Bad Attitude (B.A.D. Agency #1)(29)
Author: Sherrilyn Kenyon

Problem was, she wasn’t so sure about that. The last thing she wanted was to see him hurt any more.

“What time is it?” she asked.

“Ten past ten,” Jack answered.

She let out a slow breath. “We don’t have much time.”

“No,” Steele agreed, “we don’t.”

Syd looked up at him. “So what’s our game plan?”

He looked stunned by her question. “You’re actually asking me this time?”

“Yes, but don’t tell anyone, okay?”

Steele didn’t know what surprised him most, her words or the fact that right after she said them, she walked over to him, leaned close enough to press her cheek to his and whispered, “Thank you, Josh.” Chills spread over him, especially since she pressed her lips to his cheek before she withdrew.

And that just made him hard all over again. Damn, what was it with this woman and his hormones? He hadn’t been this out of control since his teen years.

And what fond memories those years weren’t.

He pushed himself up from the couch and tried not to groan too loudly. “Let me go shower, and we’ll talk about it when I get out.”

Syd grimaced at the pained way Steele was moving. “Jack?” she said after he’d left them alone. “Is there some other way you can think to get inside APS without using Steele?”

“Why you asking?”

“He needs to rest, and the last thing I want is to see him shot or stabbed again.”

Jack scratched his chin as he thought about it. After a few minutes of silence, he shook his head. “As paranoid as those bastards are, no. I can’t see any other way in either.”

She supposed a miracle was too much to ask. Oh, well, it was worth a try. Hoping for a better day than yesterday, she went to the suitcases, pulled out a change of clothes for Steele, and went to the bedroom where she’d spent the night.

She was laying them on the bed when he entered the bedroom behind her.

Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of him wet and dripping with nothing but a blue towel covering him. The light glistened against the sleekness of his shoulders as he brushed a hand through his wet hair.

His bandages were gone, leaving his red, puckered skin all too obvious. But even so, he was gorgeous.

It was all she could do not to cross the room and rip the towel from him and lick every inch of that divinely masculine body.

“You keep looking at me like that, Syd, and we’re not leaving this room today.”

Heat crept over her face, especially since she could see proof of his desire.

“Sorry. You should have warned me you were heading in here.”

Smiling, he sidled up to her and pulled her into his arms. She could feel his hard c*ck against the center of her body, and it made her ache for him even more. “I like catching you unawares.”

She closed her eyes as he nuzzled her neck, and chills went over her. “You have to stop doing this, Steele.”

“Josh,” he murmured.

“Josh,” she repeated, savoring the fact that he let her use it.

He cupped her rump and pressed her h*ps to his so that she could feel the large bulge of him even more. “If I live through today, promise me that I get a taste of you again as a reward.”

Syd slid her hands down until she pushed his towel to the floor. She cupped him gently in her hand before she slid her hand to the tip of his c*ck so that she could coat her fingertips in his moisture. Steele hissed in response.

She fingered the wet tip of him before she brought it up to her lips to taste it. “You live through today, and tonight, I’ll get a taste of you.”

He actually whimpered at that. “You are cruel, Agent Westbrook.”

She smiled wickedly. “I know, but it’s a great incentive not to get yourself killed today, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is.”

She rose up on her tiptoes and gave him a sizzling kiss as she rubbed herself against his erection.

Pulling away from her was the hardest thing Steele had ever done. But unfortunately, they didn’t have any more time to waste. They had an all-too-pressing engagement with a lunatic.

M Street was still crowded, but at least this time a car pulled out a few feet from the front door of APS. Syd deftly slid their BMW into it.

She glanced over at Steele with a worried brow. “I still wish you’d wear a wire.”

He just gave her a droll stare. “It didn’t help us yesterday.”

“I know.” And she did, but still she hated to send him in alone.

He leaned over and kissed her. “Keep the engine running, just in case.” He reached around her back and pulled her gun out. He tucked it in beside her thigh.

She frowned at him. “Paranoid?”

“No, I just want to make sure nothing happens to you.”

His concern warmed her. “Don’t worry. I can handle myself.”

Steele nodded before he got out of the car. He sauntered down the street as if he owned it. In the event he was being watched, he wanted Wallace to know that he had no fear of the cheap-ass punk.

He opened the door to the office and narrowed his eyes on the receptionist. “Hi, Agnes. Buzz Wallace and tell him his three-thirty appointment is here.”

She looked a bit surprised to see him, which played into his thoughts about her yesterday. She must know what it was that they really did for a living.

Before she could press the button, Wallace’s voice sounded over the intercom. “Buzz him in, Agnes.”

Steele looked up at the camera and gave it a mean, shit-eating grin before he headed toward the door. As expected, the bruiser was there again, waiting for him.

“Don’t even look at me, a**hole. In the mood I’m in, I’ll break your neck in half.”

Bruce didn’t say anything as he escorted him from the hallway up to Wallace’s office.

Just like the day before, the prick sat at his desk with a stony look on his ugly, chubby face. “Still alive?”

“No. I’m a walking corpse. Can’t you tell?”

Wallace snorted. “You know, just because you’re here proves nothing. For all I know you just ran away from my contractor.”

Steele gave him an equally deadpan expression. “You didn’t tell me I had to prove anything other than to be here today.”

Wallace glared at him as he reached for his phone and picked up the receiver. Steele crossed his arms over his chest as he watched him dial it.

Two seconds later, the cell phone in his pocket vibrated. Steele pulled it out and flipped it open. “Lee Perry can’t come to the phone right now, since he’s unfortunately suffering from a fatal dose of lead poisoning. If you would like to leave a message for him, I suggest you see a priest or a psychic.”

He hung the phone up and tossed it to Wallace, who actually paled. “You satisfied?”

He nodded glumly.

“So do I have a job or not?”

Syd couldn’t stand not knowing what was going on. Her nerves were completely racked. She didn’t like being out of touch with Andre, and she really hated being out of touch with Steele.

She kept glancing at the clock, then the door, then the clock again. What was going on in there?

Finally, after what seemed like forever but was really only fifteen minutes, Steele headed out of the offices with a grim look on his face.

Syd popped the lock on the car door as he reached it. He jerked it open and got inside. “Well?”

“We’re in.”

Joy tore through her. “Really?”

“Yeah, but before you get overly excited, don’t.” He handed her a small Vaio laptop.

Her heart pounded even faster. “Is their information in there?”

He shook his head. “Nothing is in there. It’s specially coded so that whenever Wallace has a hit he wants me to make, I either come here to pick up a flash card or he e-mails me the files that only this computer can read. I open the files and get my target.”

Syd cursed in frustration. “This leaves us no better off than when we started.”

“You? I’m worse off. When this started, I didn’t have a bullet and knife wound.”

She cringed at his reminder. “I know. I’m sorry.” She sighed. They’d been trumped once more by the bad guys. “He’s not assigning you anyone to show you the ropes or anything, is he?”

He shook his head. “I’ve already been initiated. But…”

“But what?”

“I’m thinking that all files are sent from Wallace’s office. From his own personal computer.”

She understood where he was going. “We can break in after he leaves tonight and steal it.”

“No.”

Frustrated, she glared at him. “What do you mean no?”

“Asshole has a laptop. It sits on his desk on a stand. I’m sure it goes wherever he goes. He’s a particularly OCD sonofabitch.”

“Then what do you propose we do?”

A slow grin spread across his face. “We watch him, and when we have our chance, we steal it straight out of his hands.”

“I don’t know. I think I have an even better idea.”

“What?”

She answered him with a wide grin.

Fifteen

Syd and Steele drove around the block and parked in the public lot again. Steele headed out onto the street to keep Wallace’s office under surveillance while she contacted Andre.

What Wallace didn’t know was that Steele had picked up a couple of toys from Jack before they’d left his bunker. Steele’s intent had been to tag Wallace, but the paranoid bastard hadn’t allowed him close enough to plant the bug on his body.

Failing that, Steele had placed a small, innocuous mic in the cushion of the chair he’d sat in. Now, with Jack’s PDA and its receiver, Steele was able to listen in to what Wallace was doing.

At the moment, though, the prick wasn’t saying anything much. At least ten minutes went by before Steele finally heard the intercom buzz.

“You have a phone call on line one, Mr. Wallace. It’s from President Kaskamanov.”

President?Steele frowned at Agnes’s words. She meant the kid, right?

Steele pressed the earpiece in deeper and turned up the volume so as not to miss anything.

He heard Wallace pick up the phone. “Hello, Mr. President. It’s good to hear from you. Yes, yes, we have everything arranged. I have my best contractor for your case. Stalin has been briefed and will be standing by to ensure your safety. Yes, sir. Very good. The wire transfer for the balance is to take place within three hours after our services are rendered. Yes, sir. We’ll see you in two days. Have a nice flight.”

Steele stood there as he listened to Wallace hang up the phone. Then everything was quiet again.

Now that was just sick—the company was telling the president that they were going to protect him while they were secretly taking money from the son to kill him? He had to give them credit. It took balls to give the president the name of the man who had most likely been assigned to kill him.

But at least now they had a name to search out—Stalin, which was most likely an alias. All they needed was to cross-reference it with whatever files Wallace used to keep track of his contract workers, and they’d have their sniper.

Steele turned the volume down as Syd rejoined him, beaming like a cat that had gotten locked in an aviary.

“What?” he asked.

“We don’t have to tail him.”

He arched a brow at that. “How so?”

“Give Andre twenty minutes.”

“And?”

She pulled out a stick of gum and slowly unwrapped it before she put it in her mouth and chewed it like a happy schoolgirl with a crush. “You’ll see. C’mon.” She indicated a building across the street, with a small cafe on the bottom floor. “Let’s go get us a good seat for this.” She offered him some gum, but he declined.

“Syd? What’s up with this?”

She didn’t respond as she headed for the restaurant.

“Syd!”

He had to give her credit, the woman could keep a secret, and it was starting to piss him off. He followed her into the restaurant, where she grabbed a table by the window that looked out onto the APS offices outside.

No matter what he tried, she refused to answer any of his questions about what they were waiting for. It was extremely annoying to be around someone who could remain so tight-lipped.

But his aggravation ended a short time later, when he saw a plain black sedan with government plates pull up. A few seconds later, it was followed by several squad cars and a black van that blocked the street.

Steele choked on his coffee as he saw Carlos and Andre get out of the sedan. Dressed in black suits and dark sunglasses, they reminded him of Will Smith and Tommy Lee Jones in the movieMIB. Both of them were also dressed in black FBI windbreakers.

The two of them walked side-by-side in federal agent formation, looking tough as they entered the building while directing the police into action.

He turned the volume up on the PDA to listen in.

It took several minutes before he heard Wallace let loose a string of expletives. “What is this?” he demanded.

It was Carlos who answered in a deadpan voice. “Here’s your warrant, Mr. Wallace. It appears that several members of your staff were arrested this morning in a pornography sting.” He tsked. “We have traced their IP’s and have learned that they were using many of the computers here in this office for illegal purposes.”

“Bullshit! Bullshit! Bullshit!” There was no way to miss the belligerent anger in Wallace’s tone. “That has nothing to do with me!”

Andre spoke next. “Yes, sir, it does. We’re here to pull all the computers from your offices as evidence in our case.”

“Your people have been very naughty, Mr. Wallace,” Carlos said in a thick Spanish accent. Then his voice leveled out to his normal cadence, which only held a tiny trace of his accent. “We’re from the FBI and your computers are being seized even as we speak. Oh, and let us not forget this one here—”