Taken By the Spy

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“Gee, thanks. I always love sounding like some sort of disposable power tool.”

“You don’t throw out power tools,” he corrected gently.

She merely narrowed her eyes and glared at him. Fine. So she’d never seen a power tool in person in her life. He knew darn good and well what she had meant. She sulked for several minutes, trying to figure out some better way to get into Cuba. But she was completely out of her league on this one. She turned her attention to something that had bothered her from the very beginning. “How did Camarillo find you? Wasn’t your meeting with whoever you were supposed to meet with a secret?”

He looked roundly irritated that she dared to question his work and didn’t bother to answer.

She wasn’t about to let him go all strong and silent on her, like she didn’t matter enough to talk to. No, sirree. She got enough of that from her father. She poked again—something simple to get him talking. “How did you get those boathouse doors open?”

His teeth flashed white in the darkness. “Have you ever heard of a don’t ask, don’t tell policy? If you won’t ask, I won’t tell.”

She absorbed that one in silence. Eventually, she asked, “How long are we supposed to sit here, waiting for your phone call?”

He shrugged. “Could be all night.”

Great. All night in a dark, secluded place with this macho male. Darned if that didn’t make her heart beat a little faster. More in an attempt to distract herself than actually make conversation, she commented lightly, “I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry.”

“Gee, I’ll just call the local French gourmet delivery joint and have them bring us a seven-course meal,” he retorted.

She glared and replied loftily, “There’s food in the Baby Doll’s galley.”

He looked startled, like he’d forgotten for a moment that the Baby Doll had a compact, but completely stocked, cabin.

She ducked below and turned on the halogen track lighting. It twinkled subtly overhead, lending the space a romantic glow. She opened the small cupboard above the microwave oven. “There’s canned spaghetti or tuna fish,” she called up.

“I’ll take spaghetti.” He joined her in the tiny cabin, filling its entire space with his dark presence. He sprawled on the leather couch, a feline predator at rest. She passed him a piping hot container of spaghetti and zapped one for herself. When it was ready, she moved to the far end of the couch and perched cautiously on it. She promptly burned her tongue, but did her best not to show it. Darn, that man flustered her! She shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

“We could always break into the main house and raid the pantry,” he suggested.

“Let’s not,” Kinsey said dryly. “We’re already imposing. And these are my friends.”

His only reply was a casual shrug.

They finished their meal, such as it was, in silence. Mitch arose and held out his hand for her cup and spoon. She handed them over and he tossed them in the galley’s sink. He’d just turned to head for the steps when his cell phone shattered the deep silence. Kinsey jumped nearly as hard as he did. He fished it out of his pocket.

“Go,” he bit out.

His eyebrows drew together in a frown as he listened, and his gaze flicked over to her. Whoever was on the other end of the conversation was talking about her, she was sure of it.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Mitch rumbled. He disconnected. Turned to face her. “Seems we’ve got a little problem. Your father doesn’t want you to help us with this operation. He thinks it’ll place you in too much danger. You’re, and I quote, totally unprepared to deal with the pressures of the situation.”

Heat flooded her face. This was exactly what she was talking about! People took one look at her and assumed she wasn’t good for anything. “In other words, he thinks I can’t hack it,” she forced out.

“More or less.”

“Give me your phone,” she snapped. She held out her open palm expectantly. One eyebrow raised, he laid the device in her hand.

She stabbed out her father’s private number and waited impatiently for the call to go through. Richard Hollingsworth’s voice came on the line. “Hello?”

“Hi Dad, it’s your useless, spoiled daughter calling.”

“Honey, are you all right? They told me some guy shot at you today.”

“Oh, I’m fine. And that guy’s shark bait,” she replied breezily. “The man who saved my life today needs a favor from me, though, and I’m going to do it. I hear you’re worried, so I’m calling to tell you I’ll be fine. He says I need to stay with him and I believe him. I trust this man implicitly to keep me safe.”

Mitch’s gaze riveted on her at those words. Her embarrassed gaze skittered away from his.

“Kinsey, do you have any idea who this Perovski fellow is? I had my staff run a profile on him, and you can’t believe some of the things he’s done. Plainly put, he’s a killer. He’s a covert operator and runs around blowing things up and assassinating people for a living. You have no business being around someone like him.”

The condescension in her father’s voice set her teeth on edge. “Be that as it may, I’m going to help him with the next phase of his current mission.”

“No.”

“I wasn’t calling to ask permission, Dad. I’m telling you how it’s going to be.”

Her father’s voice rose to a bull roar. “Don’t you take that tone with me, young lady. I control your trust fund. And I forbid you to do this.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way. But I am going to do it.”

“I’ll cut you off. No money, no credit cards, no bank account. Nothing.”

Twenty minutes ago, that threat might have given her pause. But after Mitch’s scathing opinion of her utter uselessness as a human being, she’d be damned if her father would bully her out of this.

“Do what you have to, Dad, but my decision’s made. Good night.” She closed the phone and handed it back to Mitch in silence.

“What did he threaten to do to you?” Mitch asked quietly.

“He’s cutting me off financially.”

“Totally?” Mitch sounded surprised.

“Yup.”

“Man, that sucks. I can look into having the boys put you on the payroll for the duration of this op if you’d like.”

She grinned ruefully. “Thanks, but I’ll muddle through until he gets over his snit. My mother is loaded, compliments of her divorce lawyer, and she’ll slip me some cash if I empty my bank account before he gets over his snit. Besides, I can always threaten to go public with what my father’s doing to me and he’ll back off. Negative publicity is very bad for a man in his position. He’s up for reelection this November.”

Mitch winced and grinned simultaneously. “Ouch. Blackmailing your old man? That’s cold. I like it.”

She grinned back, reassured she’d made the right decision. She wanted some of the competence that was Mitch Perovski for herself. If she spent a few days with him, maybe some of that cool confidence of his would rub off on her. Goodness knew, she needed it. If he could show her how to get people to take her even a little more seriously, it would be worth all the money in her trust fund and more. She was sick and tired of being walked all over.

In fact, the more she thought about it, the more she liked the idea. If she could shed her socialite image and become a strong, independent woman…oh, yes. The idea made her tingle from head to toe. Wild horses weren’t going to keep her away from Mitch Perovski, no matter what risk that entailed.

Chapter 4

Mitch glanced around the tight confines of the Baby Doll’s cabin. The sofa no doubt folded out into a bed. One bed. Two people. He winced mentally. He could be a gentleman and offer to sleep up top, propped up in one of the chairs or stretched out on the hard deck. But this was likely to be the last decent night’s sleep he got for the next several months, and dammit, they were both adults. They could sleep in the same bed without anything untoward happening between them.

Kinsey stifled a yawn.

He said lightly, “Let’s get some shut-eye. No telling when the boys will be here to pick us up. Operations rule number one: sleep when you can.”

She nodded without protest, unlocked the sofa, and pulled it out into a bed. With her working at one end and him at the other, they made the bed with satin sheets—what else for the Baby Doll?—cashmere blankets, and fluffy eiderdown pillows.

“Where are you sleeping?” she asked, all innocence.

“Here. How about you?”

Her alarmed blue gaze snapped to his. She looked down at the inviting bed. Back up at him. “Oh.”

He shrugged, but it didn’t relieve the abrupt tension in his shoulders. “I don’t know about you, but I’m beat. And tomorrow promises to be rougher than today.” Why did he give a damn if she refused to sleep with him or not? She wasn’t some princess—which she was taking great pains to convince him of. She was just a person. Just like him.