Unleashing the Storm (5 page)

“I
see. You want ACRO to be run by a board of directors.”

“It
would ensure all voices are heard—”

“Because
I’m not fair enough to hear all voices?” Dev asked softly, and he felt a
distinct change in the room’s energy.

“I
didn’t say that. And you would, of course, remain on as president…”

“How
generous. You
few
have this all figured out.” Dev pushed to his feet,
braced his hands on the table and leaned forward. “I’m about to prove how fair
I am. See, I’ll forget you ever brought this up. And you? You’ll leave right
now, by way of your own two feet. Trust me, that’s more than fair.”

He
heard the quiet shuffle as Henry left the conference room, shutting the door
behind him. Dev pressed the panel under the table, the code that would open the
door that led to his private office, where he refused to hold meetings, refused
to let many people in at all. He needed a refuge in this place.

He
needed to calm down. He was tired, mentally, physically—but more than that, he
was tired of the director’s shit. He’d taken this organization too damned far
in eight years to stop now, but sometimes he wished he was back in the military
where it was more than okay to settle disputes with a few good punches. But
there weren’t many options for a blind pilot in the Air Force. Which was why
his sudden, amazing ability at CRV—Controlled Remote Viewing—had earned him a
quick paperwork shuffle to NASA and its mind-bending program after the accident
that killed his flying career ten years ago.

His
parents had been disappointed. Again. They wanted him out of the military
altogether, wanted him with them at ACRO. He’d refused. They had plenty of
help.

But
while everyone was busy feeling the leftover peace and love from the Stargate
program, the outside world fell apart, competing agencies opened and someone
took his parents out, execution-style, in their mansion in Syracuse, Dev’s
childhood home.

The
hit was ordered by an agency much bigger than the FBI or the CIA. In Dev’s
mind, it was definitely Itor, although the other two agencies had their reasons
for also wanting his parents dead. That alone was enough to shove Dev firmly
away from the government and into ACRO’s fold.

Today,
when the government and the military came to him for help, they played by his
rules. Dev had tightened security until it squeaked, expanded the ACRO
divisions to include rare operatives his parents never dreamed of—he took in
those rare men and women who limped in from the military or wherever, like
refugees who’d lost their homeland; he embraced them, trained them. Saved them.
All they had to do was pledge loyalty to ACRO.

Those
were the easy ones—the desperate ones, the ones who didn’t mind joining the
land of the freaks.

The
others did not go down easily. Or quietly. And those were the ones they needed
most. He needed to make the old guard around here understand that change might
not always be easy but more often than not it was for the best.

He
let his mind wander over Henry and Jason again—each a more than perfect
candidate to be the leak—a leak they needed to plug, and fast. He’d just
learned that one of his operatives had died in China, and the only way that
could have happened was if the mission had been compromised. From the inside.

There
were very few people at the agency he could actually trust without fail, and
one of them was gone, in the field, probably fucking his goddamned brains out
as per orders.

Dev
wasn’t ready to share his suspicions with his assistant, although he knew
Marlena would do whatever she could to help him get to the bottom of things. If
nothing else, she’d go out of her way to help take his mind off the intrusion,
if only for a few minutes.

He
smiled briefly and buzzed her in without another thought. Coming might not
focus him, but it never hurt.

TUESDAY
7 P.M. MST

Kira
stepped out of the shower, glad to have washed the day’s farm grime from her
body, not so glad to wash away Tom’s scent. She loved how he smelled, loved the
way he’d looked at her, touched her. She’d taken a lot of lovers in her life,
most of them during the weeks of desperate need that made her life a living
hell, but while all had served their purpose, none had excited her as much as
Tom had.

She
couldn’t wait to do it with him again—not because she’d needed to, but because
she wanted to. These weeks might be hell, but they allowed her to spend a brief
amount of time in a man’s arms, to take joy in human contact most people took
for granted. When strong hands stroked her skin and warm lips caressed hers,
her loneliness dissolved, if only for a few precious moments.

Her
bedroom door squeaked open, and Babs, a Weimaraner who’d been at the refuge
since before Kira arrived almost two years ago, trotted inside and jumped on
her bed.

“Hey,
girl.” She ruffled Babs’s ears. “You didn’t happen to notice if Tom and Derek
finished their chores?”

One
of the men must have come inside the house, because Babs had been near the barn
when Kira had come in for her shower. A mix of images flickered through her
head…Babs, digging at a gopher hole, then jumping into the back of Kira’s
pickup, then Derek opening the upstairs door and letting the dog through. Derek
had apparently finished with the fence repairs.

She
dressed in cargo shorts and a T-shirt, not bothering to do anything with her
wet hair but put it up into a high ponytail. She padded into the orange and
gold kitchen that was all but a shrine to the seventies, and turned on the
radio on the windowsill. Bouncing to the oldies, she pawed through the
cupboards. Neither Tom nor Derek had taken her truck today to go to the store,
so she’d prepare a big dinner, and if they wanted to share, they’d be welcome.

She
scrounged up enough tofu and fresh veggies for a decent dish that would feed
three, and with practiced hands, she sliced, diced and tossed the ingredients
into a wok.

The
animals migrated to the kitchen to beg—asparagus was always a favorite with the
dogs—and soon over two dozen pairs of eyes surrounded her. Rafi jumped up on
the old stand-alone dishwasher at the end of the counter and swatted playfully
every time Kira walked past him.

She
sang out loud about gypsies, tramps and thieves as she set the table with
mismatched thrift store dishes. When she finished, she dug through the fridge
for the pitcher of lemonade, and then turned to the crowd. “Will one of you go
get the boys?”

It
was unnecessary to speak; the animals understood her in other ways, but talking
kept her sane when sometimes she felt anything but. She formed an image in her
head of the upstairs bedrooms, and Babs, ever the responsible helper, ran off,
her nails clacking on the wooden stairs behind the kitchen. Tom might not
recognize the message, but Derek, after just a couple of days, had figured out
that when a dog scratched on his door, Kira wanted him.

No
one came. Grumbling to herself, she turned down the heat on the tofu, asparagus
and tomatoes, and headed upstairs. Babs sat between the doors, her ears droopy,
her expression dejected, like she’d failed a mission.

“It’s
okay, little Babby-Sue. Go back downstairs.”

She
knocked on Tom’s door. No response. She tried Derek’s. The door squeaked open.
He stood in the middle of the room, talking on a cell phone, his voice hushed
and harsh. His frustration filled the room with a bitter odor. Feeling like an
intruder, she turned away.

“Kira.
I’m sorry. I didn’t see you there.”

She
turned back to see Derek stuff his phone into the pocket of his jeans. “I
thought you might want some dinner.”

“Is
Tom invited?”

Odd
question, but then, her spring fever affected more than just her. Men picked up
on her body’s signals, reacted to them, if only subconsciously, and she’d
expected some tension between the two eventually. “He’s still working, but he
can eat when he comes in.” She paused. “Why?”

Derek
grimaced. Silence stretched.

“Derek?
What is it?”

“It’s
just…” He sighed. “You need to keep an eye on him.”

She
let out a slow breath and stepped into the room. “There’s more to the farm
thing, isn’t there?”

He
nodded. “We were in the Army together. That’s how we really know each other.”

Interesting,
but not surprising, given the military vibes she’d gotten off both of them.
“Why the secrecy?”

“I
was trying to protect him.” He looked down, scuffed his boot on the hardwood
floor. “But then I realized you’re the one I should protect. He’s not…stable.”

“Yeah,
well, most people don’t think I’m very stable, so you need to be a little more
specific.”

Derek
scrubbed a hand over his face, which was rough with dark stubble. “I don’t want
to get the guy in trouble, so I can’t say much, but don’t get too close. And
don’t believe anything he tells you. Anyone with a dishonorable discharge…well,
be careful.”

Great.
Her first mate of the season, and he was probably a homicidal maniac. “I
appreciate the warning, but I can take care of myself.”

Derek’s
mouth eased into a friendly smile. The one that had taken away her breath
before she met Tom, whose rare smiles made all her erogenous zones scream for
attention.

“I’m
sure you can.” He studied her with keen eyes that always seemed to take her
measure, as though he liked to stay one step ahead of everything. “Do you have
any kind of self-defense training?”

“A
little.” A lot, actually. Back in the days when she trained police and military
dogs, the handlers had been nice enough to give her private lessons.

“That’s
good,” he said, but his displeasure wafted to her on a raft of scent. Maybe
he’d wanted to give her lessons himself. “Show me what you can do.”

He
threw his arm out toward her, his fingers stretching for her shoulder. She
didn’t hesitate, seized his hand and twisted hard. Heart pounding, she thrust
down in a wrist manipulation technique she’d practiced with a cop named Wayne.
Swiveling quickly, she enveloped his elbow with her other hand and jammed it
downward. He grunted, and she smiled as she restrained him, his body bent at
the waist, his arm twisted awkwardly behind his back.

“Nice,”
he murmured, the admiration in his voice mixed with surprise.

And
then it was her turn to be surprised, because before she had time to get cocky,
he jerked her forward. His fingers snared her wrist, and he stepped behind her,
wrenching her arm up her back hard enough to make her wince, but not enough to
be painful. Much.

Damn,
he was strong. But then, she’d seen him lift the back end of her truck up and
out of the mud in which it had become mired. Well, she’d seen it through
Cheech’s eyes, but still…

Derek
held her immobile with one hand, wrapped his other muscular arm around her neck
and pressed his chest to her back. Cramps tweaked her biceps, and her throat
felt a little tight as it funneled her rapid breaths through it.

“There’s
always a countermove,” he said, his voice rumbling against her ear in a rich,
seductive tone that struck her as sounding practiced. He rocked his pelvis
against her, driving his erection into her hip. Dropping his arm from her
throat, he let his hand drift down her chest, over her breast, to her waist.

Message
received.

He
wanted her, would be willing and able should she want—or need—him soon. Warmth
oozed across her skin, and when he released her, she spun away before her body
could react further to his arousal. She didn’t
require
sex for a couple
more hours, but she came equipped with a self-preservation switch that
activated her libido in the presence of an aroused male, effectively forcing
her to accept all mating opportunities that presented themselves.

Had
she been in the room with Tom, she’d welcome the chance to take him down to the
floor, but sleeping with Derek now would only intensify the tension between him
and Tom, something she didn’t want to deal with yet.

“Wow.”
She wiped her palms on her shorts simply because she needed to do something
with them. “That was impressive.”

Extra-impressive,
given that Wayne assured her the hold she’d used was difficult to break. Wayne,
who had held her often enough. Who had definitely done his civic duty to
protect and serve her several times during one of her spring fevers. Who had
been the one to warn her when the warrants for her arrest had suddenly been
reinstated.

“Don’t
sell yourself short. You know your stuff.” Folding his arms across his broad
chest, Derek watched her with dark eyes that had gone nearly black with desire.
“Can you break out of restraints?”

Heart
still doing double-time, she jammed her hands on her hips. “I’ve been asked a
lot of strange questions in my life, but Derek, you’re going to some new places
here.”

He
grinned. “I could go to more new places, if you’d like.”

“Men,”
she huffed, but her drama lacked conviction. At this time of year, she was
receptive to all flirtations.