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Not if I can help it.
Alfonso sprinted upstairs. “Was this decision discussed with Santiago? Does he know you’ve got a missing Tracker? I’ve already told him that they’re being targeted by the Alliance. Does he know you plan to allow one of the Agency’s finest Trackers to go out alone?”
There was an icy pause before Jackson replied. No man wanted to be questioned about whether or not he’d checked with his superior for permission. “He’s in complete agreement with me. Lily isn’t just a nose. She’s an awesome fighter. Hell, she’s kicked my ass a few times.”
Yes, but these guys had no fucking idea what she might be up against. “Fine. Then I’m going with her.” He retrieved his army-green duffel bag and began jamming a few things inside.
Jackson laughed. “Dude, you better plan on telling her yourself because I sure as hell don’t want to. She’ll rip me a new one thinking we don’t believe she’s strong enough to do the job without help.”
Alfonso paused. If she heard he was coming, she’d leave before sundown and deal with the resulting energy drain, rather than deal with him. “Don’t tell her I’m coming. It’s imperative you stall her as long as possible. That woman is not to go out alone, understand? When she goes, she goes with me.”
“Wait. You’re not coming now, are you? It’s still daylight.”
“I’m leaving in five minutes.”
Jackson swore and muttered a few things under his breath. “You’ll be a friggin’ mess when you arrive.”
Yeah, maybe, but he was willing to take that chance. “My rig is outfitted as a pseudo Daytran vehicle. It came in handy a few times while working undercover. I’ll manage.” With his heavy weapons bag in one hand, he took the stairs two at a time.
“I need to clear this with Santiago, since you’re not technically an Agent.”
“You do that,” Alfonso said and slammed the phone shut.
CHAPTER FOUR
LILY PUSHED OPEN THE STEEL door at the far end of the parking garage with a bang, her heart thumping madly in her chest. She was angry, she told herself. Angry and pissed off, and not at all excited.
There he was. Just where she figured he’d be.
Alfonso leaned against the hood of her red Porsche, his long legs stretched out in front of him, one large boot crossed over the other, looking like he owned the whole damn place. The warm smell of leather and pine filled her nostrils as she marched toward him, her heels pounding on the pavement with every crushing beat of her heart.
An hour ago, while she’d assembled her weapons bag, the little hairs on the back of her neck had begun to tingle and thoughts of Alfonso kept filling her mind, despite her attempts to shut them down. And now, of course, she knew why. Her sensory abilities had detected him, knew he was nearby, whether her conscious self was completely aware of it or not. At least her scent memory wasn’t totally fried.
Shoving the duffel bag behind her, she stopped in front of him, feet squared, hands on her hips. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Calm as always, he shifted his weight to the other foot and examined his fingernails for a moment before he lazily lifted his gaze to meet hers. The clear blue of his eyes used to remind her of the color of truth, but all she saw now was icy deception. What a fool she’d been to trust her heart with someone like him.
A hint of a smile sat on his lips, his dimple appearing on one cheek. “What’s it look like I’m doing?”
“Listen, Alfonso. Don’t play games with me. My intelligence quota has increased exponentially since you last saw me and I’m not nearly as gullible. Why are you here? And I want the truth.”
His brow furrowed and he studied her face as if she were a science experiment that needed to be weighed, measured and cataloged. Then his gaze traveled slowly down her body, tickling every traitorous nerve ending. “You miss the latest Agency directive? Until further notice, all Trackers shall be accompanied by another Guardian while out in the field.”
“I’d have heard if the rules had changed.” Jackson hadn’t said anything about it a few minutes ago.
“It was just faxed to all the field offices in the region.”
How the hell would he know? He was obviously trying to trip her up, make her think it was official so she’d agree. “And last I knew, you’re not a Guardian. How’d you even get in here? The place is cloaked. Did Mackenzie tell you what was going on? She did, didn’t she? Or wait, Jackson!”
During the lame-ass emergency briefing that had cut into the precious time she should’ve been out searching for Kip, he hadn’t made eye contact with her. Not once. It totally was him. Next time she saw the guy, she was going to fry his ass.
“Nope.” He looked down, flicking something off his thigh. As he picked at the frayed edges of a small hole in his jeans, his thick lashes rested against his cheeks.
His nonchalance fanned her anger and every muscle in her body went rigid. How could he be so calm and act so totally uninterested? They hadn’t seen each other in over a year. The least he could do was shake her hand or give her a hug. Tell her she looked good or something. Like normal people would do. Normal people who’d once shared something special. God, she was so stupid for thinking he’d ever cared about her.
A tiny voice inside told her she wasn’t exactly welcoming to him either, but she shut that down instantly. She needed to keep her exterior shell as hard and rigid as possible in order to protect her too fragile heart. Love was a candy-coated fairy tale whose sugar high didn’t last long in the real world.
“Sorry to break it to you, but you’re not coming with me.” She poked a finger toward him and the loaded duffel bag almost slipped off her shoulder. She elbowed it behind her back again. “In fact, you’ve got a lot of nerve showing up like this. What do you mean accompanied by another Guardian, anyway? You’re not Agency.”
“Santiago okayed me coming on board temporarily to help you track down the missing trainee.”
It felt as if someone had slapped her. The Region Commander didn’t think she had the chops to handle this assignment on her own? Santiago must think she’d slacked off because Kip had disappeared under her watch. Despite the chill in the air, her internal temperature cranked up like a furnace and the stiff collar of her jacket suddenly became too tight.
She clenched her jaw and pressed her lips into a hard line. “Well, news flash for you. I don’t report directly to Santiago. I don’t need your help or anyone else’s, so get away from my car. It’s new and I don’t need any scratches or fingerprints.”
“He got the okay from Roxanne Reynolds. Does that make a difference?”
She had started to step over his legs, but that stopped her in her tracks. Roxanne was in charge of all Tracker Agents and her word was law. If you valued your job, you didn’t cross her. Unlike Santiago, her bite was much worse than her bark.
“Yeah, I thought it would.” He stood up, straightening to his full six-foot-four frame, taking full advantage of the fact that he was almost a full twelve inches taller than her. She had to crank her head back to keep eye contact with him and it made her feel even smaller. Damn. She should’ve worn heels.
A piece of his tousled blond hair fell to the middle of his cheek, and when he absently pushed it off his face, it slid back down anyway. The soft color of his eyes and the tiny wrinkles around the corners belied the hard planes of his square jaw and the rough texture of his unshaven face. Those large hands, with fingertips callused from playing the guitar, were incredibly dexterous, and that powerful body could be surprisingly tender. He was a mass of contradictions, wrapped up in a package too attractive for her own good.
She shouldered past him, the corner of her duffel smacking against his hip. Too bad it missed his balls. Yanking the car door open, she threw the bag inside, angry with herself for still being so physically attracted to him. He angled himself around to the side of the car, and leaned against the front quarter panel as if he was the one calling the shots.
“You wasted a lot of time driving down here,” she said. “Despite what everyone must think, I am perfectly capable of tracking Kip on my own. Now, step aside.” But he didn’t budge. Fine. He’d move his ass as soon as she hit the accelerator.
“I realize that,” he said. “You’re one of the best Trackers in the Agency. That’s not why I’m here.”
She crossed her arms and raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Then why are you here?”
“Despite what you must think, Lily, I worry about you. With this new Darkblood strategy, if they even so much as catch wind of you while you’re looking for your little trainee, they’ll ditch him in a heartbeat. He’s not who they wanted in the first place. I plan to be your temporary assistant. No, your bodyguard.”
“You? My assistant?” She lifted her chin and laughed. “That’s the most absurd thing I’ve heard in a long time. Wait. I think I understand. You’re feeling nostalgic and want to screw again, eh? You want to do it for old time’s sake because—” she lowered her voice to a caricature of him “—I can’t find anyone who shags like you do, baby.”
“Gimme a little credit here.”
Something flashed in those glacier eyes. If she didn’t know any better, she’d have thought he looked hurt. But that wasn’t possible. He was the one who had hurt her.
“Yeah, nothing says you care like a year’s worth of … of … nothing. I was much too naive, thinking you’d be back after things settled down. But I guess it was just an assignment to you. A long-term assignment, and once it was over, we were over.”
“Jesus, Lil.” He opened his mouth as if he were going to say more, but snapped it shut. The square corners of his jaw flexed over and over.
She’d struck a nerve. Good.
“When Mackenzie thought she saw you in the lab moments before she saw flames, I thought you’d been trapped inside. I spent the next few nights sifting through the ashes looking for your remains. I looked for that medallion I gave you for luck, but then you probably only wore it when you knew we were getting together anyway.”
He reached into his shirt and pulled out the gold pendant that swung on a leather cord around his neck.
She stared at it, stunned. He still wore it?
“I’m sorry,” he said, “but it couldn’t be helped. They had to believe I died along with Pavlos.”
She swallowed and tried to regain her composure. He’d probably put it on knowing he was coming to see her. “And you didn’t see fit to inform me of your little deception.”
When she’d thought he had died in the fire that day, a huge part of her had died as well. But when Mackenzie told her later that he was very much alive, she wasn’t sure what to think. Then, in one fateful phone conversation, when he’d told her he no longer loved her—even after all they had shared—it just about sent her over the edge. She’d sworn she’d never be such a sucker for romance and a handsome face again.
“For your sake, it was better if everyone thought I was dead. It still is.” He examined the medallion, its interconnected links with no beginning or end, as if he’d never seen it before. “I was hoping you’d moved on by now.”
“And what makes you think that I haven’t?”
His expression went suddenly blank as the implication of her words sank in. She could’ve sworn his pupils widened for a moment. Yeah, let him ponder that. Her gaze languished down his powerful body to make her point, over his lean hips and muscular legs, then back up to meet his icy-blue stare again. There was no way in hell he’d been celibate this whole time. No way. God, she didn’t want to even think about him lying between the legs of another woman.
With a sniff, she flipped her long ponytail to the other side, smoothing it over her shoulder, in order to keep her thoughts grounded in the present. And in the present, he pissed her off.
“You’re not tracking him by yourself, Lil. You’re clearly the original target. Santiago and Jackson are idiots to let you go alone. I told them both that, so I went around their authority. And if I were on speaking terms with my brother, he’d no doubt agree with me.”
She had to admit Alfonso was right about one thing. If Dom wasn’t on assignment in Australia, he would insist she have backup as well. They were cut from the same mold. Stupid, overprotective Serrano brothers. She scoffed and rolled her eyes.
He smacked his hand on the roof of her car and she jumped. “You are not. Going. Alone.” As he stepped around the open door and into her personal space, his jaw muscles tensed below his earlobes, the black of his pupils expanding against the blue.
Not wanting to touch him, she stepped backward, flattening herself against the back door of her car. In this position, his scent was stronger than ever, filling her head and activating memories that were too dangerous for her heart. He rested a hand on the roof, just inches from her face, and leaned in close. Her breath caught in her throat, and for a moment, she couldn’t remember if she had been breathing in or breathing out. He wasn’t going to try to kiss her, was he? Because if he did, she’d—
She stared at his full lips, recalling how they’d felt moving against her own, brushing over her neck, tickling the delicate skin beneath her chin and along her jaw.
Shit. He was talking. She blinked, tried to concentrate.
“I thought about forcing you to stop—I can and you know it.” He enunciated each word with deadly precision.
Her pulse quickened and the chain of her belly ring flickered on the sensitive skin of her lower abdomen. Their relationship had always been passionate; sometimes she’d been the one in charge, and other times he had. Clearly, he was taking the dominant role tonight, and although it pissed her off, it excited her on some level as well.
“I’d find him myself,” he said, “but my ability to track is a fraction as strong as yours. I can’t do it without you. My only choice is going with you and that’s what I intend to do. Give me your keys. I’m driving.”
No one ordered her around. Gritting her teeth, she pushed him away, thinking if she wanted to, she could grab him by the shoulders right now and plant a knee or an elbow in a number of tender spots. Force me? My ass. She’d taken down bigger men than him just for the sport of it.
“There is no way in hell you’re coming with me. I don’t need you or want you. Now get out of my way.”
“Lil, please.” The brittle planes of his face softened just a little. “If you’re driving, how do you expect to concentrate on tracking your friend’s scent? You’ll be faster, more effective, if all other stimuli are eliminated. Come on, let me drive. You just close your eyes, concentrate and tell me which way to go.”
She examined her fresh manicure and pushed back a cuticle. Her goal was to find Kip as soon as possible and she supposed it would be easier if she didn’t have to drive.
“My way is much more efficient,” he continued. “Come on. We don’t have time for this.” He snapped his fingers, as if she were an insolent child.
She was about to acquiesce—he did have a point—when this arrogance of his slipped under her skin again like a newly sharpened dagger. Digging her nails into the palms of her hands, she drew in a breath to calm herself. She was about to tell him to go to hell, but then Kip’s eager, young face, flush with excitement over his first few tracking assignments, flashed in her mind. Finding him, getting him back safely, was the most important issue. Not her past relationship with a man she used to love.
Fine. She’d table her emotions and put up with Alfonso temporarily for Kip’s sake. But one thing was for sure. Despite their past and the fact that he was still so damned attractive, she would not allow him to get into her heart. He’d played her once. She would not let her guard down again.
She fished the keys out and threw them at him hard enough to make a mark. With lightning-fast reflexes, he snatched them out of the air and gave them a jaunty little toss before he turned his back and grabbed the door handle.
“Let’s get one thing straight,” she called over her shoulder. “I’m only agreeing to this because of Kip.”
“Fair enough.”
The leather squeaked as he slid his large body down into the seat, and he scanned the interior of her new car. By the time she’d jogged around to the passenger door, he’d reached over and cracked it open for her from the inside. As she climbed in beside him, the Panamera’s engine roared to life, a deep, rumbling, powerful sound. His fingers caressed the top of the dash as if he were familiarizing himself with an exciting new lover that he couldn’t wait to bed. She had to admit, he did look pretty hot behind the wheel.
“Ever drive a sport-mode dual clutch?” Her voice sounded a little too scratchy, so she cleared her throat.
He adjusted the seat and mirrors in such a precise, preoccupied manner that she wondered if he’d even heard what she’d said. “How hard can it be?”
Oh, this should be interesting. She leaned over, pressed a button on the console near his thigh, taking care not to touch him, and popped the gear shift back to center.
“What was that?”
“Turned off the sport mode and put it back into automatic. The dual clutch takes some getting used to.”
He quirked an eyebrow at her in a flippant, you-don’t-know-what-you’re-talking-about look. Figured. All men thought their DNA made them better drivers.
“I don’t have time to give you a lesson,” she said. “And I can’t be distracted wondering when the hell you were going to shift.”
As if his mere presence just inches away wasn’t distracting enough.
CHAPTER FIVE
“THIS IS IT.” THE MAN TAPPED a knuckle on the taxi window. A small, unadorned prayer box dangled from a hole in his thick pinkie nail and clinked against the glass. “Wait for me around the corner.”
“For how long?” the driver said, his nicotine-graveled voice sounding more like a growl. “I’m scheduled for a pickup in an hour.”
The passenger slipped him a hundred-dollar bill, the pads of his fingers brushing against the cabbie’s outstretched palm, and he repeated his command. “Wait for me. I’ve got another one marked for you when I return.”
The driver’s eyelids fluttered a few times and his worn expression softened. “Sure, I’ll be right up there.”
After navigating past a line of young palm trees and stepping over the uneven pavement of the walkway, the man stood on the front porch as sounds of a TV blared through the half-closed door. Noticing a scuff on the toe of his shoe, he stooped to brush it off, irritated when it didn’t disappear. He straightened up, realigned his black jacket and rang the doorbell.
He waited, then rang it again.
“Brice!” a female voice called from inside. “The pizza guy’s here.” Footsteps shuffled on the fake Spanish-tile floor a moment later.
“I didn’t order any damn—”
The door was flung open with gusto, creating a slight breeze across his forehead. He smoothed his slicked hair back in place as a man in a stained college sweatshirt appeared at the other side of the screen. The smell of cigarettes, fried food and beer-laden blood filled his nostrils. He pulled a handkerchief from his inside pocket, folded it carefully and dabbed his upper lip.
“Oh, Jesus. Ah, Father, what can I do for you?” The man pushed the screen door and held it open. “Would you like to come in?”
He touched the mandarin collar of his jacket. It wasn’t the first time he’d been mistaken for a man of the cloth, and it probably wouldn’t be the last. “Heavens, no. I’m tremendously sorry I did not call first. I don’t wish to trouble you, but I have a simple request that had to be made in person.”
“Yeah, sure, what is it? Father … Father …?”
“Rejavik. The name is Rejavik.” With his hands clasped at his waist, he held a smile in check and tried to look pious. “You take on boarders from time to time, is that correct?”
