Undercover Virgin (2 page)

According to his instructions, she was the agent in charge of the rest of the assignment. Once they'd made contact, he'd been ordered to let Phantom orchestrate the escape strategy. He waited, barely breathing, for her to make the next move.

"I like you, Tony. I think I'll have Gregory reassign you as my personal driver."

Her throaty announcement was accompanied by a seductive thrust of her hips, just as the music came to an end. But the ploy to tease him backfired. Heat simmered between them; the intimate connection sparked and crackled. Blood sizzled beneath his skin, and he knew she felt it, too.

Her brow creased at the undeniable attraction. Annoyance shimmered briefly in her eyes before being quickly replaced by iron determination, then her more proper hostess facade.

In any other circumstances, Kyle would have laughed out loud at the telltale crack in her armor. He wasn't the only one who'd been caught off guard by a spark of desire. Maybe in the future she'd be more careful about teasing a man.

"What do you think, Tony?" she prodded, her tone edged with impatience. "Want to be my personal driver?"

"That sounds just fine, ma'am."

"Samantha," she insisted. Then she slipped out of his arms and strolled off the dance floor.

He watched her closely, appreciating the gentle sway of her hips as she moved across the room, and wondering if he'd just signed his own death warrant.

One thing was for sure: this assignment would be coming to an end soon. Adrenaline pumped through his veins at the knowledge. He'd finally been offered a real challenge, to get Phantom out of harm's way and to the FBI's safe house. Sullivan had sworn the evidence she'd collected would be enough to nail Haroldson.

Both prospects spurred his excitement, fueling a long-suppressed need. He could have done without the sexual jolt, but he was an expert at tamping down those flames.

 
"What'd I tell
ya
, Tony?" Damon met him as he left the dance floor. Handing him a cold beer, he elaborated. "She's something, ain't she? I'll bet that's the first time you ever held such a classy piece of sugar in your arms. You looked a little
starstruck
."

Kyle glanced sharply at the other man. So Damon had noticed his momentary confusion. Damn. How many others had witnessed his involuntary reaction? He'd been so distracted that he'd lost objectivity. A good agent had to be observant at all times. Lives depended on it.

Swallowing a long drag of beer, he comforted himself with the fact that he wasn't a field operative anymore. He was a woodcrafter from a sleepy
Texas
town who'd been dragged back into service. Just a
civvie
doing a deferred duty. His pride still stung, but he figured he could live with another dent in his ego.

"Haroldson must be crazy to turn her loose on his employees," he finally said, wondering if the slight insult to their boss would be tolerated.

Damon just chuckled.

"He's crazy, all right. If she was my woman, I'd keep her chained to the bed. Preferably in the buff."

Kyle felt a spurt of annoyance at the lewd suggestion, but he quickly stifled it. An explicit, erotic image followed, teasing him with a slender, shapely body all soft and naked and needy in bed. Regardless of her name or game, he wouldn't mind getting more intimate with the body.

For that reason, he avowed sexy Samantha/Phantom off-limits. He prided himself in learning from his mistakes, and the biggest of his life had been getting involved with a female agent. His relationship with Margie had sent up all sorts of red flags, yet he'd arrogantly ignored the warnings. Her death had been an emotional blow he never wanted to repeat.

Foul play or fair, the lovely Phantom had prostituted herself to the scum of the earth. He believed in honor and duty, but not if it meant selling your soul to further your career. Nothing she could do or say would ever erase the facts, and that dropped her desirability to zilch.

* * *

Samantha made her way back to Haroldson's side on legs that weren't as steady as she'd have liked. Her heart pounded, her breasts felt full and tight, and her skin was flushed with heat. The intensity of her arousal was unsettling. She didn't appreciate the way her body had come alive in a stranger's arms.

For most of her adult life, she'd existed in sexual limbo, devoid of any burning desire beyond professional duty. She'd met and dated a few men she found attractive, but none who'd made her wild with desire. She'd never been easily aroused, and had resigned herself to the fact that she must somehow be lacking.

The emotional and physical reserve was an advantage to her career, if not her personal life. Now, all of a sudden and at the worst possible time, she'd experienced the hots for a total stranger. It had to be the mental strain and incredible tension of the situation, she decided, shaking her head.

She reached Gregory's side, and he pulled her hand through the crook of his arm. His touch was cold compared to the masculine heat she'd just experienced. She repressed a shiver of revulsion.

A head taller than her, Haroldson was trim and fit, his spine ramrod straight. He had handsome, aristocratic features with dark brown eyes. His personal hairstylist made sure the color of his hair stayed the same dark brown, so that he looked younger than his sixty years.

His expression was affectionate and approving. She gave him a practiced smile that hid her true feelings. It wouldn't do for him to know how much she despised him, from his polished good looks to his ugly black soul. When they'd first met, it was all she could do to keep from recoiling at his touch, but she'd hardened herself to that emotional weakness.

The past few months had been an ongoing nightmare. The only thing that kept her sane was the knowledge that it would be over soon. Haroldson had destroyed her family, and now she had the evidence to prove it.

She forced herself to slip back into the role of fiancée and hostess. She'd made it her life's work to bring him to justice, but the only way to do that had been to get close, really close. It meant drawing on incredible reserves of strength, and it got more difficult each day, but she'd worked too long and hard to fail now.

"What did you think of the new guy?" he asked.

"He seems nice enough. A little lacking in personality, perhaps, but pleasant. Is he a good driver?"

"Nearly as good as Damon."

"In that case, you should have Damon driving for you again. You're on the road more than I am. If the new man is good, I'm sure I'll be safe with him."

Gregory patted her hand. "Your wish is my command," he insisted. "You'll be perfectly safe with Tony. He knows that I'm fanatic about my future wife's welfare."

She smiled, forcing her expression into one of warmth and gratitude. It was imperative that she keep up appearances. He thought her a well-bred, sophisticated socialite, so that's what she'd become for the past few months.

He'd proposed to her in an effort to garner more respect. For Gregory, image was everything. Respect was a living, breathing entity. He'd spent a lifetime accumulating wealth and power in hopes that it would buy him the respect he so badly craved.

That's why he'd decided to pursue a partnership with one of
North Carolina
's oldest and most reputable import-export companies. He wasn't satisfied with ruling his own small empire. He wanted to prove his respectability to the whole community.

As a prominent banker, he was welcomed into many social circles but he wanted a foot in the door of the most elite. He'd been advised to marry someone who'd be an asset to his home and social life. That's where she'd stepped into the scene.

He boasted that he was a hardworking man who'd realized the American dream. The story he gave the media was one of rags to riches: a life so dedicated to work that he'd had no time for personal relationships. In reality, his wealth stemmed from a lifetime of carefully coordinated crimes. He owned several offshore banks where he laundered drug money and practiced tax evasion.

But that wasn't why she wanted to bring him down. He had far greater sins to answer for. One was the murder of an undercover FBI agent. Another was the slaughter of a small, law-abiding family. Hers. She had put her life on the line to bring him to justice. And when she did, maybe, just maybe, she could shed a heavy burden of guilt that never seemed to ease.

Another glance at Gregory sent a shiver down her spine. She wondered, yet again, whether he was somehow aware of her double life.

Chapter 2

«
^
»

T
hree days after the party, Kyle got orders to drive Samantha to a beauty salon in
Elizabeth
City
. He deliberately thought of her by her alias to distance himself from the woman behind the facade. Every time his fantasies drifted toward the feel of her in his arms, he quickly slammed the door on his memory.

She preferred to travel in a Mercedes, and he had no complaints. It handled like a dream, and had plenty of power plus bulletproof windows. He hoped her escape plan didn't include a shoot-out, but he wanted to be prepared for any eventuality.

Rudy, one of Haroldson's most trusted bodyguards, accompanied them. Big and muscular, he looked like a brainless bull moose, but looks were deceiving. He moved faster than a jackrabbit and was nobody's fool. His responsibilities included escorting Samantha into the salon and waiting there while she had her hair styled. Haroldson was notoriously protective of all his possessions, especially his fiancée.

Kyle waited in the car, surveying the area for any sign of other guards on Haroldson's payroll. Security had tightened in the past few days, making him wonder if their assignment had been compromised. He sensed that Samantha would make her move soon. He expected her to enact her plan in the dark of night, not the middle of a bright summer day, but he wouldn't be caught off guard again.

An hour after entering the salon, she exited, looking every inch the pampered socialite. Her jeans were designer tight, accenting rounded hips and long legs. She wore red again, this time a full-sleeved blouse, unbuttoned down the front to display a white knit top that hugged soft, full breasts.

Despite the casual wear, there were diamonds at her throat, on her wrists and fingers. The brilliant sunshine caused them to shoot sparks in every direction. The only difference he noticed in her personal appearance was a fuller hairstyle. As well as a purse that was big enough to pass for a suitcase, she also carried a shopping bag with the salon's name on it.

A ripple of masculine interest spread through Kyle as he watched her slow, graceful movements. He felt a punch in the gut when she smiled at her escort, but he swiftly stifled the reaction.

Rudy followed a few steps behind her. He opened the back door of the car and held it, while she took a seat, filling the car's interior with her unique, expensive scent. Then he closed the door, opened the front passenger door and settled in the seat beside Kyle.

"Where to? Back to the house?" he asked, glancing at Samantha in the rearview mirror.

"I need to go to
Anderson
's Jewelers and have the safety catch on my bracelet checked. Do you know where it's located?"

Kyle had spent his spare time learning his way around the city. He knew every alley, intersection and parking lot, but not every business.

"What's the address?"

"It's out near the strip mall," offered Rudy.

"The south side of town," she added.

Bingo. So this was it. Her side trip would take them to the edge of the city, close to the freeway interchange. The safe house was to their northwest, but it would be smarter to head south, and then change directions once they were sure they weren't being followed.

Showing no reaction, Kyle nodded and put the car in gear. His muscles tightened, tension slowly coiling in him as he tried to anticipate how she'd neutralize Rudy. The big man wouldn't be easy to handle.

He waited, alert, as she started rustling through the shopping bag.

"Paulo gave me some samples from his exclusive new perfume line," she told them chattily. "I can't decide which one I like best, so I need a masculine opinion."

The high seat backs and headrests prevented the men from having a clear view of her, but they heard the hiss of an atomizer. Then her hand reached between the headrests. She put a tissue near Rudy's face and let him inhale the perfume.

"This one's called Ambrosia," she said, shifting the tissue toward Kyle so he could get a whiff before she withdrew it.

He heard her spraying another sample,
then
another tissue was held toward Rudy's nose. "Now this one is called Sweet Nectar. It has more of a fruity scent, don't you agree? I'm not sure I want to smell like fruit. What do you think?"

Rudy mumbled a vague reply.

Damn. She was good. Kyle hid a grin as he obediently sniffed at the second sample she held near his face. Haroldson's henchman wouldn't know what hit him when she finally made her move.

They heard the spray of another atomizer, and she was reaching around the seat again. Then she slapped an ether-soaked cloth over Rudy's face, holding it tightly with both hands. He grabbed at her wrists, but she'd locked his head in a vice between her hands and the headrest. The bodyguard struggled briefly before realizing he couldn't break her hold,
then
he reached for the beeper at his belt.

Kyle grabbed his wrist and held tight until the big man sagged into unconsciousness. Then he hit the window button to let some fresh air into the car so the ether wouldn't affect them.

"So which do you like best?" She continued the charade in case the car was bugged. Then she slithered over the seat and slid between him and Rudy. The action had her body bumping against his, her thigh brushing his shoulder and chest. Kyle steeled himself against the feel of her wiggling form.

He offered a noncommittal grunt in response to her question.

"You guys aren't much help with the perfume preferences," she said on a heavy sigh as she shoved Rudy's limp body closer to the door, maintaining a conversational tone. "I guess I'll leave the choice to Gregory. How about some music?"

Kyle switched on the radio and cranked the volume to cover their conversation.

"What next?" he muttered.

"Anyone tailing us?" Her husky tone had been replaced with a crisp, no-nonsense whisper.

"Damon in a dark green SUV. I can't see who's with him."

"Lose 'em. I want to dump Rudy out of here before the ether wears off."

Considering the bodyguard's size, it wouldn't take more than a few minutes for him to recover. Kyle altered their route and headed for a less congested area of town. Once they'd cleared the heaviest traffic, he had a better view of the car following them. He made a couple of unexpected turns, and Damon started closing the distance between them.

"He's suspicious," she grumbled, dividing her attention between Rudy and the car behind them.

The traffic began to thin out as they reached an industrial park. The area was nearly deserted on Saturday, so Kyle made a sharp turn between two huge warehouses. They were nearing the end of the connecting alley when the SUV came into view again.

For the next few minutes, they wove in and out of alleys, slowly increasing their lead. Then Rudy started to stir.

"Stop in the middle of the next one," said Samantha.

He did as she said, slowing the car enough for her to open the door and nudge Rudy onto the pavement. The big man fell with a
thud
and a grunt. She slammed the door, and Kyle floored the accelerator, peeling rubber, as she settled into the bucket seat.

The plan went like clockwork. They were just pulling out of the alley as Damon was forced to stop for a groggy and stumbling Rudy. The few minutes it took their pursuers to get the extra man into the SUV gave them the time needed to disappear.

Kyle shot out of the complex and turned onto the nearest residential street, and then another, tires squealing. Meeting minimal traffic, he sped up for another few streets, then made a third turn onto a deserted, tree-lined street.

Pulling into the drive of a small ranch-style house, he quickly punched the code of a remote garage door opener. It slid upward, he drove inside, and the door closed to conceal them from the street.

As soon as he'd switched off the ignition, he motioned toward the dusty, nondescript black pickup truck parked next to them in the two-car garage. Samantha grabbed her bags, and they jumped from the car.

"Good plan,
Jackson
. I was afraid we'd have to elude Gregory's men in his Mercedes."

"No. Too easy for him to track." He'd rented this place to store a getaway vehicle and a few of his personal things. Haroldson would probably track down his car if he had it bugged, but not until they were long gone.

They climbed into the truck. He stripped off his dark shirt, leaving him in a white T-shirt. Then he reached for a baseball cap on the dash, tugged it over his head and hit the ignition.

"Shouldn't we wait a while?"

"Too risky. They've already called for backup, but they won't be looking for a truck with one occupant." He gave her a meaningful glance.

"Got it," she said, sliding to the floor and crouching out of sight just as Kyle activated the overhead door. He backed the dusty truck from the garage.

Heart racing and adrenaline pumping, he found it hard to control the urge to speed, but he wove back through several residential streets at a sedate pace. As he approached the intersection that led back to the main highway, he spotted the SUV, but it didn't follow as he made the turn.

Within another two miles, they'd reached the freeway ramp leading south. As he paused at the yield sign, he spared a glance for his passenger, and then did a double take. She'd lost the long blond hair, apparently a wig, and now had short, spiky red hair. She'd also shed her blouse for a white knit top and ditched the jewels along with the pampered princess look.

The new look suited her new role.

Their gazes met, and something dangerously sexy arced between them. His muscles clenched as the unwelcome heat curled through his bloodstream. Undercover girl became more fascinating with each layer she revealed.

Her instant frown and the tightening of her jaw convinced him that she didn't appreciate the unexpected attraction.

"Got another ball cap?" she asked, breaking the strained silence. "I'm getting a little cramped down here."

He glanced in the rearview mirror again, then handed her a hat. After donning it, she slowly eased into the passenger seat and fastened her seat belt. Her tone was terse when she spoke.

"Where are we headed?"

"South for a while," he explained, easing into traffic. "Then we'll be turning north toward the safe house in
Virginia
."

Samantha nodded.

He thought she relaxed a little, but she kept a close watch on the traffic around and behind them for an unexpected tail. After a few minutes of silence, he offered a compliment.

"You handled Rudy like a pro."

Her tone chilled. "I am a pro."

Kyle hid a grin. Touchy. He didn't doubt that the mysterious Phantom was one of the best, but she also had to be insane or inconceivably ambitious to live with a
slimeball
like Haroldson. What could possibly motivate a beautiful young woman to that extent?

Despite doubts about her mental stability, he was finding her more intriguing by the minute.
Which meant, the sooner they parted ways, the better.
He didn't want or need involvement with a sexy, lunatic secret agent. He couldn't deny his yearning for uncomplicated feminine companionship, but there was nothing uncomplicated about his current companion.

He'd be glad to have his end of the job finished. A heady sense of freedom rushed through him. In a couple of hours, he could head home to
Texas
and know he'd done his part in bringing Haroldson to justice. The thought brought a sweet surge of satisfaction.

Samantha withdrew a cell phone from her bag. She punched in a series of numbers. He heard ringing and a pickup. She punched another series of numbers, and then snapped the phone closed.

"Notifying someone?"

"Sullivan. He'll know we're on our way when he gets a coded message from this number."

It pleased him that she had mentioned Sullivan's name and that the two of them had the operation so ingeniously coordinated. That meant less chance of confusion or errors. Fewer risks meant higher achievement rates.

"So you're the infamous Kyle Tremont?"

He gave her a sharp glance. How had she learned his name? "You've been in regular contact with Sullivan? Wasn't that risky considering how close Haroldson has you guarded?"

"I haven't talked to him, but I knew he planned to contact you. He promised me someone who couldn't be compromised. I've seen your photo in old agency files and read about a few of your accomplishments. I don't remember your hair being so dark. Dyed?"

Kyle nodded, a wave of nostalgia tightening his gut. She was one of them, one of the FBI's elite
force
of undercover agents. He'd known a few female officers, and they had his utmost respect. Margie had worked twice as hard as a male agent and rarely got the recognition she deserved. The law-enforcement world was still a male-dominated profession.

"You shed your blond locks pretty quick. Are you a natural redhead?"