Thrill Ride (12 page)

Here.

To her closet…

“An optical bug is a high-tech listening device undetectable not only to the naked eye but also to standard bug detectors,” Ozzie explained. And it was amazing how quickly he could go from class clown to engineering professor. If he’d been wearing a pair of glasses, this is the part where he’d shove them up the length of his nose. “What it does is shoot a high-powered beam of light at a window where it picks up on vibrations in the glass. It then turns those vibrations into audible speech. But as James Bond as that sounds, an optical bug has a fatal flaw.”

She lifted a brow, feeling the need to pinch herself. Who would ever believe the Chicago debutante whose sixteenth birthday party ran on the front page of the society paper was in a closet with a group of clandestine government defense warriors, trying to help a supposed rogue operator, all while being bugged by…who was bugging them exactly?

That was going to be her next question.

“If you turn off the infrared filter on a digital camera,” Ozzie continued, “and snap a photo, the light beam shows up as a red dot.”

He handed her his digital camera, and there on the display screen was her living room. And there in the middle of her living room window, was a big, glowing dot.

“I knew,” he went on, “given Boss’s general tendency toward paranoia—”

“It’s only paranoia if they’re not out to get you,” Boss interrupted, his expression surly, which caused Ozzie to grin like a little kid.

“Like I was saying,” he continued, “given Boss’s general tendency toward paranoia, I knew you guys had swept the premises for bugs, so I couldn’t figure out how they picked up Vanessa’s trail. I knew they couldn’t have tagged her leaving the house. We’re all too good for that. And I’ve seen her Ricardo Ramirez disguise. That thing’s a beaut. So, no way, just by seeing her, they’d realize who she was. Which meant they had to know what to look for and where to look for it. And the only way they’d know that was if they’d somehow been listening in on the goings-on around here. That’s when I realized…optical bug.”

Eve couldn’t stand it anymore. “Who are
they
?” she asked.

“The CIA,” Becky, Boss, Ozzie, and Billy all answered at once, while Steady simply muttered, “The Company.”

Uh-huh. She raised a hand to her spinning head.

Geez freakin’ Louise! She’d known the U.S. government was after Rock. That’d been made very clear to her when Becky first approached her about appropriating her vacation home as a base. But she hadn’t realized that by agreeing to help the Knights try to clear Rock’s name, she’d also be making
herself
a target of “The Company.” Which probably showed exactly how naive and gullible she really was.

“It’s okay, Eve,” Becky assured her, reaching forward to squeeze her fingers.

“Um,” she blinked, this time not worrying about the fact that her squiddy backbone—or lack thereof—was showing, “
how
is it okay? The freakin’ CIA is after us.”

“Not us,” Becky said. “Just the information they think we have.”

“And that’s different because…?” She was hoping someone would assure her she wasn’t hours away from finding herself locked in a federal prison cell. Not that she didn’t think she could survive it, mind you. Because with her tragic lack of street skills, not to mention her somewhat dubious local celebrity status, she was pretty sure she’d be quickly taken under the wing of—and forced to become the bitch of—someone named Big Bertha or Crazy Carla or Hot Knife Hattie. But, see, the thing was, Eve would desperately like to avoid that scenario if at all possible…

“Because,” Boss said, and she turned to look at his scarred face, taking comfort in the certainty she saw in his eyes, “so far, we haven’t done anything wrong.”

So
far…

Yeah, she hadn’t missed that little caveat.

“I’m surprised an optical bug would work on those windows,” Steady said, scratching his head.

“What?” Eve glanced around. “Why? What’s wrong with my windows?”

“He’s talking about the fact that they’re those fancy double-paned contraptions, with the blinds between the glass,” Ozzie said.

“I didn’t want big heavy window treatments to obscure my view,” she said, defensively, not that she’d been able to enjoy it on this trip since all the shades in the entire house had been drawn upon their arrival. Still,
what
exactly was the problem with her windows?

“Good thinkin’,” Ozzie winked reassuringly. “And it also makes using an optical bug more difficult since the beam of light has to cut through a pane of glass and the plastic blinds before reaching the window where it can pick up the noise vibrations of our speech. Difficult,” he nodded toward Steady, “but not impossible.”

“
Mierda
!” Steady cursed in Spanish.

“You said it.” Ozzie agreed, before adding, “What we need are vibrators.” The sudden change in subject had Eve blinking rapidly and glancing around like maybe she’d misheard.

When no one seemed to bat a lash at this statement, she asked the time-honored and oh-so-eloquent question of, “Huh?”

“Vibrators,” Ozzie repeated and, yep, she hadn’t misheard. “We can tape them to all the windows and turn them on. Their resonance will screw with any optical bugs The Company tries to employ.”

And it was at this point, much to Eve’s consternation, that all heads turned toward her.

“What? Why are you looking at me?” she demanded, her stomach filling with dread. Being the subject of such close scrutiny, especially when the scrutinizers were a group of hardened operators, made her feel like a bug under a microscope. Like, at any moment, someone was going to reach out and pull off one of her wings, like she was about to—

“This is your house,” Steady piped up.

“Yes. So?”

“So where’s your stash of sex toys?” he demanded, completely deadpan.

She couldn’t have stopped the hot blush that burned up her chest and neck to explode in her cheeks if she’d shoved her whole body in a barrel full of ice water. “I…I…don’t…” She shook her head and coughed, unable to go on since there was a gigantic lump of embarrassment in the middle of her throat.

Seriously? Had he just asked where she kept her stash of
sex
toys
? Like it was a foregone conclusion she had one? Of course, what made it even more humiliating was the fact that—

“I brought Mr. Blue with us,” Becky announced eagerly, and Eve wondered if the closet was suddenly spinning or if it was just her.

“Mr. Blue?” Billy questioned. “Do I even want to know?”

“He was my stand-in for Frank before Frank decided to pull his head out of his ass and make an honest woman of me.” She winked at Boss.

The big guy picked up the conversational ball and started to run with it, “And now he’s fun to use to—”

“Nope,” Billy held up a hand, cutting the Black Knights’ leader off mid-sentence. “I was right. I didn’t want to know. Holy good God almighty, I’m never going to get that image out of my head.” He shuddered like someone had just poured a bucket of spiders down his shirt.

Steady gave Boss a
way
to
go, man
punch, which had a smug smile spreading across Boss’s harsh face. The guy was the picture of someone completely sure of both his woman and his manhood. And when he wrapped a possessive arm around Becky’s shoulders, Becky smiled up at him, and the heat in her eyes was enough to have Eve looking on with longing.

She wished she had that much confidence, that much chutzpah, to admit that she—

And, just like that, her defense instructor’s encouragement whispered through her head.
You
need
to
grow
a
set
of
balls, Eve. Come out of your shell. The whole world isn’t going to judge.

And it was good advice. She
knew
it was. But the truth of the matter was, the world
had
judged her and very harshly at that.

Unfortunately, a man’s life might depend on what she did right now, so she swallowed her humiliation, locked her stupid knocking knees together, opened her mouth and admitted, “I have one of those lipstick-tube shaped vibrators in my purse, and another one in the bedside table in the master bedroom. Will those help?”

The urge to go find some sand to bury her head in was strong, especially when Billy slowly raised one sleek brow. But she lifted her chin and held her ground even as every single eye in the closet landed on her crimson face.

“Why, Eve, you naughty, naughty girl,” Becky chuckled, reaching into the pocket of her shorts in order to pull out a cherry Dum Dum. Bill watched with his lungs frozen, his head buzzing, and his dick thumping against his zipper—just the thought of Eve pleasuring herself with a little vibrator was enough to shoot the mercury level on his horny-meter all the way to the tip-tippity-top—as his sister handed the sucker to Eve with the fanfare and care someone might use to pass off a newborn babe.

“What’s this for?” Eve asked, and Bill didn’t need to see the heat in her face to know she was far more embarrassed for having made that…uh…little confession—
fuckin’-A!
—than she was letting on. Because the tremor in her voice, and the way she tried to cover it up by delicately clearing her throat, said it all.

It was all so endearing and
goddamnit!
It was sexy as hell!

“For once again proving how badass you really are under that ballerina exterior of yours,” Becky explained.

Bill wouldn’t have thought it was possible, but Eve’s blush deepened. “I don’t know how admitting that I have a couple of…” She trailed off, seemingly at a loss for words.

Ozzie had no trouble jumping into the void. “Self-pleasuring devices?” he offered helpfully.

She winced, clearing her throat again. “Yes. I don’t know how my admitting I have a couple of
those
makes me a badass, more like a Super Freak. But I guess I’ll take what I can get.”

Super Freak? Well, maybe. But that was the kind of Super Freak he could really get behind…or on top of…or beneath, come to think of it. And before Bill could stop it, his mind conjured up an image of her lying in that big feather bed out there, head thrown back against the cool, white pillow, black hair fanned out, mile-long legs spread wide. She was pink and slick and open as she—

Christ!
He had to shake his head in order to jangle the thought loose before his erection grew as big as the Trump Tower. As it was, he had to do one of those covert stance adjustments or suffer some serious discomfort.

Of course, it turned out it wasn’t all
that
covert, because Ozzie caught his move, glanced down at his fly then quickly back up to his face, and shot him a wide, shit-eating grin. Bill responded with a smirk that could be read only one way…
Yeah? Well, go fuck yourself.

“Three,” Ghost announced in a low voice, and Eve jumped like someone poked her with a cattle prod. Not that Bill could blame her really. Ghost had a certain quietness, a weird stillness about him that sort of allowed him to blend into the background, making one forget he was there. And, thankfully, the frightened movement and the look of intense embarrassment on Eve’s pretty face was enough to take the tiniest edge of his ardor. Of course, what happened next assured he wasn’t thinking about her, or feather beds, or lipstick-shaped vibrators at all, because the silly woman clenched her eyes closed and proceeded to do something completely preposterous.

She reached up and smacked the middle of her forehead with her palm.

Every eye in the closet zeroed in on her, the expressions on the Knights’ faces varying from concern to amusement to consternation.

“Aversion therapy,” she said by way of explanation. “My personal defense instructor says I need to…um…grow a pair of balls.” She bit her lip. “Which I take to mean includes not jumping like a scared rabbit at the slightest thing.”

And despite himself, Bill felt the wall he’d built up around his heart—the one Eve had provided the mortar for—begin to crumble. And when she glanced over at him, her face awash in embarrassment and uncertainty, but with…

What was that glowing in the depths of her eyes?

It looked suspiciously like the same flame that ignited the gazes of hardened operators right before they crossed the wire and jumped into the danger zone. It looked suspiciously like the fire of determination…

Wow. You’re really coming into your own, aren’t you, sweetheart?

Again, he felt that sliver of pride for her. Because if there was one thing he’d learned in life, it was that seeing yourself clearly, baring witness to all your faults and foibles and trying to do something about them, took a level of courage most people never attained.

“You think that kind of therapy would work for Ozzie’s annoying habits?” Becky asked.

“
What
annoying habits?” Ozzie demanded, and all the Black Knights groaned in unison.

“Seriously, though,” Ghost brought the conversation full circle, “Will three be enough…um…devices?”

“Three will be enough to cover the picture windows in the living room,” Ozzie said, all serious again. The kid had a wacky ability to play the village idiot one minute and don his superhero clandestine operator mask the next. Bill would never understand it. “But we should still be careful what we talk about. From now on, or until we can scrounge up some more vibrators, all mission-related issues should be discussed in here.”

“Agreed,” Boss said as Bill furtively watched Eve unwrap the Dum Dum in her hand and shove it between her lips. And whatever sadistic genius invented the lollipop should either be shot or sainted—at this particular moment, he couldn’t decide which.

“And I think Ozzie should probably pay a visit to our CIA friends in the van across the street,” Boss continued.

“Why?” Becky asked, frowning.

“Two reasons. One: to let ’em know they’re not fooling anyone. And two: to maybe see if we can’t get a bead on any other nifty devices the fuckers—” The big guy winced and smiled apologetically at Eve. “Er…sorry for the language.”

Becky groaned and rolled her eyes. “Jesus, Frank. Nobody gives a shit right now. It’s not like we’re at a fucking cocktail party or something.”

Boss slid her an exasperated look before slowly grinning and squeezing her close to his side. “It would be good,” he continued, “to know what other nifty devices the spooks might be utilizing; not to mention we need to know if we’re being watched by satellite.”

“Not as of twenty-two-hundred last night,” Ozzie answered. “I checked all Eyes In The Sky. One was focused on Santa Elena, but none here.”

“Good. That’s good,” Boss nodded.

“Wait a minute,” Eve held up her hand, moving the sucker to her cheek with her tongue, and the flash of pink had Bill’s gaze lasering in. Oh, how he remembered the taste of her. So sweet. The feel of her in his arms. So lithe and trembling and…
Jesus!
“Are you trying to tell me you
knew
all this time the CIA was out there?”

“Of course,” Boss and Becky answered in unison.

Bill watched the slideshow of emotions flit across her face. First disbelief, then realization, and finally confusion. Two jobs Eve should never attempt: government operator or poker player. “But, but,” she sputtered, shaking her head.

“We knew they were keeping an eye on us,” Becky explained. “But it didn’t matter since we hadn’t planned on actually
doing
anything here. Of course,” she frowned, “that’s before we knew the
fuckers
,” she emphasized the word and grinned up at Boss, who only rolled his eyes and leaned down to kiss the tip of her nose, “were listening in.”

“Right,” Boss nodded, straightening. “And I think we should—” Right at that moment, his cell phone blasted the opening bars to “Don’t Fear the Reaper,” and the big guy was cursing and pulling the device from his hip pocket. “Go,” he said by way of answering. Then, “Thank God, Vanessa! We’ve all been worried sick!”

At this point, every eye in the closet was focused solely on the Black Knights’ leader.

Boss ran a big hand back through his hair. “Yeah…yeah…Shit! Are you sure?” He looked around, spotting the notepad in Ozzie’s hand, and snapped his fingers indicating he needed something write with. Ozzie handed over the notepad and slipped the pen that was clipped to the collar of his faded
Star
Trek
T-shirt into Boss’s hand.

“How long until you get there?” Boss asked, turning his wrist to check the time on his diver’s watch before jotting down the name of an intersection and San Jose’s major metropolitan park. “Yeah, we can make it. You just make sure Rock doesn’t shoot us once we come barreling in.”

Bill couldn’t help but smile. Because he didn’t care what was being said about Rock, the ragin’ Cajun could never harm a single hair on any one of their heads. Of course, Eve didn’t know this, because she glanced over at him, sapphire eyes as big as saucers.

“He’s joking, Eve,” he assured her on a whisper. “I promise,” he emphasized, inwardly shaking his head at himself.

Why
am
I
always
reassuring
her?

And not that he really wanted an answer, but from somewhere deep within, a voice whispered,
because
you
still
care
.

No. He frowned. He didn’t care about her. At least not any more than he cared about the next person.
Any
person.

Liar.
The little voice taunted, and Bill had the sudden urge to strangle the bastard.

“Will do,” Boss said, once again dragging Bill’s thoughts back to the situation at hand. Goddamnit! Being this close to Eve, shoved in a closet and smelling the sweet perfume lingering on all her clothes, was seriously screwing with his ability to keep his mind on task. “And good job, by the way,” Boss finished before clicking off. Then, addressing everyone gathered in the closet, he announced, “It’s time to roll.”

“What’s up?” Steady asked.

“We’re bringing him in.” And considering that was good news, Boss’s face looked suspiciously stony. Then Bill understood why when he added, “But he’s not going to come willingly.”

Oh, shit.

“Ozzie,” Boss barreled ahead, “did you do like I asked and check to make sure both of our secondary vehicles were secure before you got here?”

Before heading over to Eve’s house, they’d purchased a couple of old beater pickup trucks from a Costa Rican farmer who’d allowed them to use his hot-as-the-surface-of-the-sun barn to overhaul the engines before secreting them away in the garage of an abandoned house down the street. Because, you know, there was always the off chance they might need to make a clandestine escape. And one thing Bill could say for the Black Knights, they were nothing if not prepared for every eventuality. A man learned early on in his spec-ops training that it was better to sweat more now, so he could bleed less later…

“Affirmative,” Ozzie nodded. “Locked up safe and sound. Checked them and the house for any bugs or surveillance gear. Nada. No one’s the wiser on our secondary base.”

“Good,” Boss mused, rubbing a hand back through his hair again. “Okay, so while you distract the spooks and see just what type of gear they’ve got going in that van of theirs, the four of us,” he pointed to himself, Bill, Steady, and Ghost, “will sneak out the back to the secondary base, grab the vehicles, and go apprehend Vanessa and Rock. Becky,” the big guy turned to his wife, and Bill beat back the protestation that jumped to his lips. His little sister was no longer his sole responsibility. Sometimes he had a hard time remembering that.

“Don’t you dare leave me out of this, Frank,” she hissed, hands on hips, nostrils flaring.

The big guy rolled his eyes. “Wouldn’t think of it, love,” he chuckled. “I want you and Eve to take her Land Rover and tear ass out of here about twenty minutes after me and the boys are gone. I want The Company guys following you, and—this is important—you gotta make sure you give ’em one helluva race. If it looks like they’re losing interest, you’ll need to stop. Preferably somewhere seedy or strange, so they’ll wonder what you’re up to and stay with you. You need to keep them occupied until after we get back here with Vanessa and Rock, which should be no more than half an hour, tops. You think you can manage that?”

“Done,” Becky nodded, her eyes alight with excitement. Bill chanced a glance at Eve and found her face just the opposite of Becky’s. Now he knew what people were talking about when they described someone’s complexion as ashen. The woman was so pale she was gray.

“Uh,” he felt it was time to pipe up. “I’m not sure Eve—”

“I’ll do it,” she interjected, turning to him and lifting her chin. The move might have looked convincing had her lower lip not been trembling like a leaf in the wind.

“Eve, you don’t have to—”

“I
said
I’ll do it,” she declared, and he couldn’t help but admire her determination. The woman had courage, he’d give her that. Because while most people thought courage came from facing danger without fear, the truth of the matter was
real
courage was doing what needed to be done even when you were scared shitless to do it.

“Okay,” he nodded, trying, really trying, to remember all the reasons why he disliked her.

“One last thing,” Boss said. “Ozzie, once you’ve distracted the spooks, I need you to scramble all satellite feeds. I don’t want
anybody
knowing what we’re about to do.”

“No problemo,” Ozzie declared, and Bill knew this wasn’t one of the times the kid was boasting. If Boss wanted every satellite on the planet out of commission, Ozzie, aka The Wizard of Oz, could probably make it happen. Which, when Bill took the time to think about it, scared him half to death. He couldn’t help but fear the fate of the world when a twenty-seven-year-old kid who loved bad ’80s music and had a weird affinity for cheesy sci-fi shows wielded that much power at the tips of his fingers. He just thanked God Ozzie was on their side…

“Good,” Boss jerked his chin once. “Everybody clear on their tasks?”

“Affirmative,” the Knights answered in unison, with Eve shakily whispering, “Y-yes.”

“Then let’s toss back some concrete milkshakes, harden the hell up, and do this thing. We’ve got half an hour before Vanessa and Rock reach the city limits.”

Bill shook his head at another one of Boss’s inspirational speeches—
concrete
milk
shakes; where did the guy come up with this stuff?
—as the group shuffled out of the closet. Once they were gathered in the center of Eve’s bedroom, Ozzie opened his mouth, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.