Renegade (Elite Ops 5) (27 page)

"She'll work."

The agents in Elite Two had been reassigned to Jordan's command for the few

years they still had on their commitments. They were information gatherers, behind the scenes, support only. They were damned good, though. Nik would let Raisa cover his back anytime.

"Kira Richards and Bailey Vincent are in D.C.," Jordan mused then. "They're on a fact-finding mission. They headed out night before last. I'll see if I can contact them."

"That could work." Nik nodded. "I'll keep you updated on what I'm finding here, but it's a hell of a situation. I don't think Mikayla's lying, Jordan. That leaves Maddix holding a smoking gun and a dream alibi to say he didn't do it."

But there was nothing left but to suspect Maddix. His alibis were friends and

business associates. If killing Eddie had benefited them as well, then they were all in on it.

"Nelson has some pull in D.C.," Jordan reminded him. "One of Elite Command's members knows him personally. That information won't sit well."

"I don't care if it doesn't sit well." Nik turned onto the interstate, his eyes narrowing in anger as he glared at the road.

"Your judgment is compromised," Jordan pointed out. "You're sleeping with her, aren't you, Nik?"

Nik's lips thinned. He wasn't answering that question. It was none of Jordan's

business as far as he was concerned.

"My judgment hasn't been compromised," Nik snarled. "Maddix Nelson isn't above murder."

"And no woman is above lying," Jordan pointed out coldly. "Either way, figure out what the hell is going on. I'll see who I can get out there, but remember, Nik, they'll be sending in their own report. Make damned sure your judgment is solid. We can't risk anything less here."

His judgment was fine, it was his heart in question, Nik admitted silently.

"Let me know if anyone is headed out," Nik stated rather than debating the former. "I'll report back when I know something."

"Yeah, well, make it soon," Jordan ordered.

The line disconnected.

Nik breathed out wearily as he glanced at the keypad of the phone and hit the

number to Mikayla's shop.

When he disconnected, he was almost snarling in fury.

Mikayla wasn't there, Deirdre had informed him. She had left less than an hour

after he had, and Deirdre suspected Mikayla was once again investigating Eddie

Foreman's murder.

How the hell was he going to keep her safe at this rate? She was risking her life as 131

cavalierly as he did, and that wasn't acceptable.

He keyed her cell-phone number in quickly.

"Where the hell are you?" he questioned the minute she answered the phone.

She paused before saying, "Did I ask where you were?"

Her tone was candy sweet, immediately putting his survival instincts on high

alert. Male survival, that instinct that warned him he was pissing his woman off and she had the power to make him pay for it.

"Mikayla, we both know what I'm doing," he stated carefully. "I can't do that if you're not safe."

"I'm perfectly safe," she assured him. "I'm working."

"You're not
at
work," he ground out.

"I didn't say I was
at
work; I said I'm working," she pointed out, her tone still deliberately sweet.

"On what?" His jaw was clenched so tight his teeth ached. "Tell me where you are and I'll follow you back to the shop."

"I'm not ready to go back to the shop," she informed him with patient emphasis. "I have things to do, Nik. Things I've allowed you to delay for me. You want to work alone, that's fine. I can do the same."

Patience. He forced himself to patience. Growling at her wasn't going to do a

damned bit of good and he knew it. Sensed it with an intimate knowledge that only a lover would have.

"You're endangering your life, Mikayla," he finally said calmly. "Is that what you really want to do? Do you really want to give the bastard shooting at you a clear shot? An opportunity to kill you the next time."

"I guess that's your choice, Nik," she said quietly. "This isn't just your job; it's my problem. I have the right to be with you and I have the right to know what's going on."

And Nik simply couldn't agree with her.

"You have that right when you have the training to back the desire," he informed her, barely managing to hide the anger rising inside him now. "Don't push this, Mikayla; you know you're not going to win. You're only going to end up getting yourself killed."

Once he got his hands on her, he was going to make damned certain she

understood who was the boss here. He'd be damned if he'd have her running all over town with a killer focused on her.

"At least I'll know I fought," she stated, the determination in her voice frankly frightening. "That's something some people can't do."

The connection closed. Nik waited, certain she hadn't hung up on him, just to

learn that she had done just that.

Lowering the phone, he glanced at it with a glare. She had hung up on him. His

jaw clenched as he punched in another number.

"Hi, baby," Tehya Talamosi came on the line. Jordan's assistant and all-around tormentor. "I heard Jordan cussing a few minutes ago. Are you getting a little some-some?"

One of these days. Nik decided Jordan was right, Tehya and duct tape would be

good together.

"Tehya, if I give you a cell-phone number, could you GPS it?" he asked carefully.

"If it has GPS on it. What happened? Did you lose your little pretty?" she asked, 132

obviously referring to Mikayla.

He gave Tehya the number slowly.

"Got it. Now are you going to answer me?"

"She may be misplaced for the moment," he gritted out the admission.

Tehya snickered. "Well, she just so happens to be at a quaint little coffee shop four buildings down from her shop."

He was going to kill her; it was that damned simple.

"Damn," Tehya breathed out.

"Damn?" The tone of her voice had his hand clenching on the steering wheel.

"What's damn, Tehya?"

"Damn, she's with Bailey and Kira."

Nik blinked. For a second, pure abject male terror seared his insides. Jordan

hadn't had time to send the other women; that meant they were being nosy. Nosy and most likely interfering. Those were not good combinations.

"She's what?"

"Currently having coffee with Bailey and Kira. I thought they were in D.C.?"

He disconnected and pressed his foot to the gas, risking a speeding ticket. Bailey and Kira with Mikayla? What the hell were they up to? Hadn't he kept his noses out of their relationships with his fellow agents? Hadn't he stood back, supported them where he could, and covered for them when they needed it?

What the hell were they doing?

The phone rang from the seat where he had tossed it.

"What?" he barked.

"You have your backup," Jordan growled.

"No." He was ready to grind his back teeth to dust. "Not those two, because they already have their own agenda here, and it's to interfere in my life. No."

He could almost feel Jordan's amusement. "Scared, Nik?"

"Fucking terrified," he snarled. "Do you think they're going to keep her out of trouble? Fuck no. I might as well just keep her with me while I'm questioning lowlifes and dodging bullets."

"That's always an option," Jordan agreed. "I could bring them back to base then."

He was going to strangle the phone. Then he was going to strangle Bailey and

Kira. When he finished with them, he was going to fuck Mikayla until she was too

damned tired to disagree with him.

Son of a bitch.

Bailey and Kira were both CIA brats, Bailey a former agent and Kira a former

contract agent. Both were richer than Midas and neither one of them cared in the least about poking her damned nose in someone else's business.

"You did this," Nik accused Jordan furiously. "Admit it. You sicced those two on me before I even called, didn't you, Jordan?"

He wasn't above getting his laughs in wherever he could whenever he thought one

of his agents was making what he considered the most dire of mistakes. Falling in love.

"You forget who you're talking to, Renegade." Jordan's tone held far too much self-satisfaction. "I'm the commander, remember?"

"Commander Malone, get fucked!" He hung up on his boss, praying the other man was stupid enough to have him pulled in now. Let Jordan send the entire fucking 133

team after him. Once he got back to base, he was going to show his interfering

commander exactly how matchmaking was truly done.

Did he think Nik didn't know his weakness? That the other men weren't well

aware of exactly who Jordan couldn't keep his damned eyes off of?

Oh, they knew, and Nik was going to show the bastard the rules of playing

matchmaker.

Jordan thought he was throwing roadblocks in Nik's path? That he was going to

make things difficult enough that Nik would draw back from Mikayla?

It wasn't going to happen. But when he returned to base, Nik was going to see just how interfering Jordan could become.

Mikayla stared at the silent phone as it lay on the table before glancing back at her two new customers as they went over the books of designs Mikayla had put together.

Some were her own designs; others were on consignment. The gowns were by far

the most expensive she had, as well as the most gorgeous.

"I love your style," Kira remarked as she glanced up with a smile, her gray eyes filled with vivacity as she tucked a strand of long black hair behind her ear. "I heard you were good, but this exceeds my expectations."

"And exactly how did you hear about me?" Mikayla asked as she picked up her water and sipped.

The two women seemed to know too much about her. They were smooth,

graceful, but the way their eyes watched everything, the way they moved, the way they acted, reminded Mikayla of Nik.

"A party last week," Bailey Serborne Vincent answered. "Margaret Westfield was wearing a beautiful shimmery blue gown. I was completely jealous. She gave me your name."

Mikayla nodded. She'd done several gowns for Margaret Westfield.

"We have several charity events coming up this winter." Kira glanced at Bailey.

The look the two women shared had Mikayla's eyes narrowing.

She wasn't stupid, and the other two women weren't even trying to hide the fact

that they were amused by something.

"And you need gowns?" Mikayla guessed.

"Several," Bailey agreed, her green eyes appraising as she turned back to the design plates laid out on the table. "Three to be exact. And I do believe we're interested in having you make them. Do you think you could complete six gowns before October?"

"I could complete two by October and two by the first of the next two months.

There's no way all six could be done by October, though. It will also require your availability for fittings on short notice."

The two women were quiet for long moments before Kira glanced at her friend,

then nodded slowly. "Those arrangements are suitable." She pushed three plates forward from the book she was holding. "I'm interested in these, though I'd need an assurance I won't have to worry about anyone else wearing the same design anytime for the rest of the year."

She had nothing to worry about. The dresses she had chosen were three of the

most expensive Mikayla had. They were her own designs and completely under her own control.

"That can be arranged." She wouldn't have to worry about rent on the shop for the 134

next two years.

"I'd like to look at the designs a while longer," Bailey stated. "Could I come by the shop tomorrow and give you my choices? And of course I'd need the same

assurance."

"I can only give that assurance if you choose the gowns I've designed," Mikayla stated.

Bailey nodded with a smiling, "Of course."

Talk about too good to be true.

She wasn't a great believer in coincidence, Mikayla admitted. These two women

were damned good. They hadn't batted a lash while she was on the phone with Nik, but the call they had received right after her phone call had her suspicious instincts clamoring in warning.

"So, do the two of you know Nik Steele well?" she asked them.

They didn't act the least bit surprised. "We often travel among the same social sphere." Bailey smiled coolly. "Nik is an acquaintance of both our husbands, actually."

"And that's where you heard about my gowns?" Mikayla asked, fairly certain Margaret Westfield hadn't given her name. She was a friend of Maddix. That made a

differene.

"No, actually, it's not." Kira smiled in amusement. "Nik would have never told us.

Another mutual acquaintance happened to know where he was, and that he was helping a friend out here. Your name might have been mentioned. Gossip does travel fast, dear, and when Margaret Westfield mentioned you as well we decided to look you up."

"And you're here because of Nik why?" Mikayla asked curiously.

"Because Nik is a friend and we enjoy tormenting our friends." Bailey laughed.

"Once he knows we were here, he's going to be--"

"Completely irate enough to call both your husbands," Nik growled behind them as he approached the table.

Tall, dressed in those wicked black leathers, with a scowl on his face and irritation glittering in his eyes.

He took a seat and stared at each of them in turn. Kira. Bailey. Mikayla.

Mikayla smiled back at him placidly.

"Hello, Nik. Ian and John send their regards." Bailey was all but laughing at him as Mikayla watched his eyes narrow, a muscle jumping in his jaw.

"I'm sure they did." His jaw tightened further before he turned back to Mikayla.

"Are you ready to go now?"

Mikayla glanced at the other two women. "Is our business finished for the

moment?"

"For the moment," Bailey agreed as she gathered up the plates. "I'll return these tomorrow, once I've made my choices, if that's all right with you?"