Casanova In Training (38 page)

Damn hot.
And when did I claim him as mine?

He stepped forward, reminding her of a predator when she was jerked to her feet. His height added to the intimidation factor. Well, it would have had she been intimidated. As it was, she wasn’t. However, with each passing second, her ire grew. If there was one thing she hated it was incompetence. She flicked her eyes in Hector’s direction and sent him a look she knew he would understand for silence and pass it along to the rest. Then she lifted her chin and held the gaze of the man before her.

“Who are you?”

His voice, while angry, was decadent, rough-hewn and dangerous. She stared at him. He had a body to die for. One that would give her hours of pleasure to explore.

Okay, I obviously need to get laid.

“I’ll ask you again. Who are you?”

The rough baritone had a deep Texas drawl to it and felt like he pulled velvets and silks across her naked body. Harsh, intense need filled her from the soles of her feet to the top of her head.

Really,
really
need to get laid.

Sinfully long lashes lowered when he narrowed his gaze. “Do you have any idea how much trouble you’re in?”

“Do you?” she retorted, not backing down from his acute look.

“I’m arresting you.”

She watched as the crates of guns—her guns—were loaded into newly arrived vehicles. “You think so?”

“I’d say it’s a safe bet given the silver you’re wearing.”

“I like silver. Gold is too pretentious.” One shoulder lifted in a lazy shrug.

Although he never cracked an official smile, she could see the amusement lingering behind the hawk-like stare.

His voice was nothing but business when he spoke. “So you’ve been arrested before.” He made it a statement.

She shut down. If he didn’t know who she was, that wasn’t her fault. And given the handcuffs she wore, she bet he didn’t. So she arched a brow and gave him a bored look.

“You know those men will sell you out. Give me something to work with and I’ll tell the judge you helped.”

Skimming her teeth with her tongue, she snorted in derision. Her men would never do that but if she said anything, he would know he had gotten under her skin. And
that
was not an option.

“You don’t think they will.” He stepped closer, getting in her face. The scent wafting from him smelled like a man. Strong, virile, and so much more. “You’re wrong and you
will
go to jail for it. Not just county jail. I’m talking federal prison.”

Another agent grabbed her arm and shoved her towards a waiting converted ice cream truck. A black suburban raced towards them, lights flashing and sirens blaring.

“What the—?” Blondie muttered from beside her.

Hot on the heels of the SUV was another paddy wagon type. They squealed to a stop before them and a tall man stepped out. She knew him and yet continued to keep her face blank. Salt and pepper hair in a nice neat cut. He wore shades but his expression showed his immense displeasure. The fact his lips were pressed together informed her his anger sat on the cusp of its boiling point.

“Explain,” the new arrival snapped.

Tall, buff and blond made himself a target by putting himself in front of her. Almost in a proprietary motion.

“Who are you,” he growled in response.

“Director McKeon, ATF.” He flashed his badge. “What’s the DEA doing here?” He waved his hand and the sun glinted off his wedding ring. “Never mind. Take her to that vehicle.”

“I arrested her.”

McKeon gestured impatiently like her blond man had not said a word. Blondie’s fingers dug into her arm and he led her over to the waiting truck. She saw the rest of her team already in there and the sight of their injuries revived the anger within. With a sharp swallow, she glanced to her director. He wore the hell out of his suit. A very handsome man, cold, calculating and one hell of a boss.

“Get these off me,” she ground out.

She heard the DEA man argue but paid him no mind as the cuffs were loosened and given to her. Serefina took them and stepped up into the back of the RDV, Rapid Deployment Vehicle.

“Hell no, you can’t release my prisoner.”

Sunglasses were removed and she got the full weight of James McKeon’s stormy hazel eyes. He looked past her briefly to where she knew the DEA man stood then back at her.

“Why were you cuffed?” McKeon demanded. “You can leave.” That directive was for the blond.

“I didn’t see the point,” she said. There was more to it than that but she didn’t want to discuss it in front of the man who’d made her panties wet.

“You’re still here?” James asked as a large presence appeared beside her.

“I’m not handing my prisoner over to you.”

“Fine. Let’s roll.”

Doing her best not to look at him, she sat and stretched out her jean clad legs. He sat across from her and removed his own sunglasses. Amazing eyes watched her. She winced over the stiffness gathering on her left side. The one which had hit the ground first. From the slight narrowing of his blue eyes, she knew he’d caught it. It wasn’t just him watching her; she could feel the other gazes although none had the effect of the lone DEA agent in the vehicle.

From beneath lowered lids, she stared at him. Still no name. His DEA vest did nothing but highlight the power in his body. She fought the urge to squeeze her legs together. A knowledgeable and mocking grin turned up one side of his Cupid bow-shaped lips.

Jackass.

The truck rumbled to a stop and he got to his feet. She waited. When the back door opened, McKeon stood there.

“Move,” he ordered.

With a single push, she got to her feet and headed to the door. Beyond McKeon, she could see others of the DEA waiting. The anger returned. She glanced to her left and found those intense blue orbs focused directly on her, like they were the only two in the world.

“Don’t make me repeat myself.” The command cracked like a whip.

Ignoring the flutter in her belly, she tossed the handcuffs to her silent blond, winked and hopped out to land at her boss’ side.

There was no looking back. No time for what-if’s. She totally honed in on her upcoming confrontation. They walked into the building.

“You know I can—”

“No way,” she broke into her director’s statement. “We’re damn lucky we didn’t lose one of our own because of this.”

“I’ll give you only so much leash, LeBenoit.”

She understood. So long as she remained professional, he’d let her do the talking. If there was mudslinging to do, he’d handle it.

“Why didn’t you identify yourself to them?”

She snorted. “Why? I don’t carry a badge undercover. And I highly doubt they’d be willing and open-minded to that claim from me.”

McKeon remained silent until he pressed the button in the elevator. When he faced her, his normally cold eyes were filled with concern. He lifted his chin in direction of her face.

“You wanna get that cleaned up?”

“Later.”

The doors slid open and she stepped off onto the sixth floor. The area had a life of its own. Its own heartbeat. After a brief cursory glance around, she strode off beside McKeon, headed to a confrontation she itched for.

DEA Special Agent Taber Kysenzki leaned against a desk and watched her walk up the stairs leading to the half floor on this level and march head high into his director’s office. The other man was with her but Taber only had eyes for her. She. Her. His mystery woman. Maybe she was an informant. However, the way she carried herself made him doubt that.

A beautiful woman reminding him of mind-blowing sex combined with a hint of violence. His ideal woman. The sun had shone on skin which brought to mind whipped milk chocolate. He longed to put his tongue on it and discover the taste, feel the texture. Her hair was black, shiny, and in a short bob around her thin face.

His cock stirred as he watched her walked. Smooth, effortless movement. He was a man who knew what he wanted. And he wanted her. He knew it was based on visual and physical, but hey, no one would get close to his heart again.

Laughter dragged his attention from the firm jean-encased bubble butt that vanished from view. He saw some guys looking in the direction she’d gone.

“What’s so funny?” he bit off, frowning over the wave of possessiveness which hit him.

“Nothing,” Special Agent Lou Howard said. “Just wondering how the meeting is going to go.”

“Meaning?” he asked, not understanding.

“Meaning we intruded on an ATF undercover operation. That sweet filly you had so close to you is none other than SA Serefina LeBenoit.”

He froze. That was a familiar name. ATF’s version of him. Hard-headed, determined, not uncommon to skirt the line of the law to obtain the wanted objective. Before he realised it, he headed towards the stairs and his boss, Tobias Feeney’s, office. He slowed before he actually got there for the loud voices were obvious. After pausing a brief moment at the door, he strolled through and headed for a chair in the outer office. Cricket, Tobias’ assistant was gone. No doubt hiding from the fireworks. Butt in the plush red chair, he hooked his ankles out before him.

“I don’t give a damn. That was
our
sting. DEA is not the ATF.”

“Watch your tone, LeBenoit.”

“Why should I? You’re not my boss and your damn arrogance and refusal to tell the ATF about a gun deal could have resulted in my men being injured. In case you’ve forgotten, ATF trumps DEA.”

The venom and disgust rolled off each word. Taber smiled and scratched his chin. She had grit. Not many had what it took to confront Tobias.

The door jerked open and there she was. Framed by the doorway. Her dark brown eyes shot flames, full—definitely kissable—lips were drawn tight with anger. Blue jeans and a tank top allowed him to ogle her figure. Not that he hadn’t already done so but he had no qualms about doing it again. She locked onto him, her big eyes narrowed.

On the air came his boss’s deep voice. “Get back in here.”

“Screw you. And next time, Director, I’ll let the guy shoot your agent, instead of saving his life, and potentially ruining my long hours of undercover work.”

She stared at Taber long enough to scan his body and dismiss him without hesitation. Slammed his ego into the ground and stomped on it. Then she left the office. He went after her, ignoring his hollered name.

“Hang on a sec,” he said.

Her motion evaporated so suddenly he almost ran into her at the bottom of the stairs. She turned and glared at him through the silky strands of hair over her eyes. One slightly arched eyebrow rose.

“We weren’t introduced.”

Another dismissive glance. “Nope.”

“Taber Kysenzki.”

It was obvious she wasn’t impressed, for she turned and walked away.

“Don’t feel bad, Taber. She’s rumoured to be a ball buster,” Howard informed him.

Before wisdom could talk him out of it, he headed for the women’s restroom and let himself in. Serefina stood at the sink, cleaning her shoulder.

Without stopping in her ministrations, she said, “‘N here I thought you were a man.”

The soft drawl stroked him like her own fingers had touched him. A quick glance told him they were alone and he moved to her side. Licking his lips, he took the damp and dirty wad of paper towels from her, threw it down, and got new ones before clasping her arm and picked up where she left off. A soft gentle citrus scent wafted from her.

Her arm was muscular and firm; her skin, however, was soft and supple. A rumble of possessiveness rose within him. His. That was the only word he could think of.

“So you noticed, did you?” He was inordinately pleased she had.

Her head snapped towards him and he flashed a grin. The flare of heat in her eyes gave away the fact she wasn’t immune to him. Before she could look away, he captured her chin in two fingers and sat on the black marbled sink. With careful strokes, he cleaned the dirt and tiny gravel from where it marred her skin. The thought of fight or flight was blatant on her face. So was her stubbornness and he knew she refused to let him rattle her.

“Why didn’t you identify yourself?” he asked, rinsing out the paper towel and squeezing out the excess.

“Why would I? I was undercover. I don’t have my badge, and if there were any left from the crew we were selling to, then I just lost my undercover work.”

It made sense.

“And we messed it up.” He stretched for her face again.

“Sure did,” she agreed before stepping away from him and going to the door.

He followed, the paper towel left on the sink, and reached over her head to press his palm against the cool, smooth wood of the door. Holding it shut. She turned slowly and he barely caught the nervousness she had for him boxing her in.

When she faced him, he couldn’t help but notice how well they fit together. He knew his hunger for her was recognisable on his face but she didn’t back down. Her heavily lashed gaze reflected a similar look. He gave into the urge and touched her hair with the hand which had held the door shut, twirled it around his index finger. Softer than silk.

“Serefina. SA Serefina LeBenoit.” She watched him in silence, eyes wary and slightly calculating. “Thanks for saving my life, angel.”

“Don’t make me regret it.”

“No need for regrets, angel. Not a ‘tall.”

“That remains to be seen.”

He stirred closer. “Name the time and place.”

Her lips twitched. “Pretty assumptive.”

“You want flowery words? Figured you to be straight to the point.”

A small grin crossed her face. “I am. Which is why I’ll tell you this so you don’t waste either of our time. I don’t do your kind.”

Anger surged. “My kind? What do you mean?” He stepped closer, thoroughly enjoying the flaring of nostrils on her cute little nose and the way her pupils dilated. “You can try but you can’t hide your attraction.”

“Desire doesn’t rule my life. I can find someone to sate an itch.” Another negligent shrug. “It’s not that difficult to do.”

If she sought to increase his rage, it was a success. He narrowed his eyes. “So ‘my kind’?” he prompted, pressing against her lower body, his erection settled at the apex of her thighs. Where he wanted to be in a much more intimate way. Lust hit him so hard his vision flickered. “Male, desiring you as much as you’re desiring them, what?”