Phantom in the Night (B.A.D. Agency, #2)(20)
Author: Sherrilyn Kenyon

"I’ll tell you if you tell me why you’re here," he answered.

"No. Leave." What was with the men in her life?

"No. You leave."

"What are we? Four? I don’t have time for this."

"Yes, you do. Even if you reach the far side of the fence where you can hear better, then what?"

How did he know what she was doing? "I’m not sharing my plan with you."

"Because you don’t have one."

"Do not make light of my abilities."

"I’m not, but I am questioning your common sense by coming here without backup."

He had her there, but she’d be damned if she was going to admit it to a man she couldn’t call by name.

Someone on the dock shouted.

Terri turned to see and was hauled backwards against a hard chest before she could look.

"Want to get your head blown off?"

So now he’s angry? "Not particularly." She started to say more, but felt his heart thundering behind her, his muscles tense beneath the T-shirt fitted to his wide chest.

He curled his body, drawing her closer to him until his warm breath whooshed over the skin at her throat. He quietly said, "One of the men on the dock has a scope on his rifle. If you’d moved another fraction past the bush, he might have seen you."

"A damn eagle couldn’t have seen my head with a cap on it in this little light."

"I wasn’t willing to take the risk of being right."

He’d been afraid for her?

That was… nice. Her insides turned gooey. His arms held her close, safe. Terri tried to recall when she’d last felt safe in anyone’s arms. She’d been wary as a wild dog when Grandma took her in, afraid to trust anyone. Her mother had been gunned down in the middle of the night_wrong place, wrong time_while in the arms of a man she’d cared for.

The vigilante shooter thought he was killing a man who had murdered his boyfriend. During interrogation, the shooter claimed he had no idea the bullets he’d pumped into a man in bed had killed the woman_Terri’s mother_sleeping beneath the sheets. Or that the man had been an undercover cop trying to find the real murderer.

Much as Terri would like to indulge in a decadent feeling of being held safely within this man’s arms, if only for a short while, she had a job to do. Wrong place. Wrong time.

He relaxed his hold, but not to the point of releasing her. "If you go, I’ll share what I find out tonight. Promise."

Why did she have to go? "We are not negotiating."

His sigh was loaded with frustration. He muttered, "You’re making me crazy."

She smiled over the what-am-I-going-to-do-with-you tone. Fair enough, since he was making her crazy. "What if I don’t go?"

"Then you’ll be an accessory to the fact and, no, I’m not going to tell you what you would be an accessory to. What did you hope to get out of this tonight?"

"Just observing."

"Then do as I ask and I’ll give you more information than you would have gotten from outside the fence and without getting hurt. But you don’t want to be here tonight."

"Why can’t you tell me what you’re going to do?" She twisted to face him. The night had snuck up so there was little to see, even with the overflow of light from the security halogens that had blinked on in the yard.

He shook his head. "That would be almost as wrong as taking you inside with me."

"You’re going inside?"

Another sigh filled with impatience. "See? Now you know what I’m going to do."

She shivered over the idea of him going inside and possibly getting hurt. Or worse.

He rubbed her arms.

Damn, damn, damn. She wanted to drag him away from here, protect him from himself. "Do you have a death wish?"

"Not anymore."

What was that supposed to mean? Terri ran through several possible scenarios, but she was not going inside there and did not want to be an accessory to a crime, regardless that the crime was against a drug-dealing scumbag.

"Okay, I’ll go," she finally agreed. "But I wish you would, too."

"Then we’d never see the end of this and the sooner this mess is done, the sooner I can get around to something I want to do. Let’s go. Crawl on all fours. It’s easier on your leg than squatting," He didn’t give her a chance for another word when he took her hand and pulled her along.

Terri kept up with him as he wove her back to the road a different way. How well did he know this place? When they stood up, he caught her around the waist with his hand and guided her across the street… to her car.

So he’d followed her? Where was his car?

Several paces before her car, she noticed the black stocking mask dangling from his waistband. When had he taken it off? They were walking under a light next to the building she’d parked on the side of. If she tricked him into turning her way, she might get a look at his face.

"What is it you want to get around to doing?" she asked.

The squeal of tires turning into the parking lot raked her nerves. Before she could say, "Hide," she was plastered against the wall and her lips covered by a mouth so incredibly hot she thought her lips would melt. He kissed her without abandon. She kissed him right back, hungry for what he offered. A hand cupped her bottom and lifted her up against him.

Scratch that. Lifted her against his erection.

He drove his fingers into her hair, holding her close, deepening the kiss.

Don’t stop, please don’t stop.

Her hands roamed his chest and shoulders, then cupped his head. She wanted to pull off the hood, feel his hair and face, but not enough to chance ending the kiss.

The fingers driving through her hair smoothed along her neck and down between them to cover her breast.

She tensed with the zing of heat that pulsed from her n**ples to her groin and shuddered every time his fingers moved.

"Get a room," someone yelled from a passing car. Loud music blared. What sounded like a beer can hit the wall ten feet away, then loud laughter as the car cruised through the lot.

That should have brought her back to earth, but she couldn’t break loose mentally or physically. She clutched his shoulder, and arched up, groaning at the feel of him.

She wanted that, wanted him.

He stopped. Stopped!

"They’re gone. Let’s go," he croaked, sounding winded. Had kissing her been that tiring?

A lightbulb of understanding blinked on in her mind. He’d only kissed her to hide their faces. Obviously he’d missed the connection she’d felt.

Next thing she knew, he was dragging her along in the dark again. She stifled the urge to scream.

Yeah, everything about that kiss was stupid, because he could be dangerous. But if he was going to hurt her he’d had plenty of opportunity.

They were almost to her car when a sharp cramp in her thigh caught her out of step. She tripped and he swung around, catching her before she went down. The man had lightning reflexes.

"Sorry. I should have been more careful." He stood still, breathing hard. She didn’t think it had anything to do with physical exertion, so maybe he had been just as affected by the kiss. Talk about a heady feeling.

"I’m okay," she told him.

"Test your leg."

No one else paid any attention to her leg. How did he know her so well? Terri shifted her weight and gritted her teeth over the ache, but said, "It’s fine."

He slowly removed his support until she was standing again. She used her remote to open the locks. When she reached the driver’s door, he opened it for her, but kept his face turned away.

"You asked what I wanted to do?" he said.

"Yes."

He turned slightly, but still didn’t face her. "Kiss you."

As if her heart wasn’t still thumping, it took another leap at that. She slid onto the leather seat and, without looking up, said, "Who are you?" But this time she asked softly, with yearning he had to hear.

"I can’t tell you until if and when it will not put you at further risk or jeopardy, particularly with your agency."

"I never actually said I was with an agency."

"You didn’t have to. Where are you going from here?"

"Back to the precinct."

"Do me a favor and stay there for another hour at least." He closed the door and turned to start walking away.

She shoved the key in, turned the ignition, and hit the window button to lower it. She pulled alongside him. "If you aren’t with law enforcement or a government agency, what is so important that you’re willing to go inside that property knowing you may die?"

He paused. "The same reason I can’t run you off from this case… justice." At that, he continued walking.

She tried to swallow the lump in her throat as he disappeared into the night.

A phantom? Possibly.

A turn-on? Definitely.

But what else?

She pressed the accelerator and turned her car back toward the main highway. He’d be watching for sure.

Terri tapped a finger on the steering wheel. Something was going down inside that warehouse. Brady might share his leads if she included him now.

But where would that leave her mystery man?

"Terri Mitchell is definitely with some agency, because the paperwork is buried in so many layers nobody can figure out who authorized her consulting contract," Duff said quietly into his Bluetooth headset. Fra Bacchus had texted him a message to call immediately, but there had been no real emergency. The wine sometimes gave the Fra an urge to be more talkative than other times. Duff eyed a pair of girls sashaying past Café Du Monde where he’d just met with a contact. The redhead with the sleek boots was a looker, but the blonde… now she was prime.

"I don’t like it," Fra Bacchus answered. "What about the product?"

"I’ve got the container under twenty-four-hour surveillance. They switched to one guard last night. If that holds true tonight, we should have no problem."

CHAPTER TEN

Nathan waited until the taillights of Terri’s Mini Cooper shrunk to two glowing red dots.

After that kiss, he’d never get any sleep tonight.

Or tomorrow night.

He’d never ached for a woman, but he did now. Not just to make love to her, although that was central to every thought that skated through his mind. She had an energy and freshness all her own. Everything about her drew him, even when she was snapping at him. Sometimes, especially, when she was crabby.

Like now, but at least she’d be safe while he finished here, then Nathan would follow her home.

He waited for two cars to pass by, then moved across the front of the property, sucking deep into the shadows. Nathan couldn’t believe Terri had been heading straight for a trip wire that would have set off alarms. His lips curled at her lack of training, but then she’d never been trained for Special Ops.

She definitely kept him on his toes. Being around her thrilled and frustrated him at the same time. He wanted what she clearly offered, wanted what she made him feel again.

But he had as much chance of ending up with a woman like her as having a normal future to enjoy with a partner.

Besides, sooner or later she’d learn his true identity.

Or at least one of them.

He was either Nathan Drake, who she believed was dead and involved with a drug lord_oh, and don’t forget army deserter_or he was Jamie Drake, ex-con with a two-year prison sentence for drug dealing on his record.

Great choice. On one hand, a felon, and on the other, a felon. Take your pick, identical twins.

Identical losers.

Then again, he’d never been identical to Jamie. His brother had been born with brains. Nathan’s IQ was no slouch, but he was destined to do the dirty work. And he wouldn’t have minded if his brother had lived to do something worthwhile in this world.

Nathan stopped when he reached the side entrance to the warehouse. Why had Jamie come to work at this shipping company? Jamie had to have known something wasn’t straight with the job or he wouldn’t have left the cryptic message on the refrigerator. Marseaux’s group here must have been paying his brother in cash or the Feds would have traced a connection back to this place by now.

Taking a deep breath, Nathan used the small B&E tools Jamie had caught him employing once to open their back door when Nathan had come home unexpectedly on leave. He didn’t explain them and Jamie hadn’t asked. Nathan had more back at base, so he left this set in his and Jamie’s red toolbox, taped to the inside and accessible only when the drawer was removed.

Thankfully, some things hadn’t changed.

Just inside the door of the warehouse was a walkway that ran left and right with rows of tall shelving adjacent to the walkway. Deep male voices talked back and forth near the loading dock.

Nathan moved silently across the slick concrete floor toward the voices, but far enough back to be out of sight. When he reached the end of the shelving, he had to wait for the right moment to move to one of four head-high stacks of wooden crates. He’d made it to the last one next to the corner of the building when the door he’d entered opened.

Nathan dove around the side of the crate that protected his position. If no one walked over to the wall.

Hooknose Rodaine was marched in, hands tied behind his back, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth. Right eye was swollen. His head was still bandaged from Nathan’s discussion with Hooknose, but he was obviously out of observation for a concussion.

Hooknose shouldn’t have pulled a gun on Nathan, which turned out to be a favor, since the snitch had carried the first decent weapon smaller than a rifle. His 357 Magnum was now tucked inside the waistband of Nathan’s jeans at the small of his back.

Showing no regard for having his hands tied, Hooknose swore at everyone, but serious gutter cursing erupted at one person in particular. Zink, Marseaux’s first lieutenant.

Nathan squinted. The bony guy on the dock wearing a business shirt, pressed slacks, and slicked-back blond hair didn’t resemble the burly Zink Nathan remembered from back during the trial. This version looked sickly. Dabble too much in the snort and that stuff will kill you.

If Nathan didn’t get his hands on Zink first.

Two years ago, Jamie had gone to Marseaux for a loan, nothing more. One of Marseaux’s men had tricked Jamie. Zink used him to get one of his men free after a bust.