Viper's Kiss (3 page)

Nothing happened.

Her jaw dropped as she again spun and ducked down, her laptop case pressing into her back as she leaned against a tire.
Oh, God, no! It didn’t work.
She squeezed her eyes closed.
Damn, damn, damn
. She heard the scrunch of soles on concrete, and scuttled behind the rear of the forklift. Now what? She was done for. He would find her.

She ducked her head behind the gas tank, and paused.
Gas tank? Maybe that’s it?
Her hand rose to touch the valve. She’d never driven a forklift before. Was the gas turned in the off position? She snuck a peek. Was that the problem? She wasn’t sure. There wasn’t an “on” switch, just a valve. She began to turn it, and winced at the groaning squeak it made. The footsteps stopped.

Slide. Crunch. He was coming toward her.

She worked furiously, spinning the valve. The engine coughed once. Twice. It roared to life. The forklift lurched, and she toppled over as it lunged forward.

A male yell ended as quickly as it began as the forklift crashed to a stop against the wall of the building. Maggie didn’t stick around to see what happened. She bolted down the commercial drive, around a sea container and smack bang into a broad chest.

She stumbled backwards, winded, the strap of her laptop bag digging into her neck. She looked up. And up. Jean-clad muscular thighs, narrow hips, broad chest and shoulders. The chiseled, handsome face of an avenging angel. And those eyes. The man from the library.

She didn’t know whether to be happy to see him or scared as all hell.
Why is he following me? What if he’s a stalker?
The memory of Rupert choking her flashed across her mind.
Or worse?
The fierce look on his face didn’t reassure her. She rolled to her feet and turned to flee. A hand wrapped around her mouth as another snaked around her waist, and she was hauled back against a hard, strong male body.

She didn’t know if it was the adrenalin of the situation, the emotional tightrope she’d walked since her arrest, or the sheer will to live, but all the self-defense techniques she’d ever read or practiced came to the fore. She raked her foot down a shin as she stomped on her captor’s foot. She was rewarded with a growl. She drove her elbow into a firm stomach, and heard his grunt. She reached over her head and felt hair. She grabbed. Pulled. The arm around her waist tightened, and she was hoisted up higher, her feet flailing as she tried to kick him again.

“Damn, woman, if you want to live be still, shut up and do exactly as I say.”

Maggie froze at the voice whispering in her ear.

“We have to get out of here. I’ll take my hand away if you promise to be quiet.” The smooth voice continued to rumble in her ear, causing a heated reaction in her body that she thought entirely inappropriate under the circumstances.

Maggie nodded. If it meant freedom, she’d agree to anything. Whether she’d follow through or not, well, that was another story. The hand over her mouth lifted slightly, as though ready to gag her if she tried to make any noise.

Her captor seemed satisfied with her continued silence and withdrew the hand completely. The arm around her waist loosened enough so that she could turn, but didn’t relinquish her.

She looked up at his face. Underneath the blond eyebrows that were pulled together in a tight frown were those blue eyes and an almost-straight nose. Shaggy blond hair framed a face that looked to have been chiseled from marble by a master craftsman, with bold cheekbones and a strong jaw line. Stone-cold handsome. She took a deep, calming breath, and tried to force her pulse rate back to normal. She brought her hands up between them, ready to push him away if necessary, although he’d already demonstrated his superior strength and she didn’t think she’d be successful unless he allowed it.

“What the…what do you want?” Surely he wasn’t another Miss April Hotrod fan who’d followed her from the library? She’d seen enough of them since the release of that darned calendar. “Let me go.” She had to make him leave before those other men found them.

The man shook his head. “Are you cra—?” His lips firmed as he looked behind her. “Never mind. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

He took her arm in an unrelenting grip and dragged her through the maze of containers. Even though weak sunlight shone down, he still managed to blend in with the shadows. At each corner he held her back until he made sure the coast was clear, then pulled her along. They reached the road in a short time. He jogged up to a dumpster and wheeled a bike out from behind it.

He gestured to it. “Come on.” He swung his leg over.

Maggie stared at him. He expected her to go with him? She didn’t know him, didn’t trust him. Then she stared at the bike. It looked fast.
And dangerous
. She’d never sat on a bike before in her life, let alone ridden on one. They were death traps. She shook her head. “I can’t,” she whispered.

The man stared at her. “Get on the damn bike.”

Maggie looked down at her skirt. How was she supposed to—?

A male shout followed by the sound of a gun firing spurred her into action.

“Good idea.” She clambered onto the bike, her skirt hiking up as the engine revved and the bike lurched into motion.

Maggie squealed and burrowed her face into the wide shoulders of the man in front of her. Her arms wrapped around his waist and she scooted her hips forward to plaster her body against his. She hung on for dear life.

Luke pulled his cell phone from his pocket as the bike cruised down a quiet tree-lined street in Seattle’s Central District. He typed in a code, hit send, and a garage door belonging to a cottage farther down the road slid open.

He hit end and drove into the garage, idling past a midnight blue Ford Expedition already parked on one side. He put his foot down for balance and pulled the bike to a stop. The garage was pitched into darkness when the door snicked closed, except for the sliver of light showing through the cracks around the door.

Luke gritted his teeth. “You can let go of me now.”

Damn, he was uncomfortable. He shifted slightly on the seat, then bit back a groan at the feel of the woman’s voluptuous body clinging to him. He’d been aroused the entire ride. It hadn’t helped when she’d shifted even closer at one point, and her hips had cradled his. He glanced over his shoulder and got an eyeful of her black stocking-clad leg, the skirt riding high on her thigh. The stockings were torn, he could see cuts and scrapes, but the shapely leg was still a sexy sight. He twisted to peer over his shoulder.

She’d buried her head between his shoulder blades and still hadn’t surfaced. His lips curved. Who would have thought the notorious Viper was afraid of bikes?

“We’re here.” He raised his voice.

The woman lifted her head and peeked over his shoulder. There were those beautiful, eyes again, uncertainty and fear in their depths. He frowned. Viper was lousy at hiding her thoughts and feelings. He would have thought an international spy would be more accomplished at deception. Unless it was an act. She was good. He almost fell for it.

She seemed to realize she’d smeared herself onto his back and jerked away. “Sorry.” She slid back a little further on the seat and slung one leg over the back of the bike. She stumbled a few steps, and Luke grabbed her arm.

“Thanks,” she said, glancing around her.

She had a puppy-dog-lost air about her, and his protective instincts awoke. He smiled derisively. Reese would have a field day with his need to protect an international spy. This was his first assignment as lead agent, and he didn’t want Reese to think his trust was misplaced. Luke forced himself to remember exactly why they were in the position they were in. He’d found Viper trying to escape her cohorts, undoubtedly in the middle of a double-cross. She’d stolen valuable information, and a prototype that would be dangerous in the wrong hands. She couldn’t be trusted. His smile disappeared. He pulled a nylon restraint out of his pocket and had her wrists trussed before she could blink. The ties were lighter to carry than handcuffs, and just as effective.

“Wait, no!” she protested, and tried to wrestle free.

He got off the bike and made his way to the door connecting the garage to the house, snagging her arm as she turned in the opposite direction.

“Come on,” he said gruffly, dragging her across the garage. She tried to pull her arm from his grasp, so he tugged harder.

“Wait, where are you taking me? I’m not taking one more step with you unless I get some answers.” He ignored the drag on his arm as Viper tried to dig her heels into the concrete floor, and continued to pull her along.

“If you don’t let me go, I’m going to scream,” she said slowly and calmly, as though trying not to startle him. He thought of her remarks back at the warehouse yard. And she was acting as though he was the crazy one?

He turned to her and dragged her close. For a moment they stared at each other, a mere inch apart. He could see the lighter slivers of silver splintering across her irises, and hear her breathing. His body throbbed in unprofessional places. He took a deep breath. The spy smelled of vanilla.
Damn
. He liked vanilla. He forced his breathing, and hormones, under control.

“Go ahead. Scream.” He wanted her to know he wouldn’t shy from using physical force on a damn spy.

Her eyes darted to the side, and he could almost see the wheels spin as she thought it through.

“I won’t sleep with you,” she warned him.

His head jerked as if she’d slapped him.
What the—?
He looked her up and down. Her honey-colored hair looked like it was on its last pin before tumbling down. Wide, apprehensive eyes returned his gaze. Her full bottom lip had a small cut, and her left cheek showed the beginnings of a deep bruise. Her skirt was dirty and her stockings were ripped. When he’d first seen her, her blouse had been a crisp white. Now the torn and bloodstained garment was streaked with dirt and grease. The collar gaped open, and he couldn’t help noticing the bruises forming on her neck. Someone had tried to choke her.

His lips tightened, and he consciously relaxed his grip on her arm. This woman had been abused. His mama had always said there was no excuse for laying violent hands on a woman, and most of the time he agreed. Unfortunately, in his experience he’d seen women do some unspeakable things. He had to ignore the feel of those womanly curves against him, the hint of vulnerability in her gaze, and that seductive scent. If Viper wanted to get nasty, he wouldn’t hesitate to neutralize her.

“I prefer my lovers with a little less wear and tear. And willing.” He resumed his walk to the connecting door. This time she followed, head lowered meekly. He’d think she was docile if it wasn’t for the occasional jerk of her arm as she tried to escape his grip. He almost smiled.
Docile, my ass
.

He typed a code into the keypad by the door, using his body to obscure it from her view, and the red light flashed to green. A click sounded, and he pulled the door open. He stood to the side and gestured toward the door.

“After you,” he offered.

Her arched eyebrows pulled into a frown.

“Where are we?” She clutched the strap of the bag hanging across her chest, as though it were a lifeline.

He glanced through the door. This was a safe house owned by the McCormack Security Agency, but she didn’t need to know that. He snorted derisively. “Do you think I’m going to tell you, Viper?”

He watched as she closed her eyes and took a breath.

“My name is not Viper,” she said through clenched teeth.

One eyebrow rose.
Ah. She’s pulling that one, huh?

He sighed. “We can do this the easy way, or we could do this the hard way. Your choice.” He gestured to the door again.

She stared up at him and chewed on her lip. He waited. She reluctantly edged past him, keeping as much distance between their bodies as the door frame would allow. His lips twitched. She probably knew seven different ways to kill a man with her pinkie, but she sure could act.

They entered through the U-shaped kitchen, with its white timber cupboards and granite countertops. He led her across the black and white tiled floor into the living room, and guided her toward the couch.

He pulled out his cell phone and speed-dialed Reese, keeping a watchful eye on the woman. She sat on the edge of the couch and looked like she was ready to run at the first opportunity. His lips twisted.
Just try it
.

His boss answered immediately. “Reese, here.”

“I’ve got Viper.”

“We heard about her escape and the cop murders. It’s all over the news. I’ve got Richard Bates on the other line. Let me conference this call.”

Luke managed to contain his surprise as the billionaire CEO of the world’s most iconic software and hardware development company greeted him.

“Fletcher! I’m glad to hear you’ve recovered our thief. What about the research and the prototype she stole?”

Luke’s eyes met Viper’s. She was staring at him warily.

“I’m still working on it.” Luke narrowed his eyes. Viper had shifted on the couch, eyeing the hallway to the front of the house. He shook his head, and casually moved into her line of vision.

“Where are you?” Bates asked.

Luke hesitated. Bates was the client. His company, Tek-Intel, owned the technology Viper had stolen. But he wasn’t McCormack Security.

“We’re at a safe house,” Luke answered. Bates didn’t need to know where that safe house was.

“I’m sending Drew and Noah down as backup,” Reese informed him.

The corner of Luke’s mouth kicked up. “Good.”

Drew Michaels and Noah Samuels were excellent agents and good friends. Much as Luke wanted to prove his worth, he appreciated the skills his colleagues would bring to the mission. They had to recover the stolen research. Period.

“And let me know if you need anything else.”

“Keep me updated too,” Bates said. It sounded like a demand.

“Sure.”

Luke disconnected the call and glanced at his watch. It was roughly a four-and-a-half-hour flight from Chicago to Seattle. Drew and Noah wouldn’t arrive sometime until late evening

“I need to call my mother.” The soft voice interrupted his calculations. He looked at the woman responsible for the recent deaths of two detectives and a security guard. She sat primly on the edge of the couch, her bound hands resting neatly on her knees. “She’ll be worried sick.” Despite her disheveled appearance, she still managed to exude an air of injured propriety.

“Not a chance,” he said, and crossed to what looked like a custom-built enclosed entertainment unit. Mother was probably a codename for an accomplice. He folded back the doors to reveal an array of monitors. Reese liked all the mod cons in his safe houses. Luke pressed a button to the side of one of the monitors, and a desktop slid out of the wall, bearing several keyboards and remote controls. He typed a command, and all the monitors flickered to life. Several twenty-four hour news channels popped up, as well as satellite imagery and scrolling data.

“Oh my God. Who are you?” Viper whispered, gaping at the wall of monitors.

“Luke Fletcher, McCormack Security Agency.” He turned and bowed toward her.

She tore her eyes away to meet his gaze. “Are you some sort of spy?”

Luke laughed, but cut it short when he realized what he was doing. He cleared his throat. “Uh, isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black?”

The woman stared at him for a moment.

“That. Is. It.” She stood and raised her cuffed hands, fingers curled into fists. Her ripped shirt gaped at the front. He caught a glimpse of a white cotton bra and had to work hard to ignore it.

She advanced on him, her eyes lightening to silver as color flagged her cheeks. “I’ve been arrested, kidnapped and then kidnapped again. I want to know why the hell my life suddenly resembles something out of a James Bond flick. What the hell is going on?”

Luke cocked his head to the side and stared at her.
She’s really good.
He could understand how she’d managed to evade previous attempts of capture and arrest from every conceivable form of law enforcement throughout the world.
She’s almost convincing.
If he hadn’t seen the evidence with his own eyes he’d believe her dowdy façade, the fear, the indignation. But despite the vulnerability, and the almost tangible fragility, he detected an underlying strength. After what she’d been through, she should have looked like a wreck. But she didn’t. She looked, well, fierce. Beautiful.
And that just makes her more dangerous
.