Desperate Deeds
“I want you,” she whispered, shivering in anticipation.
His hand closed over hers. “If we do this, there are bound to be repercussions.”
There was a warning there, but she ignored it, her desire for him overpowering common sense. “I don’t care,” she said, the fire inside her building to a fever pitch.
“But I do.” He sighed, a shadow crossing his face. “And there are things we should talk about, things I need to—”
“Later.” With a soft, slow movement, she kissed his palm. “We’ll talk later. Right now, I just want you. Please.” She raised her hand and ran it along the curve of his jaw, then trailed her fingers across his lips, pleased when she felt his body tremble at her touch.
With a moan of pleasure, he pulled her into his arms, crushing her to him…
ALSO BY DEE DAVIS
Dark Deceptions
Dangerous Desires
Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © 2010 by Dee Davis Oberwetter
Excerpt from Dark Deceptions copyright © 2010 by Dee Davis Oberwetter
Excerpt from Dangerous Desires copyright © 2010 by Dee Davis Oberwetter
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
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First eBook Edition: August 2010
ISBN: 978-0-446-56903-3
Contents
“I want you,” she whispered, shivering in anticipation.
ALSO BY DEE DAVIS
Copyright
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
EPILOGUE
A Preview of DARK DECEPTIONS
A Preview of DANGEROUS DESIRES
THE DISH
For my friend Cecily, the personification of strength and grace.
This is the way the world ends…
T. S. ELIOT
PROLOGUE
Southeastern Colorado
So are we in any danger here?” Lieutenant Roger Mather asked.
“As long as we don’t hit any big bumps, we should be fine.” Tyler Hanson glanced over at the young soldier driving the van, feeling a twinge of guilt as his fingers tightened on the steering wheel, his knuckles going white. “I’m kidding,” she assured him, swallowing a smile. “The detonators are totally harmless without a payload attached.”
“So then what’s with all the precautions?” His fingers relaxed, but his frown lingered. “I mean, since when is an outsider called in to handle a routine weapons transfer?”
“I’m not exactly an outsider. I come from an army family.”
“Ah,” Mather nodded, “an army brat.”
“Exactly. I bounced around from base to base following my father. And I enlisted as soon as I was old enough. Did my basic training at Fort Hood.”
“The armpit of Texas,” Anthony Gerardi commiserated from his perch in the back of the van. “So why’d you opt out?”
“Let’s just say I found a higher calling—or maybe I should say it found me. Anyway, here I am.”
“Doesn’t change the fact that your being here marks something bigger than just a run-of-the-mill transport,” Anthony observed, his eyes narrowed speculatively as he cut a glance at the crate holding the detonators.
“Look,” Tyler said, turning so that she could see them both, “the detonators are prototypes. Microelectromechanical systems. Technically advanced devices that aren’t available on the open market.”
“Come again?” Roger asked, eyes on the road.
“They’re nanotechnology. Part of a drive to miniaturize nuclear weapons.”
“So why are we shipping them to the Brits?” Anthony asked.
“Because they helped develop them. And shared in the cost. It was a joint effort, and now that this phase of development is completed, each country will continue working on its own. Anyway, our job is to make sure that the devices make it safely to Colorado Springs.”
“To the Air Force base.” Roger nodded. “And from there?”
“They’ll be transferred to British control.”
“You still haven’t explained why you’re involved in all of this,” Anthony prompted.
“In my unit, I’m the expert in munitions.” She shrugged. “So when we drew the mission, I was the obvious choice to go.”
“And by unit—you mean A-Tac.” Roger and Anthony exchanged glances.
“I see you’ve done your homework.”
Anthony smiled. “A little. When we heard you were going to be involved, we did some digging. Still seems odd, though, that you guys would be called in.”
“Yeah, well, I had the same thought. But the order came from the top. CIA brass. And when my bosses call, I listen.”
“Doesn’t sound that different from the Army,” Anthony said.
“You said you were military.” Roger turned slightly, his brow furrowed with confusion. Then recognition dawned. “You’re General Hanson’s daughter.” His eyes widened, fear mixing with respect. It was always like that. Her father was an icon. A soldier’s soldier. He’d fought in three wars and worked for five administrations. Most recently as an undersecretary at the Pentagon. Even in his retirement, he’d kept his finger on the nation’s military pulse. Until a new enemy had surfaced, threatening to rob him of the very essence that made him who he was.
“Guilty as charged,” she said, turning her head to look out the window. Forest lined the road on either side, the trees looming black against the midnight sky. An occasional light blinked in the distance, but for the most part the area was uninhabited, which was exactly why they’d chosen this particular route.
“Wow.” Anthony whistled. “Talk about connected.”
“From my point of view, it’s mainly a pain in the ass,” she said.
Roger sighed. “And I know just what you mean about relatives.”
“Sounds like there’s more to that story,” Tyler said, not really interested, but grateful to move away from discussing her father.
“Yeah.” Anthony grinned. “He married the base commander’s daughter.”
“Hey, you can’t help who you fall in love with.” Roger shrugged.
“Maybe,” Anthony said, “but if I thought getting married would mean sitting behind a desk for the rest of my career, I’d seriously reconsider.”
“I take it your father-in-law isn’t keen for you to see any action?”
Tyler asked.
“Exactly.” Roger nodded. “I was all set to ship out with my unit to Afghanistan. But when we found out Mary was pregnant, she got totally freaked. Wanted me home. So her father pulled some strings. Said it was better for the family. And here I am.”
“Totally screwed,” Anthony said, commiserating.
“How far along is your wife?”
“Six months. She’s stopped throwing up. But she’s started with the mood swings. You have any kids?”
“No way,” Tyler said. “I’m not interested in any kind of commitment. My job doesn’t allow for it. And even if it did, I’d pass. No offense intended, but most relationships just aren’t worth the effort.”
“Now who’s got a story?” Roger smiled.
“Nothing worth telling,” Tyler said, folding her arms as she looked out the window again. “And for what it’s worth, I wish my father had been home more. Might have made things a hell of a lot easier for all of us. So enjoy the time you’ve got. There’ll be time for deployments later.”
“Not if General Fisher has anything to say about it,” Anthony teased.
“Shut it,” Roger warned, but he smiled. Clearly the lieutenant wasn’t as displeased with his situation as he pretended.
Tyler stared out the window, wondering how it would feel to be part of a family that really worked. Hers had been as dysfunctional as it got, although in later years she’d come to understand her father better. Or at least why his marriages hadn’t worked. And why he’d left her on her own so much of the time. Duty was a bitch. Along with loyalty to country. They always came first. Always.
If she ever married, she’d wind up taking the backseat. Expected to fulfill the traditional role—the little woman, just like her mother. Justin’s defection had only proved the point.
She swallowed as memory reared its ugly head. She’d loved Justin with every ounce of her being—and he’d betrayed her in the worst kind of way, expecting her to give up everything for him. His career over hers. And when she’d refused, he’d walked away—and some part of her had died. Which frankly, suited her just fine.
She had all the family she needed. Her brother Mark. And her unit at the CIA. She’d been with A-Tac for almost ten years now. A lifetime, all things considered. And the friendships she’d forged meant everything. She shook her head, banishing her rambling thoughts as she looked out at the starswept night. She’d always loved the mountains. There was something majestic about them, even now, in the dark, when their profile was little more than a shadow beyond the line of the trees.
“What’s that?” Roger asked, slowing the van as a shape loomed out of the darkness.
Tyler leaned forward, squinting as the van’s headlights caught the gleam of metal. “Looks like a motorcycle,” she said.
“What the hell is it doing here?” Anthony asked, already reaching for his gun.
“I don’t know,” Tyler said, her eyes locked on the fallen bike. “Maybe there’s been an accident.”
“Or maybe someone’s trying to block the way.” Anthony frowned.
“Not likely.” She shook her head. “There’s no way anyone could know that we’re here. Besides, it’s really not much of a blockade. I mean, we could get around it if we needed to.”
“So maybe that’s what we should do,” Roger said as he pulled the van to the side of the road.
“Someone could be hurt,” Tyler said, reaching into her coat pocket for a flashlight. “You guys stay in the van. I’ll check it out.” She opened the door and hopped out, her senses on high alert. “Keep close watch,” she cautioned. “And if anything happens, get the hell out of here. Don’t wait for me.” She didn’t honestly think there was any danger, but she’d learned a long time ago not to take chances.
Except for the soft whine of the van and the wind in the spruce, the road was quiet. No signs of life—just the discarded chassis of the motorcycle. From its angle, she guessed it had been abandoned in a hurry, probably to avoid oncoming traffic. She moved the beam of her light, her eyes following the line of a skid, the mark seeming to confirm her hypothesis.
To the left of the road, the mountain rose straight upward, the rocky face impassable. To the right, behind a shattered guard rail, the scree-covered shoulder sloped sharply as it dropped down to the forest floor.
Tyler leaned down to feel the engine of the motorcycle. Whatever had happened here, it hadn’t been recent. Still, she needed to make certain that no one was stuck out here without help. The county road was an old one, the pass less traveled than the newer highway to the east. They’d chosen it on purpose. But the very reasons they’d decided on the route made it a danger for anyone in trouble.
Careful to keep an eye on the road and the woods beyond, she walked back over to the van. “The engine’s cold. Which means that the bike’s been here a while. But I need to make sure no one is stranded or injured. So I’m going to check over there where the guard rail’s broken.”
“I’ll move the bike,” Anthony said. “Might as well make it easy on us.”
“Just keep your eyes open,” Tyler said. “Roger, you stay with the detonators. And as before, if there’s any trouble—”
“I know. I know,” he said, lifting his hands. “Pedal to the metal.”
“Dude, you watch too many old movies,” Anthony said, as he jumped down to the pavement, a rifle slung across his back.
The two of them walked back to the motorcycle, and then as Anthony leaned down to pick up the bike, Tyler headed to the far side of the road and the guard rail. One of the wooden support posts had been knocked down, the metal railing bent and twisted. She knelt, the flashlight beam illuminating the rocky scree and the pine needle carpet stretching out into the forest.
At the foot of a gnarled old spruce, the light caught on something blue. Tyler frowned and stepped over the railing. Moving the beam slowly across the ground, she tried to make out what it was she was seeing, but the distance was simply too great. So after signaling her intent to Anthony, she began to make her way down the steep incline.
The darkness, combined with the loose rock, made it rough going, her tumbling thoughts making the descent even more difficult. It had been her mother’s scarf, caught on the bridge’s railing, that had first alerted a passerby of something amiss. But they’d assumed it was flotsam. Nothing worth worrying over.
Tyler shook her head. She wasn’t going to make the same mistake.
As she reached the bottom of the incline, the woods closed in around her, the damp smell of earth and vegetation filling her nose. From this angle she couldn’t see the highway above her. And thanks to the overhanging trees, she couldn’t hear much either. Sweeping the flashlight beam over the ground, she located the flash of blue she’d seen from above.
After making her way over to the base of the tree, she bent to retrieve the swatch of material, her fingers tightening reflexively around the oblong piece of silk. Her mother’s scarf had been blue, too. The coincidence was enough to send chills racing through her, followed by a wash of suspicion.
Tyler didn’t believe in coincidence.
She pulled her gun and turned slowly in a circle, the flashlight’s beam fading as it shot out into the forest. The pines shimmied and aspen leaves rattled, the hollow sound swelling as the wind swept through the trees.
“Is anyone out there?” Tyler called, her voice swallowed by the wind. “Hello?” She frowned and turned slowly again, still clutching the scarf. “Anyone?” Leaves swirled at her feet and behind her rocks skittered down the slope. She swung around, her instincts moving into overdrive. Something was wrong.
She started back up the slope just as a shot rang out from the road above. A burst of adrenaline sent her scrambling upward, but in her haste she stumbled, falling to her knees, the scarf whipping out of her hands, the wind carrying it back into the forest. Another shot broke through the night, this one followed by several more.
She pushed herself to her feet and clawed her way back up the steep emb
ankment. At the top, she dropped down behind the guard rail, gun at the ready, while she tried to assess the situation. The van was still parked on the far side of the road, its headlights cutting through the dark, illuminating the motorcycle, now safely on the far shoulder. And just beyond it—a body.
Anthony’s.
Anger mixed with bile as she fought to maintain control. Another round of gunfire erupted from somewhere behind the van. Roger rounded the front of the vehicle, firing behind him. Without stopping to think, she popped up, providing cover. Roger turned in her direction, running full out as bullets exploded at his feet. Two gunmen came around the van from the back, both firing.
Tyler moved closer, using a fallen tree branch for cover. Roger was only a few hundred feet away now, crouched low and moving on a zigzag. She fired in the direction of their assailants, knowing that she was too far away to kill them but praying that she was close enough to keep them from finding their mark.
At first it seemed to be working, and then just as Roger reached the guard rail, he fell forward, clutching his side. Springing to her feet, Tyler moved so that she was between him and the gunmen. Another man had emerged from behind the truck, which meant that now there were three of them. All armed, and closing fast.
Not the best of odds, but she’d be damned if she was going down without a fight. Still shooting, she knelt beside Roger, feeling for a pulse, her heart dropping when she realized there was none. Scrambling backward, she leaped over the guard rail, using the rusty metal to provide a modicum of protection. She fired twice more at the approaching men, then pivoted when she heard gravel crunch behind her.
A fourth gunman appeared through the gloom, his gun leveled at her gut. She fired, but he was faster, the force of the bullet knocking her backward to the edge of the embankment. For a moment she teetered there, trying to hold her balance, and then another bullet slammed into her and she fell, tumbling down the steep slope, her gun going flying as rocks clawed at her skin, the world seeming to move in slow motion as she slammed to the bottom, hitting her head first against a tree and then against the sharp edge of a rock.