Читать книгу Out-Foxxed - Debra Webb - Страница 10

THE HOT WATER slowly but surely warmed the winter chill that had seeped deep into her bones, relaxing her tense muscles. Sabrina had ended up walking the entire twenty blocks home.

Without the rain, it hadn’t been so bad. She’d needed the time to clear her head. To rid her lungs of the smell of death.

She studied her arms and the new bruises there. So far her cheek hadn’t swollen. There would be some discoloration from the slaps she’d taken but, if her luck held out, no noticeable swelling. Bruises could be covered, swelling could not. She was damned lucky things hadn’t been a hell of a lot worse.

Just part of the job. Pain and death were a constant in her line of work. She’d gotten used to it a long time ago.

At least that was what she told herself. Occasionally she’d let the kill-or-be-killed reality get to her, but then she would remind herself that what she had done had saved a man and his family. That was what really counted.

The only part that counted to Sabrina.

The first time she’d killed a man, Marx had walked her through the aftereffects.

Sabrina closed her eyes and tried to block the memory but it came anyway. The assignment had been in Ireland. The target had been an American traitor leading a terrorist cell who had recently obtained a military-grade nerve gas. Sabrina had gotten in, made the strike and gotten out in twenty-four hours. Eliminating that target had allowed local authorities to seize the highly lethal nerve gas before it could be used to take innocent lives.

She’d been fine until she returned home.

The reality of what she’d done had hit her then. Marx had known it would. He’d been waiting for her at her apartment door.

During the verbal exchange about how she was fine, she’d fallen apart. He’d talked her through the turmoil, helped her to see the greater good she had accomplished. His wise and calm reasoning had done the trick.

Sabrina blinked away the memory. Funny thing, she realized just then—her father had done that for her dozens of times growing up. He would talk her through a trying time. She supposed, in a way, Marx had stepped into his shoes.

“Way too deep, Sabrina,” she mumbled. She needed to relax and put work behind her.

She’d certainly created the right atmosphere for it. The candles flickered and glowed, filling the room with a cozy ambience. The scented ones oozed their subtle fragrance into the air, adding to the pleasant mood. She’d left the overhead lights off, allowing only the illumination of the dozens of candles. Just like she’d told Trainer she wanted to do.

She smiled and wondered if he’d managed to make his date. Big Hugh was likely out with his significant other, enjoying a quiet dinner for two at some ritzy restaurant off the beaten path. Angie would be at home with her husband of twenty years and their three kids, maybe watching a movie with a tub of buttered popcorn.

Sabrina couldn’t fathom how Angie managed it. Her husband couldn’t know about her work. He thought her employer was an international temps and personal assistants agency. An agency that provided support personnel for visiting dignitaries from other nations or provided support personnel for American businessmen traveling to foreign countries whose companies had no ongoing reason to keep one or more linguists on staff. And that was exactly what IT&PA did in addition to covert government operations.

It was the perfect cover. Movement in and out of a country was never seen as suspicious, and many times their targets were the ones doing the hiring. Now that was burrowing in deep. That was the ultimate cover, one the enemy didn’t suspect for a moment. The usual government agencies couldn’t hope to accomplish that depth of infiltration.

Not everyone employed at IT&PA were secret agents. Some were “exempt” employees, meaning they were exactly what they appeared to be—clerical personnel with additional skills such as multilingual abilities as well as in-depth knowledge of foreign countries. Oftentimes a job consisted of nothing more than serving as an official guide on a visit to another country. Anything a businessman or woman, American or otherwise, could need in the way of temporary assistance would be found at IT&PA.

The agency had been the brainchild of Anderson Marx, the director. Only the president himself, and the directors of the CIA, FBI and NSA were aware of IT&PA’s presence in the spy world. IT&PA was neither bound by borders nor inhibited by the usual rules. Sabrina and her colleagues could be assigned anywhere in the world at any time, and only in the situations where the usual means would not work or had failed. The latter was the reason the standard rules didn’t apply. IT&PA was only called in once there were no other alternatives.

Today’s mission could have been so much worse. She’d been lucky. The four men who’d taken the Stavi family hostage could have killed them all before she’d arrived. The fact that they hadn’t suggested two possibilities—the intelligence they’d hoped to obtain had been extremely valuable, or the men simply were inept.

Telling herself it wasn’t her problem now, she ducked her head under the water and banished all thoughts of the day’s mission. The big brown eyes of those children and their mother elbowed their way into her thoughts, interrupting her desperately needed relaxation. She’d saved them. Why the lingering feelings of uncertainty?

Because it could have so easily gone the other way.

She went through this every time children were involved in a mission. After seven years, one would think she would get over the after-the-fact apprehension. But she didn’t.

If she mentioned the feelings to her team, Angie would insist that it was nothing more than her biological clock screaming at her since those feelings were unfailingly related to missions involving children. Sabrina was thirty-two, after all, Angie would say.

Sabrina didn’t know how to tell Angie this, but she didn’t have a biological clock. It had given up hope and gone out of business years ago. She had no desire for those kinds of strings. No permanent attachments allowed her to accept any and all assignments without hesitation.

The trickle of denial that filtered through her ticked her off. She wasn’t about to let the past intrude on her present.

Not ever again.

Sabrina climbed out of the tub. Frothy bubbles slid down her skin and accumulated on the floor as she stepped onto the cool tile. She should eat. The wine and the bath had been very nice and very necessary, but she needed food. She’d learned from experience in the past couple of years that food could be an extremely reliable way to distract herself from things she didn’t want to think about. Her intense workouts allowed for that occasional indulgence.

Grabbing a couple of big fluffy towels, she wrapped her hair in one, turban-style, and swabbed her body with the other. As she did, she considered what frozen entrées she had in the fridge. There might be the makings of a salad if the expiration dates hadn’t passed too many days ago. She spent so many late nights at work she didn’t stock the refrigerator regularly and as soon as she did, she ended up throwing half of the food out a week or two later after returning from an unexpected mission.

The doorbell rang as she shuffled out of her room. A frown tugged at her brow. It was almost nine and she just wanted to vegetate for the rest of the evening. Why the heck would anyone be at her door now?

Then she remembered.

She stalled in the middle of her living room. No way was she going to answer that door.

This was the one downside to being single. Well-meaning friends. If her single friends were involved in ongoing relationships, they wanted everyone else to be as well. Not one, especially the one likely outside the door just now, could understand how Sabrina could be happy without a steady guy in her life. She couldn’t tell them that a steady relationship created unnecessary questions.

A new round of pounding on the door rattled the hinges. “Sabrina! I know you’re in there.”

Damn. This was a new low even for Veronica.

Veronica Call and Sabrina had started out at the UN together as substitute interpreters. They’d stayed friends after Sabrina was recruited by IT&PA.

“I’ll just keep banging until you open up!” Veronica warned. “Or your neighbors call the cops.”

Knowing she wasn’t kidding, Sabrina released both dead bolts, then wrenched the door open. “I was in the tub.” Not exactly a lie.

Veronica, hands pushed beneath a heavy fur coat and stationed on red silk clad hips, surveyed her skeptically. “You knew I was coming,” she accused. “We planned this evening days ago.”

“I forgot, okay?” Sabrina stepped back, allowing her furious friend to enter.

Once inside the door, Veronica pointed to Sabrina’s bedroom. “Go get dressed. You’re going out.”

For about five seconds, Sabrina considered telling her to forget it but then decided against it. Veronica was one pushy broad. If she didn’t get her way, she’d just stand here all night and argue her case. The woman must have been a trial lawyer in another life.

“Where are we going?” Sabrina asked, padding to her bedroom and leaving the door open so they could still talk.

“Blue Note. Wesley’s meeting me there.”

Wesley. Oh, yes. Sabrina remembered him. Tall, handsome, gorgeous golden eyes, sleek ebony skin.

“What I don’t understand,” she said loudly enough for her friend to hear, “is why you want me there. Isn’t Wesley enough for you?” Sabrina grinned as she rummaged for something to wear.

“Wesley has a friend.”

She should have seen that one coming. Dread pooled in Sabrina’s gut, and she glanced at the other woman who now leaned in the doorway, her arms crossed defiantly over her chest.

“That’s what I was afraid of.”

“Come on, Sabrina. David is nice. Really nice.”

Sabrina removed one of her favorite little black dresses from its padded hanger. “Nice?” She tossed her friend a skeptical look. She hated being set up.

“Nice and handsome and sexy as hell,” Veronica fired back, her temper flaring to match her hot red dress. “I know you’ll like him. You just have to give him a chance.”

Sabrina smoothed the tight sheath over her hips. “And you’ve met this David?”

“Well, no, but Wesley told me all about him.”

“Wesley told you he’s sexy?” Sabrina countered. “Now I’m worried about Wesley.”

“You’re impossible.”

Sabrina stepped into a pair of black stilettos and uncoiled the towel from her hair. “Gotta blow dry.”

Fifteen minutes later, dried, styled, and accessorized, Sabrina slipped into her coat and announced, “I’m ready.”

“’Bout time.” Veronica assessed her from head to toe and back. “You look fabulous. David should be very pleased.”

“My greatest aspiration,” Sabrina said wistfully as they exited her apartment. “To please a stranger.”

* * *

THE PREMIER JAZZ CLUB on 3rd and 131st was packed. As a close cousin of the owner, Wesley had reserved the best table in the house. The exciting, spirited atmosphere immediately lifted Sabrina’s mood. Even if David hadn’t shown. Or maybe she was simply enjoying Veronica’s discomfort over the fact that her scheming had failed so miserably. There was nothing more humiliating than masterminding a blind date only to have one half of the couple fail to show.

“I’m sure he’ll be here,” Wesley said again.

Sabrina wasn’t keeping an exact count, but she was pretty sure he’d made this same comment at least seven or eight times.

“Should we go ahead and order?” Veronica asked looking immensely uncomfortable.

Served her right. Maybe this would teach her a lesson.

Sabrina tried not to get too much glee from the circumstances but she just couldn’t help herself.

“Yes, let’s order.” Wesley looked even more appalled than his date.

The waiter arrived as if he’d sensed the shift of intentions at the table. He made his recommendations and then efficiently accepted their orders.

“You know,” Sabrina felt compelled to say considering the downtrodden expression worn by her good friends, “this really is okay.”

Wesley’s expression suddenly brightened. “There he is.”

Sabrina usually controlled her baser urges better than this but for some reason she totally blew it this time. Like Veronica, she almost broke her neck trying to get a glimpse of her incredibly late blind date.

Any oxygen in her lungs evaporated as instantaneously as a drop of water on a scorching desert rock.

David was gorgeous. Drop-dead gorgeous in fact.

Apparently noticing Sabrina’s stunned look, Veronica leaned close and whispered, “I told you. My Wesley has exceptional taste.”

Sabrina shot her a disdainful look. “The jury’s still out,” she muttered.

David paused at their table, apologizing profusely and then introductions were made.

It had been a very long time since anyone had waltzed into a room and blown Sabrina away like this guy did. Maybe she’d just been lonely for far too long. Whatever the case, the tide turned and the night suddenly had the makings of a great evening. She’d have to thank her friend later. Much later.

Dinner and dancing with expensive wine and intelligent conversation were enough to make any girl happy for a few hours. But by 1 a.m., Sabrina was ready to go. And her hurry had nothing to do with the food or the place or the time.

It was David.

She hadn’t been this determined to take a man home with her in far too long to recall.

Veronica and Wesley waved goodbye as they loaded into their taxi. David didn’t need to hail a cab because he had his own limo. He gave the driver Sabrina’s address before powering up the privacy shield.

At thirty-two, and well experienced in the ways of the world Sabrina was not usually this easily impressed. But she had to admit, this guy had pushed all the right buttons.

She wanted him.

“Would you like a nightcap?” He gestured to the minibar as the luxurious vehicle smoothly rolled away from the curb.

Sabrina moved her head slowly from side to side as she slid off first one shoe and then the other. There was only one thing she wanted right now.

As if he’d been waiting all night for that single cue, David loosened his tie and shouldered out of his jacket. He ushered Sabrina down onto the seat and spread open her heavy faux fur coat. He kissed her nose and then her eyes before placing his lips firmly over hers. The kiss was slow, thorough and incredibly sexy. The fire, by contrast, did not start out slow and easy, it blazed instantly and roared out of control, making her greedy for more.

He kissed his way down her throat and to the cleavage revealed by the low-cut dress. He smoothed his hands over her thighs and hips, and then he started to do things that drove her completely mad.

Within sixty seconds of his first kiss, he had her coming fast and furiously and he hadn’t even unzipped his trousers.

She came twice before they reached her building, David using nothing more than his skilled touch, his equally masterful kiss. He sent his driver home and they kissed some more as they entered her building. She didn’t remember how they managed the four flights to her floor, only the feel of his mouth and hands on her body. She couldn’t remember when she’d enjoyed kissing so much. There was something so enticing about his mouth.

Somehow they reached her apartment and she fumbled for the key. Once they were on the other side of that door, a desperate race to get naked started. By the time they fell onto the bed together, she was rushing toward climax yet again at the mere thought of finally having him inside her. She jerked open a drawer in her bedside table, fishing for a condom. He ripped open the package and slid on the protection sending her heart rate into triple digits just watching his hand slide over his hard, fully erect member.

He moved over her and kissed her long and deep before nudging firmly between her thighs. She’d almost forgotten the incredible ecstasy of that first moment of penetration. He pushed his way inside and held very still until they’d both caught their breath.

Then he started the frenzy all over again with his hands. The way he touched every place that longed for attention without her having to say a word was indescribably hedonistic, especially with that incredible sense of fullness where she needed it most. He massaged, licked and nuzzled her body while keeping his hips perfectly still. Every muscle in her body responded to his touch, begged for more.

And then he moved. Flexed those lean, powerful hips in that age-old rhythm that sent her over the edge in two deep thrusts.

Hours later, when he collapsed beside her she’d come no less than five times. A record.

Completely exhausted and utterly sated for the first time in what felt like forever, she drifted in and out of sleep. David slept like the dead beside her. Not that she could blame him. He’d worked hard to give her those five lovely orgasms.

Any man who could do that deserved plenty of rest.

She got up and went to the kitchen in search of a bottle of wine. Standing naked at the fridge, she peered inside to see if there was anything that struck her fancy in the way of a snack. She grabbed the block of cheese and a bunch of grapes and prepared a small platter of snacks. Her lover might not wake up, but she was starved.

With her bounty on a tray, she wandered back to the bedroom. She set the tray on the table by the window and then curled into the chair next to it. As she sipped her wine, she studied the man in her bed. She didn’t know that much about him except that his name was David Hedrick and he worked on Wall Street. Unlike Veronica, she wasn’t looking for commitment and certainly not for a husband, so no other details were especially essential.

The dim glow from the lamp on the bedside table provided just enough illumination for her to appreciate his numerous assets. Her gaze slid over his tight buttocks and along his long legs. No. She didn’t need a husband or even a steady boyfriend. But sex, well, that was another story. She’d forgotten just how much she enjoyed it.

It had been too long.

The image of another man loomed in her head and she pushed it aside. She told herself her long abstinence had nothing to do with him, but she wasn’t entirely convincing. But he was in the past, over, gone. She wasn’t one to dwell in the past.

She tipped her glass and emptied it in one long swallow. Sleep tugged at her, but she ignored it and poured herself another glass of wine. She intended to have at least two more before she let herself sleep. Otherwise she was sure to dream about that past she so badly wanted to forget.

Maybe that was what tonight’s desperate lovemaking had been about.

No, she argued. Tonight with David hadn’t been about the past. Tonight had been about her needs as a woman. Nothing else.

The telephone rang. She heard the annoying clatter from the living room. She’d long ago turned off the ringer to the bedside extension. If work called, they used her cell phone, not her landline.

She stood, grabbed the bottle of wine and trudged off to the living room to answer the call. If it was Veronica, then Sabrina might just have to kill her.

After a long swallow directly from the bottle, Sabrina grabbed the receiver. “This better be good,” she threatened.

Silence.

Well, hell. “Hello?”

More of that thick silence.

She hated when this happened. When she started to hang up, she head the sound…a whisper of air as if someone had taken a breath.

Dammit.

“I know you’re there. If you don’t want me to hear you, then hold your breath.” She waited three more beats before she hung up.

A quick glance at the clock confirmed her suspicions. 3:30 a.m. The call came at that same hour every time.

And she knew it was him. She couldn’t prove it, of course. But she knew.

Damn him.

Eric Drake. The Dragon.

The mere thought of his name sent shivers chasing one another over her skin.

She had worked hard to put him behind her, to get over him, but the wound had never completely closed. She’d let him so deep inside her that she wasn’t sure it was humanly possible to completely evict him.

He’d been her Interpol counterpart, her lover, her everything…and that had been a mistake.

One she would never make again.

She headed back to bed, sleep and the effects of the wine clawing at her now. She surrendered to it, let it push thoughts of him from her mind.

The shrill ring of the phone split the air once more.

Swearing, she rolled over and snatched up the receiver. “What?” If this was him… Why the hell did he do this? Why didn’t he just leave her alone?

“Sabrina?”

Oh, hell. Her sister.

“Leslie, sorry about that. I thought you were someone else.” Then she remembered the time. She sat bolt upright, the haze of sleep and wine dissolving instantly. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s Mom. You need to meet me at the hospital.”

And just like that Sabrina’s great night was over.