Dangerous to Know (11 page)

Mercer carries a gun.

She shivered, the memory of her suspicion rising above her growing terror. She should have given the impulse more credit.

A phone buzzed and Mercer picked it up. “Yeah … we're clear.”

“He needs a medic,” Greer announced loud enough to be overheard by the caller.

Her attention returned to Mercer's arm. At some point, he'd grabbed a towel and wiped the blood away so it wasn't so noticeable. But she could still smell the metallic scent of it.

“Who are you?”

Mercer turned to stare at her. There wasn't a trace of the man she'd gotten to know in the last two days. All that faced her was a hardened man who condemned her with his stony expression.

“You've been made, Zoe. You and your family members are going to stand trial for treason.”

“You're insane,” she announced.

She needed to think but her brain felt frozen with shock. Hadn't she just been having sex with Mercer? Hadn't her life been normal and gun-free?

But the van engine surged forward, confirming the reality of the situation. It still seemed surreal. She could see the tops of larger vehicles passing by the windows. Harley was holding on to the outside of his travel cage now and glaring at her.

Why had she packed the back of the van so tightly?

The rear doors were useless for escaping, which left the large sliding side door. She sat up, trying to gain an idea of where they were but, more important, hoping for a traffic light that might stop them long enough for her to make a break for it.

“Down.”

She snapped her face around to see Mercer leveling the pistol at her. Disbelief held her still while she searched his face for any hint of the man she'd so foolishly let become her lover.

“I'll put a slug through your leg the second you reach for that door.”

There was no hint of hesitation in his tone; even Harley mumbled in response. She reached out and stroked the parrot.

“Yeah, Harley, he is an asshole.”

But one with a gun.

*   *   *

“You're out of your mind.”

Or she was stuck in a nightmare. Possibly both.

Greer didn't seem to be interested and only continued to strong-arm her up the driveway of a plush Malibu home. A security gate slid closed behind them, sending another bolt of fear through her. The house built into the hillside sported tinted windows like most of its neighbors.

Only today, Zoe didn't think that tinting was to shield against the powerful California sun.

“Where the hell is your badge?” she demanded. The shock was wearing off
.

She turned on Greer, calling on every bit of coaching her father had given her. He underestimated her and she sent a palm strike directly at his unguarded throat. Recognition of what she was doing registered on his face and he threw himself backward to lessen the impact, but she still broke free while he was cussing.

But she ended up facing two more men. One raised an eyebrow, clearly warning her, but in his hand was a badge. She had to look at it for a long time because it wasn't a familiar shield, like local police. The word
FEDERAL
showed quite clearly, though.

She turned around to find Greer reaching for her. His throat was turning red. “Try that again and I'll break your arm.”

“You failed to identify yourself; I have the right to defend myself against kidnappers.” She faced off with him, her entire body rebelling. “What is going on here?”

“That's what you'll be telling us,” Greer informed her. There was a glint in his eyes that sent a chill down her spine. It promised her he was a man who got what he wanted, no matter the method needed to achieve his goal.

Well … he's in for a disappointment with me …

“Not without a lawyer,” she muttered, but she did turn and start walking.

She looked back at the house. The thing looked like it was looming over her now that she was closer to it. The security team behind her only completed the feeling of being trapped.

From the outside, the house looked imposing enough, but across the threshold it became worse. There were gun racks running along the walls near the door. Resting in those organizational units were high-powered rifles. There were also handguns and spare clips, all loaded. Large flat-screen televisions were just about everywhere, displaying scenes of the exterior of the house and even one that had a shot of her desk. Her jaw dropped as she blinked but the picture didn't change. It was her desk, all right, her morning coffee cup sitting right where she'd left it.

Greer pulled her along and into what looked like a high-tech lab of some sort. Part of her expected a director to show up any moment to yell
Cut
, but no one came to her rescue. Instead, Greer tugged her past tables with electronic tools and components on their surfaces. Nothing was messy; it all looked organized and precise.

Which only added to her growing alarm. There was a realism that just couldn't be faked.

“Sit down, Ms. Magnus. I want to know why one of my men got shot in your company.”

Zoe looked toward the doorway that led to the kitchen. The man standing there looked misplaced because he wasn't the homey type at all. She also recognized him from the bar. Saxon's face was lean, the sort of hardness that went along with prime conditioning.

Just like Mercer …

Her eyes narrowed as her mind latched onto the fact that she had been worked over. Her pride wasn't just stung, it was on fire.

“Your man? Your man is the one who brought a gun into my life, and people who carry guns tend to attract the same sort. So you can explain to me why my kitchen just got shot up.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder. “Right after you show me your badge and provide me with a legal representative.”

“Nice try, Zoe, but Saxon isn't going to bend under your innocent act.”

She turned around to find Mercer leaning in a door frame that led somewhere else in the house. Pain slashed through her, startling her with its intensity. He looked quite at home.

I'm a goddamn idiot.

“You're supposed to be with the medic,” Saxon replied. He had the same arrogant authority in his voice, but the men in the room all responded to it.

“Thais did her worst and pronounced me ‘going to live.' It's just a graze.” Thick gauze was wrapped around his shoulder, and a new T-shirt covered his chest now. Relief mixed with the pain still tingling inside her. Zoe looked away before he read her emotions off her face.

“Nice to know I can appreciate a botched job from time to time. Better timing on their part and you'd be bleeding out on her kitchen floor,” Saxon muttered before moving farther into the room. He tugged something out of his pocket and tossed it across the room to land on the table nearest her. Backed on a solid piece of leather, the badge looked exceptionally shiny. She picked it up, studying it.

“Special agent can mean a whole lot of things,” she said before dropping it back onto the table. She found herself fighting the urge to look at Mercer but realized she was doing it because she didn't want to see him flip out a badge. “Besides, you're supposed to identify yourselves before shoving me into a vehicle.”

“You were under fire, which makes it a protective motion,” Saxon informed her. “If you want to incriminate my team, get the charge right.”

“Fine, your men are my heroes.” She fluttered her eyelids a few times, earning herself a scowl from Saxon.

“My man was undercover.”

Undercover. She cringed. There was no way to remain unmoved. Her emotions burned too hot for that.

“What the hell is that?”

Saxon looked beyond her, and Zoe turned to find one of his men carrying Harley's travel cage.

“He's my parrot,” Zoe hissed. She reached for the handle of the cage, and the man gladly gave it to her.

“You said he was a one-man bird.”

There was a note of incrimination in Mercer's voice. “Who is Harley's man? Your dad or your brother?” His eyes were still cold. “Which one is your accomplice? Or is it both?”

“I'd accuse you of being irrational but I actually think you're just plain insane.”

“Looks like the passion has gone cold.” Saxon took command of the situation with a single sentence.

Harley let out a squawk, a loud one that the parrot emphasized with a flap of his wings.

“I don't like the bird,” Saxon informed her.

“Well, he doesn't like you and neither do I,” she announced.

Maybe it was a childish answer but Zoe held the cage close, the knowledge that she was completely at the mercy of the man studying her slamming into her. He lifted one eyebrow but Mercer let out a sharp bark of laughter.

“I really hate getting shot, Zoe, so drop the innocent act and spill your contact information before we have to get creative.”

Greer jerked the cage out of her hand while she was staring at Mercer, seeking any hint of the man she'd allowed to become her lover.

Not lover.

Sex partner.

She forced herself to swallow the term.

Sex partner …

She really had to get a wall up between her personal emotions and the charge of being a traitor. Fast. Before she made an idiot of herself by letting her injured feelings be seen. Business first.

“I already told you, the only person I seem to know who carries a gun around is you.” She forced her voice to be devoid of emotion. Pain ripped into her but she drew confidence from it. “Which makes me a fool…” Her eyes narrowed. “And you a gigolo.”

“Cute.”

Saxon interrupted but not before she got a look at Mercer's temper flickering in his eyes.

“Sit your ass down and stop whining about the method. You weren't a virgin.”

Zoe turned to glare at him and fought off the urge to squirm. She wasn't the one out of line. “That doesn't excuse your actions. You've got a nerve setting me up like this.”

Saxon appeared only mildly amused by her temper. “I save my concern for the men who end up dead when greedy people like you sell their positions out. There's not a hell of a lot I wouldn't do to succeed in bringing you down.”

His expression was hard and certain, but she still struggled to believe what he was saying. Zoe stared at him in astonishment because whatever reality he was talking about was just not soaking in. It threatened to scare her to death because it was all focused on her.

“Sit, or I'll have someone duct-tape you to that chair.” He tossed out his options in a bored tone.

“Why duct tape? Did you misplace your handcuffs, Mr. Federal Officer?”

Saxon shook his head slowly. “Nope, got them right here.” He pulled a pair off his belt and dangled them from one finger. “But duct tape hurts a hell of a lot more when I rip it off.”

“You're a turd.” But she dropped into the office-type chair, still wrestling with the mental concept of espionage. There was a degree of intense seriousness in the room that chilled her blood. But her confidence wasn't dead yet. She knew she was innocent. It was time to prove it.

“We got a second laptop, it was part of the parrot stage…” Greer appeared in the doorway, taking Saxon's attention away from her. “Thais is checking it.”

“I only use it for pictures.” Her mouth went dry when Saxon looked back at her. There was a flicker of victory in his blue eyes. “So look through it until you're satisfied … I am not a spy.”

“Then your brother is. Testify against him and we might be able to keep you away from the firing squad.”

Cue the intimidation tactics.

Zoe shook her head. “You're dead wrong about Bram.”

“Dead? Who's dead are men who had their positions exposed for the right price.” Saxon leaned forward. “I'll go to a lot more extreme measures than just sending one of my men into your bed to blow the cover off this operation. Tell me who your contact is or I'll introduce you to the side of my personality that isn't so nice.”

“I want a lawyer to be present for any further questions.”

Saxon smiled at her, sending the temperature of the room down a few more degrees. “In case you missed it, we're a special unit. An issue like this requires immediate response. Which means we cut through the bullshit.”

The urge to look toward Mercer had her turning her head, but she froze before she did. Her temper flared up, killing the chill that had taken control of her. Zoe gripped the plastic armrests of the chair and leaned forward, choosing to face Saxon with the aid of her temper instead of shivering in a huddled ball.

Confidence.

Anger was only an advantage to an opponent.

Zoe drew in a deep breath.

“What you are is a special brand of jerk. Who gets high off intimidating people. I'm not a traitor and you're messing with the wrong family when it comes to questioning our loyalty. My brother and father are out there, too, so you can bet your ass I'm not selling out their positions.”

Saxon held her stare, doing his best to break her, but Zoe didn't back down. Someone began pulling a length of duct tape off the roll, the tearing sound as sharp as nails on a chalkboard, but Zoe held her ground.

“Someone's moving intel…”

Saxon looked away, his attention on the woman in the other room. “How the hell is that possible?”

He was out of his chair and across the floor before he finished asking the question. Mercer cleared out of the doorway, his eyes narrowed.

“Someone's on her home system.”

Saxon leaned over Thais, reading the information coming across her computer screen at the same time she did. Everyone turned toward the surveillance flat screens, but the one in her office had switched to a black-and-white sandstorm.

“Who's your partner, Zoe?”

Mercer asked the question. His voice was low but full of incrimination. It hurt, stabbing into her.