Hard Target (4 page)

Günter sat forward. “You used his help to get past my initial background check, right?”

“Yes.” Simon nodded slowly, not daring to flinch from the truth. “I’m sorry.”

Günter sighed and shook his head. Anger would’ve been easier to take than his friend’s disappointment. Bracing his elbows on his knees, Simon made a study of the scuff marks on his shoes.

“What do you do for Gibbons again? Specifically?” Alex’s voice cascaded down Simon’s spine in a cold bath.

“I hack whatever he needs. Mostly it’s the money laundering. Tonight I was supposed to do something a little different. Get some forged passports to him.”

There. That was the worst of it. Günter might fire him and the FBI might throw him into prison again but at least now he could go on with his life with a clear conscience. He just hoped someone would take care of Lily when he couldn’t any longer.

“Why did you agree to meet in the open with him tonight?” Agent Dare asked and Simon had to wonder where it all led.

“He needed a rush job and insisted on meeting in person.” Simon shrugged. “Thought it more secure than setting up a drop without time to prep.”

Alex snorted.

Simon looked at her sharply. “Yes, I got caught anyway, but with the document under my control, I managed to destroy it.”

She arched one midnight brow. He stared her down until she shifted her gaze over his left shoulder.

“For the record, he did say he’d contact you to do another job for him soon?” Agent Dare asked.

Simon scrubbed a hand over his face. “Yes.”

“And what did you say?”

“I said yes.”

“That’s it?” Dare asked.

“That’s it,” Simon confirmed.

“There was something you left out.” Rather than angry, Günter sounded contemplative.

Expecting the man to wave their no-moonlighting clause in his face, Simon braced himself for the end of one of the most important relationships of his life.

“What’s that?” He laced his fingers behind his head with a nonchalance he didn’t remotely feel.

“That you believe Agent Valentine here…” Gun jerked his head toward Alex. “Bedded then burned you. If you take this job, it’d be the second time the FBI set you up to take a fall.”

Incensed at being cavalierly tossed into a category with loose-lipped operatives and traitors, not to mention practically labeled a prostitute, Alex drew herself up to her full height and stared down her nose at the seated Günter. He folded his arms over his chest.

“Is that what they’re calling arrest for theft of government intelligence these days?” she asked. “Getting burned?”

Günter merely raised his blond brows and looked toward Simon for confirmation of his assessment.

Simon examined his tea as if it held the secrets of the universe. Lines of exhaustion played about his eyes. Dark circles beneath gave him a haunted, handsomely gaunt appearance. Six years ago, he’d been charmingly boyish when he hadn’t been busy fanning the flames of their sexual conflagration. Tonight he appeared tired and careworn.

“I suppose technically you could call it
burned
if you mean laid waste to my life. She gave evidence against me in court…” Bitterness laced Simon’s tone. “Evidence she likely planted.”

Alex gaped at Simon. Opening and closing her mouth several times, she only managed an incensed, “I did not.”

“I heard your testimony, or had you forgotten my existence so thoroughly by then you didn’t notice me in the courtroom?”

“Oh, I noticed.” Alex decided not to dignify the rest of his accusation with a response. “How could I not? Considering the way orange clashes with your hair?”

Chair screeching across the linoleum, Simon stood. He moved so quickly Alex barely managed to remember she owned a gun much less draw it from her holster. He loomed over her. Nostrils flared, color high, he was the personification of fury.

“What a pity.” Simon’s jaw barely moved as he spoke. “I wore it for you.”

“Sit down.” Alex pointed a finger to Simon’s chair.

“Coward,” he said.

“Traitor,” she replied.

The light in the room altered as Ryan changed the displayed photo on the projector. The gesture spoke volumes.
Sit down.
Behave.
Let’s get this done.
Alex withdrew. With one last glare at her, Simon sat.

“Gibbons is going to approach you in the next few days about a job for John Downing.” Ryan reiterated their objective and directed Simon’s attention to the screen.

The billionaire businessman in question stared coldly out at them. Günter sat forward and exchanged a look with Simon. With that one glance he asked myriad questions. Did he know the man? What did he think of the job the FBI was asking him to do? Would he agree? She remembered sharing that same silent rapport with Simon once upon a time, and found herself envying Günter’s place.

“Will you do it?” Ryan interrupted the silent conversation. “We’re getting nowhere by traditional means.”

“What do you mean nowhere?” Simon toyed with his paper cup. “What’s really going on here, because I’m not flying blind. Are you trying to pin something on him?”

“Besides the international arms trades you’ve been washing the money for?” Alex’s words came out a little more acerbically than she’d intended, but really how could Simon work for a man like him?

Simon’s mouth opened and closed, painting him truly shocked. Had he not known where the money he was laundering went? Or had he convinced himself he didn’t care?

“Well, first we have to figure out why he’s interested in this painting, but yes,” Ryan said. “We’re trying to nail him for a number of crimes.”

Simon folded one of the empty sugar packets into progressively tinier squares. “What are you trying to find exactly?”

“That’s classified, but I think you’ll recognize the information when you come across it.” Ryan adjusted the focus on the picture and Downing’s glossy visage sharpened. “Just do as he asks and we’ll take it from there.”

“Oh that’s brilliant.” Günter crossed one ankle over his opposite knee. “Send an operative without backup into a viper pit and expect him to make it out alive? Or would Simon’s death be a convenient bonus for you all?”

Recalling a rumor she’d heard about Günter and a job he’d botched, some said deliberately, for his former employers, Alex said, “I’ve heard you know all about coloring outside the lines.”

Simon answered for his partner, “Things aren’t always what they seem.”

“Thanks to you, Dr. Jakes?” Alex gave him her best saccharine smile. “I learned that lesson a long time ago.”

Simon went still, his fingers ceasing their torment of the sugar packet. “I never lied to you. I never stole anything from you. Or the FBI. Or the CIA.”

How she wanted to believe that. Everything in her being strained toward the idea, attempted to catch and hold on to it with the innocence of a child on Christmas morning. But she’d long since ceased to believe in Santa Claus. In her world Simon Jakes’ honor was just another fairy tale.

“The AD said you have orders for us?” She changed the subject.

Ryan’s tie hung in a limp strip of red and navy around his neck and he wearily tugged it off with the slithering sound of silk blend against summer wool. “You’re Dr. Jakes’ 24/7 handler for the duration of the mission.”

While she’d been braced for the idea of being Simon’s handler, she hadn’t realized it meant she’d be spending all her time with him for God only knew how long. In close proximity. If the bunched jaw muscles and the corded tension in Simon’s neck were any indication, he found the idea as palatable as drinking carbolic acid for breakfast.

“I’ll do it if Jenny and Gun are in on the planning and execution.” Simon obviously avoided Alex’s gaze. “What I know they know. As long as I don’t have to sleep with the Ice Queen, I’ll let her shack up with me for a few days. But I want hazard pay.”

“Whoa, whoa.” Alex shook her head, emphatic. “Nobody said anything about my posing as your lover.”

“Actually, Simon is right. We’ve got to assume Gibbons has eyes on Jakes,” Ryan explained. “What other reason can you think of for your sudden and constant presence?”

“A trumped-up security guard dating a New York stockbroker?”Alex referred to her operational identity. “Are you
trying
to blow my cover?”

Simon colored as if he’d been struck.

“I didn’t mean…” She waved a hand airily and shook her head, embarrassed at having made the slight. “You know what I meant.”

The apology did nothing to mollify Simon. “Better a trumped-up security guard with my honor left intact than a kiss-ass federal agent whose only goal is to climb the ladder.”

“You—”

“Congratulations. You’ve almost made it to the top, sweetheart.” Simon gave a few slow, measured claps. “How’s the view from up there? Probably not too lonely for someone as self-interested as you.”

“You want to define lonely?” Alex gripped the table edge in both hands and leaned in. “Try returning to your apartment to find the feds combing it for evidence your
lover
was only interested in fucking you for intel to sell to his black market buddies. I’d rather be married to my career than suffer that kind of lonely again.”

Looking down, Simon seemed to roll her words around on his tongue, tasting their bitter flavor as fortification for his next assault.

“Then you’re right where you need to be.” He looked up, his expression arctic. “Reprising the relationship we never had for a shot at the only thing you ever loved. Your career.”

Sputtering, she choked on her anger, cursing the tears that tried to shove their way into her ducts. Ryan took a threatening step toward Simon.

Günter stood and placed light fingertips against Ryan’s chest. “They need to get it out. Better now than when they’re alone.”

Simon’s, “There isn’t enough Jack in Manhattan to get me through a night with her” steamrollered over Alex’s, “You couldn’t pay me enough!”

“Well…” Günter ran a broad palm against one knee. “It seems at least you two agree on something.”

Alex spun away and wished for something to punch that wouldn’t break her knuckles. Silence permeated the room, coating everything in a taut détente.

“What time is it?” Simon sounded wearier than Alex felt.

Glancing at her watch, Alex swore softly. In the windowless interrogation room, day and night ceased to have meaning and passed quickly for everyone but the suspects. “It’s almost six.”

“Christ,” Günter said. “Jenny’ll be worried.”

“You’re free to go, Mr. Faust.” Ryan jerked his head toward Simon as he addressed Alex. “I could watch him first.”

“Why don’t you just lock me in the holding cell and bring me out for parties?” Simon snarked. “Your own personal pleasure doll. Fun for every orifice.”

“That’s not a bad idea, but we need you accessible to Gibbons,” Alex answered, then said to Ryan, “We’re not going to solve this today. Dr. Jakes and I should get going to my place.”

Halfway to standing, Simon froze. “Your place?”

“You have a better idea?”

“If Gibbons has any place staked out it’d be mine.” He curled his lip. “Unless you’re rethinking the relationship cover…”

Alex wished for something stronger than the dregs of coffee in the bottom of her cup. “I guess we don’t really have a choice.”

“Not unless you decide your career isn’t as important as your virginal reputation,” Simon said.

“You know, I used to like your sharp tongue.” Recollections of laughter-driven stomachaches accompanied Alex’s admission. “When it wasn’t aimed at me.”

A hard glint underlay Simon’s slow grin. “Sweetheart? From what I recall, you
always
enjoyed my tongue.”

Visions of her thighs over Simon’s shoulders, his hands lifting her bottom as he alternately suckled her clit and speared her with his tongue, clenched her thighs. She blushed so hard her fingers and toes tingled with blood loss.

Günter coughed behind his fist. Ryan grew busy tidying up the table.

“Shut up,” Alex whispered, wishing for the anger she’d been clinging to like a life buoy all night long.

Simon’s lingering smirk held the gleeful knowledge of his victory. “Your place then. For tonight.”

“Every night,” she asserted, knowing she needed her own space and things to maintain her equilibrium around this man. “We’ll stop to pick up your things first.”

“I have a change of clothes and some toiletries in my go-bag,” Simon said. “Anything else can wait until I’ve slept at least fourteen hours.”

“How long do you think it’ll take Gibbons to contact you?” Ryan retrieved Simon’s duffel from the corner of the room.

Simon slung his bag over his shoulder and shrugged. “I’m not sure. He broke with his usual MO tonight.”

“Well, you two establish your cover in the meantime. Be seen going on some dates.” Attention absorbed by the apparently fascinating projector remote, Ryan continued, “You know, PDA. That sort of thing.”

“Personal Digital Assistant?” Alex asked, frowning.