Hard Target (29 page)

An odd expression flickered over her face, something akin to the softness of a few minutes ago. Did she want to believe him? God knew there was still an attraction between them. The way she kept her distance, her long, tempting looks when she thought he wasn't paying attention. He knew she still felt the sparks between them. He felt them, too.

Dawna returned to Ramos' file. A few silky strands of pale hair fell down, obscuring her eyes. Tay gave in to the temptation and brushed them back over her ear.

She jumped slightly. His hand settled on her shoulder.

"Tay, don't." Her tone was soft, begging, her gaze still on the file. "Please? I have a ton of work to do."

"We both do. But it can wait."

"This is important."

"As important as us?"

She stilled. He saw the line of her jaw tighten, until the curve of it closest to her ear pressed out against her soft skin. She was fighting him. Fighting her own attraction, and that idea spurred him on.

He leaned forward. "The ambassador is safe for the moment, Dawna. You've already looked at that file and found nothing of any use. We've brainstormed enough for the day. We need a break. We need a diversion for a little while."

She pushed herself to standing and turned to him. Again, he swept a wayward lock of blond hair from her cheek.

He could feel her lean into his hand.

When he stretched out his arms, she walked into them.

Chapter Eighteen

Her kiss was warm, tasting sweet, as if tiny crystals of sugar from the pastry she'd eaten earlier still lingered there. He coaxed open her mouth, and boldly invaded it with his tongue. She turned pliant in his arms, all but her tongue, which dueled with his until she stilled it with a gentle nip.

He pressed her against her desk, his hip brushing the corner of her keyboard. She ground herself into him, one of her legs curving around his until he needed to spread his stance to steady them both.

Heat burst in him. It must have ignited her as well. She twitched slightly. Her hands plunged through his hair, her fingers raking it. He loved the feeling, the wild abandonment it epitomized.

They managed to turn and sprawl over her desk. His left hand supported the small of her back and he felt his knuckles dig into her keyboard. Across the word processing program were vees and bees and insane sets of numbers. The computer chattered out clicks of protest. He felt his empty holster dig into the soft flesh below her ribcage. Her leg curled over his thigh as his mouth slid down to her neck.

He shouldn't be doing this to her. Not here in her office. Even with the door closed, the sense of privacy he needed just wasn't there.

But taking her back to his room meant something more. Something serious. This kiss in her office was no different than that night in his staff car.

He groaned. He didn't kiss her in his suite for the very reason that it would lead into far more dangerous territory. But here in her office, he was setting her up again, and setting himself up just as easily to slide away and leave her with the humiliation should they be caught.

He couldn't do that to her. With an ache inside of him, he pushed himself off her. "The next time I kiss you, it will be someplace a hell of a lot more private."

The heat of her reaction to his kiss flooded into Dawna's face as she leapt off her desk. What kind of a fool was she? Anyone could walk in here, or that temporary
vigilante
sitting at the desk just beyond her office door, or maybe Julie Legace, coming to tell her how wonderfully the ambassador was recovering.

Oh, that kiss was so incredibly inappropriate.

She cleared her throat and briskly gathered up the file. "Don't worry, there won't be another kiss."

Tay grabbed her elbow, forcing her to look at him. His hazel eyes darkened and filled with a need that made her shiver. "You're wrong, Dawna. There
will
be another kiss, but the next time, we'll be able to see it through to the way it should end. In bed."

She couldn't answer him. The image he created with his slow, forceful words not only fused her feet to the floor, but made her knees liquefy. Heat built in her, that old familiar ache made worse by his kiss a moment ago.

Finally, she found her voice. "Nothing will happen until we find whoever is responsible for attacking us. Ramos, Cabanelos, Martin. Or Manuel Chayo for that matter. I want whoever did this. I don't even care if that person is dead. In fact, it'll save me a lot of paperwork."

She tapped the bottom edge of the file she'd grabbed to straighten it. She was ready to add that nothing would happen as long as there was distrust between them. But as soon as she opened her mouth, he said, "Say that again."

With a glance over at him, she asked, "Say what again?"

Tay stared at her. "Say what you just said, again."

She frowned. Gone was the dark, exciting look of passion. Gone far too easily. "I said that I don't care if the guy dies. It'll save me a ton of paperwork."

He smiled, but there wasn't any warmth in it. "Not your exact words. You said, 'Ramos, Cabanelos, Martin. Or Manuel Chayo for that matter. I want whoever did this. I don't even care if that person is dead.'"

"I meant it."

"When you said Man-you-el Chay-yo, something clicked. I've heard something about Chayo before. I can remember the TV reporter saying his name the same way you just said it. It was a drawl that you don't usually put on your words."

"What kind of report was it?"

Tay pressed his lips together in frustration. "That I don't remember. I just remember the name."

"Can you call your friend again?"

Tay shook his head. "He didn't have anything important. But he said he'd keep looking. I did ask him to dig up something on Joseph Martin."

Dawna was silent. "Know anyone in the media?"

Tay grinned. "Not anyone who would provide me with free information."

Dawna sat down at her desk and reached for her address file. "Maybe Jeff can help."

"Who is this Jeff, anyway?"

His cool tone tempted her not to answer, but the word trust lingered within her. "He's my American counterpart at the embassy in Buenos Aires. We were on a course together, and he owes me a few favors for helping him with his tests. He has a buddy down there that's with the CIA. Maybe Chayo has shown up on their radar."

She got through to Jeff immediately. His bold, sexual style was still there, but she had to cut him off. It didn't feel right anymore, not after Tay's heady kiss. Not after the word trust had come to mind. She told Jeff what she knew about Chayo and asked if he could find out more. He promised to call back.

As soon as she hung up, the phone rang again. It was the receptionist with a call for Tay. Dawna handed him the phone, and was ready to leave, when he shook his head. "Don't go."

Tay shocked even himself by asking Dawna to stay. But it was time. She was right when she said he couldn't trust anyone. He wanted to change that.

"Hastings here."

"It's me," his contact said.

Tay cut to the chase. "I'm looking into why Joseph Martin is in Bolivia. He's a Co-Op student supposedly working in Buenos Aires."

"We've been asking the same question around here. Has he approached you?"

"He tried to kill me."

The contact swore.

"Why the hell is he following me?"

The contact sighed. "We have no idea. As soon as the security officer at the embassy in Buenos Aires raised the red flag, we started to look at his file, but there's nothing in his history to suggest he would want you dead."
"Any activities in university?"

"Can't find any."

"I was told he was interested in South American history."

"History's his major. This guy's a real bookworm, Tay. A geek."

"For a geek, he has some excellent fighting skills. I still have the bruises."

"California isn't the easy sunshine state the ads want you to think. It's got its share of thugs and Hispanic gang warfare. And Martin has spent the last ten years there. Before that, he lived in Canada-"

"Canada?" That caught Tay's interest. Dawna even perked up. "Where?" he asked.

"Ottawa." The tone of the contact's voice changed. "Wait, he was just a kid when he left Ottawa. Got adopted out of the country by a childless couple. He's had no contact with anyone there."

"When was he taken out of Ottawa?"

"Eleven years ago. His mother went insane and she lost custody of him before she entered a mental hospital."

"And his father?"

"Nothing on him. She must have been a single mom. The dad never took responsibility, I guess."

Tay sat down in Dawna's chair and looked up at her. She set one hip on the corner of her desk, facing him with an intense look.

Without thinking, he reached out and rested his hand on her knee. Such an intimate gesture and yet she didn't push it away. He liked touching her. In the back of his mind, something was working, stimulated by the excitement of her firm, warm flesh under his palm.

"Tay," his contact added, "Until we figure this out, don't approach the guy."

"Like I said, that's too late. He pulled a gun on me and took me for a joy ride."

"Did you report it to the local authority?"

"No."

"Don't. It will only spook him. Let me know his movements. And I'll do some digging here." He rang off.

"What's going on?"

Tay looked up at Dawna. He dragged the chair closer to her, and spread her legs apart. He had no intentions of letting his hands roam any further than her knees, but the idea sorely tempted him. "Martin is one of those geeks without so much as a smudge on his record. But I did find out he spent time in Ottawa."

"When?"

"When he was a kid. He got adopted by a couple about eleven years ago. His mother entered a mental institution and must've given up custody of him."

Dawna shifted out of his reach. "You've spent most of your life in Ottawa. How old is Martin?"

"Twenty-one." He caught her meaning. "Dawna, I was only a teenager then."