A Dangerous Engagement Page 3

  How the devil would she know? As "the man" had so succinctly put it, she'd been flying as high as that blasted Panamanian flag out front when she'd met him. But she couldn't admit to that, now could she? Besides, there was no way Luis was implying…but he was. She could see it in his eyes.

  Good God, first Foster—and now Luis. Dammit, she'd proven her loyalty, with her silence over Manny's murder—with the local police—and Luis's guilt. Twice. What more did she have to do?

  Her shock must have shown because Luis tipped her chin and stared into her eyes. "Think about it, my dear. I need this man. And soon. There is no one I trust to do this more than you. Get to know Señor Wild. Allow him to court you. What man would not desire a woman such as you? Stay close to him and report your findings to me. Do this, and you need never worry about returning to America again. You will live like a queen here in Panama with me, in your true home. I swear it."

  She sat there in stunned silence, desperately trying to quell the nausea as Luis's vile proposition roiled through her gut. This really was happening. Her cousin had finally decided to pimp her. And he expected her to go along.

  * * *

  What a waste.

  Tom leaned back in his chair to hook his boots up onto the edge of the bed in his hotel room, balancing his shot glass on one thigh as he stared blindly past his jeans. In his mind, Manuel Morales stared back. Of course, the Manuel he'd known had been a few years younger than the one who'd been murdered in this very city. That man had also been so damned full of life. They'd met the first day of Ranger School. The cocky soldier had driven Tom and the rest of their qualifying class stark, raving nuts. A jokester the entire two and a half months, Manny had made those days of living hell almost bearable. What he wouldn't give for one of those sorry-assed cracks behind the cadre's backs now. What a goddamned waste.

  Tom sighed as he studied the shot of Scotch gleaming up at him. He raised the glass in a silent toast and tipped the whole of it into his mouth, welcoming the slow burn as the whiskey slid down his throat before spreading out into his gut. "Sorry, buddy. I swore I wouldn't fail you."

  Christ, he hated the one-man jobs. Working without his team was bad enough, but this time he couldn't risk slipping back into that mausoleum to even the score. Anna Ortiz Shale. Tom had known before going in she was a looker. He'd also known she was a traitor, possibly even a murderer. Too bad he hadn't been warned she was a cold one to boot.

  A stoned, cold one. That changed everything.

  There were several solid reasons as to why he'd been approved for this assignment, the most important being that, unlike Manny, Tom hadn't traded in the adrenaline rush and his commission for a badge with the After The Fact crowd. Hell, even after Luis had slit the first undercover ATF agent's throat earlier in the year, ATF still hadn't suspected a mole. Mainly because Luis's remaining partner at Martineta Imports as well as a local politician's wife and child had been murdered at the same time. So ATF had sent in a second agent—Manny. Tom's former Special Forces buddy had been making serious progress on the AK-47 shipments, as well as the original undercover agent's murder until Manny, too, had been slaughtered. Even if Anna wasn't responsible for Manny's death, she was covering for Luis. Now he knew why.

  It was ironic. The Joint Special Operations Command had agreed to send him in mainly because, as Delta Force, the chances were remote that not even Anna with her Naval Intelligence background, much less a potential ATF mole, would be able to identify him as currently active duty—and not the Army Special Forces turned soldier of fortune his carefully edited, but still official, personnel file now portrayed.

  His features hadn't hurt either. That he wasn't of Hispanic descent had actually helped him get his foot in the door with Luis. Word on the street was that Looney Louie had outdone himself after he'd taken out Manny. Convinced he'd been targeted by his own government, Luis no longer wanted a local boy as his demolitions man. Instead, he wanted a blue-eyed, blond-haired Norte Americano who was strictly in it for profit. Other than green eyes and light brown hair, Tom fit the bill. His revised features should have stood him in good stead with Anna, too. A quick look into the woman's dating history had revealed a potential preference for blue eyes and short blond hair. A box of Miss Clairol For Men, a set of tinted contacts, and he was ready to use all of the above to his advantage.

  Until he discovered Anna's preference for another kind of buzz. He'd learned a long time ago he couldn't compete with that one. He swung his boots off the bed, thumping the empty shot glass beside the bottle of Scotch as the memories bit in. He knocked the resulting doubts back and poured out another shot just to spite them, then carefully lined up the glass beside the open bottle as the red LED numbers on the clock radio flashed over. Eleven p.m. on the dot. Based on results of his groundwork these past weeks, the gauntlet he'd tossed at Anna's heels earlier this evening should have done the trick by now. But only if she'd been sober enough to retrieve it.

  Evidently, she wasn't.

  Tom shoved the unexpected disappointment aside and bypassed the shot glass, retrieving his encrypted cell phone from the nightstand instead. It was time to adjust his strategy. But first he'd have to find out what Anna Shale's drug of choice was and who was supplying it. Tom punched out a local number. He might not be able to get to the bottom of Ms. Shale's drug habit in time to use it against her, but he knew someone who could.

  * * *

  He wasn't in.

  Anna lowered her knuckles and stared at the hotel room door, torn between disappointment and relief. Or was that nausea? It was definitely back. But this time, the nausea had nothing to do with the anesthesia or the Percocet and its champagne chaser. It had to do with her cousin. Because of Luis she'd gone from decorated naval officer to the scourge of the Fleet in the span of three months. Why not tack on a stint as street strumpet at the end? If things kept going the way they were, she might be able to land a job cleaning bathrooms in this place when it was all over. If she could still look herself in the mirror, that is.

  Mirror. The mere word yanked her all the way back to San Diego. Back to the NCIS interrogation room where it had all started. How far are you willing to go for your country? She was standing here, wasn't she? A father in Arizona who refused to take her calls, much less allow her past the front door. Not a single friend that she was allowed to speak to, save one. A pariah to total strangers. Manny's murder. The electronic bug she'd had surgically implanted in her breast just yesterday because of that murder.

  Wasn't that far enough?

  Blast it to hell. She rapped her knuckles on the door, harder this time. Again, nothing. It was late. From the dossier she'd just finished skimming, Tom Wild didn't seem the type to turn in early. Despite his ultimatum, he could be out cruising the strips. He might have even written the job off. There were bars and clubs that stayed open till dawn in Panama City. He could be drowning his disappointment in any one of them. Except the desk clerk had sworn he was in his room.

  She raised her hand again, determined to try one last time. But before her knuckles could connect with the door, it swung open. Her hand hung in midair as her jaw dropped in shock. Tom Wild was not out partying. Nor had he been sleeping. But he was naked. Well, except for the towel.

  Mesmerized, she stared at it. Or rather, at what little there was of it. Not that it seemed to matter. There was more than enough of him to make up for it. So much in fact, that his body filled the doorway.

  "I was in the shower."

  That would explain the spray of droplets still glistening across his shoulders, dripping over the sculpted planes of his chest to join with the rivulets sliding down what appeared to be a very taut stomach. The rivulets came to an abrupt halt at his waist, soaking into the edges of the white towel he'd hooked together with one hand at his right hip. Jesús dulce. How could she have met this man, let alone carried on a conversation with him hours earlier and not have remembered him? That settled it. She was tossing out the rest of those pills the second the pain i
n her breast ebbed. If they could dull her mind this much, they were dangerous.

  His hand shifted, causing the towel to dip past his navel. "Well?"

  She tore her gaze from the mesmerizing pucker and teasing wisps of hair swirling beneath to stare into his eyes. Blue. At least she'd remembered that correctly. The dossier had included a grainy black-and-white photo that appeared to have been faxed. It had not done him justice. The water had turned the man's short, dark-blond hair brown. Not to mention his full lips were still flushed from the heat of his shower. To make matters worse, his strong cheeks and square jaw were covered in a rasping, morning-after stubble that made her palms itch just looking at it. It was as if she'd somehow stepped up to a smorgasbord of everything she found sexy in a man. She closed her hands against the embarrassing ache in her palms and frowned.

  This was not good. Those eyes were not good.

  She'd just have to ignore them, that's all. Difficult to do while actually staring into them, true, but she could manage. She'd just have to concentrate. After all, she'd managed to live under her cousin's roof for three excruciating months now. It would help to remember that this man, however gorgeous he might be, was just like Luis. No real loyalties beyond himself. No conscience.

  All she had to do was say what she'd come to say and leave. She'd worry about the rest later.

  Determined to do just that, she drew a deep breath and opened her mouth…but he was gone. Tom had already spun around on his bare feet and strode back into the room, the towel riding low and flapping against a set of extremely impressive, perfectly tanned thighs as he walked. Another inch and she'd be staring at what was undoubtedly an equally impressive, rock-hard a—

  "You coming?"

  So this was his game, was it? Get to the woman to get to her cousin? She was actually disappointed. She killed the twinge and entered the room, just to spite him, snapping the door shut behind her as he reached the side of the bed. He turned quickly at the sound, the barest of smiles teasing at his lips that she'd followed.

  She ignored it.

  It was harder to ignore his hands. He tugged the towel tight and tucked one end snugly over the other at his hip. At least, she hoped it was snug. She held her breath as he crossed his arms over his still-glistening chest, not sure if she was relieved or disappointed the towel held.

  "I gather I didn't get the job."

  Instead of answering, she arched a brow. Curious to see where he'd take this, and how far.

  "You're here. Your cousin isn't."

  Ah. "Luis had a dinner engagement."

  This time, his brow shot up. "At midnight?"

  It wasn't midnight for another twenty minutes. She shrugged anyway. "I imagine dessert ran over."

  "I imagine she did."

  His chuckle startled her. It rumbled through his chest, deep and low. Uncomfortable with the way the sound rasped into her stomach, she shifted her gaze from that too-blue stare and the teasing twinkle to the bathroom beyond. The door was closed. Odd. For a man who'd been in such a hurry that he'd barely had time to grab a towel, it was very odd. Did he have a woman in there? What if he did? It was none of her business.

  She yanked her stare away once again, this time shifting it down. It settled on an opened bottle of Scotch sitting atop one of the cherry nightstands flanking his still-made bed. At least one drink was missing, another waiting in the glass. One glass. So, no woman. Just a man. A nearly naked man.

  "Need one?"

  She blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

  His mouth tightened. The motion was so slight she almost missed it.

  The booze.

  For some reason, it stung. "No, I don't need one. And for your information, I'm not high either."

  Now. Though unspoken, the accusation hung between them. Those piercing blue eyes searched her gaze for a good fifteen seconds. She wasn't worried. With the bulk of the anesthesia gone from her body, the second round of pills had taken the edge off the throb in her chest and still left her able to function. Amazing how quickly it came back. Evidently Tom was satisfied with what he found—or rather, what he didn't—because the frown eased from his lips. But she could still feel his disapproval. Why she even felt like explaining herself to some ex-Army thug for hire, she didn't know. These past three months had definitely gotten to her. The man standing damn near buck-naked in front of her, trying to intimidate her, was no better than her cousin. Perhaps worse. Best she remember that.

  She forced a shrug. "You wouldn't understand."

  "Try me, honey."

  Her spine stiffened instinctively at the lingering disbelief in his tone. Her resolve followed. "Thank you, but no. And I'm not your honey. However, as we've already established, it is late. I apologize for the hour, but I needed time to review your file."

  His brow lifted again.

  She ignored it again. She'd be damned if she was discussing her cousin with this man. To do so would risk her life, as well as his. She'd learned that the hard way. "I presume from your disappointment upon my arrival that you're still interested in the job?"

  "Disappointment?" He had the nerve to smile. "Honey, I'm never disappointed when I find a gorgeous woman knocking down my door in the middle of the night, anxious to see me."

  "Flattery will get you nowhere, Mr. Wild." Nor would the implication that she was the one chasing him. It was past time to establish just who was taking orders from whom. "Are you interested in the job or not?"

  His jaw tightened. "I'm interested."

  "Why?"

  Something flickered deep within his eyes. It left just as quickly. "Let's just say I need the money."

  She didn't bother casing what was one of Panama City's more spacious and luxurious hotel suites. She already knew Luis was picking up the tab. Her cousin had flown him here as well. This man had come that highly recommended.

  "You could have stayed in the Army."

  He shook his head. "They can't afford to pay me what your cousin can."

  True enough. Like herself, Luis had dragged himself up from the gutter. Was that Tom Wild's problem? Was he as obsessed as Luis was with never going without again? She shoved the question aside and selected another. "What if you're not up to it?"

  He blinked.

  For a second, she could have sworn she'd thrown him. She pressed it. "You don't even know what the job is yet."

  He recovered quickly. "Do you?"

  No. But that was none of his business. Neither was the fact that if she did know, she wouldn't need to be here. The fact was, she was here. She was in the hotel room of a man who'd been backed up against the wall as far as he was willing to go. She could see that in his eyes as well. And he was practically naked. Dry now, but still naked.

  She jerked her gaze from the man's magnetic chest and fused it to his steady stare. "It's yours."

  "Just like that?"

  "Yes. But there are a couple conditions." She forced herself to ignore the straining towel as he refolded his arms across his chest. That tuck at his hips had to be slipping.

  "Conditions?"

  She nodded. "I haven't had a chance to review your file thoroughly. Naturally, I reserve the right to withdraw my initial approval. You must know that should I do so, my cousin would quite possibly order your immediate…termination."

  His stare smoldered at the veiled threat, but he nodded.

  Thank heavens. She'd need the edge for what she was about to add. "I would also like you to forget about my initial distraction at my cousin's house earlier this evening."

  "Distraction? Is that what you call—"

  "Yes." She held his gaze. "Agreed?"

  Dark blue smelted to steel. "Agreed."

  "Congratulations, Mr. Wild. Consider yourself on the payroll. Luis will, of course, continue to pick up your tab here at the Bristol." She glanced about the room, snapping her gaze back to his when she spotted the towel's now precarious tuck in the free-standing mirror. That scrap of terry was about to go. "I'll also see to it that his accountant provides
you with a retainer. Cash. You can pick it up tomorrow. You're scheduled to meet with Luis at seven o'clock sharp and you'll dine together after." She dropped her gaze briefly, very briefly. "Formal attire. Until then, good night."

  Anxious to call the visit a wrap before that taunting towel unwrapped, she turned to leave. Unfortunately, Tom followed her to the door. She grabbed the knob, only to have his much larger hand close over hers before she could wrench it open. He stepped close, so close she could feel the heat radiating off his body, seeping into hers. She cursed her decision to pull her hair up into its usual twist as his breath fanned the side of her face and down her neck, shooting ripples of unwelcome desire beneath the collar of her dress. There was no doubt in her mind. The rush of pure eroticism she'd felt earlier this evening had not been a hallucination.

  It had been real. And it had come from him.

  A second later, she heard the towel plop softly onto the floor. She slammed her eyes shut. What Luis had suggested was vile enough. But to then respond this way to this man? What kind of a woman was she? Everyone has a price, chiquita. She purged the insidious whisper from her mind. Dammit, her aunt was wrong.

  "Ms. Shale?"

  Against her will, her lids jerked open.

  "You forgot something."

  "I—I did?" Whatever it was, she was not turning around to retrieve it. Not with that towel lying on the floor between them. She focused on the sun-bleached hairs sprinkled across the man's muscular forearm.

  "You did."

  She licked her lips. "What's that?"

  "My conditions. You asked for my silence regarding your earlier…distraction. I gave it. But you haven't yet agreed to my conditions in return."

  Great. According to that dossier, she couldn't afford conditions from a man with Tom Wild's reputation. But if she refused outright, she'd be forced to stay here and argue, possibly even turn around. Definitely out of the question. There was only one alternative left. She'd hear him out and do precisely what she'd been doing for the past three months. Lie.