Dangerous to Know (14 page)

All accomplished in so short a span of time, as if she were suspended between heartbeats. Mercer was moving past her before she managed to drag enough breath into her burning lungs to protest.

She decided to save her breath; the guy was already halfway across her living room but he stopped before he got too close to the windows again, inviting the delivery guy in with a jerk of his head.

“Thanks for coming out,” Mercer muttered while digging his wallet out of his pocket.

“Twenty-four-seven, that's our motto.”

Mercer handed the guy a few bills and received a plastic bag in return. The scent of hot tomato sauce and cheese drew a rumble from her belly.

“I'm starving, too.” Mercer put the bag down and dug out two carryout containers. “Let's eat while they finish the window.”

Zoe stared at him, trying to decide if her pride was worth suffering through a bowl of cold cereal while the scent of hot Italian food tormented her.

It wasn't.

“Fine.”

She picked up the container on the top and grabbed a plastic fork.

“Where are you going?” Mercer demanded.

“Upstairs,” she muttered. “You get the sofa and the window bill. Partner.”

The look of frustration that appeared on his face brought her a measure of satisfaction at last. She just wished it hadn't dissipated by the time she reached the top step. A tingle of dread began chilling her. Her windows weren't the only thing shattered; so was her confidence in her home. The place felt colder and less inviting now. An urge to look over her shoulder at the capable vision Mercer provided tugged at her but she forced herself to keep going until she made it into her bedroom.

Fine, she was scared. But there was no way in hell she would ever let Mercer see it.

*   *   *

Mercer had to kill the urge to follow her. Forcing himself to stay put while she disappeared into the master bedroom. It took an amazing amount of discipline.

It shouldn't have.

The place was wired and bugged to perfection. Saxon had ordered him to keep enough of a leash on Zoe to make sure they didn't lose her but also give her the slack to think she wasn't being watched too carefully. Just a few loopholes, like making it look as though he was being nice enough to allow her the privacy of her bedroom.

There was nothing private about it now. Greer and the team had seen to that before Zoe finished dealing with her window. If she made a move to warn her family members, they'd know it and have their evidence.

The dinner he'd been salivating over suddenly tasted like sawdust. He ground his teeth, frustration turning his stomach.

Idiot.

The plan was clear and necessary. Men had died and it was his duty to intercept the people responsible.

So why wasn't he enjoying his dinner while his target was so neatly in a position to close the case?

Because he doubted she was guilty. It was more than a tickle now, it was a full feeling that they'd followed a very well-laid trail. Zoe was more than just a mule, she was also intended as the scapegoat. A plan that worked a whole lot better if she was dead and unable to defend herself.

He just hadn't figured out how yet. Saxon would accuse him of being a softhearted idiot, but he wasn't able to shake the feeling. Zoe had better adjust her attitude soon, because it might become necessary for them to stick a whole lot closer to each other.

*   *   *

Eating didn't take long. Zoe found herself beginning to pace, but the wood floor of her bedroom seemed to echo each footfall. She kicked her shoes off but still heard the floorboards creaking.

She just didn't want Mercer to hear her. He was too sharp to not figure out what she was doing. Another silly impulse but she wanted to hide her anxiety. Her bed didn't feel as comfortable as it normally did. She looked at the remote control but never reached for it. Her desire for drama was nonexistent. In fact, anything but
I Love Lucy
reruns struck her as unpalatable. The fear and stress of the last few hours played across her mind with enough clarity that she felt sweat on her forehead.

Someone had tried to kill … her … or Mercer … maybe both.

Her dinner suddenly wasn't sitting so well, and her body was exhausted. She fell asleep on top of the covers, her dreams a nightmarish mixture of recollections from the day.

She jerked awake, sure it was her dream that had startled her. Her hands were curled into talons, gripping handfuls of the comforter while her heart hammered inside her chest.

Her cell phone buzzed again and she sat up. The thing was sitting on her nightstand, illuminated with an incoming call from a classified number.

Zoe reached for it out of habit.

“Where were you today?” Her father's voice was peppered with static. “Don't tell me Tim booked you a party on a regular workday.”

“Hi, Daddy.” Her voice cracked as the day's events rushed at her like a tsunami. She drew in a quick breath and got a grip on her composure before she let the cat out of the bag. “Don't worry, Tim didn't mess up.” She left it at that, hoping her father wouldn't ask again. Lying to her daddy was a bad idea. Bryan Magnus would call her on it.

“How's my baby bird?”

Zoe smothered a short bark of laughter. “Harley is almost thirty now.”

“Just a baby, like you, and don't forget it, my girl,” her father insisted.

“Harley is … Harley. He chewed up an expensive custom leather jacket today.” Just saying it lightened her mood but it brought Mercer back to mind.

“Whose jacket?” her father demanded.

Busted … Daddy's radar is working great.

“Someone who wasn't alert enough to notice a bright red-and-blue bird slipping under their nose. Harley is very much … the same bird you left with me,” she said playfully. It was a lame attempt to lighten the mood and lull her dad into thinking she was just fine and didn't want to worry him while he was on assignment. The military family code.

Still, it was dishonesty, and her dad was going to call her on it. She had no doubt.

“I love him, every last opinionated squawk,” her dad drawled at last.

Zoe smiled in the dark. “Yeah, well, the neighbors aren't so happy about those. You need to encourage Tim to book more morning parties because Harley wakes up at first light.”

“Another reason I love that bird,” her father said. “Keeps better time than anything man-made.”

Her hand began to ache because she was holding the phone so tightly. Tears stung her eyes, the need to reach out to her father so great, it felt uncontainable.

But she held on to her determination. Her father was working on a top-secret project and didn't need her adding to his stress level. The phone was always on her nightstand because she never knew when he'd find a few moments to call. She liked to think he made contact with her when he needed to remember why he was out doing his duty.

So she wouldn't be letting her daddy down in his time of need by adding to his worries.

“Got to run, baby girl, tell Harley Daddy will be home soon.”

The line went dead, leaving her to rub her forehead after laying the phone aside.

“Why didn't you unload on him?”

Zoe stiffened, every muscle drawing tight enough to snap. The first time she'd seen Mercer, she thought he was more suited to shadow than anything else. He was hanging back in the hallway now, blending in as he watched her.

“I know the home-front rules.”

Zoe put the phone back on the side table and found Mercer. He was just a dark shape in the hallway but he moved, coming through the doorway and stopping at the foot of the bed.

“My dad doesn't need to worry about me while he is deployed.” She moved to the side of the bed, feeling far too exposed on its surface. Memories were rising fast and hot from the moments they'd shared in the room.

“And Harley belongs to your dad. Which makes Tim his partner.”

Zoe stood up, outrage piercing the enjoyment of the call. “They do parrot parties for little kids together. My dad's way of blowing off the stress of his job. He and Tim served together.”

She went to brush past Mercer, intent on getting a drink of water. He hooked her around the waist with a loose arm, but she knew how hard his grip might become if she resisted.

That idea made her quiver.

“So why are you shaking?” He asked the question next to her ear, the hand resting on her hip gently stroking it.

“Not because I'm worried you'll find any dirt on my dad.”

“I didn't ask why you weren't shaking.” He guided her closer to his body. “I asked why you were.”

She quivered once more, the scent of his skin teasing her senses. It was almost impossible to resist the urge to raise her face. Her lips tingled with anticipation while she fought the impulse to seek out his kiss.

It wasn't real. At least not on his end. But it felt so necessary to reach out to him.

“Because Tim has been a part of my life. He's like my uncle, my dad's best pal.”

He cupped her chin, lifting her face. Part of her rejoiced, grateful to have what she wanted without having to commit to the motion. Grateful to have him reach for her. Maybe that was naive, but he was all she had at the moment.

“Someone's guilty, Zoe.”

“I know.”

It wasn't easy to get her mind to function. She didn't know if it was the darkness or the chill of the night, but something made his body too inviting to ignore. She wanted to press up against him, melt into the warmth he offered while no one else was watching. Take shelter in his embrace. Just let him hold her and soothe the ache that was making her feel like her entire world was coming apart at the seams.

Mercer was lowering his head, tilting it so their mouths might fit perfectly. Giving her what she craved.

*   *   *

The bedroom window shattered, spilling onto the floor in a thousand pieces. It was almost a gentle sound, like water flowing over smooth stones. Zoe jerked her attention away from the floor as the door at the end of her hallway splintered.

“Get down!”

Mercer didn't wait for her to understand him; he pulled her down as two more bullets sliced through the air. They whistled above her head, sending adrenaline surging into her bloodstream.

“Goddamn snipers,” Mercer growled. “We have to move. Now.”

He was in action as the words came out of his mouth. There was no way to resist and she didn't really want to. The steady command in his voice was a welcome sound as the drywall below the window frame was punctured several times.

She yelped as something burned across her calf.

“Shit. He's going to cut us to pieces. Bastard was just waiting for us to be close enough together to get us at the same time,” Mercer snarled.

He hooked his hand into her waistband and hauled her up. “Run. Now. The other end of the hallway. We'll go out the window…”

Zoe tripped over her discarded shoes. She slammed into the floor, her knees taking the brunt of the fall. Pain spiked through her as she gathered up the footwear while trying to go where Mercer wanted her. She was an awkward mess while he ran for his life with precision.

“Go now! The bastard's got a heat scope.”

Mercer shoved her through the doorway as more bullets buzzed through the air, going through the space she and Mercer had just vacated.

Time slowed down. She must have been in shock because she was aware of every inch of ground they covered. She noticed details as if she had time to study them, the way her knee bent as she lifted her foot from the floor and straightened when she transferred her weight.

“Goddamn it, Zoe … run!”

“I am running!”

Mercer pushed her ahead of him, the bedroom door showing several new holes as they ran into it. He must have turned the doorknob because she was still hugging her shoes against her chest. They tumbled into the room, Mercer shoving her down before he grabbed a chair and swung it at the window.

The glass shattered and this time she didn't find the sound pleasant. It was jarring, feeding the horror rising inside her. Her hands shook as she tried to push her feet into her shoes. One went on fine but she stopped before tying the laces on the second one. The street lamp shone in, the light glistening off her pant leg.

“It looks clear … we have to make a break for it.”

“Huh?” Zoe looked up, her fingers still holding the laces of her shoe. Even in the dark she could see Mercer scowling at her.

“We have to make a break for it, Zoe. That shot was aimed at you, I saw it this time.” But his attention lowered to her leg. Unlike her, he didn't hesitate but reached right out and touched the wet material.

“Shit.” He closed his hand over her calf. “It's just a graze.”

“Good.”

It wasn't good but she was still caught in the grip of shock. She tried to tie her shoe and ended up with a huge knot, her hands refusing to perform the simple task. She stared at the mess, trying to figure out how she'd bungled the job. Bright light illuminated the area around her face. Mercer held out a lighter and calmly set the flame against the curtain.

“What are you doing?”

Fire began licking its way up the length of fabric, the scent of burning material tickling her nose.

“Making his heat scope a little less reliable.” Mercer grasped her chin and raised her face so her attention was on him. “Listen to me, Zoe, it's do-or-die time.”

His voice was steady and she leaned toward him, needing the security he embodied.

“We're going over the windowsill, out onto the garage roof, and then we're going to drop down onto the driveway.”

“What—” Her mouth was suddenly bone-dry. She swallowed. “What about your backup?”

“Since they haven't gotten a single shot off, we have to assume they're down.”

The grimness of his voice sent a shiver down her spine. His fingers tightened around the side of her jaw momentarily, the light from the spreading fire allowing her to glimpse his expression. He was every bit as focused as he'd been earlier that day, but the chill was missing from his eyes.