A Spy For a Spy Read online

  Oh yes, we do. We really, really do want to miss that.

  I summoned up a smile instead of uttering my killjoy thoughts and turned to Lola. “Are you coming, too?”

  “Nope.” She grinned up at me. “Harley’s been getting all fired up watching the girls while we watched the boys. Now you kids run off to your party. Harley and I have plans for a little party of our own.” She let one eyelid droop in a lascivious wink. “See you. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

  We watched her tiny figure weave through the crowd to the exit, and Nichele giggled. “I just love her. I’m so glad you introduced us. Come on, let’s go.”

  I spared a brief but fervent wish for my bed, and followed.

  Christ, maybe I was having an epileptic seizure. But I was marginally reassured by the coldness of the glass in my hand. Probably not seizing if I could still hold onto my beer and perch on this damn uncomfortable stool. Strobe lights pummelled my eyes while the music battered my brain as if some evil poltergeist was using my skull for a kettledrum.

  I cranked my aching head slowly around, but I didn’t see any ghosts, evil or otherwise. On the opposite side of the bar, Nichele’s red sequins flashed and glittered through the dimness while she laughed and danced and flirted. I groaned and gulped some more beer.

  “Hey, beautiful.”

  A chiselled chest gleamed inches away from my eyes. I dragged my gaze up to his face. Long blond hair, bright blue eyes, and a seductive smile. Gorgeous. Half-naked. And I was pretty sure that wasn’t a gun strapped to his thigh under those tight pants.

  And he was young enough to be my son, if I’d ever had children.

  I suppressed another groan. “Hi.” I manoeuvred my beer past his pecs to take another drink.

  “Are you having fun?”

  “Oh, sure.”

  More beer.

  “You don’t look like you’re having fun. Maybe I can help.” He moved a little closer, hips circling suggestively. “Do you like my nipple ring?”

  I focused slowly on the nipple in question. With an effort, I contained my urge to wince and cross my arms over my chest. “Ouch.”

  “You can touch it if you like.”

  “No thanks.”

  “Go ahead.” He straddled my knees, which were pressed uncomfortably together thanks to my gun. His thighs slid against my legs with slow, rhythmic strokes. The nipple ring came closer. “Go ahead. It feels reeeally good if you take it in your teeth and tug a bit…”

  A sudden memory of bright metal tearing through flesh made me recoil with a cry, slopping beer over his bulging crotch. I slid awkwardly off the stool, clenching my legs on my gun.

  “Sorry.” I backed away, fighting to control my shallow breathing.

  “It’s okay. You can help me dry it off.” He gave me a provocative grin.

  “No thanks, I have a headache.” For the first time in my life, I abandoned an unfinished beer. I threw a wave in Nichele’s direction and got the hell out of there.

  Outside the door of the lounge, I sagged against the wall to avoid a cluster of noisy drunks and switched to belly breathing. After a couple of breaths, I drew myself up and shook off the residual horror of the flashback.

  Nipple rings just grossed me out, that’s all. Totally unrelated to that memory.

  I deliberately guided my mind back to the sight of the gleaming ring, breathing through another surge of adrenaline while I worked to lessen my reaction. Just a run-of-the-mill piercing. Repulsive, but innocuous.

  There was no reason to think it would ever be viciously torn from his body while he screamed and struggled and bled…

  Fine. I was fine, dammit.

  Just a piercing. He liked it. It wasn’t hurting him.

  Just breathe.

  I tottered down the walkway toward the small food fair. Over-tired, that’s all. A snack would help.

  I was hovering between the kiosks trying to decide between two unappealing varieties of greasy food when a hard object jammed painfully into my bruised back and a voice spoke in my ear.

  “Let’s go. Nice and slow.”

  Chapter 13

  Another deluge of adrenaline completely breached the weakened dam of my self-control. I let out a yell and whirled, my arms windmilling in mindless attack.

  Doytchevsky jumped back, narrowly avoiding a backhand to the face, and glared at me. “What is your problem?” he demanded loudly enough to carry to the staring vendors and patrons nearby. “It’s just me.”

  I staggered toward the nearest chair and he moved solicitously to my side, reaching as if to support me.

  “Back off, dickhead,” I barked, and dropped into the chair, panting and shaking.

  “I’m sorry, honey, I really didn’t mean to scare you.” Doytchevsky was still maintaining his ‘misunderstood husband’ act. “It was just a joke. It was a pop can.” He held up the offending object.

  I grabbed his shirtfront and yanked his face down to my level. “If you ever, ever, try anything like that again, I will tear… you… apart!” I jerked the shirt for emphasis with each word. “Got it?”

  “Don’t make a scene,” he whispered. “Let me go.” He pried my fingers loose and slid into the chair opposite me.

  I jerked forward to glare into his eyes. “Why the fuck shouldn’t I make a scene?” I hissed. “And what the hell did you think you were doing? You’re lucky I didn’t fucking shoot you, you moron.”

  “You’re lucky I didn’t shoot you. That wasn’t a pop can.”

  “Asshole!”

  “I’m sorry,” he repeated loudly before dropping his voice to a whisper. “Look, I’m going to keep following you until you tell me where Sherman is. So we might as well work together. We both want the same thing anyway. Give.”

  “Or what?” I snarled. “You’ll threaten me again? We both know damn well you won’t shoot me. You need me. And we both know damn well you can’t do anything to me or Stemp will nail your ass to the wall. Now I’m going to tell you this one more time in small words so you can understand, and I want you to listen very, very carefully. I don’t know where Sherman is, but I’m pretty damn sure he isn’t in Vegas. I’m not meeting him. I’m not hunting him. And if I see your rat-face again, anywhere, I’m going to call Stemp and tell him everything, including how you’ve been stalking and threatening me. Got it?”

  He stood, his glare so malevolent that I had to prevent myself from recoiling. An instant later, his expression smoothed into its usual blandness.

  “We’ll talk later when you’re not so upset,” he said, and walked away.

  I sat breathing carefully. Beer and exhaustion and stale adrenaline provided toxic fuel for my splitting headache. I dry-swallowed a couple of painkillers and vibrated quietly in the chair until I thought my legs might hold me again.

  At last, I staggered to the nearest kiosk and bought an order of french fries, forcing them down without tasting them. The pounding in my temples eased, and I finally summoned up enough energy to head for the escalator. Descending into the insistent noise and movement of the casino, I clenched my teeth, massaging my forehead.

  God, this place was like my own private version of hell. I tried not to limp while I navigated through the crowded casino, cursing the blister on my heel and the fiery friction of the gun against my inner thigh.

  Outside, the thought of closing myself into a cab was more than I could bear. I turned away from the crowd milling at the entrance and retreated down the sidewalk to an oasis of relative peace and quiet.

  Letting out a long breath, I stepped off the concrete and pressed my back against the coolness of a sheltering pillar. Above me, the gigantic illuminated sign flashed out its welcome.

  Huh. More like a warning. ‘Caution: Migraine Zone’. I sighed again and savored the relative softness of grass under my aching feet, letting the tension ease from my shoulders.

  The sound of footsteps and an advancing shadow made me shrink back a little farther from the sidewalk. Just let me have a few moments
of peace and solitude, for God’s sake.

  The footsteps slowed. Good. Maybe they were going back.

  The motionless shadow loomed across the sidewalk in silence.

  Watching. Or listening. A sudden chill made me ease my hand down toward my gun.

  The shadow moved suddenly, but before I could decide whether to draw my gun, my stalker stepped around the corner of the pillar.

  My jaw dropped.

  “Hi,” Kane said.

  “Uh… hi.”

  God help me, he was breathtaking in that dark suit. It must have cost a fortune to tailor the jacket to fit his powerful arms and shoulders while emphasizing that taut midsection. Nichele would faint.

  Hell, I was damn close to fainting. Or something.

  Kane grinned and leaned a shoulder against the pillar beside me. “You’re stunning in that dress.” His gaze trailed heat from my throat to my knees. “I hope you’re as dangerous as you look. Where’s your gun?”

  I tamped down the urge to say ‘search me’ and shot him a grin instead. “You don’t want to know.”

  He leaned closer, his eyes darkening. “Oh, I think I do.”

  I straightened, holding onto control with all my might. “What are you doing here? I told Stemp I didn’t need you.” I glanced up at his nonplussed expression. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that,” I added.

  His smile came back. “It’s all right. Stemp didn’t like the idea that you were being followed, so he sent me. I was already in transit by the time you called the second time and told him you’d eliminated your tail and made the drop.”

  He sobered. “I don’t blame you for being irritated. I’d be mad as hell if Stemp second-guessed one of my missions like that, but you’re quite a bit more valuable than I am. He can’t afford to take chances with your safety.”

  “Mm.” I twitched a shoulder and changed the subject. “I presume you found me by tracking my cell phone?”

  “Yes. When I got here and discovered you’d checked out of the Mirage, I got Stemp to coordinate with the local law enforcement to run back the security camera footage. I saw you meeting Nichele and Lola, so I wasn’t surprised you were out on the town.” He leaned closer, frowning. “And I saw Doytchevsky accost you in the lobby. That didn’t look like a friendly exchange. What’s he doing here?”

  Shit! I stared up at Kane for a moment, my mind racing. If I told him about Doytchevsky’s private obsession with finding Sherman and the rest of the Knights, it would raise all kinds of awkward questions. Little things like ‘why didn’t you put this in your report’. I made a split-second decision just as he spoke again.

  “Aydan, you can tell me.”

  I shrugged. “There’s nothing to tell. You remember how he asked me out to lunch a while ago? Well, it seems he got the wrong idea and followed me down here thinking we might have a little vacation together. I set him straight, and he wasn’t very happy about it.”

  Kane’s frown deepened. “Don’t you think it seems obsessive to follow you to Vegas on the strength of one short meal where you ate a couple of bites and then threw up in the bathroom until he left? Is there something you aren’t telling me?”

  It took all my self-control to meet his eyes. “He’s just a creep, that’s all.” At least it was true, though it didn’t exactly answer his question.

  Change the subject.

  “So what are you doing here in your James Bond outfit?” I teased. “I hope you’re playing high-stakes roulette and drinking martinis, shaken not stirred.”

  His smile made the irresistible laugh lines crinkle around his eyes. “That would be clichéd. I’m playing high-stakes poker and drinking single-malt scotch.”

  A vivid memory of the taste of scotch lingering on his lips made me swallow, the tip of my tongue skimming my own lips before I could prevent it.

  His gaze fixed on my mouth, his eyes dilating. Even several inches away, I could feel his body heat radiating against the exposed skin of my cleavage.

  His voice dropped to a panty-vibrating rumble. “What are you doing here in your Bond Girl outfit? I hope you’re drinking champagne and planning to seduce a secret agent.”

  My insides melted into a puddle of lust.

  Shit, this was exactly what had gotten me in trouble the last time…

  He leaned closer and my breath caught when blazing hunger consumed me.

  Too much beer, too many hot memories. Goddammit, if he kissed me, I’d rip his clothes off right here and now and bang him up against this sign...

  “John, stop!” I blurted desperately.

  The naughty twinkle vanished from his eyes and he stepped away so quickly the abrupt withdrawal of his body heat nearly made me reach for him to regain it.

  “Do you mean that?” His suddenly serious gaze searched my face. “Aydan, if I’m stepping over the line and making you uncomfortable, say so and this stops right now.”

  I swallowed the dryness in my throat, my lecherous memory roaming wantonly over that glorious chest, those delicious biceps, that perfectly-sculpted ass, that rock-hard...

  I shook myself and dragged in an unsteady breath. “Yeah, you’re sure as hell making me uncomfortable,” I muttered.

  He stiffened. “I’m sorry. I won’t-”

  “But I don’t think the discomfort of unsatisfied lust is going to land you in a sexual harassment tribunal,” I interrupted. I gave him a smile as the tension eased from his posture. “John, you know damn well it’s all I can do to keep my hands off you...”

  His lips curved into that teasing smile again as he stepped closer. “So don’t.”

  “...but you know I have to,” I finished, determinedly not looking at the tempting laugh lines around his eyes.

  “Of course you have to when somebody might see us,” he said in reasonable and far-too-convincing tones. He advanced another step, only inches of superheated air separating our bodies.

  “But we’re alone. Here in Vegas with no mission. Nobody watching. If you want me...” His voice dropped to that deep rumble that threatened to dislodge the underpinnings of my self-control. “...you can have me.” He held me motionless with his gaze, my willpower evaporating into wisps of vapour under its heat. “Remember that time in the woods? Up against the tree?” His fingertips traced lightly over my collarbone before drifting higher to tilt my chin up. “Tell me you remember.” His eyes were a rim of grey around bottomless black. “I know I do.”

  His husky baritone sent electricity sizzling from my eardrums directly to all points south. God, yes, I remembered. With every cell in my body.

  “I... That’s not what I meant.” I fought the waves of desire generated by the proximity of those lickable lips. And all the rest of that lickable real estate.

  Shit, stop thinking about it.

  I stepped back far enough to suck in some air that didn’t contain the brain-scrambling scent of gun oil and leather. “What I meant was, I don’t want to get involved with you, and having sex with you again would really, really not help that.”

  “So don’t get involved.”

  I jerked away from him, frustration putting more of an edge into my voice than I’d intended. “For fucksakes, John, I’m not worried about me getting involved with you. I won’t. That’s what I’m worried about. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  “You won’t hurt me.”

  “Goddammit, yes I will!” I balled my fists in my hair and tugged savagely. “Why can’t you just-”

  “Aydan.” The tease was gone. Nothing left but deadly-hot testosterone-drenched male. “I live a dangerous life.” The deepening growl of his voice made my argument shrivel in my suddenly-dry throat.

  He closed the distance between us, his mountainous shoulders looming over me. “I know what I want. I’m willing to take risks to get it.” His intense gaze made my knees begin to tremble despite my best efforts. His hand slid behind my head, powerful fingers closing in the hair at my nape to pull me closer. “Those risks are mine to take if I choose.”

/>   I gulped, groping for a reply in the boiling vat of lust that had apparently replaced my brain. I managed a shallow gasp before he spoke again, a fraction of an inch away from my lips.

  “I choose.”

  His kiss made breathing irrelevant. Made everything irrelevant except the mind-melting need to feel his hard contours against my body and-

  He broke the kiss and pulled away, a wicked grin tilting his lips at my involuntary moan of protest. He eyed my panting and trembling with undisguised satisfaction. “Sooner or later, you’ll see the wisdom of my choice.”

  I swallowed hard and scraped together a semblance of intellect. “I thought you said it was up to me whether anything happened between us or not.”

  His grin widened. “It is. But I never said I wouldn’t try to influence your decision.” He pulled me into another incendiary kiss before releasing me. “Think about it,” he whispered before striding away, tossing a devilish grin over his shoulder.

  Jesus, like I was going to be able to think about anything else.

  I was dragging myself across the polished tiles of the Mirage’s lobby when Doytchevsky appeared beside me, smirking. I glared at him from behind the headache that had returned full force during my cab ride. If I kept walking, I’d have exactly enough energy to make it to the elevator.

  “Fuck off,” I growled, and kept moving.

  His smile widened. “No, I don’t think so.” He brandished his camera. “You’re going to want to see this.”

  I stopped. Summoned up every fibre of forbearance I still owned.

  “Doytchevsky.” My tone made his eyes widen. “In three seconds, I’m going to pull out my gun and shoot you. Three. Two…”

  He thrust the LCD display of the camera in front of my face.

  “…W… What the fuck?”

  Chapter 14

  Doytchevsky’s smile widened as I stared at the photo. His hand closed around my arm, jarring my mind back into motion. His voice held sheer triumph. “Let’s go up to your room and talk about this. If you tell me where Sherman is, I’ll make these pictures go away.”