Dirty Dare: The Rescue (Sexy Suspense) (Part 1, spin-off to the Dirty and Dare Me series) (2 page)

If only her mother had been that strong.

If only her mother had had someone to rescue her before she’d breathed her last breath.

“He didn’t talk,” Marisela said.

“I’m sorry?” Brynn asked.

Marisela walked around the bed, assessing their charge from every possible angle with her large, dark eyes—eyes Brynn had learned missed very little.

“Whatever information those
hijos del Diablo
wanted, he didn’t give it.”

“How do you know?”

Marisela shrugged, her newly dried black hair streaming down her back. In the hours since they’d spirited Sean aboard the yacht, she’d showered and reconned every inch of the ship from stem to stern. Brynn hadn’t managed to do anything except strip off her bloody clothes and change into a robe. She was still dazed and overwhelmed by the cruelty.

“He’s alive,” Marisela said. “If he’d given them the information they wanted, wouldn’t they have killed him and gotten rid of the evidence?”

Brynn nodded as if she knew the answer, when in truth, she didn’t have a clue. But Marisela, as one of her newest hires, still looked to her for information, for training, for truth. On this case, she could give her little of any of them. She was out of her element, which was probably why Dante had called her in the first place.

But she wasn’t naïve. She’d been in the field. She knew all about man’s inhumanity to man. But this mission struck her at her core, dragging up memories she’d spent the whole holiday season trying to purge.

Dante, of course, had no way of knowing this. Or did he? The length of his reach was as yet undetermined. She’d met the spymaster years ago, before he’d been promoted to a position of power but long after he’d decided to rise to the top of the international intelligence food chain. They’d met in the way all debonair spies met women doomed to be temporary lovers—at an art gallery gala or maybe a fundraiser for an up-and-coming despot who’d somehow won over the European elite. Their affair had been in line with all of Brynn’s personal relationships—hot, heavy and brief.

Luckily for her, over the course of their few days and nights together, Dante had stumbled onto a plot to kill her. He’d stopped it. She hadn’t heard from him since they parted ways, but when he’d decided the time had come for her to repay him for saving her life, she couldn’t turn him down.

“So what next?” Marisela asked.

“We take him to a safe house and wait for further instructions.”

Marisela sneered. She’d never been particularly good at either waiting for orders or, once they were delivered, following them to the letter. But if Brynn had her back up against a wall—or had to deal with a thousand unknowns for a mission that had been sketchily assigned and quickly planned—she wanted no one else to lend a hand.

“Must suck for you,” her partner decided. “You’re used to giving orders, not taking them.”

Brynn grinned but said nothing. Marisela didn’t need to know how much this situation was testing her mettle. For over a decade, she’d run Titan International, the security firm founded by her father. She’d coordinated operations that had freed kidnapped diplomats and recovered stolen treasures from the vaults of violent private collectors. She’d even passed along state secrets once or twice on the behalf of a government who’d wanted the info shared but who had needed an outside source to spring the leak. But until Dante had dragged her into his world, she’d never seen brutality like Sean had endured.

Of course, she wasn’t in the field that often anymore. She preferred to get her hands “dirty” when cases were quick, easy and ultimately, clean. She left the messy work to her staff, which was how Marisela had become her protégé.

No one did dirty like Marisela Morales.

“Thank you for coming,” Brynn said, not certain she’d appropriately expressed her gratitude when she’d called her employee only days after Christmas.

Marisela waved her hand. “It’s why you pay me the big bucks, right? Besides, your timing couldn’t have been better,
mi
jefe
.”

Brynn smiled. She loved when Marisela called her “chief,” even if the word in Spanish was, technically, male-gendered.

“I thought you loved your family. That’s why you wanted to open the Florida office.”

Marisela wandered to the table by the door, where she poked around the basket of food Brynn had sent for from the galley. “
Yo amo mi familia, pero
they don’t always feel the same way about me. Hard to believe, I know. I mean, what’s not to love?”

Brynn chuckled, glad she’d called Marisela when Dante agreed she could activate one—and only one—of her agents to help. Though relatively new to Titan and unconventional by everyone’s standards, Marisela could not only kick serious ass, but she spoke her mind and never failed to add levity to even the direst of situations.

Nothing fazed her. Nothing threw her off her game. They’d stolen into England illegally, taken down a half dozen armed guards and rescued Sean Devlin, a virtual mystery man who’d suffered serious injuries that would require skilled and possibly long-term care. And yet, Marisela could still make jokes about her family, which was so functional, it was dysfunctional when compared to everyone else.

Maybe that’s why Brynn had gravitated toward her. The first time they’d met, she’d put her uneasy relationship with her brother on the line to save Marisela’s job. He’d wanted to fire her for being insubordinate. Brynn wanted to keep her around for precisely the same reason.

But her time with Marisela was coming to a close. Once Sean was out of the woods, Dante’s orders dictated that both the doctor, who would accompany them to Spain, and Marisela, had to leave. She owed him big, so she was in no position to argue.

Anxious for something to take her mind off her looming responsibilities as nursemaid and bodyguard, Brynn watched Marisela select a banana from the basket, strip off the peel and toss it over her shoulder so that it hit the bin with perfect accuracy.

“So,” Brynn said, “what did you do to annoy your family this time?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary.” Marisela demolished the fruit in four quick bites. “But the funniest part? This time, it wasn’t even my fault.”

Brynn leaned forward, listening intently while Marisela retold the story, riveted by each revelation, confession and joke. Not that the situation was the least bit funny. Secret pregnancies, a kidnapped sister and the Japanese mob didn’t ordinarily inspire punch lines, but Marisela had a knack for storytelling and Brynn desperately needed a laugh.

“So you owe Max for a blown-up ambulance?” Brynn asked, her abs aching as Marisela downed half a bottled water in one, long gulp.

Marisela smirked. “I’m assuming so, unless he charged it to Titan.”

Brynn waved her hands. “That expenditure isn’t in the budget, although something might be arranged once we deliver Mr. Devlin to…wherever I’m supposed to deliver him, once he’s recovered.”

Marisela scooted her chair closer, her voice suddenly hushed but insistent. “His last name is Devlin?”

“Apparently.”

Dante hadn’t given her much information beyond coordinates to his location. The name hadn’t meant anything to her, but as color leached from Marisela’s naturally olive-tinged skin, she realized it clearly meant something to her agent. Brynn had been more focused on blueprints of the building and potential attack points than she had been on the identity of the person they were rescuing.

“Devlin? As in
Leo
Devlin?”

Brynn’s stomach dropped. Dante’s orders had come in such an urgent rush, she hadn’t had time to make the connection. But Marisela would. She knew the names of every person she’d killed. She was an effective agent, but not a heartless one.

“He can’t be—” she began, but cut herself off before she made a claim she couldn’t substantiate.

Marisela had killed Leo Devlin, a Boston pharmaceutical giant, and Brynn had used Titan’s resources to ensure that no one, particularly not the authorities, ever found out. The killing had been justified, but Marisela’s record would have worked against her. And if she went down, she’d take Titan with her.

Brynn had done what any smart businesswoman would have. But if the man they’d rescued had some connection to Leo Devlin, the entire game, already dangerous, had ratcheted up to potentially explosive.

Marisela stepped nearer to Sean’s bedside. Her dark eyes widened with a mix of revulsion and recrimination, two emotions Brynn would never associate with her up-and-coming agent.

“Marisela,” Brynn said, standing.

Marisela waved her off then gingerly pushed aside one of Sean’s bandages to get a fuller view of his face. His features were too swollen, too disfigured, for her to find any family resemblance. Brynn wasn’t sure if this was good or bad.

“Do you think—?” Marisela asked, turning so quickly her sea legs wobbled.

“I don’t know,” Brynn replied. “Even if he is somehow related to that bastard, nothing’s changed. You did what you had to do, then and now.”

“But if he is—” Marisela continued, her voice flat.

Brynn grabbed her partner’s arm and squeezed, forcing her fully into the present.

“Then you just repaid your debt. If I learned anything from my father, and from Ian, it’s that dwelling on the past serves no one.”

Marisela’s gaze lingered on Brynn for a moment but then drifted back to the man they’d rescued. There was no way Marisela could understand what Brynn meant, not unless she told her about how her and Ian’s father had been driven to exact revenge and, in his grief, had pitted his only daughter against his only son. He’d wanted them to be tough, isolated and estranged so that one could never be used against the other.

The tension between the siblings was no secret, but the reasons behind the acrimony? That was a carefully guarded family secret—one Brynn desperately wanted to put to rest.

Their father was long gone. Her rivalry with her fraternal twin had caused more damage than any outside force ever could have. After Leo Devlin’s death and the subsequent cover-up, which Ian had fully supported, they had spent the Christmas holidays working out their issues. If they were going to save their business and what was left of their relationship, they had to put aside the past.

Now, Marisela had to do the same. Her ability to do what needed to be done without dwelling on the emotional fallout made her invaluable, both as a Titan asset and as a friend.

“Would you change what you did?” Brynn pressed. “If you had to watch Leo murder Yizenia again, after he’d manipulated her into breaking her sacred vow to never kill without cause, would you—?”

Marisela’s unnerving uncertainty disappeared with a nearly visible
poof
.

“I’d kill the bastard a hundred times if that’s what it took to even the score.”

“Good,” Brynn said, cupping Marisela’s shoulder. “Luckily for both of us, killing him once was enough.”

“But you know, this can’t be a coincidence,” Marisela said.

“I agree. And considering the price we’ll have to pay if anyone finds out the truth, we’ll proceed with caution. Which is never a bad idea when you’re dealing with the CIA.”

Marisela bristled but nodded. Beyond local cops, she hadn’t dealt with any government agencies. As top-tier management, that was Brynn’s job.

“Why don’t you stop by the galley and order us a real meal? Steak with a nice red wine? Ring me up when it arrives. We’ll eat in here. We need to keep Mr. Sean Devlin in our sight at all times.”

Even Marisela had learned to never question Brynn when her voice snapped. She left immediately, leaving Brynn alone to search Sean’s face for any sign of inbred evil.

Leo Devlin had been a heartless, cruel son of a bitch. As far as Brynn was concerned, he’d signed his own death warrant when he’d ordered Yizenia Santiago to execute four innocent people. The freelance assassin—and Brynn’s friend—had not hesitated to breach Devlin’s extensive security to make him pay for his crime. But he’d killed her before she had the chance.

The task of exacting justice had then fallen to Marisela. She’d taken the shot. Brynn had tried to express her thanks but hadn’t yet found the words. Instead, she’d made it her mission to ensure that her agent endured no consequences for her actions. Leo Devlin’s Machiavellian machinations had forced Brynn and Ian to relive the most painful memory—their mother’s kidnapping and death. Rallying after that emotional blow had been rough, but they’d made progress, which never would have happened if Leo Devlin had been left alive.

She wasn’t sorry that Marisela had put a bullet in his brain. She was glad that she’d protected her agent by covering up the crime. But if her collusion was the reason why Dante had chosen her to rescue Sean, then the fallout could be catastrophic.

Personally and professionally.

She grabbed the untraceable cell phone Dante had sent her and checked for messages. Nothing. She threw the phone back into her bag and cursed.

He’d ordered her not to contact him until she reached the safe house and, for now, she had to follow his rules. He’d saved her life once. She had no reason to believe he’d done that simply to turn around and destroy it. Not when she had what he wanted—Sean Devlin—in her care.

She pumped antibacterial gel onto her hands and then smoothed his hair away from his face, surprised by the soft texture of the dark brown strands now that the blood and mats had been removed. Everything else about the man seemed hard. The square shape of his jaw. The curve of his mouth. The tilt of his brow, even when he was unconscious.

Sean hadn’t said much during his rescue, but Brynn trusted he was a good guy caught up in a bad situation. Why else would Dante send her to rescue him?

Why else
was the question she desperately needed to answer.

Three

“You have a case to take care of,” Brynn said. “You have to go.”

“I can farm the job out to someone else,” Marisela argued. “I only agreed as a favor for the pastor of my mother’s church. Basic security. Titan won’t even get paid.”

“You’re allowed to do
pro bono
work. Besides, you’ve done all you can here. Go back to Florida. I’ll play nursemaid until Dante signals that it’s safe to release Mr. Devlin back into the world.”