The Huntress: full-length sexy romantic suspense (22 page)

“And Butch knew about it…”

“Hey! Who are you?” The manager dressed in the cheap tan suit returned. A different pair of security guards, ones dressed in black and sporting automatic weapons, approached.

The manager quivered when his gaze flicked toward them. “What are you doing here?” he asked somewhat more subdued.

“Servicing the computer.” She ejected the CD and pretended to be too busy to bother with someone as inconsequential as a mid-level manager.

“Where’s your security badge?” the beefier of the two guards asked. His voice rumbled in the hallway.

“Good question,” the manager said. “Well, where is it?”

She searched the empty desktop, “Must have left the damn thing home. Sorry.”

The guard smiled a wide, toothy grin. “I think we’ve found our security breach.” He swung toward the manager. “You didn’t see any of this.”

The manager stammered something incoherent, nodding heavily and hurried away.

“Now, what should we do with her? She’s about as pretty as her sister.” The second guard licked his thin lips.

“Boss would want this done quiet-like.” He tapped his automatic pistol on the desk. “Get up. You’re coming with us.”

She pocketed the CD and stood. As long as they didn’t take her CD or free Whitfield from Harper’s office, she’d let the guards think they were in control.

“You stay quiet, and you won’t suffer,” the guard warned.

They led her through the hallway, down back a set of stairs, and out a fire door that led into a small, relatively clean alleyway.

If she wanted to be perfectly honest with herself, she’d have to admit that she was in a bit over her head. These two guards could blast enough holes in her to make Greg Harper’s hacked up body look pretty damned untouched.

But who needed that kind of honesty?

Sweet, impetuous Fiona had been helpless the night several guards just like these had attacked with plans to rape and kill. Despite the uneven odds, Vega was determined to give those guards what they had coming to them.

She swung her fist, aiming for the bigger of the two. Careful not to telegraph her intentions, her attack surprised both men. Before either could fire a shot, she’d chopped the beefier guard’s wrist. His pistol clattered to the ground, and dealt a roundhouse kick to the thin-lipped guard’s arm. He had to juggle to keep the gun in his grasps.

“Thought I told you to stay away from Six-Star.” Grayson appeared beside her. “Are you trying to get yourself killed?” He sounded genuinely pissed.

“I don’t take orders well.” Vega ducked a wild fist and kicked the thin-lipped guard in the gut. He grunted and staggered back a step. She lunged to the left when he produced a knife of his own and thrust, aiming for her belly. He stumbled when his blade hit nothing but air.

“I see that,” Grayson said. The beefy guard sucker-punched him square in the nose.

“Bastard!” Vega turned her back on her own battle to help Grayson. She chopped the bigger guard’s heavily muscled neck. It didn’t have much of an impact.

“Now isn’t the time for name-calling. I’m trying to help, damn it.” Grayson had grabbed an arm as big as a log. The two men struggled, wrestling each other to the ground.

She hesitated a moment, trying to gage the best way to help, when the thin-lipped guard pounced and sliced his knife into her injured shoulder.

A stupid move on his part. The pain fed her battle rage.

“You know how long it took me to find this jacket?” She kicked the knife from his hand and struck him in the head with a quick right followed by a quick left hook. Bright red blood oozed from his nose.

“Of course you don’t.” She swung again. A sharp crack accompanied the unnerving sensation of cartilage breaking underneath her knuckle. He wobbled. She swung again.

“That’s for my sister.”

The guard dropped like a corpse.

She plucked his automatic, a heavy-enough weapon, and swung around. The butt cracked against the second guard’s skull. The hands crushing Grayson’s neck fell away.

“You okay?” Grayson coughed the question. He rolled the body off him and pulled himself to his feet.

Was she okay? A few spots of blood along with a nagging sharp pain told her that she’d been stabbed, but not more seriously than a scratch. She glared at the tear in her jacket. Another leather jacket ruined. Damn.

“Whoa.” His hands flew to the air. “I’m the one who just helped you, remember?”

His gaze locked with hers. A commanding strength lurking deep in his brown eyes held her motionless. He advanced, stepping over the guards and wrenched the gun from her hands.

“The battle’s over.” His gaze pressed on her. She struggled for a steady breath. “You beat the bad guys. It’s over.”

Over? Hardly.

Her heart thundered at the sight of him. He’d appeared out of nowhere like some damned knight in shining armor. Like a hero.

“What kind of hero would strangle a girl and leave her defenseless behind some dark, dangerous bar?” Yes, keep remembering his evil deeds. Keep him from looking like the hero—the kind of man who only lived in a child’s fairy-tale.

“I’m no hero, Vega. It’s true. I didn’t worry about leaving you alone last night. Once your lungs took a nice long bath in the fresh air pumping into them, you woke up, didn’t you? I know you. You’re strong enough to protect yourself from whatever unfortunate beast that might have stumbled into your path.”

Wasn’t he the smart villain, stroking her ego?

“I suppose you say that to all the girls.”

His expression tightened.

She braved a step closer. This was it…her chance to capture the one prey who’d eluded her. All she needed to do was attack. To pit her will against his.

“You’re a killer. Why spare me?” she asked instead.

“I’m not a killer.”

“What about Mirna Catanzaro?” Mirna, the woman Grayson killed in Colombia. Vega had no idea why she needed to know. She just did. She needed to hear about Mirna from him.

“I shot her.” He turned away as if he couldn’t face the ugly truth.

“Why?” He’d saved Fiona and had protected her. Vega held her breath waiting for a logical explanation of Mirna’s death.

“Okay. You’re right. I’m a killer. That’s what I’m trained to do, damn it. Kill. Condemn me.”

The words fit with the profile of the monster she’d created in her file. They didn’t fit with the man standing in front of her.

“I don’t buy it. You wanted to marry her. You were there to kill the drug czar Carlos Briceno and you fell in love with Mirna. What happened? Did you find her in his bed? Tell me.”

Grayson shook his head as if trying to chase away his memories. “I killed her.”

“The file says she was in his bedroom with him, that you shot them both. What was it? Had she betrayed you?”

“No…don’t.” He grabbed her wrists and pulled her close. “Let the dead stay dead.”

His lips captured hers. He took, demanding she give into the passion burning just below the surface. She did nothing to stop him. His guilt and heat seeped deep into her soul. What did he want? Her forgiveness? Understanding?

For a wild moment she was ready to believe anything he’d tell her. She was ready to believe him innocent.

He pulled away and held her at arm’s length, scrutinizing her. “Last night, at the bar. Why did you kiss me?”

Why had she kissed him? “Because you’re safe, I suppose.”

“Safe?” He swallowed a laugh. “I’m a killer, Vega.”

There was something seriously wrong with the picture he’d painted of himself. He wasn’t a killer. His admission of coldly killing Mirna didn’t ring true. There was much more to that story. Just like there was much more to the story of what happened to his partner, Greg Harper. Her instincts had lied to her. He’d never been safe.

“You see me as unattainable? And that makes me safe? Is that it?” He raked a hand through his hair. “Jeez, and I thought I was messed up when it came to relationships.” He caressed her bruised cheek, tracing the line of her jaw.

“Who did this terrible thing to you? Who made you seek out men who can never offer you anything permanent?”

Vega jerked away. He’d hit too close to a truth she’d been unable to admit. Ask someone who was loveable how to find a lasting relationship. Not her.

Life drove her to harden any soft edges that could get her killed. That was just the way—the only way she could ever hope to become the very image of the stern man who’d made her.

“I’m not some sexy woman hiding behind a tough-girl package, Grayson. I am that tough girl. There’s no room in me for anything pink and frivolous like love.”

He pulled her back into his arms and gave her a little shake. “You’re a terrible liar. Who did this to you?”

The question cut deep and pain spilled out.

“No one.” She choked down a throat filled with tears. “I’m just trying to be the best…”
To make my father proud
.

“I’ve never met anyone as capable and sexy and so damnably desirable as you, Vega. You have nothing to prove to anyone.”

She let him hold her tightly against his chest while he rained kisses on her forehead. Her ironclad defenses weakened. She felt lighter, like she didn’t have to fight quite so hard.

“Excuse me,” a man cleared his throat. “Not to interrupt this tender moment. But damn, Vega. You’ve made one hell of a mess. What the hell’s going on?”

Grayson’s hands slipped away, leaving her standing alone. Cold.

“Agent Johnson,” she said. The FBI Johnson, a dark-haired man in his late thirties, was dressed in a dark suit and fit the federal agent stereotype perfectly. “Am I glad to see you.”
Just not right now
. Five minutes ago would have been better.

Grayson increased his distance, preparing to flee around a corner and through a maze of alleyways she knew nothing about. She had to stop him. She had to get him to face his lies and tell her the truth about Mirna and Harper.

“Don’t,” he said when she took a step toward him. He plucked an automatic from the ground and pointed it at her chest, which didn’t worry her. He wouldn’t shoot her—at least, not again. Well, she didn’t think he would.

Agent Johnson drew his pistol. “Drop it, Walker.”

Vega remained completely still, cursing silently. Johnson would pull the trigger and shoot Grayson without hesitation. Things
were
getting messy.

“I can’t let you take me, Vega. I need to be out here.”

“Why? If you’re as innocent as you claim, why run?” She stepped between Johnson and Grayson, effectively blocking the FBI agent’s aim.

“Just watch your sister, Vega. She’s in danger.”

Three regular uniformed police officers stormed the alley then with their pistols drawn creating a mess of chaos.

And just like that, Grayson was gone.

Johnson darted past her in pursuit. A few moments later, he returned empty-handed. He holstered his gun and gave her a curious look. Like he felt sorry for her or something.

“What the hell was that all about?” he asked.

“Umm…” Before Vega could come up with a reasonable explanation, an efficient officer shoved her up against a wall and cuffed her.

“Johnson? A little help?” He owed her. Last spring, she’d apprehended a crazed bomber who’d slipped through the feds fingers. The FBI would have gotten a serious black-eye if she hadn’t pulled through for them. She’d even stepped back and let Johnson’s team take the glory. He owed his job to her.

“She’s not dangerous,” Johnson said after a minute or so.

The cuffs came off, but the young police officers kept a cautious eye trained on her. So did Johnson.

“I suppose you had a damned good reason for tying up Whitfield,” he asked. “He’s got the political power to burn you to an unrecognizable crisp, Vega.”

“Not today, he doesn’t.”

She explained what had happened and what she had found on the way back up to Greg Harper’s office on the sixth floor. They found Whitfield loose and sitting at the computer Vega had used to view Harper’s CD.

“She’s delusional. Keep her away from me.”

A young officer pulled her aside. He patted her down, confiscating her Beretta and Harper’s data CD.

Whitfield straightened the gold-rimmed glasses balanced on his nose and nonchalantly took possession of the disc. “Next she’ll be spouting all sorts of nonsense about conspiracies and attempts against her sister’s life. I expected this, of course. What with all the negative press.”

A condescending smile curled on his lips. Vega couldn’t help but snarl. Johnson jumped in between to act as a calming shield. Unnecessary really. She couldn’t do anything to stir up trouble while so many cops guarded the power broker.

“I’m sorry, sir. But I’ll need to take that data CD into evidence.” Johnson held out his hand.

“I don’t plan on pressing charges,” Whitfield said.

“Because you’re afraid of what’s on that CD,” Vega said, only to have the officer restraining her give her a shake.

“You just stay out of this,” Johnson warned. But he did ask Whitfield for the data CD all the same. “This is evidence, sir. It came from a murder scene. I have to take it.”

Whitfield reluctantly handed over the disc. “You’ll hear from my lawyers about this.”

Johnson merely nodded. He dropped the disc into a small plastic bag, told the police officer in charge to take statements, and led Vega away from the scene.

She fidgeted while Johnson’s FBI team interviewed nearly every employee at Six-Star. Across the room, an FBI agent began a cursory review of Harper’s financial data CD. One hour passed. Then another. She glanced at her watch. She was supposed to meet Fiona within the next ten minutes to compare notes.

“I need to go.” She found Johnson rushing down a hall. He’d just hung up his phone and was rubbing his temples. “You know how to reach me if you need any more information for Whitfield’s arrest. Just be sure to question all those security guards in the black uniforms. At least two of them tried to kill Fiona. I’m convinced the one I’d tied up with…”

“Forget Whitfield for a moment. There aren’t going to be any arrests today. It’ll take weeks to sort out this mess.” He passed another FBI agent in the hall, a young energized beanpole whose enthusiasm reminded Vega of Fiona. “Keep an eye on things up here. I’ll be right back.”