Intimate Knowledge (15 page)

“I love you,” she murmured. “More than you will ever know.”

“And I love you, babe. Always,” he replied.

She could see the unwavering truth in his dark gaze.

Sated beyond measure, she cuddled close to her lover and drew in the clean, masculine scent of his skin with just a hint of the salty tang of his sweat. Jenn closed her eyes, pressed her ear to his chest and listened to the sound of his heart, happier than she could have ever believed.

Also available from Total-E-Bound Publishing:

The Agency: Passionate Vengeance

Elizabeth Lapthorne

Excerpt

Chapter One

“Impress me, George.” Lucas Sloan pushed one hand down on the wiry tech’s shoulder and leaned in close.

George ran a hand through his messy brown hair and pushed it out of his eyes.

Lucas smirked and tried to read the man’s laptop screen over his shoulder.

“You really need a haircut,” Lucas teased.

“I thought Jones ordered you and Walters to take four hours down time before you showed your faces back here?” George complained, though there had been no real sting to his tone.

Lucas shrugged and pushed aside the oppressive feeling of worry and doom that had haunted him the last day or so.

“Keep your voice down, mate,” Lucas snapped as he cast a quick look around to make sure no one had overheard him. “Preston did order Tristan and I to take a few hours’ rest before we hit this again. You announcing to the world I’m here will just get me in deep shit. So shut it, all right?”

George chuckled, seeming unconcerned by his ire.

“Everyone is hard at work helping you and your partner solve this case,” George said with evident amusement. “While you and Tristan get your beauty sleep, we’re all back at the grindstone. No one will tattle on you for coming in an hour early. You got my message, I presume?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” Lucas explained. He hesitated, searching George’s expression before continuing. “I don’t know if it’s because this is my first real case—not just with Tristan as my partner, but my first real mission—but it’s hit me hard, really got under my skin. This girl we’re searching for, Abigail Turner, you know she’s been injected with some sort of super-vaccine? Something that crazy Dr Harper and an ex-Manager of the Agency, Emma Henley cooked up to do heaven knows what with. They’ve injected her with it multiple times. All the other test subjects have died over the last six months and now she’s missing. How am I supposed to take ‘down time’ with all this going on?”

“Tristan Walters didn’t have much trouble with it,” George teased him.

Lucas shook his head impatiently. “Don’t be fooled by that calm, suave demeanour of his,” he warned. “He only went back to his flat to settle Kimber. She might appear all blonde curls and laughter behind that brilliant brain of hers, but she was exhausted, mentally and physically. Tristan has fallen hard for her and protecting Kimber comes naturally as breathing to him now. He left only so she could rest. Otherwise he’d be hiding out here trying to find this poor girl with me.”

 “Sounds to me like Tristan isn’t the only one falling around here,” George chuckled.

Lucas narrowed his eyes, his heart pounding.
Don’t be a fool,
he insisted,
George can’t possibly know about that dream you had when you nodded off in the car. Get a grip, Sloan!

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Lucas snapped, more annoyed at the truth behind George’s words than his friend actually speaking the thought aloud. “I haven’t even met the girl yet, I can’t possibly have feelings for her. I sympathise with the shit she’s going through and want to help her. That’s it.”

George threw him a sympathetic look. Lucas frowned, not sure he was pleased to have been baited into speaking so defensively. George remained thankfully silent, seeming to be happy to leave his teasing at that.

“I’ve only been here six months longer than you, mate,” George changed the subject. “And take it from me, the first few cases are the ones that really grab you by the throat. Just a word of caution, if Jones or any of your superiors feel you’re getting in too deep you’ll be relegated to the mailroom. If they tell you to take a break, take it. If you’re ordered to back off something you better have a really good reason or irrefutable proof to support you if you go against orders. Old hands like Walters can get away with shit because they’ve earned their reputations and have brass balls. Everyone knows Walters and those like him are solid agents and if they break the rules it’s for a bloody good reason. Right now you’re not just a newbie but an unknown. Earn your rep and then play fast and loose with the rules.”

Lucas nodded, knowing what George had said was nothing less than the truth, but something about this case had a hold on him. The vulnerability he could feel in these victims, Abigail Turner in particular, had crawled under his skin and wouldn’t leave him.

Before the meeting where Preston had ordered him, Kimber and Tristan to take a rest, George had shown him Abigail’s driver’s licence and photo. Pale skin with green eyes and strawberry-blonde hair falling below her shoulders, she’d looked beautiful and haunted.

When Lucas had taken a brief nap in his car he’d dreamt of Abigail, lying crumpled on the ground, her hair covering her face as her slender body shook with sobs. She lay in a ring of fire calling out for help with the desperation only the truly needy could ever use.

He couldn’t go home and lie in his bed, pretending this was a regular case. Something urged him that time was of the essence, and he wasn’t used to denying his gut feelings. They’d been right far too often.

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, ignoring the way parts spiked up and others fell into his eyes.

“Okay, mate,” he placated George, who was merely trying to assist him. “I read you loud and clear. Once you’ve told me what you found I’ll go to the lockers and lie down on the cot bed there. Promise. Just assuage my curiosity now you’ve piqued it. What have you found?”

George smirked. Satisfaction gleamed in his dark eyes, the kind that came from achieving a truly remarkable feat. Lucas knew the man well enough to understand George had pulled something wizardly out of his computer.

Anticipation hummed in Lucas’ blood. He scanned the data on George’s screen once again and tried to make sense out of it.

“Kimber’s suggestion that we search to see if the subject tried to get a second opinion on her medical condition hit pay dirt. Your girl Abigail went to another clinic a little over forty-eight hours ago complaining of a mild fever and what she believed to be an allergic reaction to a recent vaccine. Her records had been wiped, which made me curious to say the least. So I did the smallest bit of hacking into the clinic’s security system and found this.”

With obvious pride, George clicked on a small video clip and maximised it on the screen. Lucas watched, his breath catching in his throat as Abigail was forcibly led out of the back door and to a waiting medical van. Two burly orderlies flanked her and pushed her roughly into the vehicle when she balked and started to struggle.

Lucas leaned closer and tried to read the licence plates, frustrated when the grainy feed from the video made that impossible.

“Damn it all to hell,” he cursed and hit his palm on the desk to vent his annoyance. “Replay it, George, I want to—”

“Find the van. Yes, Lucas, you’re not the only person in this agency who wants to help that woman,” George replied wryly.

He clicked open another tab and the van came onto the screen, its registration details and paperwork all rendered visible.

“I’m not a complete moron,” George said.

Lucas looked to his friend and smiled. “I owe you a beer next time we’re down at the local, mate. I apologise for ever doubting you,” he replied as he scrambled for a pen to write the details of the van down.

“You owe me a six pack, mate,” George said smartly, picking up a sheet of neatly folded paper sitting on his desk beneath a notepad. “The van is registered to a private clinic situated just outside Basildon. While Abigail Turner is not officially listed as one of their current residents, I called one of the day nurses and sweet talked her—that’s why you owe me the good stuff, mate—and a thirty-year-old strawberry-blonde woman was admitted for a seventy-two hour lockdown watch as a favour to one of the doctor’s friends. Dr Paul Harper.”

“You’re fantastic,” Lucas thanked him. “Have you sent this to Preston? I can call Tristan and we can move on it right away.”

“If a doctor has ordered a suicide watch on Turner then it would be illegal to remove her from professional custody,” George said.

Lucas bit back the instant retort that sprang to his lips, thinking for a moment before replying. It only took a second to understand his friend’s true warning.

“You mean we will have to go in dark? Kidnap her to free her, effectively?”

George nodded, his face serious.

“That’s why I called you. Preston Jones is new. I’ve not worked directly with him as yet. After the debacle surrounding Henley turning out to be a traitor I—well, I wanted to be certain informing your superior was the right move.”

Warmth and gratitude flooded Lucas. He grinned and clasped George’s shoulder in thanks.

“You really are the best, mate, I mean that,” Lucas replied with conviction. “Preston is okay. Send him the data and recommendation I’m betting you’ve already written up. Besides, you have my word, even if Jones sends it up the chain and we’re delayed or screwed over, Tristan is my partner. The two of us can go rogue if it comes to that and rescue Abigail ourselves. This is not the time to let paperwork and red tape interfere with doing the right thing.”

“I can see your reputation for being a hot-headed cowboy already building itself.” George laughed. He maximised an email with attachments already prepared and clicked ‘send’.

Lucas laughed.

“You knew full well what I’d say, didn’t you, mate?”

“My IQ isn’t this high because I have a pretty face,” George countered easily.

They shook hands and as Lucas pulled out his mobile phone he stalked away to call Tristan. Hitting the speed dial, Lucas put the device to his ear and heard Tristan’s ringtone sound from the other side of the room. Rushing towards where their desks faced each other, he saw his partner in crisply ironed pants, a fresh shirt, his hair damp from a recent shower.

Disconnecting the call, he pocketed the phone just as Tristan answered it, Lucas spoke.

“I thought we still had at least another forty-five minutes of down time. I’ve been laying low trying to not get my arse reamed for disobeying orders. I felt certain you’d be snug in bed playing footsie with Kimber. What’s happened?”

“I managed an hour’s sleep before Kimber’s phone rang and results of the testing she put into action started coming in,” Tristan replied with a self-satisfied grin. “Since she was up and muttering laboratory type stuff to herself, I got a shower, then decided that sitting around the flat was pointless when she evidently was busy. I decided I might as well be around here. What’s your excuse?”

“I couldn’t sleep, so I thought if I hung around here keeping out of trouble I’d be set for when the action picked up. Is everything okay between you and Kimber? How’s she handling the last couple of days?”

“She’s perfect,” Tristan replied, a sappy smile spreading over his face.

Lucas grinned, knowing there would be ample opportunity to tease his partner in the future.

 “She’ll be arriving in a few hours. I think she wants to get her reports all lined up and her ducks in a row…you don’t really care about all that shit. What did you need to call me about?”

“George has managed to find Abigail for us,” Lucas replied urgently. “Kimber was right, a fact which I plan to apologise for snapping at her about earlier. It seems Abby did go for a second medical opinion and somehow Harper found out about it and has now had her committed.”

“Abby?” Tristan teased, a glint in his dark eyes.

Lucas made an impatient noise.

 His partner continued before Lucas could snap at him. “Where was she committed and what for?”

“A clinic just outside Basildon,” Lucas said.

Tristan stood and shrugged into his jacket.

“George has given the details to Jones, but if we’re not given the green light soon I wanted to know if you’d get her out with me. Off the books.”

“Lucas,” Tristan replied with a small chuckle. “The longer you’re here, the more you will find practically everything we do here is off the books. Despite that, if we can work with our superiors it cuts the necessary paperwork in half when a case wraps up. But if it comes to it then yes, of course I will kidnap this woman with you, but let’s give Preston a chance to read the damn report first, okay?”

Lucas itched to instantly race out but knew what his partner had said made sense.

“Okay, but what about—”

“Walters, Sloan, in my office right now,” Preston Jones bellowed from across the room. He had stuck his head outside his office door, leaning out just long enough to shout his wishes before stalking back inside.

Tristan and Lucas exchanged looks then heading over.

“See?” Tristan murmured.

Lucas shrugged as they entered Preston’s office.

The large man sat behind his desk, the same suit he’d had on earlier still hanging from his frame. Black hair buzzed short. He scanned his dark eyes quickly along the lines, speed-reading the report in front of him.

“I thought I said four hours,” Preston said mildly as he waved for them both to take a seat.

“Sir, with all due respect—” Lucas began but Preston held up a hand to silence him.

“Leave it,” he insisted. “I have better things to do with my time than harass you for being passionate about your work. Don’t make a habit of ignoring my orders, though. That would be foolish. Do I make myself clear?”