Midnight Alias: A Killer Instincts Novel (17 page)

“Good. That’s good.” Trevor checked his watch. “We need to wrap this up and get you back to the church before Angelo’s goon gets suspicious.”

“How will I get in touch with you?”

When Luke noticed she was looking at him and not Trev, warmth spread through his body. “We’ll work it out, find a way to get you that phone. Don’t worry, we’ll come up with some kind of system. But Trevor’s right, you’ve gotta go back now.”

“Can I use your restroom before we go?”

“Of course.”

As Olivia stood up, D took several menacing steps toward her. Luke shot to his feet, but the other man didn’t get too close, halting when he and Olivia were about six feet apart.

“Have you fucked him?” D asked with his typical callousness.

She faltered. “Wh-what?”

Now the guy just sounded annoyed. “Have you fucked Angelo?”

“No.”

Although D’s totally inappropriate line of questioning ticked him off, Luke couldn’t help letting out a breath of relief.

“Will you do it if it’s the only way to get information?”

Luke’s head snapped in D’s direction. “For Christ’s sake, man—”

“No,” Olivia cut in, her tone as sharp as a blade. “I won’t.”

D shook his head. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that, then. Otherwise you’ll be pretty fucking useless to us.”

Olivia’s green eyes burned. “Where. Is. The. Restroom.”

Sullivan spoke up. “Down the hall, first door on the left.”

Without a word, she spun around and disappeared into the corridor.

Setting his jaw, Luke turned to D and said, “You’re a real asshole, you know that?”

The other man shrugged. “Just wanted to know how far our new operative will go to complete her mission.”

Surprisingly, Sullivan was first to respond. “You didn’t have to be such a jerk to her, mate. She’s been through a lot.”

“And this isn’t her mission,” Luke reminded him. “In fact, I feel like a total shit telling her we’ll only help her if she helps us. If it were up to me—”

“You’d be playing hero and saving our little damsel,” D finished, equally cold.

Luke advanced on D, going nose to nose with the guy. D stared him down. The angry throb of his pulse made it look like the red and black snake circling his neck was undulating, pulsating.

“What the fuck is with you?” Luke demanded. “I know you’re a surly son of a bitch, but lately you’ve been a straight-up pain in the ass.”

“Give it a rest.” Trevor came out of nowhere and shoved himself between the two men. Planting a hand on D’s chest, he gave their resident asshole a firm push and said, “Go take a walk.”

D raised his dark brows. “You giving me a time-out, sir?”

“You bet your ass I am. Now go.”

A second. Two. And then D marched out of the apartment without a backward glance.

“Shit,” Trevor said softly.

“Shit is right,” Sullivan concurred.

“I’ll talk to Morgan about it.”

Luke shook his head, half bewildered, half pissed the fuck off. He had no clue what was up D’s ass, but right now he didn’t care. They had more important things to worry about—and with that thought, he realized Olivia had been in the bathroom for way too long. Sighing, he stepped toward the corridor and said, “I’m going to check on her.”

When he reached the door, he heard the sound of running water. He figured she was washing her hands, but the water kept flowing. And flowing. Frowning, he rapped his knuckles against the door. “Olivia? It’s me. Open up.”

After a long delay, the door creaked open. He took one look at her face and pushed his way into the washroom, firmly closing the door behind him. Olivia’s cheeks were stained with tears, which she swiped at with the sleeve of her red sweatshirt as if trying to destroy the evidence.

“Look,” he said brusquely, “ignore D, okay? He’s not exactly Mr. Social, and everything he said was out of line.”

When he reached out for her, she backed up until her hip bumped into the porcelain sink. “This isn’t about your friend,” she choked out. “I’m just . . . the sex thing . . . God, I’m scared I might actually have to do it.”

Luke moved forward and planted both hands on her slender hips before she could wiggle away. “Nobody is asking you to sleep with that bastard.”

Her expression exhibited a whole lot of misery. “Vince is. And he’s not asking. He’s expecting.” An incredulous laugh popped out of her mouth. “He wanted to do it tonight. He says it’s our anniversary. But Cora screwed everything up for him by dying. You should have seen how annoyed he looked that our special evening was ruined.”

He slid one hand up to her face and touched her cheek, rubbing his thumb over her damp skin. “How have you managed to avoid it so far? The sex thing, I mean.”

Another laugh, this one bordering on hysterical. “I told him I was a virgin and that I was saving myself for the man I married.”

Luke couldn’t help but feel proud. “Smart.”

“Not smart enough.” Her gaze darkened. “He’s getting impatient, and the marriage thing doesn’t seem to matter anymore. He was ready to screw me tonight, married or not.” When Luke stroked her cheek again, she leaned into his touch. “I don’t know how much longer I can hold him off. I don’t know how much more I can take.”

Since she wasn’t balking at the physical contact, he took a chance and pulled her into his arms. She stiffened, then sank into the embrace. The top of her head reached his chin, which was a nice feeling. At six-two, he usually towered over women, but Olivia was tall herself. They fit well together, and he liked the feel of her warm, willowy body against his.

Lecherous bastard that he was, he found himself getting hard, an erection thickening and straining against his zipper. He tried shifting away, but Olivia must have picked up on his body’s transformation because she suddenly gazed up at him, her lips parted in surprise.

“Sorry,” he said gruffly. “Close quarters, beautiful woman pressed against me. My body is confused.”

A shadow of a smile lifted the corner of her mouth. “I appreciate the honesty.”

“Yeah? ’Cause it usually gets me into trouble.”

She tilted her head to meet his eyes. “Thank you, by the way.”

“For what?”

“I was pretty much falling apart earlier. Finding Cora, realizing Vince did that to her . . . I was a mess. And then I called you, and I felt . . . better. Safer.”

She swept her tongue over her lower lip, probably just to moisten her dry mouth, but God help him, he grew even more aroused. His hands, of their own volition, caressed the small of her back.

Her breath hitched. “Luke . . .” There was a chord of uncertainty in her voice.

His hands froze. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

“No, it’s okay, I—”

“I really want to kiss you right now.”

She blinked. “What?”

He backpedaled as fast as he could. “Sorry, it just came out. Sometimes I forget there’s this brain-to-mouth filter that—”

Her mouth slammed into his.

Holy fuck
.

She was kissing him, full-on mouth-to-mouth, her tongue sliding through his surprised lips and robbing him of breath. Despite the shock reeling through him, his male instincts snapped into action—hands slid down to cup her bottom, tongue thrust out to tangle with hers. The kiss was deep and forceful, all sex and desperation without an ounce of tenderness. Olivia’s hands clawed at the front of his shirt, bunching up the material as she stood on her tiptoes and molded her lips to his.

It ended as quickly as it had begun. He was drowning in the sweet taste of her one second, watching her back away from him the next. Her cheeks were flushed, her chest heaving as she took a breath, and when their eyes met, she looked startled. And aroused.

“I didn’t mean to do that,” she murmured.

He had to grin. “I’m not complaining.”

An expression he couldn’t decipher flitted across her face. It might have been disappointment, but that didn’t make sense considering she was the one who broke that ridiculously hot kiss.

“We should go,” she said, taking a step to the door. “I’ve already been gone long enough.”

* * *

Trevor watched as Olivia darted toward the back door of St. Mary’s, her red sweatshirt and dark hair disappearing through the doorway. She hadn’t said much during the drive over, probably because she’d been expecting Luke to be with her, and not some man she’d just met. And yeah, he probably should’ve let Luke play chauffeur—the guy hadn’t been thrilled to be sidelined—but Trevor couldn’t pass up this opportunity. Call him a loser, but he wanted to see Isabel again, even if it was only for a quick briefing.

The back door swung open once more, and for a second Trevor thought Olivia had returned. Then he blinked, and realized he was looking at Isabel. As they’d arranged, she wore a red hoodie, blue jeans, and a pair of white sneakers. Hair the same shade as Olivia’s chestnut brown hung loose and cascaded down to her chest, and Isabel’s fair skin matched the dancer’s golden tone. At first glance, Isabel Roma was Olivia Taylor, and it wasn’t until she slid into the passenger seat and fixed those pale blue eyes on him that Trevor noticed a difference.

Isabel truly was a chameleon, and a damn good one. He’d seen her in action when they’d gone undercover together in Bogotá. Her alter ego, Paloma Dominguez, was a Brazilian heiress with a lust for life, oozing sex and mischief and without a single inhibition. She was so convincing in the role that Trevor had been certain she
was
Paloma—until they returned to their hotel every night and Isabel’s laid-back disposition and outspoken approach made an appearance.

“Hey,” she said in that melodic voice of hers. She pushed down the hood of the sweatshirt, lifted her hands to her hair, and began pulling out little brown bobby pins, which she tossed into the cup holder between them.

“Hey,” he answered.

One last pin popped out, and then she removed the wig.

“The color’s spot-on,” Trevor remarked. “Just had it lying around the apartment, huh?”

Her smile was sardonic. “I own a lot of wigs.”

Those six words spoke volumes. It dawned on him that although they’d spent an entire week together all those months ago, he hadn’t once asked her if she liked her work. He knew she’d worked for the FBI before joining up with Noelle, but he’d never thought to ask why she’d gotten into undercover work to begin with. If she liked it. If becoming different people brought her a sense of fulfillment.

“Did everything go okay?” he asked.

“Smooth sailing. Angelo’s man came inside after about thirty minutes. I didn’t turn around, but I felt his eyes on me. I think he got bored watching me kneeling in front of the altar, because he left a few minutes later.” Confidence lined her tone. “Don’t worry. As far as that thug is concerned, Olivia was praying for her friend’s immortal soul the entire time.”

“Good.” Shifting the gears, Trevor steered the Range Rover out of the lot and made a right turn. From the corner of his eye, he saw Isabel rummaging around in her purse. She removed a tube of clear liquid and some cotton wipes, flipped down the sun visor, and began removing the makeup from her face.

“Thanks for stepping up on such short notice,” he added as he merged with traffic.

“Not a problem.”

His peripheral vision caught a blur of motion and he glanced over in time to see the hoodie slide over her head, leaving her in a snug white tank top. The bra beneath it was black, one strap falling onto her shoulder. Man, she had the prettiest skin. Smooth and creamy, and it looked soft to the touch.

As she readjusted the strap, she fixed him with a wry look, and he knew she’d caught him staring. The air in the vehicle seemed to get real hot, real fast, and the tightening of his groin caught him off guard. He might not be the broken mess he’d been six months ago, but it still surprised him to discover he could get turned on by a woman who wasn’t Gina.

“So Olivia’s going to help?” Isabel asked, breaking the awkward silence.

He nodded. “She’ll be at the Diamond Mine tomorrow, and she’s agreed to snoop around. I guess I don’t need to remind you to—”

“Watch over her?” she filled in. “I’m on it. I won’t jeopardize my cover, though. We might need Candy Cane before this is over.”

“Just be careful when you’re at the club, and try not to draw any undue attention. If Angelo decides to send you to one of those private parties . . .” He didn’t even bother finishing the sentence. Besides, his throat had suddenly gone dry. He knew Isabel was perfectly capable of taking care of herself, but the thought of Angelo whoring her out was distressing as hell.

“I knew something was up,” she said quietly. “When Cora Malcolm came stomping into the dressing room . . . I should have tried to help her.”

The despair on her face startled him. Keeping one hand on the wheel, he reached over and touched her knee. “You couldn’t help that girl. You would’ve compromised your cover, Iz.”

Surprise flared in her eyes, which made him realize this was the first time he’d used the nickname. It was weird—last time this woman had been around, she’d had him in a constant state of discomfort. Troubled by the attraction he felt toward her, annoyed by her frequent attempts to draw him out of his guilt-induced shell. But now . . . now he felt utterly comfortable. Soothed by her presence.

And
she
was the one shifting in discomfort.

“Trevor—”

“Have dinner with me,” he said roughly.

Her eyes widened. “What?”

“Dinner,” he repeated. “Not tonight obviously. But when this job is over.”

When she didn’t respond, an atypical pang of insecurity tugged at his insides. This was the first woman he’d asked out since Gina died, and now he wished he’d kept his mouth shut. Isabel’s reluctance was written all over her beautiful face.

“I don’t know,” she finally said.

They reached a stoplight and he used the opportunity to shift around so he could face her. “No pressure, Isabel. Just a nice dinner between . . .” Between what? Friends? Coworkers? Neither of those labels seemed to fit, but it was way too soon to consider
potential lovers
. Truth was, the idea of starting up a relationship with another woman made his palms go damp.