Dangerous to Know (17 page)

“It's about time you called in,” Saxon growled.

“I've been busy avoiding snipers. What the hell happened to my surveillance team?”

Mercer heard Saxon mumble something under his breath. “A couple of the new kids had relieved Greer. They never saw the shots that took them out.”

Mercer felt the harsh reality bite into him. “He was aiming for Zoe this time. I'm certain of it.”

“It could just as well be a very clever ploy to make you sympathetic.”

Mercer was quiet for a moment, trying to listen to the wisdom in Saxon's words.

“My gut tells me otherwise.”

“Don't listen to Vitus, Mercer. He made the mistake of falling for his target and she left him after he scrapped his career to cover her ass. The coldhearted bitch walked away clear without so much as a fucking Christmas card for what it cost him. Which was his shield, in case you've forgotten.”

There was raw fury in Saxon's voice. It was by far the most emotion Mercer had ever heard him express about his half brother, not that he would have expected anything less.

“Don't make the same mistake. Bring your target in and let the team perform its job. Tyler wants her here, to decode the hard drive. That has always been the mission. Stay focused,” Saxon urged.

It was the sensible thing to do. The one that would polish his record, maybe even earn him a commendation. Saxon was calling Zoe a target to help desensitize him, but it wasn't erasing the feeling burning in his gut.

He didn't want to be separated from her.

“I know what I saw. That sniper wanted her dead. She's a mule and one who's been classified a liability. They will do anything to silence her, and maybe your boss will feel bad after it's all mopped up, but that won't change the fact that she's dead. I need to keep her hidden.”

Zoe wouldn't be the first mule caught in the cross fire, either.

“Mercer, you're one of the best, don't chuck it out the window for a woman you've known less than a week. She's getting to you because these guys know how to choose their mules. Bring her in so we can set up her accomplices.”

“I can't do it. Someone's dirty and I'm not coming back in until they're neutralized. You can't ensure safety for her. Whoever is running this show has top clearance.”

“Listen to me, Mercer,” Saxon insisted, “Tyler isn't going to budge on this one. He thinks your brains have sunk into your cock. He'll make me issue a dead-or-alive order if you don't bring her in. He's my superior, nothing I say is going to protect you.”

Mercer felt the feeling intensify. A protective urge enveloped him, filling him with resistance to everything Saxon was trying to get out of him.

“That only makes me more determined to keep Zoe out of his hands. Tyler's got a hard-on for this that isn't normal. I was under fire and called in within three hours. Why is he so hopped up?”

“Is there something wrong with your hearing?” Saxon growled into the receiver. “Dead or alive, and you know it's a hell of a lot easier to bring you in dead. Tyler is only as committed to the operation as he was when he set us on her to begin with. Don't let the trip to her bed blind you to what began this.”

“Yeah, I know the logic. But I also know bringing Zoe in is exactly what the traitor wants. That sniper was aiming for Zoe and me. He didn't want to take a chance on either of us walking away. Once, I could write off, not twice. He could have dropped her or me fifty times over but he waited until we were both in the line of fire. They sure didn't need to cap my backup to get to her. Something's off. The intel that's moving is classified. That smells like bad brass is involved somewhere. You need to watch your six.”

Saxon was quiet, the line still open. “You raise a good point, Mercer. Let me see what I can find out. Stay off the grid until I contact you. I'll tell Tyler it was my call to send you bugging out.”

His superior's tone was grudging to say the least, but beggars couldn't be choosers, Mercer decided.

“I need one more thing…” Mercer said.

“What?”

Mercer felt his mood lighten just a fraction. “Take care of Harley, in case her father's clean. I'd hate to piss off a full-bird coronel.”

“Son of a bitch,” Saxon cursed. “The fire department took him to animal control. I'm not a bird-sitter.”

“So tell Thais to get in touch with her feminine side. I hear macaws are like kittens with feathers.”

There was a snort on the other end of the phone. “I just might do that and tell her it was your suggestion.”

Mercer chuckled as the line went dead, the holes in his jacket keeping the grin on his face for a few more seconds. But reality returned and killed his enjoyment. His gut told him Zoe wasn't dirty, but she didn't trust him. Which classified him as a fool for going out on a limb for her.

Still, he knew a fact when it was staring him in the face. That sniper had wanted them both. They were both wearing targets now.

He wasn't entirely sure what he was going to say to her to sway her opinion, either. Only that he wasn't willing to walk away. It might leave him as bitter as Vitus but hell, ending up with a scarred heart was the least of his worries with a sniper on his tail. The only luck he'd had so far was that the guy had lousy judgment when it came to timing.

It wasn't the first time Lady Luck had kept him alive. He drained his coffee mug and squared his shoulders.

Zoe wasn't going to like it, but she was stuck with him. They'd end up dead together or vindicated.

At the moment, the odds were stacked against them.

*   *   *

“So … you've decided to start torturing me?”

“Ha-ha,” Mercer responded from where he was adjusting a wig with the help of the bathroom mirror. Shoulder-length, the strands were black. “This isn't my idea of fun, either, sweet cakes.”

She snorted at him. “Actually, you look like you're having a grand time.”

“Don't mistake confidence for enjoyment, Zoe. I'm just doing the job right, because there won't be a second chance.”

She hated the way her muscles tightened in response. It was instantaneous. Pure reaction to the sharpness of his tone and the glint in his eyes. Mercer turned to look at his appearance again. He eyed the fake tattoos adorning his arms with a critical eye. A sleeveless muscle shirt allowed her to see every inch of brawn, and she turned back to her disguise to hide her blush.

I can't trust him …

Yeah, well that little tidbit didn't seem to be interfering with her responses to him.

“It's not that bad.”

Zoe jerked her attention away from the dress to discover Mercer standing only two paces from her. Her cheeks burned brighter as she realized she'd been lost in her thoughts.

“It's indecent,” she muttered while pulling the dress over her head and down her body. Made of a soft jersey, it had a plunging neckline and was small enough to hug every curve she had.

“Exactly.” His tone had a touch of heat in it that sent a tingle down her body. His eyes swept over her from head to toe and his lips curved with approval. She shouldn't have felt complimented, it was way misplaced under the circumstances, but hell, the guy liked what he saw and there was no missing it.

“You need more eyeliner but the wig looks splotchy enough,” he decided.

“I look like a streetwalker,” she groused. On her head was a wig sporting patches of dark red dye. Coupled with the too-tight dress, the better part of her breasts on display, and the spike heels on her feet, she looked cheap.

Trashy is more like it …

“Vitus is arranging our transportation but he's going to dump us off in a questionable part of town. We need to fit in.”

There was a rap on the bedroom door. Mercer pulled it open to reveal Vitus. Saxon's brother had undergone a transformation, too. His long hair was missing, buzzed away.

“Didn't see that coming,” Mercer said.

Vitus shrugged. “Seems I'm back in the biz.” The long hair had hidden something about him. Something polished and respectable. The baggy clothing was history, too, a pair of jeans and tucked-in shirt replacing it.

“You clean up nice,” she said.

She ended up drawing the attention of those blue eyes. Vitus considered her for a moment from behind an unreadable expression. “Don't get my buddy killed. I'd take that personally.”

A chill touched her nape. The guy meant every syllable. “I'll do my best. Can I have a gun?”

Vitus grunted, the sound making it clear he lacked anything even close to confidence in her ability to add anything of value to the team.

So what am I going to do?

That was a damn good question. One she really needed to get busy pondering. Deciding she didn't trust Mercer was all fine and dandy but until she had a solid plan, she'd be pretty stupid to leave him.

Disjointed scenes from the night before flashed through her mind. There was no overlooking the very real nature of those gunshots. Mercer might be carrying one of his own but that could come in handy considering her circumstances.

“What are you thinking, Zoe?”

She jumped, then looked away when Mercer tried to lock gazes with her. “Nothing.”

He caught her chin. “Like hell. I can see the wheels turning in that head of yours.”

Zoe stepped back, pulling away from him. “Just … about last night.”

“Good,” Vitus said. “Might remind you not to do anything stupid.” He jerked his head toward the hallway. “Like handling a gun and trying to protect yourself.”

Zoe offered him a get-real look. “My dad taught me how to handle a firearm.”

Vitus shot her a look that said he was less than impressed. “Mercer's assignment. His call.” He jerked his head toward the front door.

Zoe followed him out of a lack of alternatives. Mercer came behind her, making her feel small in the compressed space. This time, it wasn't just a matter of physical superiority. She felt like she didn't understand how to play the game. Not the way the two men did.

Her brother's phone call came to mind.

It felt like someone had smacked her with a two-by-four. Bram might be the king of tight-lipped-ness when it came to classified matters but he'd still reached out to warn her. She just hadn't realized it.

Okay, so just what was she going to do now?

The answer was to crawl into the back of a beat-up sedan. One fender was a different faded paint than the rest of the car. There was duct tape holding the driver's seat headrest together and the backseat groaned when she sat down, the springs clearly ancient. The scent of time and past take-out meals clung to the interior. But the engine purred like a kitten.

That figured.

Everything in Mercer's world was disguised. On the surface, the car was a clunker. Under the hood, it was a powerful beast. She should have looked at the tires. Bet they were in good repair. She needed to adjust her thinking. Learn to look for the pertinent information. Yeah, maybe if she had done that a little sooner, Mercer wouldn't have sideswiped her so completely.

Or easily.

Vitus pulled into traffic and headed into the heart of downtown Los Angeles. The lanes were narrow, the overpasses sporting artistry from the 1940s that modern construction lacked. They joined the hordes of people making the morning commute. Trucks in every shape and size mixed in with high-end sedans and sleek sports cars. Drivers defied the hands-free law and held their cell phones while piloting their vehicles with one hand as the traffic crept along at thirty miles an hour.

“Your next ride is in an hour. You'll need it to cross the inner-city blocks and make it up to the other side of the Staples Center.” Vitus pulled off the interstate and punched the radio on at the same time. A blare of rap music spilled out of the dented speakers.

“Are you laying out the torture now?” she asked.

Vitus flashed her a peace sign as he slouched in his seat and worked his head in time with the beat. “Got to set the scene.”

At some point he'd pulled on a jersey hoodie cap that had dreadlocks dangling from it. He steered his way around double-parked delivery trucks and avoided pedestrians before sliding up to a curb. Pigeons scattered when Mercer pushed his door open and yanked hers. She stepped over garbage and made it to the sidewalk while trying to tug her hem down to mid-thigh.

“Leave it.” Mercer looped an arm across her shoulders and guided her into the flow of pedestrian traffic. “And try to look like you like me.”

Slipping her hand around his waist seemed like mission impossible. She reached up with her left hand and clasped his fingers where they were cupping her shoulder. Two cops passed them on bicycles. Zoe found herself staring at them.

“Tempted?”

She bit her lip but Mercer squeezed her fingers. “Maybe.”

Her admission hung between them.

“Going to tell me the plan?” She wasn't exactly sure why she asked.

“Getting off grid isn't easy in a society with so many cameras. We need to double back and loop around a few times to confuse anyone trying to follow us.”

He guided her into a shop and into a dressing room. A few minutes later she emerged in a skirt-and-blouse combo, wig, and false pregnancy belly. Mercer headed out of the shop, leaving her to follow behind him.

She slowed down as she passed a pay phone.

Tempting.

And yet she still didn't have any sort of plan. At least Saxon had agreed to let her try to clear her family name. Escape might be alluring but she really needed a place to go. At the moment, she had no home.

She passed the phone, feeling trapped by circumstance.

“Keep walking. Greer is waiting on the other side of the intersection.”

Mercer turned at the next light, crossing the street away from her. She waited for the light to change and followed. When she stepped up onto the pavement again, there was no sign of Mercer's fellow agent. She trudged on, sweating under the layers of clothing and padding. A homeless man tugging a granny cart was shuffling along in front of her. Wearing multiple layers of dirty clothing, he was talking to himself. Zoe went around him.