Midnight Alias: A Killer Instincts Novel (38 page)

“I need to know we’re on the same page,” she heard herself say.

“And what page is that?”

“The temporary one.”

“Oh right.” He breathed out slowly. “I forgot.”

She didn’t like his tone of voice, the edge to it, the flatness. She met his dark eyes, her frown deepening. “You said you don’t do permanent.”

“I don’t. But that doesn’t mean I can’t.”

Panic pulled at her. “Luke—”

“Relax. I’m not pushing you to commit, okay?” His deep, sexy voice held a note of defeat. “I get it. I don’t fit the perfect little life you picture for yourself.”

She stiffened. “We haven’t even talked about stuff like that. How can you presume to know what I want?”

His eyebrows rose. “So you’re not looking for Mr. Nine-to-Five? Mr. Safe and Stable, who pays the mortgage on time and is home for dinner every night? Come on, Liv, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out you’ve got daddy issues.”

Indignation hardened her jaw. “You don’t know a thing about my father.”

“I know he was unreliable. You were only ten when he died, yet that was plenty of time for you to decide you didn’t want to end up with someone like him.”

“My father didn’t give a damn about his family,” she said bitterly, her gaze straying to the fragile woman lying in the hospital bed. “All he cared about was the next thrill, the next adventure.”

“And you think I’m cut from the same cloth.”

“Aren’t you?” she challenged.

“My work gets dangerous, yes, but I’m not a hothead. I was trained to do this kind of work, and I always manage to get home in one piece—usually in time for dinner,” he added with a sharpness that irked her.

“My father was trained too, but that didn’t stop him from dying.”

“Nothing stops people from dying. Death is a fact of life. Can’t run from it, can’t hide.”

“Yeah, but your chances of dying increase exponentially when you throw yourself into dangerous situations. Call me a coward, but I don’t want to be with somebody who’s going to go out and get killed the next day.”

“Enter Mr. Safe,” he finished. The razor edge to his voice dulled, and he let out a sigh. “You’re going to walk away from me when this is all over, aren’t you?”

She was startled by the bluntness. “I told you from the start this wouldn’t lead to anything.”

“Yeah, you did.” He hesitated. “You also told me not to fall in love with you, but I’m afraid that didn’t quite work out the way you planned.”

Her lips parted in surprise. She stared into his gorgeous eyes, looking for a sign that he was kidding, but all she saw reflected back at her was sheepish sincerity. “Luke—”

“Forget I said anything,” he cut in, discomfort creasing his strong forehead. “Just . . . just kiss me, okay?”

She couldn’t ignore the pull of attraction. Even with her sleeping mother lying five feet away, Olivia was incapable of resisting this man, helpless to stop the heat he evoked in her. The moment their mouths melted together, all coherent thought left her brain. They kissed, soft and slow, lips meeting, tongues tasting. But when she placed her hands on his chest to stroke him, she felt him flinch.

Sighing, she drew back. “This is a bad idea. You’re hurt.”

He touched her throat, those strong fingers skimming over the bruising. “So are you.”

Ignoring the desire sizzling through her, she pushed her chair closer to his and ran her fingers through his surprisingly silky hair. “Put your head on my shoulder,” she murmured. “You need to get some sleep.”

That he didn’t protest told her he was hurting more than he was willing to admit. Luke’s dark head nestled against her shoulder, his hair tickling her chin. She threaded her fingers through those dark brown strands, petting, caressing. When his breathing became slow and steady, Olivia knew he’d fallen asleep.

She sat there, listening to Luke’s quiet breathing, feeling the rise and fall of his powerful chest. She let her gaze move freely over his gorgeous face. The dark stubble rising on his jaw, the sharp angles of his features, his wide, sensual mouth. His eyelids began to flutter as if he were in the midst of an action-packed dream, which brought a wry smile to her lips. Figured. Even in slumber he was off doing something exciting.

You also told me not to fall in love with you, but I’m afraid that didn’t quite work out the way you planned.

She quickly tried to reroute her thoughts, but it was too late. Luke’s confession continued to buzz in her head, following her into fitful slumber and haunting her restless dreams.

Chapter 22

The dining room teemed with huge, good-looking males. Isabel wasn’t sure where they’d all come from and she was having a tough time keeping track of their names. Familiarizing herself with a bunch of mercenaries was too daunting a task for nine o’clock in the morning. And for a woman who worked solo, being surrounded by so many people—and so much testosterone—was slightly disconcerting.

A dozen men gathered around the long dining room table, which was covered with maps, files, and photographs. Trevor, Luke, and Sullivan were at the head of the table, Isabel at Trevor’s left. Next to Luke were Kane Woodland and Ethan Hayes, who’d arrived earlier. It was good to see them both, especially Kane, the team’s second in command and Abby’s soon-to-be husband. Of all the women who worked for Noelle, Isabel was closest to Abby Sinclair, the former assassin who’d left Noelle’s employment to join Morgan’s team. And Abby had chosen well for a mate; with his sandy blond hair and vivid green eyes, Kane was incredibly appealing, not to mention strong and capable.

The other men in the room were contractors, soldiers Morgan called in when their services were required. They were interchangeable—big men in camo pants and muscle shirts. One stood out, however, a brown-eyed man with a buzz cut and thick stubble on his square jaw. They called him Castle, but Isabel didn’t know if that was his surname or a nickname. Or hell, it could be his first name. People were calling their kids all sorts of weird things these days.

“Holden liberated the blueprints for the Queens warehouse from the zoning office,” Trevor told the group. “As you can see, it’s nothing fancy. One story, four thousand square feet.” He pointed to the map. “We’ve got two entry points, front and back, with the loading dock on the side of the building.”

“What are we looking at in terms of guards?” Kane asked.

“No idea.”

“They’ll have a guy or two on the roof,” the mysterious Castle predicted.

“Probably one or two on both exits,” Kane added.

“But the bulk of their power will cover the loading dock,” Luke said, finally joining the conversation. He’d seemed distracted ever since he and Sullivan had returned from the hospital, and Isabel suspected he was worried about Olivia. One of the contractors, a fellow named Adam, had taken over guard duty. Although Kathleen’s initial tests had come back negative, the oncologist was running a few more, so Kathleen wasn’t likely to be discharged until tomorrow. Luke’s edginess made it clear that he would’ve preferred that Olivia and her mother left town before tonight’s mission went down.

It was also clear that the man was head over heels for Olivia Taylor. For some reason, it brought an ache to Isabel’s heart. The tenderness she saw in Luke’s eyes when he spoke of Olivia only served as a reminder of everything Isabel was missing in her own life.

Luke’s voice jerked her out of her thoughts. “Loading dock’s the most exposed area, and that’s where the truck will be parked.”

“As for the interior, we don’t know what we’ll find,” Trevor said. “Angelo always travels with at least two bodyguards, plus there’ll be the crew, and the rep from the Moreno cartel.”

“So let’s say ten dudes inside,” Luke hypothesized. “Maybe less, probably more.”

Castle leaned forward, his piercing blue eyes studying the maps of the area. “We approach from the north and west, through this wooded area bordering the warehouse. Any other direction and we’ll be spotted. The buildings are well spaced out, so they’ll see us coming if we try to approach from the road.”

“Two snipers,” Trevor decided. “Liam.” He gestured to Liam Macgregor, then glanced over at Luke. “Luke, you’ll be the second sniper.”

Luke bristled. “I’m going in with the rest of you.”

“Are you still pissing blood?”

“No.”

Luke was so obviously lying that Isabel couldn’t help but grin.

“Sniper,” Trevor said again, jabbing a finger in Luke’s direction. “The rest of us will split off into three teams, led by me, Kane, and Castle. Snipers, you’ll pick off the guards manning the front, back, and roof.”

“It needs to be quick,” Kane warned. “We can’t give the bastards time to raise an alarm. Head shots only, and if you see one going for a radio, shoot his hand off.”

Trevor nodded in concurrence. “Once the guards are taken out, one team will attack from the front, the other in the back. Third team will cover the loading dock, in case anyone tries to make a run for it. Snipers, you cover everyone.”

“Simultaneous attack,” Castle agreed, rubbing the stubble on his chin. “We need to pen these guys in before they know it’s coming.”

“The truck needs to be taken out too,” Isabel spoke up. “We don’t want anyone using it to escape.”

At the sound of her voice, Castle turned to her with his dark eyebrows raised. “Sure you’re qualified to be part of this, Blondie?”

Trevor chuckled. “She works for Noelle—what do
you
think?”

Isabel hid her amusement as several of the men shifted uneasily. Evidently Noelle’s reputation preceded her. No shocker. Most people, active military or not, were aware of the legendary assassin.

“Fine. What happens inside?” Castle asked. “Take out the tangos?”

The question had a few of the others murmuring, as if they’d been wondering the same thing.

“We want them alive,” Trevor said with a shake of his head. “Especially Angelo. Lethal force if necessary, but we want to restrain, not assassinate. We need these assholes to tell us where Dane is. And the DEA is hoping to use Angelo against De Luca.”

“The Feds?” one of the contractors said, perplexed. “Why the hell aren’t
they
leading this bust? Or at the very least supplying us with extra manpower?”

“The agency can’t risk it. There could be a mole problem.”

The guy who had asked, Jesse something or other, nodded. “Gotcha.”

“DEA will show up when it’s over,” Trevor said. “After we secure the warehouse, we’ll make a call, and the Feds can swoop in and make their arrests.”

They went over a few more details, and then Trevor signaled that the briefing had come to an end. Luke was out the front door in a nanosecond, undoubtedly on his way back to Olivia, and as several of the other men drifted toward the living area, Trevor glanced over at Isabel. “Coffee?” he asked.

She nodded gratefully. “I’ll wait on the terrace, if you don’t mind.”

Extricating herself from the group, she ducked outside, breathing in the chilly morning air. Her exhale released a puff of white, hinting that winter was descending on Manhattan fast. Getting colder and colder, and it wasn’t even noon.

She watched the scene in the living room through the glass sliding door, the ease with which the men talked with one another, the casual back slaps and hearty laughter. She supposed she could go back inside and mingle, but she’d always been a loner. More comfortable with solitude than socializing. Which was ironic, since her job involved getting close to people to secure information.

The buzzing of her cell phone drew her from her thoughts. When she saw the unfamiliar number flashing on the display, she frowned, then accepted the call.

“Candy?” came a small whimper.

She recognized Heaven’s voice at once. “Heaven? What’s going on, honey?”

“I . . .” A soft sob broke through the line. “Is it okay that I called?”

“Of course it is. Are you all right?”

“No.” That one syllable was laced with pure and utter misery.

“Tell me what’s wrong, honey.”

There was a prolonged pause. “I fucked a dealer last night.”

Isabel swallowed. “Okay . . .”

“I
fucked
him. I was strapped for cash—God, I never have any money—and I was desperate. I was so desperate . . . and . . . you were right. I . . .” Heaven let out a heavy breath. “I need help. I
want
help. Can you . . . will you help me?”

A sense of relief washed over her. “Of course I will.”

Ten minutes later, she hung up feeling utterly exhausted, but victorious.

“Something wrong?”

She pivoted to find Trevor standing by the door, his handsome face creased with concern. He held two steaming mugs of coffee.

Isabel shook her head. “Nothing’s wrong.”

“Who was on the phone?” he asked as he stepped onto the terrace and handed her a mug.

“Heaven.”

“Did you tell God I said hi?” Trevor quipped.

She rolled her eyes, then swallowed the hot coffee, savoring the way it heated her belly. “Why does everyone assume I’m starting a religious discussion? I was referring to Heaven Monroe, one of the dancers at the club.”

His brows knitted together in a frown. “Did she mention the shooting? Or say anything about Angelo?”

“No. She was off yesterday, and I don’t think she heard about it or the part I played in the shooting. I’ve been trying to convince her to get help. She’s got a drug problem.”

“Heroin courtesy of Angelo?”

“I don’t know the details, but she’s in pretty bad shape. She’s finally willing to get help, though. I’m meeting her tomorrow morning.”

“You think that’s a good idea? Just because she didn’t mention anything doesn’t mean she didn’t hear about it. For all we know, Angelo recruited her to hunt down Candy Cane.”

“It’s a risk I’m willing to take,” Isabel said quietly. “I already called the rehab facility and secured a spot for her. I’ll drive her there tomorrow.”

“And possibly walk into a trap.”

“Angelo will be out of the picture tonight. After he’s arrested, there’s no reason I can’t go to her. She needs help, Trevor.”

“And it’s your job to help her?” He let out a deep sigh. “You know, you’re not responsible for saving the world. And you can’t help everybody.”