Undercover Virgin (3 page)

 
"No."

She didn't elaborate, which stirred his imagination. When he realized how curious he was to know more about her, he abruptly halted the direction of his thoughts.

She continued. "You earned quite a reputation with the agency."

"Not all good," he qualified. "I hated the political games."

"Is that why you quit the agency at the ripe old age of thirty? You just got fed up with the politics?"

"Partly," he said.

"So what made you decide to come out of retirement for this job? Did Sullivan call in markers or do you have a personal vendetta against Gregory?"

Kyle ground his teeth to keep from growling that it was none of her business. Her questions ticked him off, but he supposed she had a right to ask.

"I don't owe Sullivan any favors."

His passenger wisely didn't pursue the subject. She could believe whatever she wanted, because he didn't plan to offer any details. She didn't need to know about Margie or the guilt that had haunted him for four years.

Margie would have admired Samantha, he thought, his chest going tight. She'd always wanted to do undercover work. When she'd finally gotten her big chance, she'd walked into a trap that had cost her life. The memory made him angry and restless, so he changed the subject.

"Do you have a name besides Phantom or Samantha?" he asked, studying her profile while she stared out the windshield. "Is that your real name or is it a top-level security secret?"

She hesitated, glancing his way and then turning her attention forward. It was the first time she'd acted tentative about anything. Kyle found himself wanting her to trust him, yet annoyed that it mattered.

He'd almost given up on an answer when she finally responded. "You can call me Rianna, if you'd like."

Rianna. He liked it. It sounded soft and feminine. A little inconsistent with what he knew about her, yet appealing.

"That's a pretty name, but unusual."

She hesitated another instant,
then
added, "My given name is Marianna, but I've always shortened it in one form or another."

Not a giant leap of faith, but a baby step. He didn't expect much more. He knew how hard it was for an undercover agent to trust anyone after months of being constantly on guard, when a slip of the tongue could blow your cover and end your life. He didn't know how long Rianna had been hiding behind a phony name and background, but he knew it would take her a while to unwind.

Neither of them was inclined to make small talk, so conversation came to a halt. As the miles passed by, they watched the passing scenery, kept an eye on the traffic behind them and gradually relaxed.

Kyle grew increasingly aware of her scent, the warmth radiating from her body and even the soft, steady sound of her breathing. His senses absorbed everything about her in an intense, disturbing fashion, even while he argued the idiocy of the reaction. He comforted himself with the thought that their forced alliance wouldn't last much longer.

It took them a little over two hours to reach the state border and cross from
North Carolina
into
Virginia
. Their destination, a single-story house on the outskirts of
Emporia
, was easily found. Surrounded by several large bushes and evergreen trees, it sat apart from any neighboring houses.

Kyle turned into the drive, pulled to a stop near the front porch and shut off the engine.

Tension hiked upward a few degrees as they faced a new and unknown territory. He and Rianna both studied their surroundings for a long time before considering it safe to get out of the truck. He reached for her bags, but she halted him.

"Leave them for now."

His gaze held hers for the first time since they'd left
Elizabeth
City
. More tension flashed between them, complicated by a touch of suspicion. Her wary expression didn't surprise him. She wasn't prepared to trust anyone or anything right now. He nodded, understanding the reaction, and climbed from the truck.

Rianna let him lead the way to the front porch. He found the key where he'd been told to look and preceded her inside the house, then stopped.

"Stay put a minute," he said, reaching for the gun he'd tucked in the waistband of his jeans.

She ignored the command and accompanied him as he searched the house, checking each room thoroughly and making sure they were alone.

"Everything looks okay," he said a few minutes later as he slowly replaced his gun. "Sullivan should have gotten your message by now. He'll have a couple of agents here to guard the place in an hour or so. They'll be coming from D.C., so it shouldn't take them long."

"You're not staying?"

Their gazes met, hers slightly accusing. He ignored a brief pang of guilt.

"My part of the plan was to get you out of Haroldson's estate and to this safe house. That's all I agreed to do."

"So you're ready to disappear?"

The antagonism in her tone had him clenching his jaw. "A week of playing lackey to Haroldson is more than any man should have to take," he argued grimly. "As soon as your bodyguards show up, I'm outta here."

Rianna snorted indelicately. "Meantime, I'm starved," she said. "I think I'll see what kind of food we have stocked."

His annoyance vanished at the thought of food. It had been a long time since breakfast, and a meal now would help him avoid making extra stops on his way home. He decided not to argue.

"Sounds good."

Kyle followed her to the kitchen and watched while she rummaged through the refrigerator. He admired the way her jeans molded the feminine curves of her hips, thighs and long legs. A man would have to be emasculate not to notice how well she was put together, but that's as far as his interest went.

He quickly redirected his attention. Moving to the window, he surveyed the backyard for as far as he could see. The house was secluded; there was no sign of neighbors and everything was quiet.

"Are you eating?" asked Rianna.

"Sure."

He turned back and helped her get the food on the table. They put together some sandwiches, opened a bag of potato chips and ate in silence. Kyle studied her as he chewed, familiarizing himself with her new punk look. It suited her oval face and delicate features as well as the seductive blonde image. He wasn't sure which he preferred.

It seemed Phantom was a chameleon, as well.

"Do you mind if I ask what you do now that you're not with the agency any longer? Do you still live and work in D.C.?"

He'd never been comfortable discussing his personal life, but he didn't see the harm in small talk. "I moved out west a few years ago."

"You still work in law enforcement?"

"No, I'm just a private citizen who minds his own business."

Her brow creased in a frown, and he realized how censorious his comment sounded. She abruptly stopped asking questions and grew quiet, which should have pleased him, but perversely didn't. They finished their meal in silence, and then worked together to clean the kitchen.

After they had taken turns in the bathroom, he switched on the TV in the living room while Rianna paced around the house, checking the contents of cupboards and closets.

She had just stopped her restless prowling and joined him, when a knock at the front door startled them.

"Stay out of sight," he told her, heading toward the front of the house while she headed toward the back.

A glance through the peephole showed two familiar faces, Dan Hoskins and Ted Blaine, both experienced agents he recognized from his days at the bureau. Tucking his gun back in his jeans, he opened the door. They shook hands and exchanged greetings, then he lead the way back to the kitchen.

They found it empty. Kyle glanced at the door, then toward the window, annoyed and confused until noises from the bathroom helped him pinpoint Rianna's location. He heard the toilet flush, some clinking of the toilet tank, and then she called to him for assistance.

"Kyle, could you help me again? This toilet still isn't flushing right."

He had no idea what she was talking about, but he decided to find out. "You guys help yourselves to some lunch. I'll be right back," he said, walking down the short hallway to the bathroom.

To his surprise, his reluctant charge was slipping backward out the narrow window. She spared him a fierce glance, jerked her head toward the front of the house and disappeared.

He flushed the toilet again, stalling for time and making more noise to cover her actions. Then he followed her out the window, feet-first. It was a tight squeeze, and he muffled a grunt as he hit the ground. By the time he'd rounded the corner of the house, she was flattening the tires of the agency's sedan with a pocketknife.

"Let's go," she said in a terse whisper, climbing into the truck and quietly closing the door.

"What the hell?" Kyle demanded, but he didn't hesitate to follow her lead. All he could do was trust her instincts until he knew what had spooked her.

"The guy who called you a renegade retiree."

"
Blaine
?"

"I don't know his name, but I recognized his voice. I've heard it on Gregory's private phone."

"Sonofabitch!" Kyle's hoarse oath echoed in the cab as he hit the ignition. His first instinct was to confront
Blaine
; to beat some answers out of the rotten, low-down traitor. Personal need warred with common sense. As much as he wanted to grill the other man for answers, he had to consider Rianna's safety first.

There was nothing lower than a cop on the take. How long had
Blaine
been on Haroldson's payroll? How long had the man been dirty? Long enough to have orchestrated Margie's disappearance and death? Kyle ground his teeth in frustration, clenching the steering wheel and slamming the truck into gear while mentally vowing to get some long-overdue answers.

They heard shouts behind them as they sped down the street, but lost sight of the house when they turned at the next intersection. They were both too busy checking for other threats to worry about the stranded agents.

Sure enough, the green SUV pulled from the curb as soon as they hit the connecting street. Kyle pushed the accelerator to the floor.

"Damon and Rudy."

"I saw them," she said grimly, pulling a semiautomatic out of her bag. It looked big and heavy in her small palm, but she handled it skillfully, checking the load and flipping the safety.

When they turned onto a nearly deserted, straight stretch of road, she opened the passenger window. "Swerve to the right."

"And give them a clear shot at you? Hell, no."

"Give me a clear shot at them."

"You're a better marksman?"

"I'm good. Now, swerve."

Kyle did as she asked, veering the truck to the right so she could have a straight shot at the SUV gaining on them. He heard her squeeze off four successive shots,
then
she swung back into the cab and stayed low.

There was no return fire.

He steadied the truck again, changed lanes,
then
glanced in the rearview mirror. One of her shots had shattered the windshield of the SUV, but Damon hadn't slowed his pursuit. Kyle knew how skilled he was at the wheel.

"Haroldson wants you alive."

"For a while, at least," she agreed. "He always has a master plan and his own agenda."

They hit the green light at the next intersection and turned into heavy, two-lane traffic. Another look in the mirror showed Damon running a red light, but steam was starting to roll from beneath the hood of the SUV.

"Did you puncture their radiator?"

"That's where I aimed," she said, lifting her head long enough to check behind them. "I figured it would be the fastest way to disable the car."

"You're right."

Within a few minutes, the tailing vehicle was engulfed in a cloud of steam.

"They'll have to slow down now."

Kyle took advantage of the pursuing vehicle's problems and wove in and out of rush-hour traffic until he'd put a good distance between them and other pursuers. After traveling several more miles, he thought they'd probably lost the SUV. He turned his attention to his passenger again.

"What now?"

"I have a contingency plan."

"Glad to hear it." His tone and expression were harsh. "Care to fill me in?"

Rianna didn't respond right away, but she eased herself upright and faced forward, pulling her seat belt around her. "If we get on the interstate and head south, I know a small town where we can stop over and switch vehicles again."

"Another safe house?"

Her lips tightened. "At this point,
I'm not trusting
my life to the agency. I'll find my own safe place and then make new arrangements with Sullivan."