Hard Target (18 page)

“We’ll talk tomorrow,” she said.

“We’ll talk when I say.”

“Get your bag,” he mouthed.

She got up and grabbed the bag. “Where are we going?”

“Somewhere you can’t snoop through my things.” He put his arm around her shoulders and kissed her softly on top of her head.

Taking the stairs, they descended toward the security flat. A place where they could talk without potentially being overheard. The guest room there was comfortable enough. They’d stay there tonight to keep things simple.

At the door, Simon keyed in the code and listened for the solid thunk of bars sliding away from the steel core door. The lights flicked on automatically as they entered, bringing to life several screens on the far side of the room.

“Lights. Dim,” Simon said, and the voice-activated system dimmed the overhead lights. “Display. Off.”

The LCD screens turned off and he led Alex down a hallway to a bedroom. Inside, a platform bed with black satin sheets and a view of Central Park East in the distance beckoned.

They entered and she gave a low whistle as he closed the door. “How much money do you make from this business?”

He laughed. “It’s Tallis’ safe house really. We just use it as offices.”

“Is he paranoid much?”

“Unfortunately, it’s with good reason.” Simon made a wry face. “C’mon. Let’s go to bed. We can talk about the rest tomorrow.”

“Did you mean what you said about not involving me?” Alex drew her top over her head and shook out her hair. “Fully?”

Simon trailed his fingers over her lower lip. “Not a word. You have my back and I’ll have yours.”

She gave him a solemn look. “I can’t go against my boss’s orders.”

He sat on the edge of the bed to pull off his shoes. “Has your boss ordered you to keep me in the dark or endanger my sister’s life?”

“No.” She kicked off her jeans now and he went to the far side of the bed to draw down the covers. “Where’s the bath?”

“I’ll go with you in a sec.” Gripping the edge of the bed, he reasserted his point. “We won’t have a problem. Not as long as you’ve got my six.”

Grinning at his use of military slang, she rolled her eyes. “I promise to have your back.”

“Then there’s only one thing left to be done.” He grabbed her hand and jerked her two steps toward him.

Alex giggled. “Oh?”

“Yes.” He gave her the most serious stare he could muster and she sobered.

“What?”

“Brush our teeth.” He made a face. “You have garlic breath.”

She groaned and he grinned wide before pulling her onto his lap and into his equally fragrant embrace. Squealing, she pushed at his shoulders. He tightened his grip, refusing to let her go until she relented. And then he kissed her. After everything he’d been through today a little garlic wasn’t going to stop him from getting what he wanted, and right now what he wanted was her.

Pink dawn tinted the morning light outside the security flat window. Shifting to better watch the lightening sky, Alex absentmindedly traced the ropes of muscle along Simon’s forearm. He made an approving sound and nestled closer until the heated insistence of his morning erection pressed against her ass. Sore in the most pleasant of ways, her body tingled as if he still touched her deep inside.

Obviously he still had feelings for her. She wouldn’t play coy and pretend his reaction to her was only physical. There was an emotional connection there as well. Yet so much baggage existed between them. He mistrusted her, and with good reason. Though she hadn’t been the one to turn him into the authorities as he seemed to think, she hadn’t lifted a finger in his defense at the trial.

Taking the stand against him had been one of the hardest things she’d ever done, but she’d done her duty and conformed action to conscience. If he were guilty he deserved to go to prison. The FBI had presented her with such a watertight case she hadn’t thought to question Simon’s guilt after the initial shock and his refusal to see her.

A sparrow flitted by and landed on the sill. Alex watched the grays and browns of its feathers and remembered the weight of Simon’s attention as he’d followed her approach to the witness stand. Cold and flat, always somewhere other than her face, his stare made her feel as if she were the one on trial and she’d resented it. She’d resented him for ruining the relationship they’d built and wondered how she could’ve been so wrong about a person she’d loved so deeply.

His defense had been weak at best. First his lawyers said he didn’t do it. When the FBI presented their evidence, too solid to be denied, Simon’s inept legal team performed an about-face and said if he had, hypothetically, stolen the files that it was within his purview as a CIA hacker.

So why did she believe him now? Alex nibbled her lower lip. If she were completely honest with herself, Simon’s actions with Gibbons made him appear more guilty, not less. Except he’d taken them for his sister, and only after he had no other recourse.

Alex rolled and studied Simon’s sleeping face. Ginger-tipped lashes rested against pale skin. The sensual peak of his upper lip parted lightly from the lush sweep of the lower and he breathed softly, innocently, in repose. Before her was an honorable man. One who would fight to keep those he loved safe, but who would never ever harm someone who hadn’t tried to harm him first. When he’d finally stated his innocence she’d known he hadn’t committed the crimes of which he’d been convicted.

Simon sighed and pulled her closer. Nestled against the heated expanse of his chest, she found herself flooded with a sense of rightness. And even a measure of joy and peace. Right here, right now, she had love. Simon might not be perfect, but neither was she. Somehow they’d figure it out, if he’d just give her time to earn his trust.

With his heart thudding in her ear and the sound of his breath wrapping her in tranquility, Alex returned to sleep. When she awoke again the sun had moved high in the sky. She stretched her hands over her head and loosened the ache in her muscles from so long a rest. Her gaze alighted on a yellow sticky on Simon’s pillow. It read,
Gibbons called
.
Went to pick up the frame. Back at 1:00.
The key to his flat lay next to the note.

Alex glanced to the clock. Its red letters flashed an accusatory 12:48.

“Shit.” She bounded to the floor and raced upstairs with the key in her fist.

A quick shower, the winding of her wet hair into a French twist, and dressing took fifteen minutes. Alex grinned as she remembered how Simon used to say he’d corrupted the most punctual woman in the world. Usually on time, she always seemed to be running late while with him.

She checked the fridge for last night’s takeout and found it empty. Figuring Simon must’ve snagged it while she showered, Alex arrived at the door to the security flat out of breath, but grinning. She rang the bell, anticipation fluttering in her belly at the thought of kissing Simon good morning. When no chime made its way to the other side of the portal her smile broadened. Now there was some serious soundproofing.

Looking around, she spotted new paint she’d failed to detect the night before. Then the pinhole. A camera.

“Let me in,” she said at the camera. “I’m hungry.”

A few more seconds went by and she began to examine the pin pad. While not exactly a simple device to crack, she’d likely be able to get herself inside if she didn’t mind setting off their alarms. More than a little famished and feeling a tad impish, she set about doing just that.

She’d no more than begun to jimmy open the panel when the door swung open on Günter’s, “Not breaking a forty-thousand-dollar security system because you were stuffing your face!”

The scent of Chinese takeout wafted to Alex’s nostrils as she stepped over the threshold into the tech Mecca of chrome, glass and glowing LCD screens. Refreshing her memory from last night’s brief glimpse of the room, she stared with open interest at the wall of six embedded video displays. Taking in the snoop-proof coating on the windows and an array of servers exposed behind an open closet door made her unsure whether her mouth watered from hunger or envy.

Drawers built into the wall under the display were also open, their contents strewn around the tables. It appeared as if the guys were taking an inventory or searching for something they’d misplaced. High-powered binoculars with digital recording capability, microphones, tiny listening devices, earpieces and objects called dead drops—things designed to look like real items only hollowed out so something could be concealed within—had been pulled from their resting places.

Alex finally turned to Simon. In a black tee, wearing his jeans and his glasses, he sat, hunched over a Chinese takeout carton and shoveled food into his face with the speed of a feral animal.

She wrinkled her nose. “You’re going to choke.”

“I know you an’ Chinee fooh.” Mouth full, he pointed his chopsticks at her. “Yer goin’ to sfeel my lun.”

Alex eyed the container with her initials on it. “Hey! Those are my sesame noodles!”

Günter moved to position himself between Simon and Alex when she stepped forward. “Sorry. Can’t let you by.”

“What? Why?” Alex frowned up at Günter.

“I promised him.” The man jerked one thumb in Simon’s direction. “You wouldn’t get his lunch if I let you in.”

Her stomach made an obscene noise. “He’s eating
my
dinner. From last night.”

Günter shrugged. “Sorry. Promised.”

Simon winked at her and shoveled noodles from the upside-down carton into his mouth. Alex mock-glared at him.

“Can I at least have a fortune cookie?” she asked.

Günter looked to the three cookies on the table resting innocently in their plastic wrappers. Simon scooped them into his lap.

Alex gave him her best puppy-dog face.

“There are menus in the kitchen.” He tapped the all but empty container to loosen a couple noodles. “There wasn’t much left. Why don’t we get more?”

“Not much left?” Günter, mouth agape, turned toward Simon. “’Course not. Not after you hoovered both containers.”

Waving one hand in a dismissive gesture, Alex went to the kitchen where she found the takeout menu. Five minutes later she had an order of vegetable chow mein, egg drop soup, scallion pancakes and honey-glazed walnuts on the way. Plus four fortune cookies and a pot of green tea.

“The doorman will pay for the order,” Günter told her when she returned to the open-concept living and dining area that served as their offices. “Then I’ll go down to get it.”

“You don’t allow any outsiders up here?”

The blond fall of Gun’s hair brushed against his shoulders as he shook his head. “As a rule? No.”

Wondering why she’d been allowed past the iron curtain, Alex pretended interest in a dead drop that looked like a piece of dog poo. “Creative. Nobody’d go near that thing with anything other than a shovel and gallon of bleach.”

“That’s what I said.” Simon gave Günter and an
I told you so
grin.

He seemed so at home here. More relaxed than all the time they spent together so far. Alex removed a pile of fiber optic cable and a roll of Velcro from a chair and sat at the table with Simon. He looked at his carton, saw its empty state, and relaxed once more.

She took in the disarray. “What were you doing besides eating your weight in noodles before I got here?”

Günter stepped over a bundle of climbing rope and harnesses to join Alex and Simon at the table. Rolling his chair a few feet to stretch out his legs, Günter laced his fingers behind his head.

“Some of that rope there tangled with the spare fiber optics we had. The knotted ends fell behind the drawers and wouldn’t come out. We had to remove all of the drawers to get at it.”

“What’d you need the rope for?”

“You,” Simon replied.

Her belly gave an unexpected tug. “Me?”

She swiveled slowly to face Simon and caught the glint in his eyes. Her tongue darted out to moisten her bottom lip. Simon shifted his hips and adjusted the crotch of his jeans. The crunch of a shattering fortune cookie made him start.

“I think it would’ve tasted better at the other end,” Günter said.

Simon opened his mouth to respond, but Günter’s cell rang.

“That’ll be your food.” Günter stood. “I’ll get it.”

The door clicked shut. Simon grabbed the arm of Alex’s chair to jerk her toward him. A quick swivel and roll of the casters had her facing him, their knees bumping together. He leaned close. “Afternoon, sleepyhead.”

Alex grinned and turned her cheek when he tried to kiss her.

“Hey.” His brows drew together. “Where’s my kiss?”

“You’ll get your kiss when my breath reeks of garlic as much as yours.”

Simon glared playfully.

Alex raised one brow. “It’s your own fault for not giving me any.”

In a flash, Simon grabbed Alex around the waist and pulled her into his lap. With an elbow to his ribs, she caught him off guard. She stood. Simon lunged. Darting around the conference table, Alex kept him at bay. He feinted one way, she the other until they were breathless with laughter. When he caught her, it was because she let him.