The Risqué Target (8 page)

To her surprise, Tantum froze.

“I didn’t want it to come to this, but you've left me no other choice.” The suit walked over to Nala and whispered into her ear. “I'm from NESA. Come with me.”

Her eyes shot to Tantum, barely visible over the man's shoulder. His lip was bleeding, but his breathing was starting to even out. Why should she care? He was in NESA custody. Her job was done.

She nodded agreement to the man.

Tantum shook his head. With a dangerous chuckle he lifted it. An undeniable threat glistened in those beautiful eyes. “I was right, huh sweetheart?” He took in every face and came full circle back to her. “These are your friends, aren't they?”

“Yes,” she answered, glad to have reclaimed the upper hand.

Between the hand-holding and hip-squeezing, she'd even started wondering if he might be innocent. But still she could see Gabe dying. “Who killed you?” she’d asked. She heard him choking on his own blood and gasping for air. “Tantum Maddox” were the last words her partner ever spoke.

She walked over to his killer. “And I'll be coming back for you,
baby.
” She sweetly smiled. “When I do, you'll be crying out from pain, not pleasure.”

****

Nala followed the agent. A last glance at Tantum from over her shoulder sent a shiver up her spine. He was panting, vengeance in his eyes. The man in the suit led her out onto a balcony and turned into the next room.

Closing the door behind her, the agent offered her a seat with a wave of his hand. Nala sat down. She faced the straight stance and vacant stare that had tagged him as an agent, and she wondered if that was how she looked in similar circumstances.

“We've been following you since the airport,” he said. “We don’t know who took you or why. One of your captors was killed while we were taking control of the situation. The other must have sensed us closing in. He fled before we could detain him.”

“And him?” She tipped her head toward the room next door. “What does he have to do with this?”

“I have no information for you. I've been sent to detain and clean up. You are to report to Nancy Reich at your regional office the moment you get off the plane. There's an agent outside who will escort you to the airport.”

Why?
she wondered.
Protection, or custody?

What was going on?

But she’d been with NESA too long to ask. Probably the suit didn’t know, anyway. “What about him?” she asked again. She couldn’t let Maddox get away.

“I have no information for you. Just board the flight. That is an order. Do you understand me, Agent?”

The quarry of her three-year hunt taken away from her, by her own agency? Her hands clenched, but revenge had slipped from her grasp. “Yes,” she said.

“Your things from your hotel room are on that chair.” He got up. “In five minutes the agent takes you to the airport.” With that, he left the room.

She rummaged through her bag, pulled on her jeans, and tucked the flimsy dress into them, tying the excess material of Tantum's shirt around her waist. Her warm socks and sneakers were a welcome comfort. She peered out the window. The agent stood in front of the door, and there was no other way out.

****

Left alone in the room, handcuffed and perplexed, Tantum tried to get comfortable on the bed.

Restrained by a blue-eyed seductress.
Did I misjudge her?

He'd been ready to die for her. With the bullet ringing in his ears, the only thing he’d thought of was keeping her safe. He suspected she had nothing to do with their kidnapping, but her corrupt partners, or her agency, must have remained close. How else had they found their targets so quickly, and what did they want?

He mentally went through the day, but he was still sure that at the airport and the party, she didn’t know who he was. Not until she chased him down at the elevator. She’d called him a cold-blooded killer.

He had killed in the past, but only with justification. If he had a problem with his job, it was that he couldn’t make himself cold-blooded enough. Whatever he pretended, lives mattered. People mattered.

Half an hour went by, and he still couldn’t figure out who she was or what she wanted.

The door swung open. He lifted his eyes and made a mock wince when he saw the bruise forming on the man's cheek. “Looks like it hurts. You should put some ice on that,” he contemptuously suggested.

The man didn’t take his bait.

“Where's the girl?” Tantum asked.

“Gone.” The man stopped inches from him.

“Oh? Where'd she go?” He didn’t expect an answer, but the man’s impervious look challenged him to taunt, “Still pissed about the shiner on your cheek? C’mon, I’m sure you got plenty of ‘em in school when the other boys kicked your ass for being such a wimp.”

The man pulled out his gun and pointed it at him, clearly angry. But then he did something odd. He reached in his pocket and tossed a set of keys at his loud-mouthed prisoner.

“You're letting me go?” Tantum quickly got the key in the hole and opened the cuffs. He freed his wrists and eyed the man suspiciously. “Oh, I get it. She wants to be the one to kill me.” He jumped to his feet and laughed when the man took a quick step back. “Tell her I'll be waiting.”

The man, still silent, pulled Tantum's phone and keys from his pocket with his free hand and flipped them at him. They were quickly followed by Tatum’s jacket, which had been slung over his shoulder.

Tantum caught them all. “What?” he mocked. “I don’t get my gun? There's a crazy chick out there who wants me dead, and you're going to leave me defenseless?”

Finally the man spoke. “She's already on a plane. She's gone.”

“Thank you very much.”
If it was true.
“And I'm free to go?”

The man's jaw clenched. “Yes.”

Following the balcony to the stairs, Tantum punched Bucky's number on his phone.

“Where have you been?”

“Tied up by a wild kitty cat. Got anything for me?” Tantum buttoned his jacket. His bare chest was still exposed, like some fool coming home from a bachelor party without his dress shirt or tie.

“While you were having your fun, I've been diligently working. I think I have a picture of your Target. I sent it to you. Have you checked your inbox?”

“No, but I need you to hail me a cab. I'm at… hold on….” He picked up the pace until a street sign came into view. “I’m at George Street and Hampden.”

“You’re still in Boston, right?” Bucky asked.

“Yep, still here. I'll check my inbox and get back to you. Hey, I sent you a photo for face recognition.” He'd snapped a shot of Rebecca while she was at the party and sent it to Bucky earlier. “Did you get any info about her?”

“Let me see… oh, yeah, here it is. Nala Dekker. Resides in Washington, D.C. Employment, not listed. She's single, parents living, a sister named Brooklyn Dekker. Who is she?”

“No one. Thanks, Buck. I'll call you back in a few.”

He opened his text messages. There were five from Bucky. He shook his head. Bucky was an impatient man. He clicked open the first message:

I sent a picture of who I think evaded the airport cameras. Pretty sure it’s your Target. Wish I was there to see your face.

He hit the attachment. A picture popped up, and Tantum instantly redialed Bucky's number. “Is this a joke?”

“I know! Your Target's a girl. I couldn't believe it either.”

“Buck, it’s the woman I sent you a picture of. I met her at the airport while I waited for the Target to show up.”

“That's Nala Dekker? Are you sure?”

Tantum recognized her ass, her hair, and what she was wearing. “Yes. Why do you think she's my Target?”

“I don’t
think
, Tantum. It's the evidence. I scanned every last frame before the picture went out, and her foot, knee, and side profile popped up just as the camera turned to fuzz. In the last shot, the picture I sent to you with her back to the camera, she smashed her phone, scanned it, then ditched it in the garbage can. What normal person does something like that? It has to be her, Tantum.”

“Okay, change of plans. Get me on the next flight to Washington. Book a room, have my things delivered there. And send me her address.”

“Wait. Tantum, you still there?”

“Yeah,” he waited impatiently. He wanted to get Nala. Not Rebecca, not Becky, but Nala Dekker, his Target.

“You have a new assignment.” Bucky said.

“I told you, I'm not working for NESA. Not until I get the answers I'm looking for.”

“I know, I know, but listen. The government just signed a contract for the recovery of the Rowan file. They want you on it.”

“I said, no.”

“Oh yeah? Wait’ll you hear this. Your assignment is to investigate PIC 2L82C, your Target, and her connections to the Rowan file.”

Tantum paused, startled. “What does the Target have to do with the file?”

“I’m forwarding you a file on Miss Nala Dekker, formerly PIC 2L82C, now 26E4U. That’s her new PIC, since her AC exposed hers at the airport. There’s a shitload of information in the file, and it may also help you with your personal investigation.”

“What the fuck’s up with her numbers? That one sounds like
too sexy for you
. Who gave her the new PIC?”

Bucky’s laughter filled the phone. “We do. The ACs. Man, that's a good one,
too sexy for you
. Really, Tantum, is there a woman 26E4 the notorious Dark Angel?”

“Screw you,” Tantum snapped, loathing the name given to him by The Iris Flower, the infamous Victoria Burton. He didn’t like to think about her.

“Besides, with the cartels after you, having NESA in your back pocket couldn’t hurt. Make a decision. I’ve got to respond back to NESA. If you decline, they’ve told me not to assist you with any further personal work.”

“Fuck ’em,” Tantum growled.

“So, is that a yes?”

“That’s bullshit.” He cursed a few more choice words.

”Okay. I'm taking it as a yes. I'll send the file on Nala Dekker when you get settled.”

Tantum heard him snickering as he hung up.
Fuckfuckfuck!

Nala waited in the room with a desk, a laptop, a dying plant, and a locked file. The droll office of Nancy Reich suited her boss. She dressed like a man and walked like a robot.
Doesn’t she get it? It's okay to be a female and an agent, and boy, does it have its advantages.
It wasn’t that she didn’t like Nancy, whom she considered a fair and honest person, albeit bluntly rough.

“Nala Dekker.” Nancy snapped out her name as she entered holding a file. “I see you ran into some trouble in Boston.” She threw the file on her desk and sat down. She straightened her blazer, then gave Nala her full attention. “You met Marcus Richards?”

“Yes,” Nala responded, not sure how much she should confide in Nancy about her personal hunt for vengeance.

Three years ago, when she told Nancy about Tantum, her boss had entertained her claims about him being Gabe's killer. After a few months of coming up empty, Nancy ordered her to cease investigating. That was when Tantum became a personal mission.

“Good, because he's your new assignment.” She pushed the file on her desk at Nala. “Review the information, investigate him, and let me know what you come up with.”

“You know he killed Gabe—”

Nancy lifted her hand, stopping her short. “This assignment is about the bombings in 2009, not Gabe Cafferty. If we can figure out who's responsible, it’ll help us bring down Gabe's killer.” She put her hand back on the desk. “We've suspected Marcus Richards, so—”

This time she cut her boss off. “You mean Tantum Maddox.”

“No.” Nancy tilted her head to the side. “Tantum Maddox doesn’t exist, but Marcus Richards does. He's been employed by NESA for ten years.”

“Wait. Did I hear you right? He works for NESA?”

“That’s what I said. But he’s gone rogue since his last assignment four months ago. He hasn’t reported to his field office in Texas, but we know where he is. You can identify him now, so he's all yours.”