The Risqué Target (9 page)

Why did Nancy say Tantum Maddox doesn’t exist? He and Marcus Richards are the same damn man, doesn’t she know that? Is NESA really so clueless? What the hell is going on?

“Does he know you work for NESA?” Nancy said.

“He may guess, but I didn’t tell him anything.”

“If he doesn’t, he'll find out. He's excellent at his job. That's why we’ve kept him around for so long. Don’t reveal your involvement in the bombing, Nala. The only way you're going to get him to slip up is to confuse him, and that is not easy.”

“It may take more than that,” Nala said. Dangerous was an understatement.

Nancy smiled. It almost looked strange. “He's sexy, Nala, even irresistible. He knows what to say and how to seduce a woman. That’s the weapon he’ll use to confuse you. Don't let him.”

With absolute certainty now, she answered, “I won't.”

Tapping her finger on the desk, Nancy searched Nala’s face. “I believe you,” she said at last. “That's why I want you on this assignment.”

“But what does he have to do with the 2009 bombings?”

“Everything you need to know is in that file. Now go home and get prepped. He's already here in Washington, and if he runs true to form, he'll find you soon. Don’t offer him anything, Nala.” She tapped a finger on her temple. “With this one, it’s important to keep him confused.”

Nala stood, picked up the file, and turned to leave.

“Remember, Nala, Marcus Richards uses his charms and good looks to get what he wants. To him, sex is just another weapon. Don’t be enticed by him.”

“Let him try. I’ll never forget he killed Gabe.”

****

Nala was tempted to look at the file the minute she left Nancy's office, but decided to wait until she got home where there were no distractions. Besides, she had to call Gidget. She clipped her Bluetooth to her ear.

“Hey, chickie. You gotta stop leaving me hanging. I do worry about you. Where have you been?”

“Locked up with Tantum Maddox.”

“You found him? What did you do with—”

Nala interrupted her, “Can't get into it right now. I need you to check out someone for me.”

“You're a tease, Nala Dekker. OK, shoot. Who is it?”

“Marcus Richards.”

Nala heard Gidget's intake of breath. “The Dark Angel?”

“The what?” Nala asked.

“The Iris Flower’s name for him. You've heard of her?”

“She's that art thief, right? The one obsessed with Monet's
Iris
painting?”She recalled the story from some years ago.

“Yes, Victoria Barton. She stole a lot of paintings in the early 2000s. We acquired the contract in 2005, and it was one of our agents who nabbed her. But he didn’t do it with a weapon. He seduced her, and she fell in love with him. Victoria Barton calls him her Dark Angel.”

Nala believed it. Any woman not on her guard could easily fall for his charm. She’d almost done that herself.

“See, The Iris Flower, she's been on a few talk shows. The last one was, uh… hold on ….” Silence rang through the line momentarily. “
The Massy Williams Show
, that's it! While she was on the show via satellite from jail, she talked about her Dark Angel. She’d even painted a picture of him. I'll send it to you. I've never seen the man, but the painting is breathtaking. He's darkly striking, but he has the eyes of an angel.”

“I’ve met Marcus Richards, and he's not that hot,” Nala lied.

“Truly?” Gidget's tone was laced with soft mockery. “My little wild kitten, if he looks anything like the painting, you need glasses. He's magnificent. Take another look when I send it. See if it's the same man you met, then try to convince me he’s not hot.”

“He's all right.” That was all Nala was going to give her.

“What does he have to do with Tantum Maddox?” Gidget asked.

“Nothing. I just got back from seeing Nancy Reich, and she assigned me to Marcus Richards.”

“She assigned you to investigate one of our own?”

“Yeah. She thinks he may have something to do with the bombings in 2009.”

It wasn’t a lie. She just wasn't sure how much she should reveal, including that Tantum and Marcus were the same man. Something was wrong, and she didn’t want to involve Gidget in it. Nala needed time to think. She also had to read the file Nancy gave her, gather her memories of the bombings, and sort it all out. “I wonder how much information you’ll get on him?” she said. “NESA’s security isn’t meant to be broken, even by one of their own.”

“I'll do my magic,” Gidget said. “But if you'll be spending time with The Dark Angel, you'd better watch yourself. I hear he's very good at what he does. Seducing the ladies, that is.”

Nala let out a snide chuckle. “Maybe he's never met a lady like me. One who wants him, yes, but dead, not in her bed.”

“Hey now! Sounds like you’re talking about Tantum Maddox. Two different men, two different jobs, remember?”

“I’ll call you soon.” Nala clicked her Bluetooth off, irritated at herself for her slip. She knew it hadn’t gotten by Gidget. Her AC might play the airhead, yet she was anything but.

A moment later, Nala received a call from her sister Brook, all excited about packing up her old salon and moving into a new one. Nala chatted for a few minutes, but she was anxious to work on the file.

She unlocked her apartment door, tossed her keys on the table, and placed the file on the counter. Coffee was what she needed. She’d tried to make up for her sleepless night on the plane, but couldn’t. She was far too frustrated about losing Tantum Maddox.

A hard object poked her in the lower back.

Click, click, click
.

The familiar smacking sound echoed in her ears. A warm breeze bathed the side of her face as a solid body grazed her backside. “Told you I'd find you.”

It was rougher and harsher this time, but she’d recognize that spine-bending voice anywhere. Tantum Maddox.
Nancy said he was coming, but how did he find me this quickly?

“So you did,” she purred. Damned if she’d show him he’d knocked her for a loop. “Is that a gun pressed into my backside”—she glanced over her shoulder at him—“or are you just happy to see me?”

He gazed at her with indolent, unaffected eyes.
Damn those eyes!

“Well, let me say this.” He pushed the firm object farther into her flesh. “Whatever it is, I guarantee you it's loaded and ready to go.”

She looked past the gun to his waist, making her point, but came back up to only be greeted by his smug, cool face. She bit her lower lip. “I like the sound of that, loaded and all ready to go,” she flirtatiously mused.

“Don't play with me, airport girl.” He lazily exhaled. “There's something else I guarantee you, Nala. You will lose.”

She hesitated after hearing him say her name, but swiftly collected her wits. “Don’t be too sure about that.”

He stared at her with unreadable eyes until he finally said, “The game you're playing. Let's just say I have a bit of experience with it, and sweetheart, you will not win.”

“Oh?” she lifted an eyebrow. “Try me,” she countered, realizing the board where they were about to play this particular game might be the bed, the floor, or anywhere their naked bodies landed. The worst of it all was, even knowing he was Gabe's killer, her insubordinate body still wanted this man. Even when he stood behind her with a gun to her back.

“Okay,” he sighed as if bored. “Have it your way, but I get to make the first move.” His gaze traveled to her lips. “And the card I've just drawn says to instruct my opponent to move three spaces down and show me what she can do with that sassy mouth of hers.” His eyes lowered to his crotch. “I want to feel those sweet lips of yours taking in every inch of my—”

She snapped her gaze up to his. A sudden heat smoldered in his blazing blue eyes. He grinned. “What? Now that you know the stakes, you don’t want to play the game?”

Hell yeah
, she'd be ready to play his enticing game. If he’d been anybody in the world but the man who’d murdered her partner. She’d drop to her knees, tear his nicely fitting jeans from his body and take the thickness of his cock into her mouth. With both hands wrapped around him, she'd start at the tip of his bold arrogance and lick him until he slid easily past her lips. Wetting his shaft and swirling her tongue over his head, she'd consume as much of him as she could. She'd suck up all that cocky arrogance and swallow every last damn bit of it.

If he’d been anybody in the world but who he was.

He stood, waiting for her reply, unaware of the thorough blow job she'd just given him in her mind. She considered giving her watering mouth a cleansing swipe with the back of her hand. Instead, she licked her lips and then smoothed them together. “It appears you're not going to play fair. You’re making up the rules as you go along.” With a tart smirk, she sandbagged him. “And you mistake crude for sexy.”

If she’d thought to clobber him, she’d been wrong.

“When is it ever fun to play fair?” That arrogant little smile never left his lips. “Do what my card says, and you can have your turn, my refined lady.”

Despite her determination, she found herself considering his offer.

“Come on.” He leaned in toward her. “I'm curious what card you'll draw. I want you to show me the difference between ‘crude’”—his smile widened— “and ‘nasty and wicked.’”

Move on down three spaces to my honey pot with that wicked mouth of yours,
she thought. But she didn’t say it aloud. His mouth. The mouth of her partner’s killer.

What was wrong with her?
She’d played games before. In her line of work, everyone played dangerously in one way or another. Yet she’d never been a pervert, never desired a man she loathed.

Never craved for murderous hands and lying lips to bring her starving body alive. Torn between hatred and hunger, she turned away from his too-shrewd eyes.

“What's the matter?” His whisper swept her neck, “Afraid that if you play, you might lose?” Lightly his fingertips grazed her body.

She whipped her head around. “What are you doing?”

Those blue eyes held a devil’s laughter. “I'm looking for your gun. Where is it?” He pressed her sides more firmly. “Aha.” He drew her shirt up and pulled out the gun she had tucked into her jeans. “Is that all?” he murmured, but didn’t wait for a response. His fingers traced around to the front of her waist, down the outsides of her legs to her ankles, and then came up the insides. A pleasing sensation threatened to ignite from his touch, but she blocked it out.

“Yes, that's all,” she ground out between clenched teeth.

The weight of his body pulled away. She tried to turn, but he moved toward the sofa. He plopped himself down and placed his gun on the coffee table. Settling into the cushion, he gazed up at her through half-open eyes. She wondered if he was as exhausted as she was. If so, she might use it to her advantage. She glanced at the gun, but his hand lazed too near it. If he noticed, he didn’t say anything. He just watched her from hooded eyes.

Sliding her hand slowly behind her, she found the drawer handle and slowly pulled it open.

“It's gone. So is the one you hid in your dresser. Come sit with me. You know I want you, Nala Dekker,” he said, patting the sofa cushion. “And I know you want me.”

She could have chewed nails. Granted, he had years of experience on her, but that was no excuse. She was never careless. So why was she so careless with him?

She caught his eye, and his arrogant little smirk. He was so sure of himself. Maybe too sure. Maybe he’d been careless, too.

Nala strolled over as if considering obeying his request, then made a show of sitting across from him in the recliner instead. Lazily, she curled her feet up under her bottom. His eyes fluttered. She was right. He was tired. She slipped her hand between the cushions. The cold metal chilled her fingers. She yanked out her S&W and pointed it at his heart. His gun was too far away for him to react.
Who has the upper hand now?

He didn’t blink. He only permitted one brow to rise slightly. “Did I miss one?”

Sighing, he lifted his solid shoulders and then dropped them. He stood, but knew better than to make a move for his gun. Instead, a smile formed, though his eyes remained provoking. Their lack of fear was sinister. Yet, he respected her as a danger. Their gaze never left her.