Spies, Lies and Lovers Page 2

  His brain was short-circuiting as she fished a piece of ice from the glass. When she brought the ice to her lips, then let them close around it in what looked like a gentle kiss, Alex closed his eyes and started reciting the elements of the periodic table. The men in the room were so hot, she could have taken an ice cube to any one of them, Alex included, and it wouldn’t just have melted; it would have given off steam.

  From there, it wasn’t long before a couple of cowboys were ready to come to blows over the woman. Alex was torn between the certainty that she’d come here after him and deserved whatever trouble she found in the process—and a damnable sense of honor that told him he ought to save her from herself.

  As intelligent as he was, Alex made incredibly stupid decisions when it came to women. He had an innate need to try to fix whatever was wrong for them—something that had gotten him into trouble more than once. He wondered if the person who had decided to send her here knew that about him.

  Angry, Alex let the woman sweat it out for a few moments. If she was really scared, she might be in the mood to talk by the time he got her out of here—if he wasn’t picked up the minute he stepped outside. Besides, he wondered just what she could do to defend herself. If she was a trained agent, she shouldn’t have any problem getting away from a couple of middle-aged drunks, one of whom had just grabbed her by the arm.

  “Let me go,” she demanded.

  When Willie didn’t, she drew up her right knee and jammed her shoe—stiletto heel first—into his shin. It was nothing flashy, nothing requiring a great deal of training, but highly effective.

  Alex winced, almost feeling the pain in his own leg, as all hell broke loose and he charged into the middle of it. He was fighting his way toward the woman when she fell to the floor. The sound of breaking glass, followed by a spray of bits of glass, brought the room to silence. Another cowboy named Hawkins swung the jagged edge of the bottle in a semicircle around him and the woman on the floor.

  “Back off,” Hawkins warned him.

  Alex thought the jagged end of the bottle was too close to the woman for him to try anything at that moment, but Willie, on his feet again, didn’t care. He charged toward Hawkins. With a growl, Hawkins crashed to the floor, lashing out with the broken bottle as he toppled.

  The woman gasped. Alex made it to her side, shoved three other drunks away, then turned back to her and saw a trickle of blood form a thin line down the woman’s mostly bare chest. Damn. He’d waited too long to step in.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hawkins coming back for more, Willie rushing in from the other side. Alex shoved his foot into Hawkins’s big, puffy belly, took the heel of his hand and let Willie run into it with his nose.

  A gunshot blasted through the seedy bar. “That’s enough!” yelled Buck.

  Willie swore at Alex. “You broke my damned nose!”

  “Get near me again and I’ll break something else,” Alex told him.

  “Enough,” Buck said. “You boys get back to your seats.”

  The woman still lay on the floor. The long, thin cut on her chest was bleeding, but not heavily. Relieved, Alex decided it probably stung like hell but wasn’t serious.

  “Do me a favor, Connor.” the bartender warned. “Get her out of here.”

  “Come on,” Alex said to her.

  She put her hand on the floor to brace herself, then gasped.

  “What?” Alex asked.

  “Glass,” she replied, her voice tight with pain as she stared at her hands.

  “Hold out your arms,” Alex said.

  Gripping her forearms, he pulled her to her feet. She swayed a bit on those ridiculous heels, looking scared and not ready to trust any man now.

  Buck gave Alex a hearty recommendation. “Believe me, honey. You’re safer with him than anybody else in this room. And if you left by yourself, you wouldn’t get half a mile before one of these guys caught up with you.”

  Through impossibly thick lashes, she stared up at Alex for the longest time. Finally she grabbed her purse from the bar and turned to follow him.

  “Do me a favor, honey,” Buck called out as they left. “Don’t come back any time soon.”

  The woman glared at Buck, then followed Alex outside into the near-blinding sunshine and oppressive heat. Alex was surprised and relieved that no one jumped them right away. He scanned the area and saw nothing amiss.

  Could he have been wrong about her? Or were her friends simply lying in wait for him? Maybe waiting for him to lead the way to his cabin? Assuming they weren’t already there, digging through everything he owned. Alex wasn’t worried that they’d find what they were looking for—at least, not without his cooperation. But he had no idea who had found him. Some possibilities were definitely worse than others.

  “Come on,” he said to the woman, leading her around the corner of the building where he’d parked his bike. Cock ing his head to the south, he asked, “Your car’s that way?”

  She nodded. “About a mile from here.”

  “Maybe I can fix it,” Alex said, wondering if she did indeed have a broken-down car, wondering if she would drive off and leave if he managed to fix it. Alex doubted it.

  Then he wondered if someone had somehow reached inside his head and sifted through his brain cells trying to come up with the perfect way to get to him. Or to tempt him. Whatever the intent, it had worked. The woman definitely had his attention.

  Alex held out his helmet to her, then remembered the damage she’d done to her hands. He put the helmet on her himself, his hand brushing against her chin when he fastened the clasp, her eyes huge and wide and dark, the kind a man could drown in.

  Damn, her skin was soft.

  She was wearing too much makeup and had fussed too much with her hair, doing that Texas big-hair thing. Hers was dark and didn’t even reach her chin, but it was all...puffy. Alex didn’t understand big hair. Still, there was something delicate about her—her eyes maybe, or her mouth. How she managed to look delicate with the makeup and the hair and the leather, he couldn’t understand. But she did. He wondered what the real “her” looked like.

  Alex thought about all he’d given up in the past year of work without end. Until today, he hadn’t realized how much he missed being close to a woman. And she could be just that, he argued with himself. She could be nothing but a sexy, soft-skinned, sweet-smelling woman whose car had broken down in the middle of nowhere. It was unlikely, but still a possibility.

  Gently, he took her injured hand in his and checked her palms. Somehow, he managed not to let himself think of how soft her hands were or how angry it made him that anyone had hurt her this way, no matter who she was or why she was here. As a last-ditch effort at self-preservation, he decided he couldn’t let himself look into those pretty eyes of hers again or do anything more than glance at the vulnerable look on her face.

  Oh, she was good at this, he decided as he finished with her injured hand. “How’s the rest of you?”

  “I think there’s some glass in my back.”

  Great. He gritted his teeth and walked in a half circle around her. The tight skirt stretched across her bottom just as enticingly as he’d imagined it would, and from this side, the top exposed even more creamy soft skin. It also revealed angry-looking scratches on her right shoulder. He brushed his hand across them, and she tensed. Looking lower, he saw jagged tears in the tiny skirt, where it swelled against the curve of her hips.

  Alex groaned, wondering if he’d somehow offended the entire universe to deserve this kind of torture.

  “That bad?” she asked.

  When he thought about his options, he decided it was indeed “that bad.”

  “Hold on,” he grumbled, putting one hand on her waist, remembering too late that that part of her was bare, as well. She sucked in a breath, the motion sending her skin retreating from his touch. He was suddenly fascinated by every little move she made, every indrawn breath, every inch of exposed skin.

  Determined to get this o
ver with, Alex ran his other hand along the tears of the skirt, then thought of the tortures still facing him. If he took her back to his place, he was going to have to play doctor. There was no way she could reach some of these cuts herself. Alex had one very disturbing image of her lying naked across his bed, of his hands skimming up and down her body as he made sure he’d gotten all the embedded glass out of her skin. The periodic table didn’t stand a chance of numbing his senses to that kind of temptation.

  Or he could leave her here, he thought. If she followed him, she followed him. If she put a bullet in his back, he’d die. At this point, he’d done all he could to protect his work and to see that it didn’t fall into the wrong hands.

  But when Alex turned to face her, the look in her eyes was enough to slay him. He saw a faint sheen of tears glittering in her brown eyes before she lowered those luxuriously long lashes to shield herself from his gaze, saw the faint trembling in her pouty little bottom lip before she curled it over her bottom teeth and bit down hard on it. She’d lost all that arrogance and sophistication he’d sensed in the bar and looked like a scared, lost woman on the edge of losing control.

  Giving in to the impulse to stop her before she inflicted any real damage to herself, Alex came closer still and let the tips of his fingers softly stroke her lower lip. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”

  She didn’t even breathe, just gazed up at him, studying every inch of his face, obviously wary that he’d come this close, that he’d touched her this way. Alex still had his hand on the side of her face. His thumb traced the line of her bottom lip once again, and he tried very hard to ignore that way she smelled and the way she suddenly seemed so fragile, so feminine. She had narrow shoulders and hips, stood maybe five feet three inches without those ridiculous high heels, had a neat and trim body, yet was still obviously all woman.

  She stayed still for what could have been five minutes or five seconds. Alex had honestly lost all touch with reality and the passage of time. And then she merely stepped back, leaving his hand to fall to his side, and said nothing, merely looked at him. Strange, he thought. She looked more wary now than she had when she’d ended up on the floor of the bar.

  What kind of woman would be more frightened by the gentle touch of his fingers on her lips than the threat of a half-dozen drunken men dragging her into the back room of a bar and tearing off her clothes? Alex was intrigued by her now, which was likely every bit as dangerous as his urge to save her from this mess.

  “Lady,” he muttered as he pulled the hem of his T-shirt from the waistband of his jeans, “if this is an act, you’re very good at it.”

  As he advanced toward her, she paled—because of what he’d said, or because she thought he was going to strip off his clothes right in front of her? It only made him more curious.

  “The cut,” he explained, taking two steps forward for every one she took in retreat.

  “What?”

  Alex pointed to the cut running down her chest. “It’s bleeding.”

  She finally stopped backing away. He had to get much too close in order to use the hem of his shirt to dab at the cut. To make matters worse, the injury extended all the way down to the point where her skin swelled against the neckline of her top. His T-shirt was so thin he could feel the warmth of her flesh, could easily imagine having his hands on her bare breasts. He watched them rise and fall with each breath she took, felt the movement as well. By the time he was done, he wasn’t sure he could breathe.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  At least her voice sounded a little strained—not that it came close to giving him the satisfaction he now craved.

  Alex stepped back. “We need to get out of here.”

  He climbed onto the bike and started the engine. He faced straight ahead as he told her to climb aboard. Her weight settled onto the bike. Alex felt nothing more than the vaguest impression of her body behind him as she slid as far back on the seat as she could to avoid touching him, something he truly appreciated. Still, he couldn’t let her stay there, because he could tell by the awkward way she seated herself behind him that she’d never ridden a bike before.

  Hanging his head, he muttered, “What’s your name, angel face?”

  She hesitated for a moment. “Geri.”

  Geri. It fit, he decided. Even if it wasn’t her real name, it fit.

  “I’m Alex,” he said, having long ago realized people were less likely to remember a man named Alex than one using some other name to which he couldn’t remember to respond.

  “Is something wrong?” she asked softly.

  “You’re going to have to trust me on this, Geri. If you don’t get a little closer to me and hang on tight, you’re going to fall off this bike before we go ten yards.”

  “Oh.”

  She eased herself against him, her bare thighs pressed against his buttocks, her leather-clad breasts against his back, her hands on his shoulders. He took her hands, pulled them around his waist, and pressed her palms flat against his abdomen, a move that brought every part of her that much closer to him.

  Only a mile, he told himself. Her car was a mile away. If there was any compassion left in this world, the car would start and she would be gone.

  A moment later they stood frowning down at a sleek, flashy, very expensive convertible. Geri claimed it was stalling and sputtering, so she’d pulled off the interstate. Before she could find a garage, the car had died.

  Just for the hell of it, Alex tried starting it, to no avail. He checked the most obvious things he knew, and the next time he tried the engine, the car locked up on him totally. Nothing happened when he turned the key.

  “Does this thing have a security system?” he asked.

  “Yes.” She was standing by the side of the road looking nervously toward town. “Won’t those men come after us?”

  “Maybe.” Resisting the urge to cuss at the car, Alex explained, “That’s the only bar within a forty-five-mile radius, and most men don’t want to have to drive that far for a drink. Buck, the bartender, owns the place, and he’s known to hold a grudge. Most everybody understands that if they make him mad enough, he won’t serve them again for a long, long time. That should be enough to make Willie and Hawkins think long and hard about coming after you.”

  “Oh.”

  Alex tried the car one last time, setting off an annoying blast of the car’s horn that continued at three-second intervals. Shouting, he said, “I don’t suppose you could make it stop!”

  She pressed a series of buttons on the oversize key, and the car quieted. “Sorry,” she said. “It’s a little temperamental.”

  Alex frowned, truly annoyed. She could have shut down the car herself—there were security systems capable of that—if she had reason to want to be stuck in this godforsaken town with him.

  He weighed his options, which were few and far between. Leaving her to fend for herself was one he discarded right away. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if she was telling the truth and something happened to her because he was too paranoid to help her. He could take her someplace, if she’d go. Or he could keep her with him. If someone knew enough about him to have sent her here after him, sending her away now wasn’t going to save him. Neither was taking off. She wouldn’t have come alone. Someone was probably watching every move they made. Damn. Alex couldn’t outrun them. Hopefully, he could outsmart them eventually. First, he had to know what he was up against. He had to find out who she was and whom she worked for, and his best chance of doing that was to keep her with him.

  He turned to the woman who might well be his downfall and asked if she wanted anything from the car. She retrieved an expensive-looking leather tote bag from the trunk. Curiously, the car let her do that without the slightest sound of protest.

  “Where are we going?” she asked, looking wary.

  “My place.” She started to protest, but Alex cut her off. “Look, you can stay right here on the side of the road if you like. But you should know there’s n
o place in town where you can rent a room. And in case you haven’t noticed, there isn’t a lot of traffic on this road.”

  “I noticed,” Geri said, managing to look quite troubled and more than a little vulnerable, despite her outrageous outfit.

  Alex had been curious as to how much of a fight she’d put up about going with him. It seemed most women would be worried about their own safety, and she had nothing but a stranger’s word that she was safer with Alex than with anyone else in that bar, which wasn’t saying much, considering the crowd.

  “How ’bout this,” he offered, strapping her bag to the back of the bike. “Let’s get you cleaned up, find something to eat, and then we’ll talk about where you can go from there, okay?”

  She agreed. Too easily, Alex thought.

  “There’s a motel in Red Rock, about forty-five minutes from here. If you like, I’ll take you there tonight,” he said. If she accepted, he’d be rid of her. If she refused, well... that should tell him something.

  Geri said nothing, simply nodded her head. He hopped on the bike and braced himself for the moment when she’d climb on as well. He didn’t flinch, didn’t so much as breathe when her arms gripped him tightly around the waist and her body was once again pressed against his. Then he revved up the bike and they took off.

  Chapter 2

  I could always kill him, Geri told herself.

  If she was honest with herself, she’d admit that she’d already been tempted to do just that. Even before the agency had been given the task of hunting him down, she’d considered extending her medical leave and taking off on her own to find him. And kill him.

  There was an annoying little voice inside her head saying that it wasn’t the way she was brought up—to be judge, jury and executioner for anybody. She was a soldier, first, last, and always. Her superiors gave her orders and she carried them out, and no one had told her to kill him. But he deserved to die, and she knew a half-dozen ways to kill a man with her bare hands alone.