Seek and Destroy (7 page)

    Her dad had flown in the best plastic surgeons in the world to repair the damage done by that bomb. The scars, now pale and silvery in color, were barely noticeable.

    But they were noticeable. And exposing her scars to perfect strangers, let alone the agent she'd been sent to retrieve, didn't qualify as part of the mission.

    NASSD had everything here in Maui waiting for her when she arrived. Thank God no other agents joined her to monitor her. She frowned. At least she didn't think so. Shrugging, she let it go. If anyone had followed her to Hawaii, they'd see her wearing a bathing suit she'd gone out and purchased right after she'd taken the little two-piece fishing line with postage stamps and
accidentally
left it on the beach buried under six inches of sand. Oh well.

    She didn't even like parading around in the bathing suit she had on. It didn't have nearly enough to it and it took her hours to find one with this much material. It was too high cut. And too low cut. This was
so
outside her comfort level.

    But duty called. If she had her way, she would have sent him an email, or maybe given him a call, asking him to return to Seattle. She would have been fine with that. Anonymity was her middle name. It had to be in the work she did.

    Sure, those within ICE knew her codename, and with that her true identity. Those outside the agency did not.

    She thought about that day back in the hospital when he'd called her by her codename. She still didn't know how he'd been able to ID her. Half expecting him to contact her after the hospital confrontation, demanding some sort of payment or other form of blackmail in exchange for him to keep her ID secret, she waited. And waited. And waited.

    When he never made contact, she felt ironically disappointed, even though she should have been ecstatic. She longed to hear his voice again, to see those deep charming brown eyes dance when he smiled. He had the cutest little dimple below his right eye when he flashed his handsome grin.

    Charis sighed and relished the memory of his smile. That familiar stirring of emotions swirled in her core, settling as a throb at the base of her sex. Her folds swelled slightly, tingling her into a giggle. She pictured him smile down at her as he lifted her legs, separated them for his entry.

    Her juices flowed, moistening her, exciting her. She could stay here all day and just think about him, and felt half tempted to do just that. But she knew she needed to follow through with what she came to do. Tucking her lust back in, she took a step and stopped. Maybe she should think about this.

    Okay. Enough of the mental procrastination. She needed to get this over with. Why she agreed to this she'd never know. No, that was a lie. She knew. The idea of seeing David Snyder again had her trembling in anticipation.

    At first she'd begged to e-track him, knowing she'd react to him exactly as she reacted to him right now. She'd been in love with the stubborn man since spending day and night next to him in the hospital. No way would she be able to resist him now that he stood upright.

    But no. NASSD wanted her to retrieve him in person. Damn that conflict-craving agency. As the bullies of all the government agencies, they were also the one every man, woman, and child wanted to get into.

    She didn't get it. Why would anyone want to risk their life, their very
existence
, for an agency that would kick them to the curb as soon as they suffered a hangnail?

    And why send her across the Pacific Ocean to retrieve one of their own? She was ICE, for crying out loud. She didn't know undercover from underwear. The one-hour crash course she'd received from JT Weber over the phone on the way to the airport didn't do much more than rattle her to the point of actually buying a cocktail on the plane to soothe her nerves.

    "How am I supposed to pull this off?" she'd asked JT. "I'm not NASSD. Can't I just track him, have NASSD follow up and bring him in?"

    "Sorry," she'd responded. "You know the rules."

    Oh yes, Charis knew the rules. She'd practically memorized the rulebook of every agency she'd ever dealt with. It came in handy when she needed to deflate an agent.

    "But how?" Charis had sputtered into the phone.

    "Appeal to his more passionate side," JT finally said after what felt like a yearlong pause. She wouldn't elaborate, no matter how much Charis begged. After scanning the closet full of clothes when she arrived in Maui almost a week ago, she had a pretty good idea what JT had meant. The clothes wardrobe had picked out for her bordered on obscene.

    She glanced down at her indecent suit. At least it looked better than the one now buried on the beach. When she'd eyed that thing hanging there next to the sock NASSD mislabeled as a dress, she freaked. After the burial, she hurried out and bought the new one-piece suit and biggest men's dress shirt she could find. She should have picked up that sarong. The blue in the material matched her eyes perfectly.

    Even without the sarong she didn't feel stark ass naked, at least not how she would have felt had she ended up wearing the bikini. When she eyed herself in the mirror before coming down to the beachside pool, she didn't think she'd go through with it. Now, as she glanced nervously around her, she just wanted to go back to her room.

    A sea of swimsuit models surrounded the pool. It looked like a Playboy convention. Women with ample breasts and tiny waists bounced in the pool, lounged in the sun. Some lounged next to men. Most didn't. Tall women. Short women. The one thing they all had in common-they looked like they candidates for the next cover of their choice in magazines.

    No way. She'd never be able to compete against them for David's attention. Charis' breasts were a solid 'B' cup at best, and didn't bounce or even qualify as ample. Her dark curls frizzed in this humidity and were completely untamable, and she liked them that way. She had an athletic build and her five foot nine inch frame carried her weight well, but compared to these women she looked like she'd just swallowed a truck. Not just any truck. A semi. She didn't have a lick of makeup on aside from
ChapStick
, which made her feel extremely out of place in this crowd of painted beauties. As some of the buxom bombshells eyed her, giving her a once over in obvious disapproval, she grasped the shirt in front of her, closing it. The heat of embarrassment slammed into her cheeks.

    Some eyed her leg and made faces as if her scars gaped open, oozing pus and blood. Others gave her one look and quickly looked away to avoid eye contact, hiding their mouth yet openly commenting to one another. And the rest simply stared in obvious curiosity and disbelief someone who looked like Charis dare intermingle with the rest of them. She clearly heard the snickers, as she knew the women had meant for her to hear. The pang of humiliation crept up her neck. She wouldn't be able to retreat fast enough.

    Forget it. She'd wait until tonight to approach him. She'd buy her own dress. Something that covered more than what would get her arrested anywhere but the beaches of Maui. The plane left in the morning. She still had plenty of time.

    Maybe one last look. Charis offered a sideways glance in David's direction, hoping to catch one last tantalizing peek before she cowered off in defeat.

    He glanced over her way at the same time and their gaze crashed into each other, the powerful connection causing heat to slap her cheeks, but for an entirely different reason. He tensed, and she froze. Her heart refused to beat. Her lungs refused to work. His face then lost all expression as his hands rested to his side. She clearly read his lips.

    
Holy shit.

    

    

    

    

    

    Oh no. He recognized her. Either that or he found women in oversized shirts extremely attractive when surrounded by barely covered blondes with incredible bodies.

    Charis prayed for the latter. Knowing she couldn't retreat now that he'd seen her, she let the shirt loose and drew in a shaky breath.
Keep your cool, McKoy.
The shirt opened up and waved in the slight breeze as she walked through the maze of lounge chairs, ignoring some of the snickers and downright mean comments from the women as she passed.

    "Nice shirt," one of them mocked.
Kill them with kindness
, she heard her mother's voice tell her.

    "Thank you." Charis gave the woman a genuine smile and nodded at her.
And then go in for the kill
, her father had always added. "Imagine what your approval means to me."

    The woman gave her a wilty smile while furrowing her brow. She merely stared with an open mouth as Charis passed her.

    "What's with those hideous scars?" she called back.

    Charis stopped, paralyzed. Closing her eyes to stop herself from tearing up, she drew in several breaths and regrouped. Turning back to the surgically altered woman, Charis gave her the best smile she had. Loud enough for everyone around the pool to hear, she asked, "What's with yours?"

    The woman dropped her jaw and immediately lowered her gaze to her chest. With a roll of her eyes, Charis continued toward a few of the open lounge chairs farthest away from the pool.

    That felt good. No. That felt
great
. The weight bearing down on her chest lifted, giving her the chance to take in an enormous breath of fresh Hawaiian air.
Okay, ladies. Bring it on.

    No one else commented on her appearance, let alone her scars. Was that all it took? One smart-ass comment to the loudest mouth and it somehow granted her immunity to any other comments? Hard to believe, but she accepted it with a smile. She had enough on her mind without having to concentrate on witty comebacks every time someone said something about her roadmap of scars.

    Throwing all the glamorous eye candy out of her mind, she slowed down to give David the flirtatious glance she'd practiced all morning in front of the mirror. She allowed the shirt to fall off her shoulder and paused to pull it back up, watching him out of the corner of her eye, praying to the erotic Gods she didn't look as dumb as she felt.

    Goosebumps washed across her flesh when she eyed him watching her. Judging by his reaction, the stunned look on his face, she really started to believe she had his full attention.

    This felt good. Liberating, actually. Her skin prickled from the thrill of stepping outside of her comfort zone. Outside? Ha! Her comfort zone was in another
time
zone.

    A sexy tourist? She could do that. She'd heard about the way agencies like NASSD treated their rookie agents. But she hadn't worn the title of rookie for seven years, and she sure as spit would never want to be considered a NASSD agent.

    Never wanted it, never will.

    Still, NASSD prided themselves on finding the new recruit's one weakness and playing on it, testing their will to extremes, pushing them to the edge of their sanity. Glancing at David, she thought this mission fit the bill. Her will to do extreme things to him drove her to the edge of her sanity.

    Charis Marie McKoy! Behave yourself! Her lip curled as her mind disobeyed and did the exact opposite. Thoughts of him jogging over to her and sweeping her in his arms as he planted the hottest, wettest kiss she'd ever experienced made her purr. He'd then trace the inside of her mouth with his tongue, tasting her, and in turn, allowing her to taste him. She imagined his hands gliding across her flesh. They'd roll around on the sand, in the surf, just like in the movies.

    She removed the sunglasses from her face and placed them on top of her head, pulling the front of her annoying curls off her face.

    To her chagrin, he stood in place and stared right back at her, capturing her eyes with his. Good thing he couldn't read minds. The way he cocked his brow at her, his lips pulling into a sly grin, forcing a shudder from her, made her wonder.

    He didn't wear sunglasses, and she noticed the way his dark eyes danced as he continued to watch her. God how she loved those deep brown eyes. Hooded, endless, mixed with powerful emotions. Kind eyes, despite the hurtful things he'd said about her beloved ICE agency.

    Now as she stood here gawking at a man as big as life and incredibly mouth-watering, her heart jumped around in her chest like a little kid on a trampoline. He looked even more chiseled to perfection than she'd remembered. But then again, he'd had a year on the beaches of Maui to help condition him into the vision of the beautiful man before her.

    His beachcomber shorts stopped mid-thigh. The Maui sun had done his body good, she had to admit. No shirt, no tan lines, just a hard body and sun kissed to perfection. He was a true work of art.

    And like any work of art worth a hoot, Agent David Snyder was a hot commodity. Hot, indeed.

    Three days. It took her a whopping three days to track him down. NASSD took longer planning the op than it did for her to find him. Why they asked her to find him instead of using their own agents still bothered her. NASSD rarely asked for ICE's help. At least not on something like this.

    They treated ICE like barrel-scrapings. Well, until they wanted something. Then NASSD would be their best friend. She knew what they wanted.

    David Snyder. She licked her lips, not blaming them in the least. Deep down, in the crux of her thighs, she wanted him, too.

    NASSD and ICE had an unwritten agreement. ICE would take their discards, and in return, they got... What? Exactly what NASSD intended-their discards. It was high time they reversed the trade and took in an agent from ICE.

    She'd just as soon tell them all to go to hell, and in binary. That would take the all-bronze-no-brains agency a while to decipher. If ever.