Easy Target (6 page)

They’d turned on the television to avoid talking once the dinner had been delivered, and she’d fallen asleep soon after. She assumed Bryan had slept on either the floor or the tiny sofa. When she’d woken up this morning, he’d been in the shower. Their conversation today had been somewhat superficial until they’d discussed Trey’s trial date being moved. They had not discussed the legal problems of Bryan’s employer.

“Didn’t Nick tell you?” Bryan’s question pulled her back to the conversation. The heat of his thigh next to hers radiated through her thin cotton dress.

“Tell me what?” asked Marissa.

“Ernesto Vega’s dead,” said Bryan. “He was killed early yesterday morning near some Algerian oasis. Nick followed the truck of women that Sassy and Jennifer were with to Constantine and got Jenny out of the warehouse before the truck headed for the coast. Sassy escaped when they had a flat tire near the Casbah. I’m still trying to figure out how they knew to pick her up outside the café in Niamey in the first place. Who told them she was part of this?”

“Do you think it was Juan Santos?” asked Sassy. “He knew I was here. He practically told me to come.”

She looked at Gavin and made a concerted effort not to outright stare. Movie star handsome, he was in his early to mid-­forties—­if the salt-­and-­pepper hair and laugh lines around his eyes and mouth were any indication—­and seemed very fit underneath his sport shirt and jeans, pretty much along the same lines as Bryan but leaner.

Bryan might be taller but not by much. The biggest difference she could see was that Gavin had a distinct sadness to his expression, a coolness that was untouchable. Sassy liked Gavin better than Marissa, even if he was intimidating. She knew how to handle men much better than women.

When he spoke, his voice was even and deep with very little accent. “That seems a lot of trouble to go to just to get another woman when they kidnap and spirit away so many. It sounds as if you knew something or were poking round in something they didn’t like. Any idea what that could be?”

The lobby was deserted except for the cleaning crew working across the foyer.

Bryan’s voice was quiet. “She’s a reporter.”

Sassy felt a spurt of irritation sizzle in her veins. He made her profession sound like a bad thing.

“I write freelance for the Associated Press. It helps pay the bills and gives me an excuse to ask nosy questions while I’m looking for information to help my brother’s case.”

“Hmm.” Marissa nodded with a look of approval. Surprised, Sassy acknowledged an unexpected spark of gratitude toward the otherwise chilly redhead.

“I found out today they’ve moved up his trial date. The judge will be handing down a decision just after New Year’s.”

“That is soon. Are you sure you didn’t step on any toes in your research recently?” Marissa asked.

Sassy shrugged, reluctant to acknowledge that she’d wondered the same thing herself. “Possibly. I don’t know. A contact gave me a map of supposed routes for smuggling women. I showed the map to Bryan, and that’s when everything went to hell in a handbasket.”

Gavin nodded. “Do you really think Elizabeth was here?”

“Two days ago I would have said yes, but now I understand that’s only been verified by a man with a reputation for habitual lying.”

Bryan nodded. “Juan Santos. Nick confirmed he worked for Ernesto Vega and Tomas Rivera, and any other high bidder. Often as not, he’s played both sides against the middle. It’s very likely he was lying.
Why
remains to be seen. Presumably he didn’t need much of a reason.”

“Bottom line sounds like you two need to get out of Africa as soon as possible,” said Gavin.

“But . . . what about looking for Elizabeth?” asked Sassy. “If we don’t find some kind of evidence, Trey will have nothing at trial. He’s looking at life in a Mexican prison.”

Gavin looked from Marissa to Bryan and shook his head. Before he said anything else, Sassy knew that Gavin had been appointed to break some bad news. And despite the mesmerizing intensity of his gaze, she wasn’t going to like what the man had to say.

“We’ve got some things going on internally with AEGIS. There’s zero support from the U.S. government or from our typical sources. With the Ebola outbreak and quarantines east of here, you need to leave now, while you still can. There’s no telling what will happen if that chaos spreads across the borders.”

“You could have difficulty getting back in time for Trey’s trial if they instigate more travel bans,” Marissa continued. “If anything else were to go sideways here, there are no resources. I can’t stress that enough. These papers will get you back home, but given the nature of all that’s happened in the past week, it’s entirely too risky to be here without any kind of backup or AEGIS’s usual resources. We’re under siege.”

Sassy interrupted. “But Elizabeth could be here—­”

Bryan joined in, speaking right over her. “You missed Christmas with your mother. She needs you. You know she does. I understand she’s cleaned up her act, but this thing with Trey has got to be tearing her apart. Go home to see her, talk to Trey’s lawyer while we regroup. I’ll turn around and come right back to look for Elizabeth if we find any solid evidence that she’s been here.”

He leaned in, his eyes cool and serious as he crowded her a bit more on the sofa. “You need to go home. We all do.”

She wanted to argue despite the prick of her conscience. But sitting here facing these professional “fixers” with her makeshift clothes, no papers, no phone, and not even a penny in her pocket—­it was pretty much impossible. Even if her mother didn’t need the moral support, Sassy needed a break from the gut-­wrenching week she’d just spent chasing leads all over Africa, leads that had only proven how nasty ­people could treat each other.

If she was honest with herself, home sounded pretty damn awesome right now with a refrigerator full of food, clean clothes, and her old-­fashioned claw-­footed tub.

But how could she consider that while her brother was in prison? She blushed at the shame of her weakness. “I’ll go home. But don’t you think for a minute I’m going to sit on my hands. I’m turning in the article I’ve been asked to write on sex trafficking between Mexico and Africa. My editor left me a ­couple of voice messages about that earlier as well. He wants a story and he wants it now.”

“You’d didn’t tell me you were planning to do that,” said Bryan.

“Well, I thought the call from Trey’s attorney was a little more pressing to share. But in light of everything else, I’ve got to see if perhaps that will shake anything loose.”

“You understand what you’re saying? Whoever is behind all this could come after you.” Bryan’s voice dropped lower and he straightened on the sofa cushion, towering over her with his chest at her eye level. She supposed that posture would have intimidated someone who hadn’t known him as long as she had.

She resisted the urge to poke at his torso and stood up instead so that she was head and shoulders above him. “I’ve got to do something. It’s Trey.”

“I’m not sure the story is a wise idea,” said Marissa, keeping her voice low.

Sassy turned pleading eyes to the woman. “It’s not your brother. And no one’s leaving me with much choice here.”

Bryan put his hand on Sassy’s shoulder. “What she means is that the article could do more harm than good.”

Sassy shrugged off his hand. “More harm than letting Trey rot in that prison?” She heard her tone change and hated the waspishness of it. Hot tears of despair gathered at the corner of her eyes, and she dashed them away angrily to glare at him as she ignored the others. “I’m not leaving my brother in that hellhole.”

Like you left us in Mississippi.

Marissa and Gavin remained silent as Sassy stared Bryan down and her frustration boiled out all over him. She hadn’t realized how much unresolved anger she still held onto over his leaving all those years ago. She no longer cared what Marissa and Gavin thought of her. All she could hear was the tick-­tock of the rapidly approaching court date. Getting Trey out of jail was paramount.

“We’re not leaving him, Sassy.
You’re
not leaving him. We’ll find the evidence, and we’ll get him out. But we’ve got to be smart about it,” said Bryan.

“When? We’ve got less than nine days.” There was no hiding the misery in her voice.

The lobby was unusually quiet. Even the cleaning crew was gone now. Gavin and Marissa looked at her, as did Bryan, but no one answered. There was nothing to say.

Chapter Six

December 26

New York

F
IFTEEN HOURS LATER
Sassy shivered in her tropical clothing as Bryan paid the driver and they exited their taxi on West Fifty-­Seventh Street. It had taken forever to get out of the airport, since they’d had to check Bryan’s duffel to transport his handguns. In customs he’d seen multiple officials and walked through the complicated paperwork involved in travelling internationally with weapons. While he had all the proper permits and licenses, the process had been slow.

Before leaving JFK, they’d attempted to make a flight reservation for the next day, but given the holiday crush, they’d had to settle for standby. Standing on the street in Midtown Manhattan, Sassy was dead on her feet.

“There’s an ATM down here I need to use. We’ll find a hotel after that.” Bryan adjusted the duffel bag on one shoulder and his small backpack on the other and started walking at a brisk pace.

Sassy looked longingly at the T.J. Maxx and the CVS across the street from each other. The day-­after-­Christmas sales meant practically everything retail was still open. Bryan was focused on finding them a room, but she had to have something warmer to wear or risk pneumonia. She also wanted makeup and her own toothbrush in the worst way.

She could ask him for some cash but hesitated to be more beholden to him than she already was. How crazy was that? She already owed him more than she could ever repay with his helping look for Elizabeth and getting her out of Africa.

“I need to borrow some cash,” she said.

He frowned. “I don’t understand. We’re going to the bank in the morning. What do you need tonight?”

She sighed. Men truly were clueless sometimes. “It’s thirty degrees out, and I’m wearing sandals and a sundress.” She wasn’t going to mention that she’d been wearing the same panties for more than a week with just a hand wash in the sink to clean them last night, and that the dress was one she normally wouldn’t wear as a Halloween costume.

“You see that drugstore down the street and the clothing store across from it? I need a hundred dollars and thirty minutes.”

To his credit, Bryan didn’t hesitate. Instead, he looked down at the Teva sandals on his own feet and pulled out his wallet. “My God, you must be freezing. I’m sorry I didn’t think about that. Here’s one seventy-­five. That’s all the U.S. currency I’ve got now. I’ll go to the ATM on my own and find us a room. There’s a hotel around the corner I’ve used before. How about I meet you at the checkout counter of T.J. Maxx in forty-­five minutes. I need to pick up a ­couple of things, too.”

“Perfect.” She took the cash and made a speedy power shopping trip through the drugstore, finding the toiletries she wanted, plus a hairbrush and some very basic makeup that would make her feel human again. She also grabbed a package of Dentyne for Bryan as a peace offering. After checking out at CVS, she headed to the clothing store.

The sales were in full swing and the prices had been slashed on everything. She quickly found a pair of jeans, two basic T-­shirts, and a layering sweater, along with an overcoat, some boots, and a fun, oversized handbag on super sale that would carry all her new makeup and toiletries.

She glanced at her watch and saw she had just enough time to go to the lingerie department. She found everything she needed, including a sleep shirt that she couldn’t resist, even if Christmas was over. She met Bryan at the checkout with two minutes to spare.

He looked at her CVS bag and the pile of clothing in her arms. “You work fast.”

She smiled and handed him the pack of gum she’d just bought. “I always work fast when I’m spending someone else’s money. But I will have some of your cash left over.”

He shook his head, pocketed the gum, and handed his credit card to the clerk.

“Thanks for the gum. Keep the cash. We’ll settle up later, after you get everything figured out with your bank.”

She’d never be able to repay him for
everything
he’d done. It wasn’t possible. So she wouldn’t think about that right now. Like Scarlett, she’d think about that tomorrow.

“Thanks,” she murmured.

“I got a double room at the place around the corner I told you about. Since we already shared a room in Constantine, I didn’t think that would be a problem.”

“Nope, no problem.” Her relief was palpable. Despite her usual nerves of steel, she was shaky after everything that had happened in Africa and in the Casbah. She didn’t want to be anywhere without Bryan nearby. That alone should have scared her more than anything, but being in New York had the feel of a dream.

The hotel was a short walk away. Once they were checked in, she went straight to the bathroom, where she showered, shaved her legs, washed her hair, and slathered lotion all over herself. She used her toothbrush and dried her hair before slipping into her new nightshirt and panties.

All cleaned up, the butterflies fluttering in her belly were totally different from the shakiness she’d experienced earlier. She was about to be in a bedroom with Bryan with no drama to cloud her overwhelming attraction toward him.

She wasn’t in shock or desperate to get out of a hostile foreign country. She was home, she was safe, and she was suddenly extremely, painfully aware of just how much she wanted to feel his arms around her again. But that was a terrible idea, and she knew exactly how to stop it.

She walked out of the steam-­filled bathroom to find him sitting at the desk, just like he had been when she’d come out of the hotel bathroom in Africa. That hadn’t gone particularly well, but she shoved those disconcerting thoughts aside.

She could do this. She’d bluffed her way through awkward situations with men before, just never this kind of situation. And absolutely never with a man she was so attracted to. Her balancing act tended to fall apart around Bryan. She had to keep a grip on her emotions to shut this down. No matter what happened, she had to stay in control.

He was plugging in his cell phone. When he looked up, his focus zeroed in on her chest. His sigh was one of resignation. “Is that how you see yourself?”

“How I see what?”

“Your shirt.” His voice was low and strained.

She knew what was written on the shirt. She’d bought it as part of her “Bryan re-­balancing” plan, and because it had been on sale for $2.99. Suddenly this didn’t feel like such a good idea, but more like the straw that was going to break the camel’s back, or in this case Bryan’s resistance.

She could see it in the set of his jaw and in the way his eyes burned a hole through her. She was drowning in nervousness, and her thought with the nightshirt seemed foolish now, with its holly leaves, flirty length, and cursive message:
I’m on Santa’s Naughty List. After five minutes with me, you’ll be on it, too.

S
TARING AT
S
ASSY
in her red cotton sleepshirt, Bryan’s temperature rose. A pricking sensation of sweat tingled at his hairline as he stood up, towering over her. The thin material outlined her breasts perfectly, leaving very little to his imagination. As if he needed any help at this point.

He’d been imagining what it would be like to have her naked and underneath him since she’d been draped across his lap in the hotel in Constantine. Even though that wasn’t going to happen again, he’d thought he could handle one more platonic night together.

Wrong, wrong, wrong.

She took a step back, finally recognizing that he was not in a mood to be joked with.

Yep, that’s right. You can’t taunt me for days on end and expect I won’t react.

She stared at him from a few feet away, daring him with a cool disdain—­just as she’d been doing for the past six months. “It’s only a joke,” she whispered.

He shook his head and balled his fists to keep from pulling her to him. “No, it’s not. Not tonight. Why do you do that?”

“Why do I do what?” But she eased back another step as she said it.

He pointed to the shirt and forced himself not to move toward her; otherwise, he was going to do something he’d regret.

“Do I bother you?” She smiled slyly.

He studied her face, knowing she could see exactly what he was feeling. Exactly what she did to him. “Yes, you do.”

“Why do I bother you?” she asked.

“You know the answer to that.” His voice was tight, and he was clenching his jaw so hard he had to be grinding the enamel off his molars.

“Oh, but I like to hear you say it.”

“Sassy, you already know I want you. This just makes the situation harder.” He gave up and walked toward her.

She raised an eyebrow and glanced down the length of him. “Harder?”

He shook his head. “Don’t do this.”

He heard her swallow. “Do what? Isn’t that the problem? We’re not
doing
anything.” Her voice didn’t hold the teasing scorn he would have expected with those particular words.

He was standing so close he could feel her body heat. He could smell her, too. The lotion she’d bought at the drugstore combined with the scent that was uniquely hers to make him crazy. He was losing the battle here. He wanted to kiss her more than he wanted his next breath, but it was just so damn wrong, for a whole host of reasons.

He pinned her with his stare. “You know what I’m talking about.”

“No, I’m not sure I do . . .” She shook her head even as something in her eyes changed and warmed. She wet her lips with her tongue.

Clearly she knew exactly what he was talking about. He gave up fighting and pulled her against him before he had a chance to think or she had a chance to say anything else outrageous.

Leaning down to press his lips against hers, he wasn’t surprised to discover that she tasted even better than he remembered. She felt better, too, all soft curves and smooth skin. He ran his hands up and down her arms before sliding his palms down her back, across her ass and lower. The shock of feeling those warm curves had him pulling back for a millisecond before diving in again. Kissing Sassy was madness, and right now he wanted to do more than just kiss her, because after a moment’s hesitation, she was kissing him back.

Her tongue was in his mouth, and her hands were on his shoulders, his waist, and then his hips. Slowly the two of them inched across the room toward the wall. He looked down, reaching for the hem of her nightshirt, and spied the bandage on the side of her neck from the attack in Constantine.

His hand stilled on her leg. It was like having a bucket of ice water dumped on his head, and a sudden semblance of sanity returned. As much as he wanted her, this was a fucking bad idea. He was not doing this. Not with Trey’s little sister. Not here, not now.

He wasn’t that big an ass. At least he sure as hell hoped not. He took a deep, steadying breath, and instead of lifting the nightshirt, he smoothed it out over her hip and put one hand at her waist as he eased away from her.

The expression in her eyes was slightly dazed, but then it filled with the same look he’d seen in Constantine two days ago. Fear flashed in her widened gaze for an instant, then vanished so fast that if he hadn’t been staring into her face, he would have missed it. She pushed against his chest, and he immediately pulled back, dropping his hands to his sides.

Had something happened to her on that trek across the Sahara that he didn’t know about? Or had he done something himself just now that scared her? His imagination raced down various unsavory paths.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

She wouldn’t look up at him. “Nothing,” she muttered. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” She lifted her chin defiantly, but when she took another step backward into the wall, her panicked eyes met his.

He stepped away to give her space. Something big was going on here.

“Don’t worry, Sassy, we’re not doing this. And despite what just happened, I’m not going to force myself on you. I’d be a real dick—­”

Dammit.
He should just give up trying not to curse around her. “What I mean is that I’d be a real jerk if I slept with you and then turned around and left you in Mississippi with everything that’s happening. I won’t do that.”

She was looking down again, so he couldn’t tell what she was thinking. It was probably too much to hope that she was smiling. Over the past six months it had seemed to amuse her that she was able to make him cuss when other women couldn’t.

He kept talking in an attempt to put her at ease, but he had the distinct feeling he was babbling. “I want you, I think you know that. And yeah, I may need to go take a cold shower, but that’s my problem, not yours.”

She looked up at him then, but her eyes were shuttered, giving nothing away. “Thank you,” she mumbled and turned.

Well, shit.
She wasn’t going to tell him anything.

He was standing there, hard as nails, staring at her back, and there was nothing to do but go into the bathroom and turn the cold water on. After checking that the door to the hotel room was locked, he left her to do just that.

He shut the door to the bathroom softly, even though he wanted to slam it. What happened to her on that truck? He didn’t want to think about her having been assaulted. But something was different.

Her off-­the-­charts sexuality had always left a distinct impression of über confidence and competence. Yes, some of that was a defense mechanism, but against what? Tonight, and in that hotel room in Constantine, she’d acted anything but experienced. She’d looked scared.

He flipped on the shower and stripped off his clothes, placing his loaded Glock on the bathroom counter. What had happened to her? And when? Was it the kidnapping in Niamey or something earlier? His gut churned thinking about the possibilities.

He unbuttoned and stepped out of his jeans to climb under the water’s soothing spray, happy to be in a hotel room with real water pressure. He poured shampoo in the palm of his hand. Looking down, he shook his head and took care to adjust the temperature to a less than comfortable cool.

He needed a new approach to deal with her until he got her home. He didn’t want to wind up traumatizing her further. If she’d been raped on that truck, he needed to know. It made him crazy to think of someone hurting her, but he was just going to have to deal. And he was going to have to talk with her about what had happened, despite how uncomfortable the discussion might be for both of them, particularly as it now seemed they were going to be together for at least another twenty-­four hours.