A Covert Affair (Deadly Ops #5)(35)

“Not gonna find anything,” he muttered, listening to the conversation between Mercado and Amelia. The guy was too smooth. And there had been a pause in their conversation, as if that bastard had kissed Amelia.

The thought made Nathan want to grind his teeth. He was glad they didn’t have video right now. He didn’t need to see her out with someone else who wanted her as badly as Nathan did. Well, not as badly. No one else could want her that much. As Elliott worked, Nathan pulled out his cell phone and called Burkhart.

His boss was working on multiple things right now, but this op was a priority. He answered on the first ring. “How’s your girl doing?”

She wasn’t his girl, even if he wanted her to be. And he knew Wesley didn’t mean it that way. Hell, he shouldn’t even be thinking in those terms. “Solid. Got an invite to the house tonight, so we’re moving forward. The target wants to cook for her.” He kept his voice devoid of too much emotion. He’d promised Burkhart that his history with Amelia wouldn’t interfere with anything, and he had to keep that promise.

“That’s great. You, Cade, and Dax are on standby as the backup team if anything goes wrong. I’ll send three more guys your way, but if things sound like they’re getting hot, use operational latitude.”

“Affirmative.” Some of his tension eased as they disconnected. He hoped they wouldn’t need the backup, but he was glad to have it.

“Since we know their destination I’m going to take an alternative route to the neighborhood,” Dax said, glancing at them in the rearview mirror. “Don’t want anyone to spot us.”

Under normal circumstances it would have been difficult to infiltrate the gated neighborhood, but Maria had called in a favor—or her father had. One of his clients had an empty house in Star Island. It was on the market, but the real estate industry was bad now, especially for a house selling in the millions. So it was sitting empty and Nathan’s team was using it as a base.

It was close enough to where Amelia would be that Nathan wasn’t completely out of his mind. Still, seconds counted in matters of life and death, and if God forbid something went wrong . . . he’d do everything in his power to save her.





Chapter 9


Dry clean: actions operatives take to determine if they are under surveillance or bugged.





Standing on a plain rectangular desk, Tessa reached up, skimming her fingers over the lower edge of the window where the two panes met. Even standing on the desk, the window was too high. She could feel the outline of a lock, tried to move it, but it wouldn’t budge. Next she tried to grasp the bottom lip of the lower half of the window, but of course it didn’t move either. Not when it was locked.

She couldn’t stay here—wherever here was. All she remembered was the horror of waking up to a gloved hand over her mouth and the face of a man who looked positively gleeful. Maybe a little insane. She’d started to scream when a jolt of pain had shot through her. After that she couldn’t remember anything.

She’d woken up in this room that looked a little bit like a hospital room. But it wasn’t. She’d tried the door and found it locked. She’d banged on it and shouted for help until someone told her to be quiet for her own safety. A female voice from nearby had said it with urgency; with fear.

Tessa had listened.

All she knew at this point was that she’d been taken from her home in the middle of the night and was someone’s prisoner. Her pajamas were still on and it was dark outside, so she didn’t think that much time had passed. And she didn’t think she’d been sexually assaulted. Didn’t mean it wasn’t going to happen. She might just be a freshman in college, but she was a criminal justice major and knew what kind of horrors were out there. Not firsthand, but she wasn’t completely naive. Besides, she watched the freaking news.

A shudder skittered through her, but she brushed it off. She needed to find a way out. Or a weapon. Since the window exit wasn’t working out, she got off the table and slid onto the tiled floor. It was cold beneath her bare feet.

The door handle rattled. Fear detonated inside her, making her freeze up. A moment later a man wearing scrubs walked in pushing a small rolling cart. He was only a couple of inches taller than her, maybe five feet eight. He had dark hair and a clean-shaven face and his expression was neutral. He propped the door open and for a moment she fantasized about ramming into him, using the cart to knock him down so she could make a break for it.

Those thoughts died when another man—the man who’d taken her—stepped into the doorway behind the one in scrubs. Though his expression didn’t change, his eyes had a wild quality to them.

She belatedly noticed he had a gun in a holster on his hip.

Before a deeper fear could take root, the shorter man spoke. “You will take these twice a day, once in the morning and once in the evening. You’ll take them with your food.” He held up a capped bottle and rattled it slightly. Then he motioned to the small refrigerator she’d seen earlier, but hadn’t opened. “There is water and multivitamin juice inside. I will bring you food in the morning and you will get exercise and time outside if you behave.”

Behave? Like what, this was prison? Fear slid through her, the iciness making her muscles turn rigid.

“The television also works,” he said, nodding at it. “If you break it, you won’t get another one, so don’t be foolish. If you want books or magazines, let me know. And don’t ask any questions right now. You came in later than expected and I’m tired. If you insist on harassing me with questions or pleas for freedom, I’ll lock him in here with you.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the man who’d kidnapped her, his eyes completely devoid of emotion. “Be smart, get some sleep, and we will discuss your new home in the morning.”