Hot as Hell (6 page)

something bad enough for her father to abandon an intelligence mission in a volatile part of the world.

“Father was much more polite than that,” Dawn said in a wry tone.

“Just fucking tell me what Benrabi did,” Sam growled.

Dawn’s breath hitched—and for a second or so, he wasn’t sure she’d answer. Then she blew out

a breathy sigh and stiffened her spine.

“My parents were attending a function at another embassy. I’d stayed home. Benrabi kidnapped

me… right out of my bed. Four embassy employees died trying to protect me. I felt so… helpless.”

Dawn went silent for a second, then continued. Only the strain in her voice revealed how much the

recounting affected her. “Father rescued me before anything… bad happened. He then chose me and

my mother’s safety over his mission.”

“Damn right,” muttered Sam.

She shot him a grateful look. “We went back to England. Father is still in counter-intelligence

and I can’t tell you what he does, or I’d have to kill you.” Her lips quivered into a small smile at the

joking retort. “To sum it up, Benrabi lost me once… he’ll remember me as Lady Dawn Wilson and will

definitely want to reconnect.”

“Fuck, he’ll want to try again. Men like that don’t like losing and…” Sam shook his head.

“Sam…” Dawn moved to sit next to him on the couch and rubbed his arm. “Ren’s plan will work.

I’m no longer a young, helpless girl. I’m trained. I’ll be armed. I won’t let him take me again. Conn, Ren

… you … will all be there to back me up. This is the kind of work I do and have been doing for years.

Trust me to do my job. I trust you to do yours.” She squeezed his arm, then let her hand rest on his

forearm.Okay, trust. She was asking for his and was freely and wholly giving hers. Plus, she’d called him

Sam for the first time, a promising overture on her part.

Don’t fuck this up, Crocker
.

For several seconds, he let Dawn’s touch, her scent, her words wash over him as he thought

about the plan. Thought about what he knew of MacLean’s personality. Thought about how he could

never be seen while MacLean was on the resort property because the fucker knew him.

Why had he ever insisted on that face-to-face meeting with old Syd back in D.C.? If he hadn’t,

he could be the one in the casino with Dawn.

Since Sam couldn’t be seen in public with Dawn, he damn well planned on protecting her in

private. He’d share her suite. To protect her cover, he could use Conn’s room for ingress and egress.

Finally, he muttered, “Fuck, just fuck. It’s the only way, isn’t it? MacLean normally wouldn’t

mingle with strangers. He could just as easily arrange for gaming at his estate or a private club and

provide all the women and booze Benrabi could want. But he would go out in public and mingle to

cater to a valued client, because the Syd I know is a grade A brown-noser.”

Shit
.

Sam turned to Conn. “She’s never out of your sight. Ever.”

“Got that.” Conn nodded. “Plus, you, Ren, and Keely will have eyes in the sky. Right, Keely?”

“Yes…” Keely answered Conn, but focused on him. “Sam, the DIA reached out to the Dutch who

liaised with the resort hotel. We’ll have complete access to the resort’s security room and will have

eyes on all the public areas of the resort, inside and outside. Plus Conn and Dawn will be wired for

audio and video and in communication with us at all times.”

Sam frowned and looked over at Dawn who appeared totally unconcerned about the op. Was

he overreacting? “How will she be wired? It’s hot as hell in Aruba.”

He didn’t even want to think about how little clothing she’d wear—at how many men would

ogle her petite curvy body. Shit, he had it bad and wasn’t hiding it well at all. Ren had just shot him a

curious glance.

“Show him, Dawn?” Keely suggested.

“All of it?” Dawn squeaked. Her calm facade finally cracked. Her blush spread over her face and

down onto her neck.

“The necklace and earrings only. The mike, no.” Keely laughed. “This isn’t an X-rated briefing.”

Ren muttered, “Not funny, sprite.” Keely’s response was to stick her tongue out at her husband.

Sam, Conn, and Berto shared quizzical looks.

“Okay, this necklace,” Dawn pulled it out from under her shirt and showed it to all, “and another

couple Keely gave me are cameras and will send live video feed to any computer via bluetooth over a

satphone connection.” She then touched an elaborate earring that cuffed all along the rim and down

to her ear lobe. “This is my receiver for audio communications from the team. The mike for live audio

feed is a button mike and is, um, elsewhere on my body.” She turned a rosy shade of pink. “They’re all

controlled and relayed via this diamond watch which is a powerful satphone.” She tapped her wrist.

“Where elsewhere?” Sam demanded, stuck on the mike and Dawn’s obvious loss of composure.

“Oh, for chrissakes.” Keely huffed. “Tweeter created a button mike for when I ever got to go

out on op again—”

“Which will happen for you as in never,” Ren said, a dangerous look in his eye. “Not letting you

out of my sight ever again. You always get into trouble.”

Keely glared at her husband. “Bite me, big guy. I’d be doing this op, but MacLean knows what

I look like.”

Ren growled.

Keely snorted. “So, before I was rudely interrupted by Mr. Overly-Cautious, Tweeter created a

small mike that I had a jeweler add to one of my nipple rings. Since Dawn has pierced nipples, I gave

her one of my extra sets.”

Sam almost swallowed his tongue. “Nipple rings?” He couldn’t help himself and eyed Dawn’s

chest. He didn’t see any evidence of nipple jewelry. Hell, he couldn’t even see the outline of her

nipples. She must have on a heavily padded bra. But his imagination could easily fill in the blanks. He

forced himself to sit still and not adjust his very painful hard-on.

“Yeah, nipple rings. Get over it, Crock-of-shit.”

Hell, she was back to name-calling.

Dawn glowered at the men. “And all of you bleeding perverts stop staring at my chest.”

“But it’s such a nice chest.” Conn winked, a grin on his lips.

Sam elbowed Conn, hard enough to tip his buddy over the arm of the sofa.

Conn laughed and muttered just loudly enough for Sam’s ears, “Jealous much?”

“Now that we all know I’ll be
thoroughly
protected by technology and by Conn, can we get on

with the briefing so I can take a shower and get some sleep?” Dawn asked. “I only managed a nap on

the charter here, plus I haven’t had any real sleep for almost thirty-six hours. I can operate on cat naps,

but I’d like to be totally on my game when I reel Benrabi in. Plus, Oraio—”

“It’s MacLean.” Sam and Ren said at the same time with similar growls.

She nodded. “—MacLean has to believe I’m dumb arm candy and that requires all my brain

cells to be fully rested.”

“Not much more to tell,” Ren said. “Our mission is to get evidence to prove Oraio and MacLean

are one and the same person. We have the full cooperation of the Dutch military, the local law

enforcement, and resort security. As for the kidnapped girls, the U.S. military has a forward operating

base on Aruba which will back up the Dutch and the Arubans, if needed.”

“Good enough,” Dawn said. “Whatever the arsehole is called, he’s still Oraio the drugs, guns,

and human trafficker, and I’d like to see him finally caught. Interpol will never bring the bastard in as

long as wanker Ron is running the op on their end.”

Sam’s lips twisted. He would take it as read that Dawn had never had any kind of relationship

with Lloyd outside of working on Interpol missions. The look on her face and tone in her voice did not

speak to former love-interest-gone-bad, but former-boss-as-fuck-up.

“That’s the basic plan. We’ll adapt, as needed. Get some sleep, people,” Ren ordered. “There

are files on your tablets on Benrabi, his people, and the layouts of the Aruban resort/casino and

MacLean’s estate. Study them on the flight to Aruba tomorrow. Conn and Dawn will take a separate

private charter and enter Aruba through regular Customs. The rest of us will fly into the Dutch Air

Force base and be met by our Dutch liaison Captain Hoffmann, who has already been fully briefed.”

Sam liked how SSI did things and knew as long as Petriv didn’t try to kill him when they met—

and they’d meet eventually—he’d really like to work for SSI.

Chapter 6

Later that night

Dawn rummaged through the massive refrigerator and found some cheese and an open bottle

of white wine. If she could find some crackers, she’d have a nice snack.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Sam’s low, gravelly tones came from behind her.

She turned and found him leaning a shoulder against the door frame. He looked far too

attractive in a T-shirt with its sleeves cut out and loose sweat pants that hung low on his hips. The look

in his eyes was warm, almost tender, as his gaze swept over her body from her bare feet with the bright

pink polish she’d just applied, up her equally bare legs, and over Ren’s T-shirt Keely had loaned her to

act as a robe, and finally settling on her face.

She was very conscious she wore only a sheer, short nightgown and no knickers underneath

the dark cotton. Thank God, the T-shirt covered her to right above her knees. Why hadn’t she thrown

on some real clothes before she’d come downstairs?

Flustered by his continued scrutiny, she stuttered out, “Y-y-eah.” She coughed to clear her

suddenly tight throat and then held up the wine bottle. “Want some? I’m having cheese and crackers,

if I can find them.”

Sam ambled farther into the kitchen. No, ambled was too tame. His movement was more akin

to the prowl of a big cat. A big, hungry, stalking cat.

“I’ll grab the crackers and some glasses. Sit,” he ordered. “You look beat.”

“Thanks. A girl always loves to hear she’s looking less than her best.”

Obviously she didn’t move fast enough to suit Sam, because before she’d even gotten her last

word out, he swooped, picked her up, and placed her on a stool.

Dawn set the wine bottle onto the island with a distinctive thud, then proceeded to hack slices

of cheese off the hunk of white cheddar. It was better than laying into the dictatorial male in the room,

who thought he had the right to order her around.

“I think you couldn’t be anything else but beautiful…”

And then he goes and says something sweet.

Sam placed two wine glasses and a box of crackers on the island and then sat on the stool

next to hers. “…you’re just looking a bit tired.” Flicking a finger at the soft cotton sleeve of the T-shirt,

he frowned. “That’s a man’s T-shirt, not some nightshirt. Whose is it?” His voice was low and rough

like the deep, harsh growl of the leopards she’d heard in the Belizean jungle. “It can’t be the asshole

Lloyd’s, you’d never give that douchebag the time of day. So, little cat, do you have some man back in

England, missing his shirt? Missing you in his bed?”

Little cat?
At least that was better than little Brit.

Sam’s new pet name for her sounded awfully possessive. She’d known he was attracted to her,

the kiss in the hallway had conveyed that concept loudly and clearly. He sounded jealous. But how

could he be? They barely knew one another.

It happens that way sometimes, Dawn. It did with your parents. Don’t tick the large alpha-male

off. Answer the man—honestly.

“No… there’s no one.” She concentrated on carefully slicing the cheese. Berto had very sharp

knives and her hand was shaking. Sam was hell on her nerves. He was everything the men in her past

were not. He was a hunky, sex-on-a-stick-hot, uber-macho, dominant male. He liked her snark and gave

it back as good as she dealt it out. Most importantly, he didn’t seem to be threatened by her skills or

intelligence. Yes, he tended to be bossy where her safety was concerned, but his over-protectiveness

was an integral part of the whole package.

If she took on a man like Sam, she’d have to accept every aspect of the package. Men, as her

so-wise mother had once told her, were not trainable after the age of five, but they might be led.

And she so wanted to take Sam on… to jump his bones to see if the promise of him was real.

But the timing sucked. She didn’t need this out-of-control attraction right before an op. Especially

a mission in which she had to play a dumb bimbo. She needed to be on her A-game, because shit

happened no matter how well thought out the mission was and how much backup an operative had.

“Then whose shirt is it? Was I wrong and it belongs to that asshole Lloyd?” Sam snarled. “He

lied to me when I tried to find you after what went down in Belize. Said you were unavailable. You two

have a thing?”

“Fuck no.” She tossed a piece of cheese at him, hitting his chest. “I can’t stand the wanker. Ron

had aspirations… unrealized aspirations. Besides the man wouldn’t be caught dead in a T-shirt unless

it were a silk Armani.”

“Then who in the fuck’s shirt is it?” Sam gritted out.

If she didn’t satisfy his curiosity, assuage his jealousy, he’d be at her all night for his answer, and she really would like to get some sleep.

Exasperated, she sighed. “It’s Ren’s. I forgot to buy a robe.”

Sam stood, plucked her off the stool, set her gently on her feet, and then stripped the shirt

off her before she could protest. He inhaled sharply and ate her up with his hot, sensual gaze. “Nice