Seduction in Session (3 page)

She had a sudden vision of that caveman putting his big hands on her. They wouldn’t be soft. When he touched her, she would be able to feel every callus and rough edge of his skin. He would have working hands, hands that had built things and protected people. He wouldn’t ask her what she wanted . . . but he also wouldn’t hesitate to give her exactly what she needed.

“Um, do you want to borrow my sweater?” Kiki’s question forced her out of her daydream.

“No. Why?” Lara turned, not wanting her friend to catch her staring.

“Yours is really thin and your nipples are giving everyone here a show,” she pointed out.

Lara crossed her arms over her ridiculously erect nipples. “Guess I was a little cold.”

Kiki gave her a skeptical glare. “How about we go and introduce ourselves to the hottie and see if we can buy him a coffee. Or better yet, we could take him to the bar next door, get him tipsy, and have our wicked way with him.”

“Our?”

“There’s a reason I’m known as Kinky Kiki, hon.” She grinned,
looking back at the caveman. “I’ll go talk to him, and you can join us after you interview the bodyguard.” She glanced down at her watch. “He’s late.”

Lara checked her phone. Sure enough, she was supposed to have met the mysterious Connor five minutes ago. She’d gotten here early enough to have a cup of tea and assumed he’d join her. But now that she thought about it, he’d actually instructed her to meet him outside.

She nearly fell off her seat. There was only one person standing outside the coffeehouse.

That glorious hunk of man.

“Kiki?” she squeaked.

Her friend settled a designer bag over her shoulder. Lara had tried to convince her to buy a purse from a Nepalese women’s organization that supported indigenous children, but Kiki had replied that when Louis Vuitton supported them, she would, too. “Yes?”

“I think he may be my bodyguard.”

Kiki’s jaw dropped. “Holy shit. That man is supposed to be your close cover for the next few weeks? Why can’t someone want to kill me?”

Lara shook her head. Nope. She didn’t need a bodyguard. At least she didn’t need one as gorgeous as him. “I’ll call you later.”

“Make sure you do and it better be juicy.” Kiki’s gaze was still glued to the man outside.

Lara took a deep breath and strode toward the door to fix her problem.

*   *   *

C
onnor stood outside the coffeehouse, his stare traveling the path he’d just walked from Union Station. He’d picked this as their meeting spot because he could walk. Three hours on a train from Penn Station to D.C. had done little to elevate his mood. He would rather have had Gabe fly him here, but if Lara had seen him, he wouldn’t resemble a sad-sack ex-military man looking for a job, carrying everything he owned in the world in his beaten-up duffel.

He fully intended to play on the woman’s soft instincts. If she had them . . .

A chalkboard sign beside him proudly announced that someone named Goldie Starshine would be performing tonight, and all proceeds would go to the global fair trade initiative.

Yeah, it was that kind of place.

He really would have preferred some seedy bar. He’d come to like the dark places of the world. He felt far more at home there.

Lara Armstrong probably never went into bars. Or if she did, she only frequented hipster bars where the craft beer and red wine flowed like a river and no one ordered Scotch because it might get in the way of their deep political discussions.

Of course, he could be wrong about her. She also ran one of the most infamous tabloids D.C. had ever seen. She qualified it by saying she only ran the nasty stuff so people would maybe pay attention to her op-ed pieces on saving dolphins, but he wondered. He was going to scratch under her carefully built exterior, and he knew what he would find. She would be everything he expected—a naive, vain little rich girl who didn’t know a damn thing about the real world.

Hell, she’d fallen for a cipher. Niall Smith, brave warrior for the California environment. Connor had created the online persona when he’d discovered Lara Armstrong ran Capitol Scandals. She, along with her site, were ass deep in the game he’d been playing for weeks—a game that had already cost one of his best friends in the world his life. Maddox Crawford had died to cover someone’s secrets. Gabriel Bond and his fiancée, Everly, had almost died, too. Someone was weaving intricate threads of deception and half-truths in an attempt to throw him off, but Connor Sparks was like a bloodhound. Once he caught the scent of something, he never let go. If someone had brought Lara Armstrong into this chess match, Connor had no compunction about using her like the pawn she was, because he refused to lose any more friends.

And he would not lose this game.

His cell phone buzzed in his pocket. Since his intel on the girl indicated she was often late, Connor figured he still had a few minutes. He pulled the device free and glanced at the display.

Dax.

“Hey.” He never refused Dax’s calls. He could likely be in a fight to the death with a foreign operative and would stop in the middle to shoot the shit with Dax. Sometimes he was fairly certain Dax was the only thing in the world that kept him grounded. He loved his friends—Dax, Gabe, Mad, Roman, and Zack were the only people he gave a damn about.

Except he kind of liked Everly. She was a good kid.

“Hey, buddy, you make it to D.C.?” Dax’s jovial tone belied the reason Connor was here, but then that was just like Dax.

He was careful with his wording in case she showed up and overheard any of his conversation. “I did. I’m starting the new job in a few minutes.”

“Are you sure you don’t need backup? I’m off for another couple of weeks. I could be down there in a heartbeat. If someone’s really trying to kill this girl, you could use an extra pair of eyes.”

“I don’t think that will be necessary.” He was certain the threat wasn’t real. He’d hacked her system and checked the security. He hadn’t found a trace of anything that shouldn’t be there. The “threatening letter” had been very vague. It was more than likely this was all a ploy to get her daddy’s attention and milk him for cash.

Poor little rich girl.

“Okay, but I’m ready to back you up. Hanging out here with Gabe and Everly is giving me a sweet tooth. Maybe I’ll go to a bar tonight and see if I still have some of the old magic.”

Connor shook his head even though Dax couldn’t see him. “Absolutely not. Let me call in some hookers. You won’t wake up in Vegas married to one of them. I hope.”

“Ha-ha. I only eloped once,” Dax insisted.

But Connor knew what that “once” had cost him. “Yeah, I’m trying to avoid horrific divorce number two. Do you ever think about her?”

Why was he getting so sentimental? Maybe he’d spent so much time pretending to be gentle Niall that he was actually growing a vagina. Or maybe it had been sitting next to a family of three on the way down here from New York. Young mom and dad with their infant. They’d been so careful with the tiny girl and with each other. He’d watched as they passed the baby between them.

He wondered if he’d ever have anything so fragile. Not likely. He was far better at wet work.

“I try not to think about it, but then I look at my bank account,” Dax replied with his usual dry wit.

“I wasn’t talking about your ex-wife. I meant Holland.” The woman Dax actually loved. The one he’d lost.

Dax was quiet for a moment. “All the time, man. Not a day goes by that I don’t regret what happened. Which is exactly why you should be careful with the Armstrong girl. I don’t think she’s what you think she is.”

“Because you’ve spent time with her?” He knew the answer to that one.

“No, obviously I haven’t, but I’m also a way better judge of character than you are.”

“I seriously doubt that.”

“Dude, you pretty much just shoot everyone.”

“Everyone deserves it.” He turned slightly and caught sight of a brunette wearing hipster glasses and what looked like a vintage sweater staring out at him, her mouth slightly ajar. He couldn’t help the smile that curled his lips up slightly. Little Miss Vegan was staring at him like he was a juicy steak and she wanted a bite. So much for her unrequited love for tender Niall. His sad-sack persona would have to strum his guitar on the Internet forever because Lara Armstrong
might say she was attracted to good boys, but it looked like a bad one could tempt her. “And our girl is here. It’s showtime. Is Everly still working on her end?”

Recently, they’d discovered a trafficking ring operating under the auspices of a women’s charity. The International Women and Girls Education Foundation had been a front for the Russian mob. One of their big corporate sponsors had been Crawford Industries, run by their late friend Maddox Crawford. As far as Connor could tell, once Mad had found the connection, they’d killed him for it.

They’d also realized that one of the women who had been trafficked had worked as Zachary Hayes’s childhood nanny. The president of the United States had most likely been raised by a sex slave, and according to their lone lead, the only person who might be able to find her was Lara Armstrong.

He glanced back and she appeared to be arguing with her friend. The friend was much more his type. She was tall with lush breasts and looked like she knew what to do with a man. So why could he not take his eyes off the little intellectual fairy? That was what Lara reminded him of. A pretty little fairy with too-big blue eyes and bright thoughts and so much dark hair he wasn’t sure how she handled it.

“Yes, Everly is trying to track Deep Throat.”

He winced at that expression. Though he knew its historical context, it really did sound like a porn film. “Has she found anything?”

“Yes, but you’re not going to like it.”

He turned back because it looked like he was about to have some company. Lara had anchored her purse on her shoulder and seemed to be drawing her courage. He knew exactly what Dax was about to say. “He contacted Lara Armstrong.”

“Yes. We believe he’s sent her three e-mails in the last week. In the most recent, he told her to move to their backup means of communication. I don’t know what that is.”

So Deep Throat knew they were onto him. He would be looking for letters or faxes or perhaps a disposable cell phone. He needed to get into
her condo, embed himself in her life. “I’ll figure it out. I need to go. I’ll call you if I need you, brother.”

“See that you do.” The line disconnected just as the door swung open and his quarry made her appearance.

Vintage sweater, check. Yellow dress, check. Purse that looked like she could shoulder the cares of the world inside, check. He’d expected her to look a little like the greenie version of Snow White. He hadn’t expected her breasts to be quite so round. They didn’t look that hot in her pictures. She always wore one of those damn sweaters that hid her body. Now he wanted to get a look at her ass to see if it matched her chest.

Instead, he raised a brow, looked her over, and used his deepest voice on her. “Miss Armstrong? You’re five minutes late.”

Her mouth opened, then it closed again. She had to crane her neck to meet his gaze when they were this close. A gentleman would have moved back and given her some space.

Connor Sparks wasn’t a gentleman.

“Mr. Connor?” She squared her shoulders as though she was preparing for battle.

“Just Connor.” He wasn’t about to give her an inch.

“Is that your first name or your last name?” She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. I wasn’t actually late. I was waiting inside so I wouldn’t be late.”

“Our meeting was out here.”

“I assumed we would go in the shop.”

“You assumed wrong.” He’d meant to sit down with her in the coffee shop, but now it seemed like a better idea to keep her off-kilter. She would be comfortable in the coffee shop. It was her kind of place. She would be uncomfortable in a dark bar, and he saw just what he wanted across the street. “I was on a three-hour train ride with screaming children. I need a beer. Let’s go.”

He started across the street toward a bar with no windows. Dank. Skanky. Perfect. He didn’t look back, but knew from the sound of
kitten heels clacking on the pavement that she was following as fast as her petite legs could take her.

“Connor, we should talk,” she said as she tried valiantly to keep up.

He gripped his bag and was gentleman enough to open the door for her. Hard rock throbbed from inside the joint. It looked dark, like the kind of place where secret meetings happened or where D.C.’s citizens went to drink when they didn’t want anyone they gave a damn about to know. It was definitely the kind of place where a fairy would need an escort.

His world.

“We can talk while I grab a beer.”

She stared at the door like it might be an opening to hell. “I think we can have a very quick talk out here.”

So she intended to back out of their arrangement. Connor couldn’t allow that to happen. He let the door close and looked down at her. What tack to take? He played out a few strategies in his mind but quickly settled on guilt. Anyone who gave as much of a damn about dolphins as Lara must have a well-developed sense of guilt. He could definitely use that.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I’m being selfish. I’m just really tired after that long trip. I should have taken the flight straight to D.C. from L.A., but I wanted to see my mother. She’s in a home in the Bronx and I rarely have the money to get back there, you know what I mean? I didn’t mean to inconvenience you.”

Just like that, those blue eyes went wide with sympathy. “Oh, you didn’t. Not at all.”

His mother was likely fucking her way through some Southern Florida trailer park. The last time he’d seen her she’d had the temerity to ask him for money. He’d given her two hundred in cash and told her to never contact him again. Ah, the joys of family.

“Niall said you were a really busy lady.” He grimaced like he knew he’d done wrong.

The minute he said Niall’s name, she flushed. “No. I mean, I am busy, but I’m definitely not too busy for a friend of his.”

“He really thinks a lot of you.”

Another flush and he could tell she was feeling guilty about staring at him. What had she been thinking to get her to blush like that? He could play on that as well.