Midnight Pursuits (8 page)

“You really need to quit doing that,” she muttered.

“Doing what?”

“Protecting me.” She used air quotes around the words. “I can take care of myself.”

“Yeah? It didn't seem that way a few days ago.”

“You give yourself too much credit. I would've managed to find some antibiotics on my own.”

“Uh-huh.”

His visible amusement raised her hackles. “Seriously, I don't need your protection, kiddo.”

He locked the door and glanced over with a frown. “I'm not a kid. And stop trying to goad me.”

“Goad you into what? All I'm saying is you need to drop the big tough-guy act. You and Morgan and the rest of his men treat every woman like she's a damsel in distress. But I'm no damsel, okay? I really can take care of myself.” She paused impishly. “Then again, I suppose if I
must
have a man protecting me, I could do worse than Jim Morgan. He's sexy as sin, that boss of yours.”

Ethan's jaw tightened. “Again with the goddamn goading.”

Fine, so maybe she
was
goading him. Juliet wasn't sure why she felt compelled to pick a fight. Maybe it was the impatience. The frustration. The overwhelming grief from knowing her brother was gone. Whatever the reason, she couldn't seem to stop the next taunt that flew out of her mouth.

“Hey, don't get all prickly, kiddo. I'm simply commenting on the fact that Morgan is sexy. Maybe I should give him a call when this is over, see if he's interested in a little romp between the sheets—”

“Don't fucking test me,” Ethan growled.

In the blink of an eye, she found herself on the other side of the room, pushed up against the wall with Ethan's hard thigh between her legs to trap her in place.

Her breath caught, pulse sped up. He'd moved so quickly she hadn't had time to react, but even though she was kicking herself at being unprepared for his stealth attack, she still managed to cock a defiant brow. “A tantrum. How cute. Are you done?”

“Not by a long shot.”

One warm male hand clutched her waist, while the other gripped her chin with such force she actually experienced a pang of trepidation.

“I know what you see when you look at me. The boy next door, nice and sweet and harmless.” Ethan's voice lowered to a deadly pitch. “You see me and you think I'm the guy who'll make love to you in a room full of flowers and candlelight. You picture sweet, sweet kisses and oh so tender caresses—isn't that right, Juliet?”

Her heart began to pound, a sharp staccato that pulsed in her blood and drowned out her thoughts. The look on Ethan's face was terrifying. Thrilling. His hazel eyes gleamed with raw heat. Unadulterated
danger
.

“Well, think again, sweetheart. I'm not a fucking pussycat. And I'm not a fucking kid.”

Juliet was so aroused, she couldn't breathe. “Who are you, then?”

“A man.” He rotated his hips, grinding his pelvis into hers. “Feel that?”

Oh . . .
God
. He was long, thick, and hard.

“That's right. I'm a man.” His chuckle was downright mocking. “What was it you said before? That I can't give you what you need in the bedroom? Well, I beg to differ, sweetheart. I beg to fucking differ.”

Juliet still couldn't draw a breath. All she could do was stare into those hypnotic eyes.

“What, no response?” he taunted. “No sassy comeback?”

Before she could say a solitary word, his mouth came crashing down on hers in a hard kiss that made her gasp.

His lips were merciless, his tongue demanding entrance. Her lips parted of their own volition and then that tongue was diving into her mouth and teasing the living daylights out of her.

Juliet couldn't control herself—she kissed him back. Her arms wrapped around his neck, her lower body strained to get closer to his. She couldn't remember the last time a kiss had set her body on fire this way. Every inch of her burned, every muscle tight with anticipation.

He drove the kiss even deeper, his hands sliding down to cup her ass so he could yank her against him. The moment she felt that spectacular erection pressing against her stomach, she moaned and rocked into him. Needing more.
Craving
more.

For a solid minute, his tongue filled her mouth, exploring, claiming. And then in another blink of the eye, it was gone. He'd taken a step back, breaking the contact and leaving her with a feeling of pure desperation.

He laughed when he noticed her expression. “You want me to fuck you, don't you?”

She didn't give him the satisfaction of admitting he was right. Her eyes and body had already betrayed her anyway.

Ethan looked mighty pleased with himself as he crossed his arms over his broad chest. “Sorry, sweetheart. It's not going to happen.”

“Why the hell not?” she found herself demanding.

“Well, I could blame it on your staunch declaration about how you're never going to have sex with me, but we both know you were lying through your teeth. And anyway, I'm nothing if not honest, so . . .” He looked very, very smug now. “I'll have you know that I don't put out on the first date.”

Juliet stared at him for a moment.

Then she burst out laughing.

Shit, this was priceless. The man had just destroyed her with his kiss, turned her into a puddle of mush at his feet, and then he went and threw a gentleman curveball at her.

Still laughing, she gestured to the drab hotel room. “You consider this a date?”

“We just came back from having drinks and sharing a dance.” He shrugged. “That's probably as close to a date as we're ever gonna get.”

Her head was still light and gooey from that body-numbing kiss, but she managed to voice another question. “Out of curiosity, what do you do on the
second
date?”

The grin he shot her melted her insides. “I subscribe to baseball rules, of course. First, second, third, and then I screw your brains out.”

Damned if her sex didn't clench at the thought.

He must have sensed the erotic response, because his eyes darkened with sensual promise. “Don't worry, Juliet. We'll get there.”

She wanted to deny it. To tell him he was a million kinds of arrogant and fucked-up if he thought she would hop into bed with him just because she'd happened to enjoy one measly kiss.

But the denial stayed lodged in her throat.

“Anyway, where's your laptop?” Ethan said pleasantly. “Let's see what Paige sent us.”

As he stalked over to her bag in search of her computer, she stood there in slight disbelief, torn between kicking him and ripping his clothes off.

The uncontrollable pounding of her heart and the persistent throb low in her belly confirmed what she'd already known—it was always the unassuming ones you had to worry about.

It took sheer power of will on Ethan's part to ignore the overpowering lust sizzling in his body. As Juliet logged into her secure e-mail and downloaded the attachments from Paige and Sean, he took several deep breaths and ordered his erection to subside. Which was difficult, especially since Juliet had just slipped out of her long-sleeved shirt, leaving her in a tight black tank top that hugged her full breasts.

When his gaze landed on the cluster of nautical stars tattooed on her upper arms, another ripple of desire washed over him. The tattoos were tiny, done only in black ink, and they gave her a sexy, badass vibe that at the same time managed to look feminine.

Christ, he wanted this woman. She intrigued him to no end, and the arousal she evoked in him was like nothing he'd ever experienced. It hadn't been like this with the girl he'd been dating in Costa Rica. They'd gone out for dinner, took a couple midnight strolls on the beach, slept together a few times—but not once had he thought he might pass out from raw need, or ached to get a glimpse into her soul the way he did when it came to Juliet Mason.

She was different. Special. A mystery he wanted to solve with a steely exterior he wanted to conquer.

“Okay,” Juliet announced a moment later. “We've got dossiers on the nine targets Grechko already hit.” Her dark eyes focused intently on the screen. “Huh. This is weird.”

“What is it?” he said sharply, joining her on the edge of the bed.

“These three—Pavel Drygin
,
Grigory Novik,
and Irina Bartney—were killed in a series of car bombings back in May, within a day or two of each other. They were all connected to members of the House of Representatives, and, according to the news clipping Paige attached, their deaths were blamed on the PRF.”

Something clicked in Ethan's brain. “You're right. I remember seeing it on the news. The PRF leader actually came forward and took responsibility for the bombings.”

Since Ethan made it a priority to be aware of whatever current threats were out there in the world, he was familiar with the PRF and knew the basics about the movement. The People's Revolutionary Front was a terrorist group that had been wreaking havoc on Belarus for several years now. They were staunchly opposed to the current government and disgusted with the corruption that ran rampant among its officials. When the PRF first cropped up years ago, they'd taken a strictly nonviolent approach, but they'd drastically changed their MO since then, which didn't surprise him.

Maybe he was being overly cynical, but if peaceful protests actually produced results, God knew he and his team would probably be out of work.

But why had the PRF taken the blame for the car bombings when Grechko was actually the one who'd carried them out? Was Orlov in bed with a terrorist group?

“What about the other six targets?” he asked, peering over her shoulder to glance at the computer screen.

Juliet scrolled through the files. “Four were straight-up executions, and two were killed from dirty bombs. The bombs were detonated at public events, so there were quite a lot of casualties. Oh, check this out—according to Paige's cover sheet, all the targets were either relatives or romantic partners of government officials. We've got two wives of members of the prime minister's cabinet. Two were the children of a couple deputy ministers, one was the brother of a council member, and we already know Zoya's father works for the Ministry of Justice.” She paused. “And look at this—all the government officials involved are rumored to be buddy-buddy with Orlov.”

“So he's ordering hits on people that are important to his friends?” Ethan wrinkled his forehead. “That's messed up. Why the hell would he do that?”

“It gets even more messed up. According to Paige, all nine hits were attributed to the PRF. Apparently the government has been in an uproar this past year. Orlov gave several press conferences, vowing to put an end to these homegrown terrorists and to bring justice to the colleagues who have lost loved ones.”

“Who are the three targets Grechko didn't get to?”

She opened up the final three dossiers. “Yuri Kozlov, the younger brother of a Supreme Court judge. Alisa Baronova—she's the wife of some cabinet member who's friends with Orlov. And Anastacia Karin. Oh shit. That's the prime minister's daughter. She's only fifteen years old.”

Ethan cursed in disbelief. “He's planning on killing a kid?”

“Looks like it.” Juliet brought up Paige's e-mail again and skimmed through her colleague's notes. “Hmmm. Here's something interesting.”

Ethan leaned in closer and began reading over her shoulder, momentarily distracted by her intoxicating scent. She smelled so damn good, like roses and honey. He breathed her in, fighting the urge to pull her into his arms again and kiss her senseless.

“So Orlov is a potential candidate for the presidency in the next election,” Ethan said as he scanned the e-mail, forcing his brain to focus. “He's considered the main opposition to President Belikov. And these men—Drygin, Kozlov, Harkov, Baronova, Karin, and the others—they all supported Orlov when he was moving up in the ranks. Karin is actually the one who advised Belikov to approve Orlov's appointment into the Council of Ministers.”

“Okay, so these dudes had Orlov's back during his entire rise to power, but . . .” Juliet read the last paragraph on the screen, then summarized Paige's thoughts. “But they stood by and did nothing while his son got blown up by the rebels.”

He frowned. “It says here Sergei Orlov was an unfortunate casualty in a random street bombing. The rebels didn't target him directly. And Orlov's buddies couldn't have foreseen it.”

“No, but they didn't do a thing to try to crush the PRF movement. All the officials on this list are big on nonviolence and negotiation, while Orlov has always taken a stance about using military action to deal with the rebels.” Juliet shrugged. “Maybe he blames his colleagues for not letting him have a firmer grip on the situation.”

“So this is vengeance, pure and simple? ‘I lost my son, so now you're going to lose the people
you
care about'?”

“Maybe.” She chewed on her lower lip. “But then why blame the hits on the People's Revolutionary Front?”

“That's the story being fed to the public. We don't know what's being said behind closed doors. For all we know, Orlov secretly confessed to each one of his buddies and said ‘Payback, bitches.'”

Juliet had to laugh. “That's a good point. And what are they gonna do, have him arrested? No, they'd cover it up. Same way they cover everything else up. Orlov's not the first corrupt politician in this government. Seems like the entire country is rife with corruption, starting at the lowest levels and going all the way up to the top. President Belikov is no saint either. Look at all the restrictions he's placed on civil rights, the media, religion. The PRF exists for a reason.”

“True,” Ethan agreed. “But Belikov isn't going around killing innocent people because of a personal vendetta.”

“We don't know if that's what Orlov is doing,” Juliet countered.

“I'm not sure his motive even matters at this point. Whatever his reasons, he still hired Grechko to kill for him, and there are three targets left.” Ethan cursed again. “The prime minister's daughter. Jesus. We need to find these people, on the double.”

“On the double? Did you pick up that adorable phrase in the army?”

He scowled at her. “The Marines.”

“Oh, right. I forgot how much you guys hate being mixed up. What's the difference anyway? Army, navy, frogmen, jarheads. You're all fighting for the same damn thing.”

“One day I'm going to sit you down and explain why there is a
major
difference between a jarhead and a squid,” Ethan said sternly. “But for now, we need a plan of action. Pull up those three files again.”

She moved her fingers over the laptop's touch pad and brought the documents up on the screen.

“Okay, so according to Reilly's research, Karin's daughter is currently here in the city. So is Alisa Baronova.”

Ethan leaned in again, the movement causing his shoulder to brush hers. His arm started tingling from the contact, and he knew Juliet was equally affected, because her breath hitched slightly.

“Everything okay?” he said mockingly.

Her profile tensed. “Why wouldn't it be?”

“No reason.” Swallowing a chuckle, he glanced at the screen. “Anyway, according to Reilly's sources, the third target, Yuri Kozlov, is vacationing in Spain at the moment. Do you think Orlov has people there, monitoring the guy?”

“We have to assume yes. I don't know if he's using government agents or private thugs, but I'm sure he reassigned men to all three targets.”

“Know anyone in Spain?”

“Currently active, no. But I'll make some calls.”

“D is off rotation. I can see if he's up for the job. The guy hates being inactive, so he might feel like playing bodyguard.”

He didn't miss the reluctance on her face. “What is it?” he said suspiciously.

“I don't want to involve anyone else. I prefer working alone.”

“Gee, does that mean you're capable of being in two places at once? That's amazing!”

His sarcasm made her scowl.

“We need eyes and ears in Spain,” Ethan said firmly. “Either it's D or you can try contacting Noelle again. I assume you're okay with
her
coming on board?”

Juliet seemed to be gritting her teeth. “Fine. Call D. But you're right—I'd prefer Noelle over him. I'll call her again. Maybe she'll finally get back to me.”

Without another word, they both reached for their phones.