs entwined with his. More memories rose and flooded him. His limbs went paralyzed. For a second, he couldn’t move anything from the neck down. And there wasn’t much activity from the neck up either.

For a heartbeat, nothing existed but searing need.

Dammit.
He’d thought he was done with this.

Then his body came alive with a bolt of pain as she kicked him where it hurt the most and shoved him off her. She dove for the door.