#2 Dangerous Games (26 page)

"Excuse me?" He narrowed his eyes as he rotated his wrist, swirling his drink in his glass, allowing the ice to clink against the sides.

"Every woman you've had since I've known you has resembled her. But she's not the imitation; she's the one you've always wanted. I'm not the only one who has recognized that."

"What's your point, Trina?" He was aware of the fact that every woman he had bedded for years had reminded him of Morganna. It was the only way to stay away from her, to diffuse the hunger eating at him. He just wasn't aware that anyone else had figured it out.

Catlike calculation filled Trina's angular face as she lowered her chin and watched him through veiled lashes.

"I like you, Clint," she said then, her voice low as she wept the area with her gaze. "Perhaps a bit too much."

That one was a surprise.

"Would you like to clarify, Trina?"

"She has made enemies. Powerful enemies, my friend. Just as you have."

Shit. He tensed at the undertone of her voice.

"When?"

"You know when. And if you're smart, you now know who. Diego isn't dead, Clint." She stood carefully to her feet, leaning closer as irritation flashed in her eyes. "You have five minutes," she whispered. "It's all the head start I can give you. Get out of here, and get your woman out of here, before it's too late."

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Fuentes wasn't dead. It should have been a shock, but it wasn't. Clint had never been satisfied with the information that had come through, that the charred remains of Diego Fuentes' body had been found within the hacienda that had burned to the ground that night.

Fuentes would not have gone into that burning building for any reason, and Clint knew he hadn't been trapped inside it when it began burning. Fuentes was behind the drug, and Morganna had stepped in his path when she had witnessed the dealers spiking that woman's drink.

"We're out of here." Clint leaned close to Morganna's ear. whispering the words as his hand tunneled under her hair to the opposite ear and slipped her receiver free.

She was better than he gave her credit for. She didn't argue. She turned to him with a graceful smile, though her gray eyes had darkened, sharpened. She turned with him. moving easily at his side as he curved an arm around her waist and led her quickly through the house and into the darkened kitchen.

As they entered the tiled room she paused only long enough to slip free of her high heels before they headed quickly to the back door.

Pulling the revolver from the small of his back, he was aware of Morganna slipping the snub-nosed pistol from her purse. There was just something wrong about her carrying, he thought distantly as his eyes narrowed, probing the dark shadows beyond the French doors.

"Stay behind me." He eased the door open, ignoring her] soft snort.

"Don't worry, baby; I have your back." Her voice was calm, though the thread of amusement had the corner of his lips kicking up in a grin as he led her onto the deck and they| worked their way to the ground.

Nothing moved; nothing breathed. The hairs along nape were tingling with warning, though. They had to hurry. Gripping her free wrist, he pulled her through the shadows toward the front drive as he dropped both their receivers to the ground.

Forget the valet parking. Despite Morganna's grumblings earlier, he had parked close to the exit drive directly in front of the thick brush that bordered the property. He led her into the brush then, aware of her stocking-covered feet and cursing his own ignorance in not thinking of this.

He hadn't expected it to come this soon, he admitted. He hadn't expected them to move so fast. Though he should nave. He had just hoped the intel they had received that Diego Fuentes was dead had been correct. He had also hoped his suspicions against Merino's team had been wrong. He had messed up, he admitted. He should have dragged Morganna out of town the first night he'd found her.

She stayed silent as they worked their way to the truck. She moved behind him easily, her breathing steady, following the guidance of his hand on her wrist until they paused in me dark shadows in front of the pickup.

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The driveway was well lit closer to the house, but this far down the bright lights were dimmer, the shadows cast by the other vehicles making the truck harder to see.

"Stay put," he whispered as they paused beneath the thick weeping willow branches. "When I give you the go-ahead, stay low and get your ass to the truck."

"Got it." She crouched beside him, and when he glanced sack at her, he didn't see fear or excitement.

He saw determination.

Gripping the revolver in his hand, he slid from beneath me tree and made his way to the truck. He had seen the black sedan that pulled in front of the house as they neared his truck; he was betting Diego's assassins were already figuring out something was up.

Bending close to the truck, he checked the length of Scotch tape he had placed over the front of the hood. It was still in place. Then he made a quick survey of the undercarriage, checking for surprise packages that would blow them to hell and back.

Moving quickly, he pulled the keys free of his pocket and eased open the driver's side door before motioning her to him.

Pulling back, he helped her into the track before jumping in behind her, shoving the key into the ignition, and praying before giving it a quick turn.

The engine turned over with a smooth hum. Throwing it into reverse, Clint pulled from the parking spot as he saw the two men rushing from the front of Trina's house.

"Hang on." He shoved the vehicle into drive before accelerating quickly from the parking lot.

"Only Joe's team knew where we were?" Morganna was> turned, staring behind them, as he raced back toward town.

She was quick; he had to give her credit for that.

"Yes. They were the only ones."

"Could someone have had time to call from the party?"

"They would have." He nodded. "But it was pre-planned. I was tipped off at the last minute by a friend."

"Hell of a friend," she breathed out roughly. "We have lights rounding the curves behind us."

"I see them." Clint flipped off his own lights, knowing the brake and parking lights would follow suit. The adjustments he had made to his vehicles after the operation in South America were paying off.

He had known something had gone bad there besides Nathan's death; he just wasn't certain what.

With a quick jerk of the wheel he turned off onto one of the smaller side roads, before making a quick U-turn and pulling off beneath a canopy of trees.

He had checked as close as he could for bugs or bombs, but no one was perfect.

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Seconds later, the dark sedan raced by, their lights sweeping within feet of the truck before continuing around the curve and along the main road.

He watched the lights disappear before hitting the gas, racing back toward Trina's. Once their assassins figured out had pulled off, he hoped they would check this side road before suspecting him and Morganna of heading back the way they had come.

"We're in a shitload of trouble, aren't we?" Morganna breathed out several minutes later as they raced past the road that led back to Trina's. "Yep." He flipped the lights back on, breathing a sigh of relief as the illumination of the darkened road made navigating the curves easier.

Trina would have to live in the backcountry rather than closer to town.

"Why? We haven't even made contact with the only suspect we have. Why make a move this fast?"

"It's a setup." He glanced over at her, his chest tightening at her narrow-eyed surveillance of the empty road behind them.

She was cool as hell. He wouldn't have suspected that a week ago. Her expression was composed, determined. Her eyes sharp and intelligent, suspicious, but not frightened.

"Why is it a setup, Clint?" She still gripped the little pistol close to her thigh, her fingers curved around it easily.

But hell, he was still gripping his. He laid it carefully on the seat beside him.

"Relax. I have a friend I can borrow a car and some clothes from. It's time to get the hell out of Dodge, Morganna."

"I'll ask again. Why?" He glimpsed her from the corner of his eye, staring back at him suspiciously.

"This isn't just about the operation you're working," he told her then. "Remember the operation where Reno was shot a year ago?"

"I remember he was shot." Of course she did. She had nearly lost her brother. All of them had lost a good friend.

"We went against a man named Diego Fuentes in Colombia. Two SEAL teams, mine and Reno's, along with a six-man Ranger team and two six-man teams of government soldiers. We went in to rescue the daughters of three senators who had been kidnapped and were being held in exchange for the safe passage of a shipment of drugs. We killed Fuentes' wife, his son, and his brother; we were told Fuentes went down with the house when it collapsed."

"He didn't?" She settled back in her chair as the truck raced to the outer edges of town. Thankfully, Trina wasn't too far from the social center she loved so much.

"Fuentes' scientist developed the date rape drug." Clint wiped his hand weakly over his face. "I would have joined Joe's team a year ago, if my CO hadn't held me back. The DEA was working to find the supplier, but another group was working to track the distributors of the videos as well as the lab creating the drug. And possibly Nathan. They were using Joe to keep the suppliers distracted from the other
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group's work."

She was silent. Clint grimaced. This wasn't a good thing. He flicked a look at her closed expression, grimacing at the glitter of anger in her eyes.

"I had no idea you were involved in this until it was too late," he growled. "No one suspected Fuentes was actually alive."

"And what makes you think he is?"

"Trina. She was part of Fuentes' network two years ago. and evidently still is," he snarled, wishing he could wring Trina's neck for not telling him sooner. "We have to switch vehicles, then find some place to hole up where Merino won't be able to track us. I don't trust him or his crew now. Morganna. I'll call in the rest of the team tonight. We'll take care of it."

"Convenient," she muttered. "Why didn't you do this sooner?"

"I can't save the fucking world," he snarled as he rubbed at his neck in frustration. "I do my little bit, Morganna. Me and Reno. That's the best we can do, and we have to be content with that. I agreed with the operation as it was being handled. That drug is too dangerous not to track it to its source. It has to be eliminated. Taking out a supplier in Atlanta isn't going to help the problem growing in New York, or on the West Coast. And it is growing. Find the root and you kill the vine."

"What about the women dying in the meantime?" she cried out, furious, the pain in her voice slicing through his chest.

"The alternative is worse, Morganna," he bit out. "If we just take out a few suppliers here and there, and miss the lab while it's in one place, controlled by one hand, then it goes worldwide. It will become as popular and easy to find as crack or pot. Is that better? How does that benefit the women who have already had their lives ruined or taken?"

"You could have told me," she protested furiously. "You could have worked with me when you came into this instead of hiding everything."

"I wanted you out," he bit out, the blood thundering through his veins. "For God's sake, do you think I wanted you mixed up in this any deeper than you were already?"

"Do you think you could have stopped it?" She raked her fingers through her hair, glaring at him as he looked over her, pulling to a stop as the light before him turned red.

His eyes flicked between the mirrors, checking traffic, watching for the sedan.

"I wanted to stop it," he growled. "I would have stopped it, if you hadn't been so damned stubborn."

"Dammit, Clint, you promised to work with me. This is information Joe needed. Information I needed."

"Joe doesn't need anything more than he has," Clint bit out. "There's a mole on that team, Morganna; admit it. I didn't give you the information because I thought the danger you faced was the damned dealers or suppliers, not the head viper."

Morganna breathed in roughly. "What do we do now?"

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"We have to get to Macey's." Macey was one of the few men Clint knew could help him now. The hacker from hell. "We'll get another car and head to the mountains-"

"That won't help-"

"The hell it won't," he snapped, staring back at her, certain that the stakes in the game Diego was playing were much higher than he had ever imagined. "I won't let Fuentes have you, Morganna. He knows you were the one that witnessed those dealers' spiking that drink. He may even know who I am. I won't give him a chance to take you."

He'd hide her as far back in the mountains as he could get her and pray to God they could catch Diego before he found them. If Fuentes' network was back in place, then they could all be screwed. Royally.

"Raven's blocking my calls to Reno," he informed her tightly. "When we get to Macey's, call her; get Reno on the phone. They could be in danger as well. He needs to know what's going on now."

"God, Raven will kill both of us for ruining her honeymoon."

"She'll live. That's what's important," he snapped back. "When you get Reno on the phone, Morganna, I want to talk to him."

"Sure. Fine. Whatever." He heard the safety click on her gun before she opened her purse and stored it inside.

God. He couldn't believe this. Years, fucking years of fighting to protect her, only to have her in danger now because of him. Flashes of the videos taken in as evidence in the past two years that drug had been sifting through the party scene had his guts tying in knots.