Out of the Dark Page 2

  No underwear?

  To hide her inability to stay upright, she leaned against the wall and tried her best to come up with something to say to break the embarrassing silence.

  Luckily he made the first move. He knelt beside his bag. “Since the room is checked out to a woman, can you order room service?”

  She moved toward the phone on the nightstand. “What do you want?”

  “I don’t care as long as it’s food.” He glanced at her across the king-sized bed. “I haven’t eaten in two days.”

  She lifted the receiver. “I had a club sandwich the other night. It wasn’t bad. Will that work?”

  “Yeah, and a beer.”

  “Would you rather I order a full meal?” She studied his striking features, the tightness of his jaw and the perfection of his nose. “I don’t mind.”

  “Just the sandwich.” She started to ring for service when he instructed, “Nothing to drink for you.”

  She put down the receiver. “I had no intentions of ordering any alcohol. I’m a big girl, Mac. I decide when I’ve had enough to drink, not you.” She sucked in a deep breath and hiked her chin. “If I want a gallon of vodka, that’s my business.”

  “Once I get stateside, you can go on a three day binge. But with my life on the line, we do things my way.” He turned. “And my way is for you to stay sober. Maybe you should order coffee.”

  Emily stalked toward him. “I’ll gladly order you a sandwich and a beer. But don’t do that, Mac. I don’t like it and I find it insulting.”

  He glared up at her. “Then don’t drink.” Still squatted on the floor, he took out a gun.

  Standing, he pulled back a lever and clicked a bullet out of the chamber. Moving to the bed, he turned with his back to her, sat on the edge and began taking his weapon apart. “Please place the order, Emily. I’m hungry.”

  She picked up the phone. When a voice sounded at the other end, Emily said. “This is room 533, room service, please.” After a brief wait, “Yes, I’d like two club sandwiches, fries, and a bottle of local beer. Yes, on toast please. I’d also like two bottles of vodka. Thank you.”

  Hanging up the phone, she turned to see his reaction. No way would she consume anything else to drink, but he needed to be put in his place. With his back to her, she couldn’t tell if she’d struck a chord or not, and didn’t care. Nobody bossed her around. Trying not to gloat, she walked across the room to get her smart phone. She intended to call Frank and tell him to get his damn agent out of her room.

  Now.

  Unfortunately, she only took two steps before Mac leaped up, grabbed her by the waist and slung her on the bed. She bounced twice.

  In an instant, Emily lay on her back beneath him, his mouth inches from hers. His breath held the minty scent of her toothpaste. A smoldering hot look in his blue eyes reached out to the woman in her.

  “Emily,” he crooned. “You’re a very bad girl.”

  “Let me go, McKinsey,” she said between clenched teeth. “You touch me and I’ll end your career, and your freedom.”

  Mac instantly held up his right hand and propped himself on his elbow. “I’m not holding on to anything. You’re free to move. And who said anything about touching?”

  Only a small amount of his hard body pinned her gently between him and the bed. The masculine scent of him turned her on like nothing else ever had. With a seductive smirk, he traced his finger lightly over her lips, across her chin and down to the hollow of her neck. He leaned closer, his mouth brushing her temple. Her whole body shook.

  “You thinking about sex, Emily?” he asked in a voice barely audible.

  Despite the fact that a trail of heat scorched her flesh, she managed to speak. “Let me up.”

  He rolled off her and immediately came to his feet. “I meant what I said about drinking. No more booze.”

  Seated on the edge of the bed and shaking, she shoved her hair back and said, “Don’t tell me what to do. Don’t get in my face. And don’t ever do that again.”

  On her feet, Emily went into the bathroom and slammed the door. She slumped against the side of the sink. The fresh scent of the hotel’s soap filled the steamy room, reminding her that Mac’s body held the same fragrance.

  Every nerve in her body stood at attention and her heart hammered like an angry judge’s gavel against her ribcage. She stared in the mirror. In her reflection her cheeks were red and her face glowed. Even her eyes appeared too big and her mouth was wet and ready.

  God help her, she’d never been so turned on and so frightened of her own feelings.

  Knowing nothing could be more foolish or unprofessional than to have sex with Mac, Emily splashed water on her cheeks and blotted them with the small hand towel. Her face buried in the soft fabric, the door swung open and Emily jumped back. His reflection looked back at her in the mirror.

  “Room service is here,” he whispered. No evidence of what just happened between them lingered on his face. Nothing gave his emotions away. “Best you answer the door.”

  That Frank and Mac would consider pulling something this dangerous, and against everything she believed in, made her absolutely livid. She knew exactly what had to be done.

  Furiously, she tossed the towel in the sink then shoved her tousled hair back. Too angry to speak, Emily marched toward the door. Once there, she pressed her palms down the front of her silk blouse, straightened her tight skirt, and squared her shoulders.

  “Tell them to leave it in the hall,” he ordered.

  Looking over her shoulder with her hand on the knob, Emily wondered how a man so handsome could be so rude. If she were a guy, she’d beat him up. But if she was a guy, she wouldn’t be so turned on.

  “Stay out of sight.”

  With the door chain secured, Emily instructed the uniformed bellman to leave the food cart in the hall. The food and drinks would be an extra ‘thank you’ from Stromberg.

  At the sound of retreating footsteps, Emily opened the door and stepped into the empty hall. The delicious aroma from the food tray made her tummy growl. She pushed the cart over the threshold just as Mac came out of the bathroom.

  At one time Emily had a very normal mediation practice until she accepted Falcon Securities as a client. Nothing had been normal since. She’d never fought so many legal battles in her whole career. And oh, the trouble those agents got into. It took every legal skill she possessed to keep them all from being locked up somewhere.

  With the food in the room and the door locked, Emily snatched her cell phone off the bed and speed dialed Frank Hamilton.

  After several failed attempts, she finally hit the right button and Frank barked a greeting.

  “This isn’t working, Frank,” Emily said. “You have to find him another way out of the country. I could be arrested, disbarred, lose everything I have. I won’t even go into the horror scenarios this could turn into.” She looked at Mac sitting on the bed eating his sandwich. “And of course you know he’s the biggest jerk in God’s creation, don’t you?”

  Frank’s silence made Emily want to crawl through the phone and strangle the director for putting her and her career in this horrible situation.

  “Yes, he’s a pain in the ass, Emily.” Frank sighed. “He took out a Russian informant and his cover was blown. Mac has to get out of that hellhole. Look it’s not like I’m asking you to create world peace or anything.”

  Turning her back to Mac, Emily continued, “Frank, if I’m caught with him, it would be the end of everything for me. And I don’t want to tell you how much I want to avoid a Russian jail.” She glanced over her shoulder. Mac didn’t seem concerned with her and Frank’s conversation. “I don’t like him, Frank.”

  “He’s a brave and noble man, Emily. All I’m asking you to do is get him out of there. If, and I mean if anything should happen, I’ve got your back.”

  She let out a tired breath. “I can’t.”

  “Emily, you live a perfectly normal life and never deal with terrorists, or human traffi
ckers, or drug cartels. Mac and men like him are dedicated to making sure you never see the really, really bad guys. That man has risked his life for this country and your freedom so many times I can’t keep up with the paperwork.” While in full ex CIA Director mode, Frank kept his voice calm and conciliatory, while leaving no doubt his was the final word. “Now do what you can to help him get back safely.”

  Nervously, she swallowed. She knew better than anyone what these men risked on every mission. Their bravery and courage would never be displayed for the public to see. There was no applause or gratitude. Everything these agents did remained shrouded in darkness.

  She held Mac’s only way out of Russia and she’d hate if anything happened to him or any of the agents.

  Still...

  Emily massaged the knot of nerves between her eyes. No matter what Frank said or how selfish she felt, Emily had to do the right thing. As calmly as she could collect herself, Emily said, “Frank, I resign as your company attorney. I will do my best to get your agent safely stateside. Once that’s done, you won’t see me again.” She took a deep breath. “But you will see my final bill.”

  That said, she threw the phone at Mac. He caught it, his eyes wide with surprise.

  “Yeah,” Mac said, around bites of his sandwich. He took a swig of beer. “I haven’t heard from Brody.” Eyes narrowed, Mac pinned her with an annoyed glare. “I’ve said I’m sorry. Obviously that’s not enough. Should I cut my throat and bleed for her?”

  Silence.

  “I’m not the kind of guy who can pull that off, Frank. If circumstances were different. Maybe if it were Archuletta. But not me. I can’t suck up to anyone. I’ll walk back to Dallas first.

  Emily turned and sat in the chair not caring what the two men discussed. She was through. Her part done.

  “Besides, she’s the problem.” Mac lowered his gaze then grumbled, “Don’t worry.”

  Mac ended the call and placed Emily’s phone on the nightstand.

  The heater kicked on and the hum of the fan was the only sound in the room. Emily looked at the two bottles of vodka, and felt foolish. But not foolish enough to let Frank and Mac get away with their little stunt. This whole thing could blow up in her face. While Mac was allowed to operate under the radar, she wasn’t, nor did she want to.

  Exhaustion started at her bare feet and crawled all the way to her brain.

  “Do you want your food?”

  “I’m not hungry,” she replied.

  Mac reached over and took half her sandwich. When he finished the beer, she stood, went to the small fridge and took out two cans of Diet Coke.

  She put one on the food cart next to him then flipped the other open and took a deep swallow. The soft drink burned its way down her throat but tasted delicious.

  “Does the plane land in Heathrow?”

  Emily took another sip. “Yes.”

  “When we get to London you can go your way and I’ll go mine.”

  “Frank said to get you stateside.”

  “Ah, he always says that.” Mac opened his drink.

  “You’ll go to Dallas willingly or I’ll drag you.”

  Mac waved his hand. “We’ll see.”

  “What’s wrong with your hand?” she asked.

  As if the injury were no more than a piece of lint on his clothes, Mac looked at the battered knuckles on his right hand. “I hit a guy.” He leaned back on the pillow.

  Another wound of valor.

  “I haven’t slept in a few days. Mind if I stretch out on the bed and snooze a little?”

  He’d gone days without rest, another hit to her conscience.

  “No, go ahead.”

  “I’ll stay on this side if you want to come to bed.” He motioned to the opposite side.

  Come to bed.

  That was the sexiest invitation she’d ever heard. To what? She didn’t even want to imagine. Instead, she squeezed her legs together and tried to forget the mesmerizing warmth of being beneath Mac McKinsey.

  “I’ll pass.”

  With the drink can empty, Emily leaned back in the chair and wondered if this night would ever end.

  CHAPTER TWO

  What a fucking nightmare.

  Mac ran his hands over his face and would give anything to be somewhere else. Frank was pissed, and if Emily Richards had a weapon, she’d probably shoot him.

  Yet, he had no one to blame but himself.

  Only a stupid agent would jack with the company’s attorney. Apparently he fit the bill.

  He’d thought his mission routine. Relieved, for once he’d pulled an easy assignment. But in a matter of seconds it went from easy-peasy to a cluster fuck.

  His assignment had been a classic Intel recon. Get the information from his contact, create an exit for the CI then haul ass. Instead, after leaving the informant’s apartment, Mac hit the stairwell and found three bad asses waiting at the landing.

  In the end, Mac ran for his life. He managed to hitch a ride before finally ending up in Emily’s hotel room. Mac shook his head at the irony.

  Beneath lowered lids, he watched Emily move across the room. In his opinion she was the most dangerous woman he knew. Hell, that just proved he was male.

  Besides, all the agents at Falcon thought Emily was hot, beautiful too.. But also, sophisticated, smart, and had a body that could make a man come in his pants. Few women came so nicely wrapped.

  The problem with all that? Women like Emily had forever tattooed across their forehead, and men like him stayed far, far away.

  Until tonight he and Emily had exchanged few words. Usually Frank briefed Emily about the problem they were facing and she’d ask the agents a few questions. They’d discuss strategy, but during mediation, agents rarely talked. And nobody celebrated afterwards.

  Gracefully, Emily glided to the large window overlooking the city of Moscow. He remembered the mysterious scent of her perfume when he had her beneath him. Now that essence drifted with her as she strolled around the room. Or had it been seared in his brain?

  Mac’s whole body trembled as he took a deep breath. No surprise, Emily rattled his primal need for sex and woke up his body’s testosterone. He laid back and enjoyed the way she moved. Soft. Lithe. Effortlessly. A style all her own. Not fast, not slow, but lean and sexy as hell.

  With her back to him, Mac admired the curse of her ass as he adjusted the front of his jeans and hoped she couldn’t see the extent of his desire. Besides, Emily wasn’t available...or was she?

  Mac sat up. “Where’s the rock?”

  She turned, arms crossed, a look of surprise plastered on her pretty face. “What?”

  He nodded toward her empty ring finger. “The engagement ring.”

  Emily hid her hand behind her. “I...I called it off.

  “The wedding?”

  Emily’s gaze dropped to the floor, and she backed against the wall, chewing her bottom lip. “Yes.” She looked up daring him to interrogate her.

  Mac cocked his head and leaned forward. Her long auburn hair fell gently against the sides of her face, making her appear small, And hurt.

  She’d also lied through her perfect, white teeth.

  Something bad had happened, and he sensed Emily had come out the loser. That saddened Mac in a strange, unfamiliar way.

  She turned back to the window. “Who’s after you?”

  Mac couldn’t take his eyes off her fine looking ass.

  “Are we in danger?” She glanced over her shoulder.

  “Not sure. As far as I know, I covered my tracks pretty well.”

  She turned, her eyes widened. “But you’re not sure?”

  “In my line of work few things are certain.”

  With a nod she sat in the cushioned, straight-back chair facing him.

  Closer now, Mac captured the scent of her spicy perfume again and sweat popped out on his forehead. God he wanted her. Never good to want what you can’t have.

  Getting comfortable, Emily shifted slightly, smoothing the gray
skirt over her shapely thighs. “I guess we’ll find out tomorrow when we try to board the plane.”

  He gruffly cleared his throat. “If trouble is coming, it’ll hit tonight.”

  Their gazes collided and her posture stiffened. “I see,” she said, as if that were even remotely possible. She turned to where he’d placed his Glock on the nightstand and swallowed.

  Mac prayed he wouldn’t have to use the gun.

  Trying to anticipate her reaction to a surprise attack, he mentally made plans to calm her if necessary. Weary from the last three days, Mac rolled over and bunched the pillows beneath his head. “I don’t know the timetable but I think we should be in London tomorrow afternoon.”

  With the private jet, they wouldn’t have to go through Customs. Just a couple of clerks checking passports and stuff like that...until they landed.

  “Look,” he said, flopping on his back. “I know the risk you’re taking and I’m sure Frank will compensate you well.” He searched her face. “Saving my ass goes beyond the scope of your job.”

  Her chuckle turned the inside of his chest warm. Her delicately arched brows rose. “Really?” As if unaware of her actions, she licked her lips.

  Mac thought he’d never seen anything sexier. Her ex-fiancé was the dumbest bastard on earth to let this woman go. He knew he should look away, but couldn’t.

  “I’ll be glad when we get back to Dallas,” Emily said, rubbing her arms.

  “You were drinking at the bar, Emily. What were you celebrating?” He looked at the bedside clock. 9:30 Moscow time. When he glanced back to say something else, the look on her face stopped him.

  She stalked toward him, mouth tight, eyes narrowed. Oh shit, what had he done now? She was pissed. “I’ll do what I can.”

  “Okay,” Mac said, knowing he’d gone one step too far, but not sure how he’d managed to get her so upset.

  “Don’t you ever spy on me again.” Eyes flashing with anger, she rounded on him, her face inches from his. She put one knee on the bed and leaned forward. Apparently without a single thought for her well-being. She went further by jabbing him in the chest with an index finger.

  Few people had the nerve to do that, and none before her had ever gotten away with it.