Deadly Seduction (20 page)

“Hold this while I drive.” He started up the SUV and pulled out. “Make sure the dot doesn’t start moving. In case I have more than one beacon implanted in me.”

“Did he tell you anything about Taz?”

“He claimed he couldn’t pick up a signal.” Max turned back on the highway and sped off.

“Did you find out who the man works for? Why he’s after you?”

Max frowned. “He claimed to work for someone named Abe Caldwell, who was supposedly working with Dr. Winchette. Sound familiar to you?”

“Abe Caldwell is one of the owners of Caldwell Pharmaceuticals, a Swiss drug conglomerate. Dr. Winchette worked with the Caldwell company in the past on drug trials, but he worked with every major drug manufacturer out there. To show favoritism—”

“Would be unethical?” Max finished. “Like conducting human experiments is unethical?”

Erin seemed at a loss for words. “I want to deny it, Max. Not so much because I know Dr. Winchette but because…he and my father worked together years ago. My father mentioned regretting some projects. I guess I’m afraid that if Winchette is guilty, my father was, too, even though my gut tells me he was not.”

“Don’t conjecture any further until we know more.” He rubbed his head. Ever since Erin had removed the tracker, his headache had grown worse. “Any movement on the device?”

“No. The dot has remained steady.”

“Keep watching it. Maybe by us moving around, we’ll pick up a signal on Taz.”

“Would it work from the air?”

“Good question. We could cover an area faster in a chopper or small plane.” Max checked the setting sun. It would be dark in less than an hour. And he didn’t want to be on the road at night, wondering if every set of headlights that approached was out to get them.

“For now let’s put some distance between us and where we left the Taurus. Then we’ll find a place to rest and regroup.”

Bangkok, Thailand
September 24

There was only one person Rocco would trust with his own life: himself.

And Travis Franks knew that. It was one of the ways they talked in code. If Travis had ordered Rocco straight out to go to Thailand and find Rufin, it would have destroyed Travis’s fallback: plausible deniability.

Plus it gave Rocco more leeway for bending rules.

And right now a lot of people in and out of the Agency were watching Travis. Hell, if Rocco worked for the other side and were searching for Rufin, he’d look around to see who else was looking and follow them.

So while Travis stayed visible in the States, Rocco pulled another of his never-before-used aliases out of his hat, and disappeared after leaving a false trail toward the state park where Taz had been spotted two days ago.

John Doe had stolen a man’s hiking and camping equipment before disappearing in a national park. This meant they wouldn’t see him until he was ready to be seen—if ever. Especially if Doe was who they thought.

Travis believed he had a lead on John Doe’s real identity. Three years ago, an Australian Special Air Service Regiment agent, Logan Treyhorn, was blown off course during a secret night jump into a terrorist stronghold near the Burmese border.

A ransom demand had been received with Logan’s ID, but the failure to provide proof of life coupled with the lack of follow-up on the ransom demand was interpreted to mean Logan had died—if he’d even been captured alive to begin with.

Travis had two other possibilities, but the fact that John Doe had spoken with what the MRI technician described as an Aussie accent kept Logan at the top of the list. That and the nickname—Taz. Tasmanian Devil perhaps?

Because of the undercover nature of Logan’s work, photos of the man were pretty much nonexistent.

Travis had opted to keep his suspicions on Logan close to his vest. If the Aussies got wind their man was possibly still alive…ouch. Rocco had seen those SASR boys in action.

Right now, Rocco refocused on his search for Dr. Rufin. Travis’s lead had turned out to be legit. They had been monitoring all of Zadovsky’s last known e-mail contacts, including those of his lab personnel. Rufin had sent an e-mail to Zadovsky’s former secretary, Bohdana Wulandan.

Unfortunately, someone else reached Bohdana before Rocco. He found her dead body in an apartment that had been wiped clean. He suspected someone had used her to lure Rufin in.

So far, Travis had had no luck tracing Bohdana’s other e-mails, but it was clear she wasn’t working alone. Someone had helped her escape Jakarta after Zadovsky’s death. The Thai government perhaps? God, he hoped not.

Rocco straightened as a car pulled up to the curb just ahead of where he walked. Recognizing the driver, he climbed in the sleek BMW.

“My meter’s running,” Diego Marques quipped as he pulled away and began zipping through traffic.

Rocco passed an envelope of cash to the man.

Diego hefted it in his hand, then slid it in his jacket, never once taking his eyes off the rearview mirror.

Rocco watched the side mirrors as Diego turned at the next intersection then sped up an alley. He turned again and stopped.

“I think we’re clean,” Diego said before wheeling down another alley and racing back into traffic.

“Did you turn up anything on Bohdana?” Rocco asked.

“Nope. Whoever she worked for taught her how to cover her trail. She was lying low, paid everything in cash, even though she wasn’t working anywhere.”

“You think the Thai government had her on payroll?”

Diego shook his head. “They’re still searching for Rufin. In fact, that search just got hotter. A group of Burmese extremists have put out feelers for Rufin, too. The extremists want him because they know the big players will pay a ransom to get him back.” Diego downshifted and turned into the crowded red light district. “Minh Tran has even been seeking Rufin. I just heard that Tran’s concentrating his manpower on searching for one of Jengho’s camps.”

“Jengho Vato?” The news surprised Rocco. The two drug lords were enemies, but rather than destroy one another with their private war, they’d supposedly worked out a boundary agreement.

“Was Jengho poaching on Minh Tran’s turf again?” Rocco asked.

“The request for info I got was very soft. Tran doesn’t want Jengho to know he’s looking, but word is Jengho has a special guest that he’s protecting.”

“Rufin,” Rocco said. It made sense. If someone other than the Thais had captured Rufin, they’d need to stash him somewhere until arrangements could be made to get him out of the country.

“Any idea where Jengho might have a guest house stashed?”

Diego flashed a wolfish grin. “It’ll cost you.”

“Why am I not surprised? Just name your price. I don’t have time to dicker.”

Diego’s information was right on. It had also come at a lower price than Rocco had expected.

“I can’t guarantee others won’t beat you to this location,” had been Diego’s reasoning. This meant that if Rocco did indeed score, he owed Diego a favor.

Rocco had no time to get a team in place. With Diego’s help, he’d hired two professional mercenaries, Joe and Dick. Not their real names, of course, but who cared? Rocco had introduced himself as “Robbie.” As long as the men were skilled and trustworthy, which Diego had vouched, they could call themselves Ginger and Mary Ann.

Jengho’s hiding spot turned out to be an ancient fishing vessel, no different from a thousand other ancient fishing vessels in Bangkok’s harbor. It was moored near an abandoned warehouse that had recently burned and now provided cover for Rocco and company. That it was night also helped mask their presence.

He’d counted four men on the fishing boat. Two of them were acting as guards. One was the boat’s captain. Rocco believed all three worked for Jengho.

The fourth man had just been dragged onto the deck and his head shoved over the rail, clearly sea-sick. Rocco got a glimpse of the sick man’s face while he vomited over the side.

It was Rufin! His hair had been cut off, no doubt in an attempt to disguise his appearance.

Rufin being sick seemed to piss off the captain, who complained of the smell in the cabin. He wanted to move the boat, as if that would help.

The last thing Rocco wanted was for them to move. The odds were even, three against three, and he wanted to keep it that way.

He passed the binoculars to Joe, then huddled close to discuss his plan.

“Sounds easy,” Joe said.

“That’s what worries me,” Rocco muttered. “Let’s do it.”

Sneaking up to the boat was easy. The dark dock was littered with abandoned crates that provided hiding places. The only light was a dim lantern on the boat’s deck. Rufin had apparently started vomiting again as soon as they’d dragged him below. The smell must have been bad because now one of the guards joined Rufin at the rail. The second guard and captain still argued over the merits of moving.

The sound of a boat engine roaring to life caught Rocco’s attention. A small speed boat swung right next to the fishing vessel. Muffled shots were fired. Precise, targeted shots, not a random spray.

The guard who’d been puking fell overboard into the water. Rufin seemed frozen in place.

The speed boat zoomed away into the dark and cut its engine. Waiting.

The other guard and the boat captain had dived for cover on the deck. Rufin bolted for the cabin. The wounded guard splashed in the water below, calling out for help. After a few seconds, the captain darted forward and grabbed for a rope to toss over the rail.

Rocco knew what would happen next. The speed boat zoomed back in, opening fire. The bright muzzle bursts made them easy to track.

“Take out the shooter,” Rocco hissed to Joe.

The element of surprise worked in their favor. One shot took out the shooter, who fell forward into the murky water. Rocco heard the speed boat’s engine gun full throttle as it swung back into the darkness. But this time it kept going.

“Come on!” Rocco shouted as he ran forward and jumped onto the boat. The captain was dead and the remaining guard was now hiding below in the cabin with Rufin.

“Throw out your weapons and come out with your hands up. Or we’ll kill you!” Rocco shouted.

Two guns clattered across the deck. “D-d-don’t sh-sh-shoot,” Rufin said as he stumbled up the steps.

As soon as the guard came up, Dick hit him across the back of the head and shoved him backward.

Rocco grabbed Rufin’s arm. “Stay down. Come on!”

“You!” Rufin recognized Rocco. “D-d-don’t shoot me!”

“Then I suggest you move your scrawny ass off this boat before someone else does!”

He could hear the speed boat approaching again. Joe surged forward and literally picked Rufin up and carried him off the boat.

“Get him to the car,” Rocco said.

Gunfire shattered the wood railing as the speed boat moved in. Rocco returned fire then jumped down onto the dock. Tires screeched as Dick pulled up now, throwing the car doors open and taking off before they closed. Rocco piled in the back with Rufin.

“Keep your head down,” he ordered as Rufin slumped lower.

No one followed, but still they raced away. Surely the men on the other boat would be calling for backup now.

“Let’s get back downtown,” Rocco said. They had a second car ready, so they could ditch this one.

Joe leaned over the passenger seat and held up a bloody hand. “You better check your man. This ain’t my blood.”

Rocco looked at Rufin, noticed he hadn’t moved.

Shit! “Give me some light.”

Tugging Rufin’s shoulder, Rocco pulled him upright in the seat. Rufin’s head lolled lifelessly to one side—the front of his shirt completely soaked with blood.

Gallup, New Mexico
September 24

The urge to flee Arizona kept Max driving another three hours into the night.

As they rode in silence, each seemingly lost in their own private musings, Max caught glimmers of Erin’s thoughts.

Strangely, the process of contemplating
her
thoughts helped to pry loose more of his. Much the same way as their casual conversation had done earlier.

Unfortunately, Erin’s silent curiosity about Dante’s cryptic remark didn’t bring Max any closer to answers.
Cat told me what you did in London. I owe you.

London rang no bells. In fact, Max had noticed that whenever he tried to recall specific assignments he’d been on with Dante, he hit a familiar brick wall. As if certain memories had been all closed off with the same material. He had the feeling that if he could just loosen one key brick, the entire wall would tumble.

The knowledge that a tracking device had been implanted in his arm still infuriated him. But not nearly as much as suspecting that other things had been implanted as well. Intangibles that couldn’t be cut out with a knife. He felt he had been invaded, violated, in ways he couldn’t completely fathom yet.

Whether he’d been brainwashed, or mind-fucked, was no longer the question. Why and how to undo it was.

And while the CIA was no doubt very interested in knowing what classified information the mind-fuckers had accessed, Max knew the Agency couldn’t care less about the personal memories he’d lost.

Catalina Dion’s name struck a deep chord in Max. Had they been lovers? He had a faint glimmer of a naked woman with short blond hair, weeping in his arms. The scene, while incomplete, was stamped with heavy negative emotion.

Okay…naked meant lover. Weeping meant breakup. Right?

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

The blistering spike in his headache quickly had Max focusing back on the dark road. It was nearly 10 p.m. and they’d just crossed the state border into New Mexico.

He roused Erin, who’d drifted off to sleep. “I’m pulling into a motel,” he said. “I’ll get you settled in a room, then I’ll go find food.”

After driving to a nearby restaurant for carryout, Max parked at another motel adjacent to theirs.

As subterfuges went, it wasn’t much, but at this point everything helped. The flashing red dot that represented the stolen Taurus hadn’t moved, according to the tracking device. Likewise, a second red dot representing Taz hadn’t popped up either.

Had Allen been discovered or had he managed to free himself? Max hadn’t wanted to take the time to bind or gag the man. Getting away before someone came up had been his only concern. Since Allen had spilled his guts to Max, it was doubtful he was going to run to his boss right away.

Max had called Dante back, but got voice mail. And since Max was still keeping the cell phone battery disconnected, Dante would get Erin’s voice mail.

By the time Max returned to their motel room, Erin had fallen asleep on top of one of the beds. She roused long enough to take a shower and put on clean clothes but fell back asleep before eating. He could understand why she was exhausted. Most people didn’t keep this kind of pace on a day-today basis.

Max lifted her up and gently deposited her in the other bed, the one farthest from the door.

He would have preferred to share a bed, but realizing
that
preference was born of something more than the desire to keep her safe had him tugging the covers up over her and turning away.

Max was tired, too. It was hard to believe it had been less than a week ago that he had been rescued from the jungle and brought back to the States. Now he was on the run with a beautiful woman. And he’d thought that only happened in the movies.

A hot shower helped revitalize him, but it didn’t last. Once he ate, he felt exhaustion creep in. His headache seemed to spiral, growing worse as he tried to connect with Taz. Ultimately, the effort only increased Max’s discomfort.

After checking the doors one last time, he climbed into the empty bed and turned off the light.

Erin’s soft breathing in the dark soothed him. He again felt a longing to lie next to her, just to hold her—but that thought quickly morphed to thoughts of kissing her.

Of her making love to
him
.

The distinction seemed significant. He wanted to be desired freely. Not because he’d influenced her or manipulated her reactions.

Nothing wrong with that
, echoed in his mind.

Oh, but there was.

There was.

At some point Max drifted off to sleep. And in his dreams, Erin welcomed him. Invited him into her arms. Her body.

“Love me, Max. Let me love you.”

He heard the sounds of ocean waves, felt the warmth of the sun on his bare back. The beach. They were back on that beach again. But this time they were both naked. On a blanket, in that secluded little cove.

Erin was beneath him, moaning, writhing. It felt like he’d been dropped into the dream, mid-stroke, his cock already half sheathed in her tight liquid heat.

Part of him felt cheated. He’d wanted to feel her kisses go from tentative to wild. He’d wanted to undress her slowly, unwrap her like a precious gift. He’d wanted to feel her pulse slam as her body grew wet and hungry.

“More, Max.”

He drew back and pushed in, going deeper. She leaned her head back, thrusting her shoulders out and offering her breasts up to him. To his mouth.

She couldn’t get enough of him, her cries going from plaintive to desperate.
“More, Max. Harder.”

He felt his own release building. He held back, not wanting to let go until she’d gone hopelessly over the edge.

Run. Hide.

Taz’s voice came out of nowhere.

Erin disappeared, leaving Max disoriented. The beach was gone. He was—

Hades, help! Please
, Taz screamed now.
Anything. I’ll do anything.

Max recognized his new surroundings. Or the lack of them. Total darkness. The occasional flicker of light. Sound. Pain. He was back in the lab. In stasis. Waiting while Taz’s memories were stripped, listening while Taz was tested by untold horrors.

Do as we say. Do not question. Do not think. There is no memory except this.

But always, he and Taz did remember. They had a pact, had sworn they would not forget. And sooner or later it all came back. Or worse, only parts of it.

Like this sensation of being buried alive. Max was in a coffin now, being sunk lower and lower into the ground, buried by an avalanche of dirt.

The horror replayed in his mind. The oxygen was running out. He was suffocating. He’d been tied down, but had broken free. But he couldn’t lift the coffin’s lid, the mountain of dirt was too heavy.

“Max, help me!”

He recognized Erin’s voice now. The thought that she was here, buried alive in some pit beside him, threatened to snap his sanity.

Steeling his strength, Max pressed against the lid that held him trapped, felt his muscles begin to cramp, to tear.

“Erin! I’m here!”

He bolted upright in bed, dazed and confused, and realized he’d been dreaming. He was in a…room…a motel. And Erin was here—not there.

Her soft cries, however, told a different story. He heard her thrash against the sheets and caught a flash of her dreams. Jesus! He’d somehow pulled Erin into his nightmare and she was still trapped there.

Still buried in that hell.

He sprang from his bed and reached for her. “Erin. Wake up. It’s me.”

“Help…make them stop.” Her hands flailed about her head as if she were trying to shove away goggles. Earphones.

Just as they’d shared the erotic beach dream earlier, she now seemed locked in Max’s horrible recall of the lab.

Grabbing her shoulders, Max shook her. When she didn’t awaken, he picked her up and carried her into the bathroom. Turning the shower on
COLD
, he held her beneath the icy spray, soaking both of them in the process.

Erin stiffened and screamed as her eyes opened and met his.

“Max! Oh, Max!” She started sobbing, her shoulders shuddering with each cry.

It didn’t seem to register that she was soaking wet as she clawed her way up his chest, crawling into his embrace.

“Shhhh. I’ve got you, baby,” he murmured. “No one’s going to hurt you.”

Max shut off the water and scooped her back into his arms.

She had her arms wrapped around his neck, her face buried against his throat as she continued to cry. She was shaking. Cold and scared.

Shifting her to rest against the bathroom counter, he stripped away her wet clothes. Then he wrapped her in a towel and carried her back to the bedroom.

“Don’t turn out that light,” she pleaded, pointing to the bathroom light he’d left on. “And don’t leave me.”

He set her on the bed, but she shot back to her feet as if the bed were alive.

Max knew what she was feeling, remembered it well. He also recalled how desperately he’d wanted her touch after the hypnosis session. How her touch had grounded him.

He tugged her back into his arms. She came willingly, still shaking.

Beneath the towel she kept clasped tightly around her shoulders, she was naked. But Max’s wet clothes blocked the precious body heat she sought. He stepped back.

Immediately she protested. “No! Please!”

“I’m just peeling off my shirt, my jeans. I’m soaked.”

“Hurry.”

The moment Max kicked away his jeans, Erin pressed back into his arms. Seeking warmth. Shelter. He picked her back up and eased into the bed, slipping them both beneath the covers. The towel fell away, but she seemed not to notice.

He kept Erin on his chest with his arms crossed over her back. Her breasts flattened against him, her nipples hard little pearls.

“Don’t let me go,” she whispered. “Don’t ever let me go, Max.”

“I won’t.” He rocked her, making soothing noises until her trembling had subsided and her tears dried.

She wiggled and Max relaxed his grip—reluctant to let her go.

“We were sharing a dream again, weren’t we?” she asked.

“Yes. It’s got to be related to the link we have. I’m so sorry. I don’t know how to undo it.”

“What I saw…is that, was that what you endured?”

“Yes.”

“How did you stand it? I thought I was dying.”

How many times had Max prayed for death? “Taz would talk to me. We could get inside each other’s head. Sharing helped some. But when the pain would get so bad I couldn’t stand it, he’d remind me that one of us would escape. That we’d help the other. No matter what. And if that failed to work, he’d tell me stories of exploring with Stony. He knew the stories because I told them to him. Described every rock, every step to get there.”
I’m coming, Taz.

“But—”

“Shhh. We’ll talk later. Go back to sleep.”

“I can’t sleep. Not after that.” She pressed her nose into his chest then and drew a line of tiny kisses between his nipples.

Max’s erection was instantaneous. His cock swelled and pressed against her. She shifted downward and rubbed against him.

“I dreamed about
this
first, Max. About being on that beach, kissing you. But I wanted more than a kiss.”

The
more
part of him just grew harder.

“I want to make love to you, Max,” she whispered. “Don’t say no.”

“Yes.” He raised his head and kissed her.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, opening her mouth fully as she slid to his side. Max followed, never breaking the kiss. Taking the kiss deeper.

This new position, side by side, gave them each fuller access. His hand caught her breast and squeezed as her fingers closed around his swollen erection.

She moaned. “I want more.”

He shifted his lips to the soft skin of her throat before moving lower. He wanted more, too. Kissing the curve of her breast, he caught a taut nipple and laved it with his tongue.

He started to suck, then lightly nipped before switching to the other breast. Her hands caressed and stroked until he had to pull away.

Pushing her onto her back, he hovered over her, running kisses down her ribs. He wanted only to bring her pleasure, wanting her to think of nothing but him. Shifting lower still, he kissed the dark triangle of curls between her legs.

She cried out. “Max. I—”

“I know.” Taking his time, he kissed the insides of her thighs down to her knees. Then he slowly licked his way back up to those tempting curls. “Open for me, Erin.”

She spread her legs wider and let out a soft sound as he lowered his mouth and suckled gently on her clitoris. Erin bucked, her hands encouraging, guiding.

He gave her one intense orgasm, wished he had the patience to give her another. He didn’t. He slid a finger inside, teasing and massaging, giving her pleasure as he prepared her body for his.

He kissed back up from her abdomen to her breasts, settling his weight between her legs.

“I’m on the pill,” she breathed. “Don’t stop.”

Birth control was the last thing on his mind as he eased his throbbing cock into her, inch by inch, until he was finally in.

“You feel so good,” she whispered as she lifted a leg to wrap around his hip. “Don’t stop.”

“I won’t.” Max slid deeper as she arched against him.

“Oh, God! I’m…I’m…”

“I’m coming, too,” Max finished for her.

Then he was lost in the sublime and shattering sensation of hot need exploding, taking them both over the edge.

Back into a deep, soulful sleep.