Waves of power and danger had emanated from him and washed over her like some seductive potion.

Their eyes had met across the room and an electric current had zapped her down to her toes. Just like now.

The rough pad of his thumb trailed across her cheek and over her lips, which throbbed at his touch. She dropped her lashes, avoiding the fire in his eyes, afraid of getting scorched once again.

It didn’t work.

His palm cradled the side of her head. His lips touched hers, and her bones melted.

She huffed out a breath against his mouth as she hooked an arm around his neck to stay vertical.

God help her. She’d fallen under his spell as quickly as she had in Zurich.

But now she had responsibilities. She planted her palms against his chest, and her fingers tingled to explore the hard slabs of muscle that shifted beneath his flannel shirt.

She pushed him away even as her lips kept contact with his.

Catch, Release

Carol Ericson

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CAROL ERICSON lives with her husband and two sons in Southern California, home of state-of-the-art cosmetic surgery, wild freeway chases, palm trees bending in the Santa Ana winds and a million amazing stories. These stories, along with hordes of virile men and feisty women, clamor for release from Carol’s head. It makes for some interesting headaches until she sets them free to fulfill their destinies and her readers’ fantasies. To find out more about Carol, her books and her strange headaches, please visit her website, www.carolericson.com, “where romance flirts with danger.”

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For all the strong women in my life

who keep it all together.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Epilogue

Chapter One

Deb’s eye twitched along with her trigger finger, but she wasn’t packing. They’d know. Somehow they knew everything, and they’d warned her if she didn’t come alone and unarmed they’d hurt Bobby.

She believed them. Nico Zendaris had made good on every threat so far. Why would she start doubting him now?

Her gaze darted among the faces surging around the frosty Boston street corner. Would someone give her a sign? She clutched her cell phone in the pocket of her coat. She didn’t know how they planned to contact her.

One if by land, two if by sea? She was in the right place for signals.

Someone bumped her and mumbled an apology. She stared at the stranger’s back, his broad shoulders encased in a puffy down jacket, as he lumbered down the sidewalk. Was that the sign?

She took a few uncertain steps after him, but he turned a corner and disappeared. Stumbling to a stop, she bit her lip. Should she go after him?

The message had ordered her to stand in this spot until further instructions. Was the bump an instruction? Or was the man just a clumsy pedestrian hurrying to his next appointment?

She no longer trusted her instincts since she’d allowed them to snatch Bobby. She should’ve known. She should’ve done more.

With a halting gait, she retraced her steps to the lamppost on the corner. If she did everything they asked of her, she’d get Bobby back. Zendaris had promised.

She ground her teeth against the sour bile rising from her gut. She knew better than to trust that man, but what choice did she have?

She’d have to trust him up to the moment he put a bullet in her head. Or she put one in his.

Her cell phone chirped, and she dragged it from her pocket with a hand shaking so badly she almost dropped the phone. She studied the blank display as the phone chirped again. She’d set her phone to vibrate.

She swiveled her head from side to side. Plenty of people with cell phones walked by, but nobody had stopped near her.

The phone chirped again. Gasping, she plunged her hand in her other coat pocket, her fingers colliding with another phone. Not hers.

She grabbed the cell and pulled it from her pocket. It continued its insistent trilling, so she hit the talk button.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Deb. For being a crack Prospero agent, it sure took you long enough to figure out you had a ringing phone in your pocket.”

The smooth mocking voice stirred her blood, thick with rage. “That was one of your little minions who bumped into me?”

He chuckled. “Very astute of you—finally.”

She didn’t even know if the man on the phone was Zendaris. She’d never heard his voice even though Prospero Team Three had disrupted one of his biggest arms deals four years ago.

She growled low in her throat. “I should’ve dropped him in his tracks.”

“Tough talk from the first and only female Prospero agent.” He clicked his tongue. “But you wouldn’t do that now, would you, Deb? Not while we have Bobby.”

His words twisted a knife in her belly and she bit back a sob. She refused to show this scum any sign of weakness. “Let me talk to him. I’m not going to do anything more until you do. I have to know he’s okay.”

“Deb, Deb, Deb. He’s not with me, or I’d gladly put him on the phone. Rest assured he’s safe and comfortable. We’ll give you proof of life soon enough.”

His phrase proof of life had her sagging against the lamppost. He’d better show her proof of Bobby’s life, or she’d hand Zendaris proof of his own death.

“When? I need something now.”

“You have my word, Deb. That’s all I can give you at the present time—that and the phone you’re using.”

She had an urge to toss the thing and the slick voice coming from it into oncoming traffic. But it represented her only connection to Bobby.

She crushed it against her ear. “What’s the significance of this phone?”

“It will be our way of communicating with you. It’s secure, untraceable, a very special phone. Carry it with you everywhere.”

“So what is it, Zendaris? If that’s who you really are.” Despite the chill in the air, sweat dampened her hairline. She brushed a bead of it away. “What do you want me to do?”

“You Americans, so impatient. You just keep the phone by your side, Deb, and we’ll tell you what to do next.”

“Why the delay? Tell me what to do now so we can end this game.” Silence greeted her plea and she was almost glad of it. A whining, desperate tone had crept into her voice—a tone she didn’t want Zendaris to hear.

She examined the phone and pushed a few buttons. There were no contacts, no phone numbers appeared and it didn’t seem as if she could make an outgoing call. What other special features did it have? A GPS tracking device? A camera? Were they watching her right now?

Closing her eyes, she rested her forehead against the cold metal of the lamppost and dropped the phone in her coat pocket. What was Zendaris after? What did he want her to do?

She swallowed. Why was she kidding herself? He wanted the plans to the anti-drone. He’d had them first, lost them to her Prospero teammate, Cade Stark, and then the plans had been stolen from Cade.

Neither Zendaris nor Prospero knew the location of the plans, but he must think she knew something. Or he planned to use her to get them.

The phone rang again. That was fast. Now maybe they could get down to business.

“What?”

A different voice greeted her this time, rougher, gruffer. “Face east and take the first right.”

She spun around to face the right direction. “Where the man who dropped the phone in my pocket went?”

“Do it.”

With the phone clamped to her ear, she strode to the next corner and turned. “What now?”

“Walk two blocks and turn down the alley after the green awning.”

She spied a flower shop with a green awning in front and aimed her steps toward it. The man on the other end of the line said nothing, but his heavy breathing kept her moving.

Would they show her some sign that Bobby was okay? Maybe Bobby was down that alley. The thought quickened her steps.

She stopped at the entrance to the alley and braced her hand against the corner of the flower shop building. Her gaze tracked along the length of the alley, stumbling over two Dumpsters but nothing else. No Bobby.

Her shoulders slumped. “I’m in the alley.”

“Go to the second Dumpster and take out the black bag.”

Her stomach tightened into knots as she crept down the pavement, avoiding the patches of ice that the winter sun hadn’t melted. She didn’t want to look into that Dumpster. Didn’t want to look into any bag.

Fear had her in its grip. Even though she hadn’t been acting like it, she was a trained Prospero agent, programmed to laugh in the face of fear.

Without cracking a smile, she pushed up the green lid of the second Dumpster with the heel of her hand. She peered inside and eyed a black duffel bag sitting atop bags of trash and stems, leaves and broken blooms from the flower shop. She gagged at the stench of rotting organic material.

Holding her breath, she balanced one foot on the wheel of the Dumpster and hoisted herself up. She reached into the refuse and snagged the strap of the bag and pulled. It didn’t budge.

“I have to put the phone down.”

The man grunted in response, and she slid the phone in her pocket. Using both hands, she propelled herself farther into the Dumpster, grabbed the bag with both hands and hauled it out.

She dropped the heavy prize on the ground and crouched beside it. She dipped her hand in her pocket and retrieved the phone. “I have the bag. Should I open it?”

“Yeah, whaddya think?”

She thought if she made one wrong move they’d harm Bobby. It took her two tries to unzip the bag with her trembling hands. When the bag gaped open, she sat back on her heels, her mouth as wide as the opening of the duffel.

“What am I supposed to do with this stuff?”

“Rob a jewelry store.”

The shock made her giggle and she toppled over. She sniffed and rubbed her eyes. “What are you talking about?”

“You’re robbing a jewelry store. It’s a few blocks away.”

“Are you crazy? This is what Zendaris wants me to do? Steal some jewels?”

He ignored her questions and began giving her instructions for the robbery. He stopped after every instruction and asked her if she understood. She’d had him repeat the first few directions as the fog slowly cleared from her mind.

Zendaris was serious. He wanted her to rob a store. She knew the consequences if she didn’t do it. Was this it? Was this all he’d ask of her?

She might get killed in the attempt, and if she were arrested she would never reveal her motivation. She understood what that would mean for Bobby.

“You got all that?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t fail.”

“I don’t plan on it.”

She cleared out her own purse and dumped the contents into the big designer bag that was stuffed in the duffel. She pulled the blond wig over her head and clapped the huge sunglasses on her face.

While sitting on the ground with her back against the Dumpster, Deb slipped a pair of high heels onto her feet. Zendaris had told her to dress professionally. The towering heels must’ve been an afterthought and were more suited to a hooker than the low heels she’d kicked off, but they added to her disguise.

Peering into the mirror Zendaris had thoughtfully provided, she shoved the dark strands of her hair beneath the wig and applied red lipstick.

She crammed the black ski mask into the purse as well, and then tucked the loaded .45 inside—not that she planned on shooting anyone unless Zendaris showed up in the jewelry store.

She pushed to her feet and dropped the duffel bag along with her own empty purse into the Dumpster. She’d put her shoes and everything else from her purse into the designer bag. She tightened the belt of her wool coat and emerged from the alley a new woman.

Maybe blondes did have more fun. A few men cast assessing glances her way as she wobbled down the sidewalk in her high heels.

She passed by the jewelry store once and waited until the lone customer had left. Then she approached the door and stabbed the buzzer. They must’ve liked what they saw because the door clicked and she pushed through with butterflies taking flight in her belly.

Two clerks. Deb smiled. In her affected Southern accent, she said, “Ahm lookin’ for a diamond bracelet?”

One of the clerks, probably a jeweler, looked up from poking at something on a glass table. The magnifying contraption he wore on his head enlarged his eye and Deb felt as if he were staring right through her disguise.

He went back to his work, and the female clerk crossed the room to a velvet-lined case. “We have some beautiful bracelets over here.”

“Perfect.”

While the clerk bent over the case to unlock it, Deb stepped back and locked the door to the shop, flipping the sign to Closed. She withdrew the gun from her purse as she yanked on the cord to the blinds.

“Excuse me?” The noises had caught the attention of the jeweler and he looked up with his hideously magnified eye.

Before turning around, Deb pulled the ski mask over her head, blond hair and everything, and swung the gun toward him. “Ahm sorry, sir, ahm goin’ to have to ask you to move away from the counter.”

He dropped his hand from the top of the counter and Deb aimed the gun at his head. “Please don’t.”

The clerk stood with her mouth open, holding a tray of bracelets in front of her.

“We’ll start with those.”

While the jeweler kneeled in the middle of the store with his hands behind his head, Deb had the clerk scurrying around the store dumping trays of jewels into her big bag.

Deb apologized repeatedly, but she knew these people would be traumatized. If she could make it up to them one day, she would.

Zendaris never told her how much to steal, so with the bag bulging and half the cases empty, Deb held up her hand. “That’s enough. Both of you in the back room. Ahm not goin’ to hurt y’all.”

She herded them into the back office, which Zendaris had known about. She’d already collected their cell phones, and now she ripped the desk phone out of the wall and smashed it.

“Ahm goin’ to lock you in here now, but you should be able to get out soon.”

She slammed the door shut and dragged a chair over to wedge it beneath the doorknob. That should hold them until she got away. If she got away.

She pulled the ski mask from her head, shook out her blond hair and replaced her sunglasses. Hoisting the bag with the loot over her shoulder, she slipped from the store, keeping it locked behind her.

Her heels clicked down the sidewalk as she clutched a key chain in her hand and made for the corner. She let out a breath when she saw a blue compact car parked at a meter.

The remote Zendaris had included in the duffel unlocked the car and she slipped inside, her heart pounding unsteadily. She adjusted the rearview mirror and brushed the blond locks from her sweaty brow.

Deb pulled away from the curb. Nice and easy. No hurry. No cops were on her tail. No sirens wailed in her wake.

What did Zendaris want her to do with the jewelry? He didn’t need it. Didn’t want it. He just wanted her—her total submission. He had that. As long as he had Bobby.

But when she got out of this mess, Zendaris would pay. Unless she wound up dead or in jail.

Following the instructions to a T, she drove across the bridge to Cambridge and pulled into the parking lot of a hotel. She hadn’t noticed any cops following her, although she’d seen a couple of possible tails and had lost them.

Maybe Zendaris’s guys making sure she got to her destination.

She tilted the mirror down and fluffed up the wig. Then she wiped the lipstick from her mouth with a tissue. Not her color.

Checking in was a breeze with her fake ID and the cash Zendaris had provided.

She hitched the bag stuffed with jewels over her shoulder and made a beeline for the elevator. Once inside, she slumped against the wall and closed her eyes.

What did he have planned for her next? She’d see the fear in that poor jewelry store clerk’s eyes before she fell asleep tonight.

When the elevator jostled to a stop on her floor, Deb stepped through the doors and wandered down the hallway looking for her room. A couple passed her, arguing on their way to the elevator, and a maid emerged from one of the rooms.

Deb turned a corner and located her room number. She slid the key card in and out. Red lights blinked at her. She tried again and grasped the handle, bracing her hip against the heavy door.

A soft footfall sounded behind her on the dense carpet. She turned her head to the side. But she was too late.

Something hard and unforgiving prodded the small of her back, and a hoarse whisper grated against her ear.

“Keep moving into the room...and maybe I won’t kill you.”

Chapter Two

Deb marched in front of him, her long blond hair swaying against her stiff back.

She looked better as a redhead.

“Drop the bag and the coat, and pin your shoulders to the wall next to the bed.”

She swung around, her green eyes wide and shooting sparks. “You!”

“Do it, Deb. Right against the wall, and don’t try any funny business or you’ll be eating carpet.”

Her bag and coat fell to the floor. Two red spots formed on her cheeks and her hands clenched into fists, but she backed up to the wall, nearly stumbling in those ridiculously high heels. Who robbed a jewelry store in stilettos?

She lined up against the wall, tucking her hands behind her back. “What are you doing here?”

Beau held up his hand—the one without the gun. “Spread your legs and put your arms out to your sides.”

Her nostrils flared, and he could almost see the steam coming out of them.

She widened her stance and flattened her palms against the wall. “I’m not carrying.”

“That would be a first.”

“The gun’s in that pretty designer bag on the floor.”

He raised his brows. “At least you’re honest.” He took one step back and kicked the bag toward the open bathroom door.

With his weapon still trained on Deb, he reached out and ran his hand down one side of her body and then the other. He lightly cupped each of her breasts, and then slid his hand beneath her straight skirt.

The last time they’d done this it had been a lot more pleasant.

He whipped a plastic tie from his back pocket and twirled his finger in the air. “Turn around and place your hands behind your back.”

She complied and he grabbed her wrists with one hand, dragging his gaze away from her rounded derriere. He hadn’t bothered to tell Prospero that he’d met Deb before, but he knew he wouldn’t let this get personal. He always kept things professional—until the night he’d met her.

Once he had a firm grasp on her arm, he placed his weapon on the bed and cinched the plastic tie around her wrists. He retrieved his weapon and pulled her toward the bed until the back of her knees met the mattress. “Sit.”

She dropped to the bed, and her skirt hiked up around her thighs.

Beau shoved his gun in the back of his waistband and yanked down the hem of her skirt. Keep it professional.

“Start talking. Why are you in contact with Zendaris and why did you just rob that jewelry store? I’m assuming one is connected to the other.”

Her lush lips formed a stubborn line. “So Prospero hired Loki to track me down?”

A muscle in his jaw twitched when she used his code name. He never had told her his real name—even after the night of passion they’d shared.

“Prospero hires the best.” He hunched forward, bracing his hands on his knees. “What the hell are you doing, Deb? How did Zendaris get you, of all people, to turn?”

She scooted back on the bed, and her breasts strained against the silky material of her blouse. Her jaw tightened and her eyes narrowed—green cat eyes. They’d captivated him from the moment he’d met her at that gathering of world leaders in Zurich.

He cleared his throat. “Don’t think I’m just going to turn you over to the Boston P.D. for that armed robbery. I’m working for Prospero. You do know what Prospero does to traitors, don’t you?”

Her Adam’s apple bobbed in the delicate column of her throat. “They wouldn’t... Jack would never...”

He sliced his hand through the air and straightened to his full height. “Jack Coburn will do whatever necessary to protect the security and interests of this country.”

Sniffling, she turned her head away, tucking her cheek against her shoulder.

He’d brought Deb Sinclair to tears? That had to be a first. He’d had her moaning in his arms for one night, but nobody had ever made the first female Prospero agent cry.

Of course, it could all be a ruse.

He grabbed the silky blond strands of the wig and yanked it off her head. Her own dark auburn hair tumbled to her shoulders, catching the sunlight that flooded the room through the open curtains.

“Why’d you do it?”

She puckered her lips and blew at a few strands of hair clinging to her lips. “What are they paying you? I’ll give you half of my haul.”

Beau reached forward and she flinched, squeezing her eyes shut. Did she really think he’d hit her?

He brushed the hair from her face, his palm making contact with her smooth skin. He snatched his hand away before the gesture turned into a caress.

Why in the hell did he think he could keep this impersonal? That night with Deb had rocked his world. He’d never forgotten it, or her.

“Make this easy on yourself, Deb. Was it money? I know you never had much growing up. Jack might even understand that motivation. Come clean and give them what you have on Zendaris.”

A little smile played across her mouth. “You never told them, did you?”

Warmth burned in his chest and he crossed his arms. “This isn’t about me. You’re the one with a bag full of stolen jewels.”

She threw back her head and laughed so hard her shoulders shook. She fell back on the bed and laughed at the ceiling until tears rolled into her ears.

When she sat up, little black streaks smudged her cheeks. “Loki never told Prospero he bedded the prey, did he?”

“It’s irrelevant.” Beau ground his teeth together, knowing damned well it wasn’t irrelevant.

“Right.” She wrinkled her nose and sniffed. “I’m sure Jack wouldn’t have hired the great Loki if he’d known his assassin had already gotten intimate with the target.”

“That was a long time ago, and I agreed to take the assignment before I knew you were the quarry.”

“But once you found out I was the...quarry...you should’ve come clean. Don’t you think so, Loki?” She blinked and raised one dark eyebrow. “I bet you enjoyed that pat-down. Did it bring back fond memories?”

Her emerald gaze dropped below his belt. “Did it excite you?”

He turned his back on her with the blood running hot in his veins. He snagged the purse by the handle and dumped its contents on the carpet at Deb’s feet.

The .45 thudded to the floor—not Deb’s usual weapon. As he recalled, she preferred a Glock. Shoes tumbled out along with a ski mask and a tangle of jewelry.

Why would she want this stuff? She’d had a tough life as a kid. Maybe this satisfied some deep psychological need within her. And what did it all have to do with Zendaris?

Could Prospero be wrong? There had been the slimmest of leads linking Deb to Zendaris—that and the fact that she’d dropped below the radar.

Maybe her behavior signaled some kind of breakdown and not a traitorous move to Zendaris’s camp.

He ran his fingers through the gems. “Why’d you steal this jewelry, Deb?”

She shrugged and the top button of her blouse popped open. “I wanted it.”

“Why are you in contact with Zendaris?” Come on, Deb. Just deny it.

Yawning, she flopped back onto the bed.

He drove his fist into the pile of jewelry and hopped onto the bed, his knees straddling her hips, his hands on either side of her head. “Tell me what’s going on.”

She dropped her dark lashes, still long and lush without the mascara her tears of laughter had washed away. “I’m not telling you anything.”

He blew out an exasperated breath, which stirred the tendrils of her hair at her forehead. “I’m taking you in, Deb.”

Her body stiffened beneath him, and her eyes flew open. “T-to Prospero?”

“You’re their monster. They can deal with you.”

She bit her bottom lip but not before he saw it tremble.

“I’ll tell them everything, Loki. I’ll tell them how you seduced me that night when you were supposed to be guarding the emir’s wife.”

“Ooh, and you promised you wouldn’t kiss and tell.”

“I mean it. I’ll tell them how we made love all night long and while you were lying there, sated and naked and conked out, I went through your things. You compromised your position and the security of the people you were supposed to be protecting.”

And I’d do it all again for one more night with you.

He stared into her eyes, bright with unshed tears. “It’s your word against mine, Deb.”

“I—I’ll ruin your reputation. I’ll destroy you.”

Tough words, but her voice quavered and cracked when she delivered them.

“Maybe I don’t care. Maybe it’s time for Loki to die anyway.”

She squirmed beneath him and started to bend one of her knees for a well-aimed shot between his legs.

He dropped on top of her, pressing his frame along every line of hers as she huffed out a sigh. Her soft breasts smooshed against his chest. Her sweet scent invaded his pores.

He wanted her, even now. He wanted her traitorous lips against his. He wanted to take her lying tongue into his mouth. He wanted her deceiving hands on his body.

She thrashed from side to side. It only inflamed his desire.

He rolled from her body and stood by the side of the bed, hovering over her. “Sit up.”

“That’s what I was trying to do before you pinned me.”

“You were trying to knee me in the groin.”

“A girl has to protect herself.” She struggled to a sitting position. “You’d better think long and hard about turning me in, Loki. I’ll bring you down with me.”

“What I did was child’s play compared to your crimes.” He put more distance between them and her sweet scent that lured him to craziness. “Besides, your reputation will be so sullied, I can claim that you seduced and drugged me. Why not? Two can play hardball, sweetheart.”

“I don’t want to play hardball.”

She fluttered her eyelashes in an amateur attempt at flirtation, which fell flat. The Deb Sinclair he knew didn’t flirt like some simpering college girl. The Deb Sinclair he knew flirted like a woman—bold, challenging, sexy as hell.

“Let me go, Loki. Stealing a few jewels is not endangering national security. Besides, what do you care about that? You’ve always gone to the highest bidder and damn the torpedoes.”

“I think those claims about me have been greatly exaggerated—maybe even by me. Prospero hired me to do a job, and I’m going to do it. This is Jack Coburn we’re talking about. Nobody betrays Jack Coburn, and you’re about to find out why.”

“He doesn’t have to know.” She lifted her shoulder to rub the edge of her jaw against it. “Tell him I got away, that you couldn’t find me at all. I’m a Prospero agent. That won’t be too hard for him to believe.”

“And I’m Loki. It’ll be hard to believe I didn’t run you to ground.”

“Nice analogy.” She closed her eyes and heaved out a sigh. “Please. I’m begging you. Th-this is not what it seems. Somebody’s life depends on this—on my betrayal or at least the appearance of my betrayal.”

Narrowing his eyes, he rubbed his knuckles against the stubble on his chin. She’d shifted tactics. “Your life? Zendaris has threatened to kill the members of Prospero Team Three several times over. He’s never gotten the chance.”

“Not my life. Much worse than that.”

He and Deb had not only had an intense physical connection that night three years ago. When they weren’t exploring each other’s bodies, they were exploring each other’s minds. She’d told him the only family she’d had was the old man who had taken her in as a rebellious teen. Was Zendaris threatening him?

“Your foster father?”

“Robert died last year.” A single tear rolled down her cheek, and his heart lurched.

Was she playing him?

He set his jaw and shoved his hands in his pockets. “Sorry to hear it, but if not Robert, who? You told me you had no family other than Robert.”

She jerked her head up. “You remembered that?”

He remembered every detail of that night—the musky scent of her perfume, the smooth curves of her body, the low throatiness of her laugh and the taste of her. Sometimes at night that taste still lingered on his tongue.

He squared his shoulders. “I do, so don’t try to play some sob story off on me.”

“It’s not a story, Loki. Zendaris is holding someone I love more than life itself.”

A knife twisted in his gut—a husband. Deb had gotten married. And why not? Their connection had been almost three years ago—a one-night stand. Why would that mean anything to her?

He nodded. “You’re married.”

“No.” She shook her head from side to side so vehemently that her hair slipped over one shoulder and then the other. “I’m not talking about a husband. I’m talking about my son. Zendaris kidnapped my son, Bobby. And if I don’t do exactly what he tells me to do, he’ll kill him.”

Chapter Three

Much worse than a husband. Husbands could disappear. Kids stayed with you forever.

That one-night stand had meant less to her than he thought. She must’ve left him and run to the arms of some other lover.

Unless she was lying. What better way to get off the hook than to play the kid card?

His sharp laugh cut through the confusion. “You’re good, Deb. I have to give you that. You’re a pro.”

“Can you unbind my wrists?” She raised her arms behind her. “I didn’t expect you to believe me...at first.”

He strolled to the minibar and snatched a bottle of water from the fridge. He downed half of it in one gulp. He didn’t want her to see that she’d gotten to him for a minute.

“Unbind you so you can go for your gun? Claw my face off? Make a run for it?”

Her mouth curved up on one side. “You’re Loki. I’m not going anywhere. We both know that.”

“I’m impervious to flattery.”

“Since when?” She tipped her chin at the floor where he’d scattered the contents of her bag. “Then get my wallet. I have a picture of my son.”

He wished she’d stop saying that—it sounded so permanent. He slammed the plastic bottle on the credenza. Swooping down, he scooped up the wallet and flipped to the plastic inserts.

A teenaged Deb smiled at him, leaning over a chair, her arms around a grizzled African-American man—Robert, the man who’d taken her in after she’d run away from foster care. He flipped to the next picture and froze.

A towheaded toddler grinned while clutching the handlebars of a red tricycle. He flicked the edge of the picture. The kid didn’t even look like her. “This doesn’t prove anything.”

“Why would I carry a picture of a boy in my wallet? You know I don’t have any family, no nephews.”

“Doesn’t prove anything. Some wallets come with pictures already inserted. Is he even yours?”

“Look at the next picture.”

He swallowed as he stared at Deb wearing a hospital gown and cradling a baby. She looked...happy. “Congratulations. I’m sorry for doubting you. It looks like you really do have a child, but there’s nothing here to convince me Zendaris has him.”

“Well, at least you admitted I’m his mother. Zendaris has him. I’m telling the truth, Loki.”

“Stop—” he dropped the wallet on the bed next to her “—calling me that.”

“But I don’t know your real name. You never told me your real name.” She sniffled and her nose reddened.

She was sucking him in again. How was she playing the victim when she hadn’t wasted any time replacing him in her bed? Hell, she could’ve had a boyfriend when they’d hooked up.

If she’d lied about that, how did he know any of this story was true? The picture proved Deb had given birth, but for all he knew the boy could be safe with his father.

“Where is his father?”

She waved her hands. “Out of the picture.”

His pulse leapt. At least that was a plus. “I’m sorry if any of this is true, Deb. But if Zendaris has your son, you need to contact Prospero.”

Her shoulders sagged. “If I contact Prospero, Zendaris will kill him. You know he tried to do the same thing to one of my team members. He tried to kidnap Cade’s son, but Cade was able to protect his son.”

The tears ran unabated down her cheeks, and they were just about enough to convince Beau that her story was true. Nobody could fake the anguish he read in her face. And Deb Sinclair didn’t cry.

He secured his weapon and hers and sank onto the bed next to her. Reaching behind her back, he released her wrists.

She put her hands in her lap and rubbed the red creases on her skin, but the crying continued.

Slipping an arm around her shoulder, he pulled her flush against his side. Her head dropped to the hollow of his shoulder.

It felt good. He felt good.

“I’m sorry.” She rubbed her nose. “I don’t think I’ve cried since the day they snatched him. What’s the use of tears?”

She’d discovered early in life that tears didn’t solve anything. At least her crying seemed to soften Loki’s position.

And she hadn’t even had to tell him Bobby was his son.

When she’d heard his voice growl in her ear, hope and fear immediately began to war in her brain. Hope that Loki could help her, especially once she told him Zendaris had his son, too, and fear that he wouldn’t believe her and drag her back to Prospero.

If he did that, Bobby would die.

Now was not the time to tell him he had a son. How could she prove to him that Bobby was his anyway? The timing alone wouldn’t work. They’d had a one-night stand, and as incredible as it had been for her, he’d had no idea if she’d had a boyfriend or even a husband at that time. Just as she’d had no idea if he’d had a girlfriend or wife. Might even have one now.

He squeezed her closer. “Tell me what happened. How’d Zendaris get Bobby and what does he want? Not someone to rob jewelry stores for him?”

Deb smothered a hiccup with her hand. “One of his thugs impersonated Robert and kidnapped Bobby from daycare. After Robert’s death, I stupidly left him on the approved guardian list. When the man claiming to be Robert came to the daycare with ID, they released my son to him.”

She crossed her arms across her stomach. Whenever she went back to that day, she got physically ill.

“How long ago was this?”

“Almost a week ago.”

“You didn’t do a very good job of playing it cool. That’s exactly when Prospero pegged your unusual behavior. A little more digging and it was enough for them to call me in.”

“I couldn’t tell Prospero, couldn’t tell Jack. Zendaris warned me that if I called in the police or Prospero, he’d kill Bobby.” She ended on a sob despite her efforts to stop the waterworks.

“How did he contact you?”

“He left me a note at the daycare.” She pointed to the wallet. “May I?”

Loki may have offered her a shoulder to lean on, but his lean muscles were still coiled as if on high alert. She didn’t want to give him any reason to shoot her.

He nodded and she reached for the wallet. She plucked a folded piece of paper from the billfold and smoothed it out on her thigh. “The pretend Robert left this when he took Bobby.”

Leaning over, he read it aloud. “‘We have your son. If you call the police or notify Prospero, he’s dead.’”

He cursed and jumped up from the bed. “And you knew right away it was Zendaris?”

“Of course. Who else? He’d been trying to get to us through our families for years.”

He stopped suddenly and spun around. “How did Robert die?”

“He had a heart attack.”

“Are you sure? Heart attacks can be induced.”

“Robert had already had one heart attack. His death wasn’t completely unexpected.”

Shoving his hands in his pockets, he paced in front of the window. “What did they do next? How did they contact you?”

“They sent me another note with instructions to come to Boston, dress a certain way and stand on a busy street corner. While I was waiting, someone bumped into me and slipped a phone in my pocket. Zendaris, or whoever, called me on that phone and told me the plan for the jewelry store robbery.”

“Where’s the phone now?”

“In the pocket of the coat I dropped by the door.”

He picked up the crumpled black coat and shoved his hand in the pocket.

She jumped up, waving her hands. “Don’t make any calls on it. It’s a special phone.”

“Have you looked at this thing yet?” He turned it over and brought it close to his face. “How do you know it’s not bugged with a mic or a camera or a GPS?”

She covered her mouth with her hands. That had flashed across her mind before, but she hadn’t found the opportunity to examine the phone. If it had been recording everything she said, she’d just killed Bobby.

In two steps, she was at Loki’s side. “I didn’t even look. I didn’t even think. If Prospero could see me now, they’d fire me for incompetence.”

“I think they’d excuse you under the circumstances.” He squinted at the back of the phone and rubbed his thumb across it. “I don’t see anything that would indicate a camera or a mic, but a GPS is a strong possibility. Did Zendaris tell you what he wanted you to do with the jewelry?”

“No. I don’t even understand why he wanted me to hit that store.”

“Control.”

Deb swallowed and knotted her fingers in front of her as she stepped back from Loki. “I sort of figured that.”

“He wants to see how far you’ll go to save your son.” He slammed the phone against his palm. “What does he really want from you?”

“He wants the plans to the anti-drone.”

“The anti-drone? Is that what I think it is?”

“A team of scientists and engineers worked on a weapon to neutralize our fleet of drones. They came up with a set of plans for a prototype and one of our agents stole them. Within a few days, they were stolen from him—from someone inside our organization. Nobody knows where they are now, but Zendaris must think I do or at least he thinks he can use me to find them.”

“Then we’d better start thinking of a plan that’s going to make him believe you can do it while we work on finding Bobby.”

“We?” She spun around with her arms outstretched. “You’re going to help me, Loki?”

“Only if you stop calling me that ridiculous code name.”

“I’d love to, except that night we didn’t get around to proper introductions.”

His mouth quirked. “There was nothing proper about that night at all.”

Her blood stirred. Did he still think about it the way she did? Did he lie awake some nights and relive every sensation?

Of course, she’d had a living reminder of their night together in the form of Bobby. And she didn’t regret one minute of it, then or now.

She thrust out her hand. “I’m Deb Sinclair. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

He took her hand. She’d expected a firm handshake, but his long fingers almost caressed her wrist as he brushed his palm against hers.

“Beau Slater, and the pleasure is all mine.”

“Beau.” The name puffed from her lips. Bobby Slater. It worked. “Why are you helping me, Beau Slater? What’s in it for you?”

She had to admit to herself that when she’d first heard his voice, she’d immediately thought she could get him to help her by revealing the truth about Bobby’s parentage. A cheap shot, but she wasn’t above cheap shots to save Bobby. But he’d offered to help without even knowing.

Why?

“If I haul you back to Prospero, that’s not going to get anyone any closer to Zendaris. If you’re in contact with him, that’s a big step.”

She narrowed her eyes. Self-interest—she could believe that. “Has anyone ever sent you on Zendaris’s trail?”

“Yes—” he tossed the phone onto the bed “—but I’m not at liberty to reveal the identity of my employer, even now.”

“It wasn’t the U.S. government, was it?”

He drew a line across his lips. “Not telling. Of course, if you went to Prospero and told Jack Coburn everything you just told me, he’d believe you and probably want to use you as bait.”

“No!”

“What about your team members? I know how Prospero works—teams of four agents. Let them in on it. They could help you.”

“Are you afraid you’re not up to the job?”

His gaze wandered lazily down her body, from her face to the tips of her toes. “Oh, I’m up for the job. I’m just curious why you wouldn’t bring your team in on this. Makes me wonder if everything you’ve told me is the truth.”

How could she explain to him her inability to trust her teammates? She had such high regard for them and would help them in a second, but she couldn’t dismiss the fact that they were all highly trained professionals—men who wanted nothing more than to get their hands on Zendaris and those plans.

Would they really let a little boy stand between them and those goals? Because if it came down to it, she’d turn over those plans and let Zendaris escape if it meant keeping Bobby safe.

“Everything I told you is the truth.” Except for the fact that he was Bobby’s father.

“It seems strange, like something’s off. I probably should just do my job and deliver you to Prospero.”

She straightened her spine and widened her stance. “I’m not going in without a fight.”

A fierce light exploded in his blue eyes. Then he lunged at her and tackled her to the floor.

Chapter Four

He was insane. Bobby’s father had gone over the edge. But then, what had she ever really known about him?

For the second time since he’d bulldozed back into her life, he had her pinned with his body—and it wasn’t as pleasurable as the first time he’d done it three years ago.

“Get off me.” She shoved at his chest, which might as well have been crafted from stone. “Are you going to hog-tie me and carry me back? I’m not going anywhere with you.”

His heart pounded against her chest, his breath ragged in her hair. His voice rasped. “Stay here.”

He rolled from her body and began an army crawl toward the window.

He didn’t plan to kill her after all, or haul her back to Prospero—at least not right this minute. She dragged a few breaths of air into her lungs and brought her knees to her chest, rocking forward.

He stopped his crawl and whipped his head around. “Stay down.”

“Why? What are you doing?”

“Someone just tried to shoot you.”

“What?” She wrapped her arms around her legs, curling into a fetal position.

Beau shimmied to the drapes and yanked them across the windows from the bottom. “Crawl to the bathroom.”

Her mouth so dry she couldn’t peel her tongue from the roof, Deb mimicked Beau’s army crawl until she hit the cold tile of the bathroom floor. Grasping the edge of the tub, she pulled herself onto its edge.

A few seconds later, Beau joined her. He wedged his backside against the vanity and crossed his arms. “What the hell is going on?”

“You’re asking me?” The squeak in her voice echoed in the small space. “How do you know someone was trying to shoot me?”

“You had a red laser beam right here.” He planted the tip of his index finger in the middle of his forehead.

She gasped and her body sagged. She clutched the edge of the tub to stop her slide into it. “Someone had a scope on me?”

“Well, I don’t think it was a light show.”

“Did you see anything out the window?”

“I wasn’t looking, but there’s a building across the way. It must’ve come from there.”

She hoisted herself from the tub and flattened her hands on the vanity, leaning toward the mirror. “It couldn’t be Zendaris. That doesn’t make any sense. Why would he kill me before putting me to work?”

“My question exactly.” Beau turned to face the mirror and caught the eye of her reflection. “Unless he knows I’m here and he’s putting the brakes on his plan.”

“God, I hope not. If he thinks I called someone in to help me, he’ll kill Bobby—before he kills me.”

Beau ran a hand up her spine and clasped the back of her neck. “Let’s not think the worst. Do you have any way to contact him? The phone?”

“That’s a one-way phone. I can’t call out on it.”

“Who would be after you?”

She met his blue gaze in the mirror and swallowed hard. “Prospero.”

“Prospero hired me.”

She shrugged away from him and returned to the tub, gripping the plastic shower curtain with one hand. “Maybe Prospero hired two Lokis—one to reel in the catch and one to gut her.”

He raised an eyebrow. “If that were the plan, I would’ve left you in range of the little red dot on your forehead instead of pushing you down.”

“Maybe Prospero is using you.” She shoved the shower curtain away from her and the silver rings clattered on the rod. “Do you really think Jack Coburn isn’t aware that we slept together? He knew all along. That’s why he hired you. He figured you were the best person to find me. Figured I might just trust you instead of running away...or killing you.”

“I hope he’s right.” He hooked a thumb in his pocket and a crooked grin played across his face.

“I fail to see the humor.” She shoved her hands in her hair, letting it run through her fingers and fall about her shoulders.

“Coburn wouldn’t order your execution without listening to what you had to say first. My assignment was to find you and bring you in.”

“That was your mission.” Her gaze tracked to the open bathroom door. “Maybe he gave someone else different orders.”

He pushed off the vanity and grabbed her hand. “I think you’re looking in the wrong direction, Deb. Prospero doesn’t want you dead.”

“Someone does, and it’s not Zendaris—at least not yet.”

“We’re getting out of here.” He squeezed her hand. “Check out and we’ll find another place.”

“B-but I’m not supposed to leave.”

“Do you think Zendaris would rather have you dead? He has you exactly where he wants you. He’s not going to squander this opportunity.”

She chewed the inside of her lip. “What if it’s all a game? What if Zendaris doesn’t even care about those plans? He kidnapped Bobby and now he’s torturing me. He has a personal vendetta against us, you know.”

“Prospero?”

“Prospero Team Three specifically. One of our members recently discovered that Zendaris’s wife may have been a casualty of the raid we conducted on one of his munitions factories. He blames us for killing his wife.”

Beau whistled through his teeth. “That puts a different spin on this.”

“Exactly. He wants revenge. What better way than to kidnap my son and then toy with me before...before he kills us both.”

Beau pulled her against his chest, wrapping both of his strong arms around her. “That’s not going to happen. I’m not going to let it happen.”

“Why are you helping me, Beau?” She rubbed her nose against the soft flannel of his shirt. “Is it really just to get a crack at Zendaris?”

“That and I have a soft spot for...kids.” He tilted her head up with a finger beneath her chin. “Do you take me for some kind of coldhearted killer?”

She blinked her eyes. “I’d heard about you before I ran into you that night in Zurich—the mysterious Loki, Norse god of mischief. I knew all the stories—the hostage rescue in Mali, boarding that Somali pirate ship, taking down the mastermind behind that string of embassy bombings in London, the assassinations.”

He put a finger against her lips. “Didn’t happen.”

“If you say so.” She shrugged. She’d been half in love with Loki before she’d ever set eyes on him in the hotel bar where she’d been gathering intelligence at a conference of oil-producing nations.

Of course, she hadn’t known the man of steel with the cobalt-blue eyes sipping scotch at the end of the mahogany bar was Loki in the flesh. But on some level, she’d sensed it. Waves of power and danger had emanated from him and washed over her like some seductive potion.

Their eyes met across the room and an electric current had zapped her down to her toes. Just like now.

The rough pad of his thumb trailed across her cheek and over her lips, which throbbed at his touch. She dropped her lashes, avoiding the fire in his eyes, afraid of getting scorched once again.

It didn’t work.

His palm cradled the side of her head. His lips touched hers, and her bones melted.

She huffed out a breath against his mouth as she hooked an arm around his neck to stay vertical.

He deepened the kiss, slanting his mouth across hers, sliding his tongue between her teeth.

God help her. She’d bed him as quickly as she had in Zurich. He could have her right here on the bathroom floor and she’d welcome any discomfort, any inconvenience to have him inside her again.

But now she had responsibilities. She planted her palms against his chest, and her fingers tingled to explore the hard slabs of muscle that shifted beneath his flannel shirt.

She pushed him away even as her lips kept contact with his.

Despite her mixed messages, he got the hint and stepped back, ending their heated kiss. He cleared his throat. “Sorry.”

“Me, too.” She put a hand over her mouth as if to remove the temptation. “It just felt kind of good to share my burden, you know?”

Of course, sharing her burden didn’t mean winding up in bed with the first man to offer his help. Not that Loki was just some man. He’d been the man for the past three years of her life.

“Let’s get out of here.” He dropped to the floor again. “I’m going to get that wig for you. Wear it out of here. We’re going to have to take the car Zendaris provided or he’ll wonder how you’re getting around.”

“It’s parked in the hotel parking lot. Where are we going?”

“Another hotel, but we’ll stay in Cambridge just so you can show good faith to Zendaris. We don’t want him to think you’re trying to escape.”

“What if that sniper was a test? What if he wants me to stay put no matter what happens?”

“Even Zendaris is not going to expect you to put yourself in mortal danger. He wouldn’t trust someone like that to find the anti-drone plans.”

Beau crawled back across the floor and swept the blond wig from the bed along with the phone and dragged the designer bag over the carpet. Once back in the bathroom, he shoved them at her.

“Here you go.”

She tucked her hair beneath the wig, punched her arms into the sleeves of the coat and slung the heavy bag over her shoulder. “I’m ready.”

Beau poked his head into the hallway and then gestured her through the door. Placing a hand against the small of her back, he guided her toward the stairwell. “Can you navigate the stairs in those shoes? I don’t want to be a sitting duck in the elevator.”

She kicked off the shoes and shrank five inches, her head barely reaching Beau’s chin. “Lead the way.”

They ducked into the stairwell. The rubber soles of Beau’s running shoes squelched against the steps while her bare feet made her his silent companion.

“We have to go through the lobby to get to the parking garage.” She pointed at the metal door on the ground floor.

“Keep your head down.” He pushed open the door.

People crisscrossed the lobby on their way back from their business meetings or sightseeing for the day. Deb’s gaze darted from group to group, seeing some imagined threat in each one.

Beau hustled her out the side door onto a cement path that led to the garage. He blocked her body with his, his blue eyes wary and alert, his hand nestled in his pocket—the pocket where his gun resided.

He still had her weapon, too. He may be planning to help her rescue Bobby, but he didn’t quite trust her.

Should she trust him?

Maybe his willingness to help her was a ploy to get her back to Prospero. And the kiss had been designed to soften her up.

If Beau planned to turn her over to Prospero, he’d learn soon enough she still had a few tricks up her sleeve. She’d fight like a caged animal to save Bobby, even if that meant doing battle against Bobby’s father.

She’d put her shoes back on before they hit the lobby and now the clicking sound of the heels echoed on the parking garage’s cement floor. “The car’s in the next aisle.”

She unlocked the car as they approached it. Beau slid into the passenger seat and she tossed the bag into the backseat. Revving the engine, she turned toward him. “Where to?”

He rattled off some directions when they exited the parking structure.

“I wanted to get more info from you before that sniper took aim at your head. Where were you when Bobby was kidnapped? Where do you live?”

“In Virginia, outside of D.C.”

“Zendaris sent you to Boston after the kidnapping?”

“Yes. Turn here?”

He nodded. “Is the jewelry heist the first thing he asked of you?”

“After he told me to fly into Logan Airport.”

“Do you think Bobby’s still in the Virginia area, or do you think he’s here?”

“My gut tells me he’s here. If the plans are in Boston Zendaris would want to do the swap here, not go back to Virginia.” She gripped the steering wheel to stem the tide of panic that washed through her every time she thought about Bobby being held captive by that maniac.

“Any idea what’s in Boston?”

“Besides a jewelry store on Beacon Hill? I have no idea. As far as we know, Zendaris doesn’t have any connections here.”

“Interesting.” Beau tapped his chin with his middle finger.

“What’s interesting? Boston?”

“The old Deb Sinclair would know that there’s a symposium on weapons of the future at MIT this week.”

“Really?” Her head jerked his way. She didn’t have the heart to tell him the old Deb Sinclair had melted into a puddle on the floor of her son’s daycare the day he went missing.

But this new Deb Sinclair wasn’t so unfamiliar. This Deb Sinclair, ruled by fear and anger, had controlled the first sixteen years of her life, until she’d had the good fortune to try to steal from Robert Elder.

“I don’t think it’s a coincidence that Zendaris sent you to Boston at the same time as this gathering. He wants those anti-drone plans. Maybe he thinks one of the symposium’s attendees has them.”

“This is an international gathering?”

“It is. Scientists and engineers from all over the world will be there.”

She drummed her thumbs against the steering wheel, feeling a spark of life for the first time since Bobby’s abduction. Her brain clicked and whirred as if coming to life after a long winter hibernation.

“He could be right. Maybe the woman who stole the plans from Stark sold them to the highest bidder before she died. Maybe she had no intention of giving them back to Zendaris.”

“The woman who stole the plans is dead? Did Zendaris kill her?”

“One of ours did, self-defense. She was mentally unbalanced.”

“Those are the hardest ones to figure out. There’s no telling what she did with the plans or why she did it.”

“Still, you’re right. My presence in Boston at the same time as the symposium is no coincidence. Have the meetings started yet?”

“Meetings have been ongoing for two days.”

“Did you connect my being in Boston with this conference?”

“Not until you told me about the anti-drone plans.”

“Then why was this symposium even on your radar?”

He turned his head to look out the window. “It’s my business to know.”

And just like that, Beau the helpful spy morphed into Loki, man of mystery and danger.

She pulled into the loading zone of the new hotel and Beau got them a room.

He dropped onto the passenger seat and tipped his head toward the windshield. “You can park up that ramp.”

Ten minutes later they were traipsing down another hotel hallway, but Deb felt less trepidation now that she had Beau by her side. Or should she be feeling more?

His concern could all be an elaborate ruse to lull her into compliance. When she least expected it, her Prospero teammates could crash the party and drag her back for questioning all at Beau’s invitation. But her brothers on Team Three had to know she’d never betray them.

Then why not confide in them? The words floated through her mind, and even her answer to that question felt like a betrayal.

Beau pushed open the hotel room door. “One room but two double beds. Hope that’s okay.”

“That’s fine.” She tossed the purse onto the bed farthest from the window. “And I hope it’s okay that I snag the bed away from the window.”

“I was going to suggest it.” He clicked the remote control for the TV and swiped a room service menu from the table. “Are you hungry? Maybe we should just eat in the room tonight.”

She twitched aside the curtain at the window. “You’re sure we weren’t followed?”

“Positive.” He waved the menu. “Food?”

“Yeah, whatever.” She hadn’t eaten a decent meal since Zendaris had snatched Bobby.

She plucked the special phone from her pocket and placed it on the nightstand.

Beau said, “He’s sure taking his sweet time.”

“He’s holding all the cards.” Deb shrugged out of the coat and hung it in the closet. Then she toed off the heels and stretched out on the bed, stacking a few pillows behind her back and crossing her legs at the ankles.

“I’ll order for both of us if that’s okay.” He peered at her over the top of the menu. “You look like you could use a good meal.”

“Food has been low on my list of priorities lately.”

“You should know from training that you need to keep yourself in fighting condition.”

“You don’t get it.” That’s why she never confided in her Prospero brothers, either. They weren’t mothers. When Zendaris had kidnapped her son, he’d carved a hole in her heart. He’d left her half a person.

Beau was Bobby’s father, but he didn’t know he was a father. He could talk about being in fighting condition and being aware of one’s surroundings, but he was a whole person, not a shell like she’d become.

Beau shrugged and picked up the phone. He cradled the receiver against his shoulder as he read off enough dishes to feed the entire hotel.

Deb fluffed up the pillows behind her and stared at the local TV news through half-closed eyes. A shot of MIT had her leaning forward. She snapped her fingers at Beau, who was adding desserts to their order.

She simulated pressing buttons on a remote and he tossed it to her. She increased the volume on the TV.

The voice-over of the reporter droned on about a weapons symposium. The brief report didn’t mention any names until the very end.

“Dr. Scott Herndon, professor emeritus at MIT and frequent advisor to the Pentagon, is chairing the symposium, which will include a gala event on the last night to raise funds for war-torn areas across the globe.”

When the report ended, Deb muted the sound. “That’s it, isn’t it? Sounds like a big deal.”

“Anything discussed in those meetings is going to be top secret. How does Zendaris expect to get any information out of that symposium?”

“The symposium ends tomorrow.” She glanced at the cell phone on the nightstand. “If Zendaris wants me to make a move, you’d think he would’ve contacted me by now—unless that scope to the forehead was his way of reaching out.”

“I don’t think Zendaris is trying to kill you. It doesn’t add up.” Beau perched on the edge of the other bed and rested his ankle on his knee. “Any assignment he has for you will most likely come at the last minute to give you less time to prepare. He wants to keep you off balance.”

“He’s doing a great job.” She tossed the remote to Beau’s bed and collapsed against her pillows. “He still hasn’t allowed me any contact with Bobby. I don’t even know for sure if he’s alive or...”

“What’s the matter with you?” Beau smacked his hand against his thigh. “You need that proof of life, Deb. Don’t do another thing he tells you to do unless you get something on Bobby.”

“I demanded it the last time we spoke, but he refused.” Crossing her arms, she hunched her shoulders against the persistent chill in her bones.

“You hold some cards here, too. Before you carry out your next assignment, you need assurance of Bobby’s safety.”

“What if he refuses again and threatens to hurt him? I can’t play chicken with my son’s life.” She rubbed her tingling nose. “What makes this even worse is that Bobby wasn’t in the best of health prior to the kidnapping.”

“He was sick?”

“He’d been listless, which was so unlike him. I thought he may have caught a bug, but he didn’t have any cold or flu symptoms.”

“Did you take him to the doctor?”

She slid a glance at Beau, who’d twisted around on the foot of the bed to face her. Did he sense his connection to Bobby on some level?

“He had a doctor’s appointment the day before he was snatched. The doc ran some tests on him, took his blood and urine, that type of thing. I haven’t heard anything back from the tests yet, but it’s only been a week.”

“Then you really need to demand to see him or talk to him. What story is Zendaris feeding him?”

“I have no idea. He’s only two. I’m sure he doesn’t understand why I’ve abandoned him.” She covered her face with her hands. “Once a child is abandoned, he never gets over it.”

The mattress sank and Beau encircled her wrists with his fingers. “Nonsense. You recovered nicely. Hell, you’re one of the most well-adjusted people I know.”

“You don’t know me. We spent one night together.”

“That’s all I need to figure someone out.”

She spread her fingers and peeked at him through the spaces. “That’s not saying much considering the types of people you hang out with.”

He raised his brows. “When I’m not doing the spy thing, I have the most boring existence you can imagine. My dad’s a mechanic, my mom’s a secretary at the local high school. Staid. Boring.”

“Is that why you went all out on the career path to become one of the most feared assassins in the business?”

His jaw tightened as he shook his head. “I’m no assassin, Deb. Nobody got killed who didn’t deserve it. Nobody who wasn’t a threat to other lives.”

Someone rapped on the door with a shout. “Room service.”

Holding out his hand, Beau rose from the bed and crept to the door, lifting his weapon from its holster on the way. He stood to the side of the door and put his eye to the peephole. “Can you slide the check under the door, man? I’ll sign it, send it back and you can leave the food.”

“Sure.”

A slip of paper sailed beneath the door and Beau plucked it from the carpet. He backed up to the credenza and signed the bill. Then he shoved it back through the door and watched from the peephole.

The waiter called out, “Thanks.”

Beau waited several seconds and then opened the door and wheeled the cart into the room. “Can’t be too careful, huh?”

“If he’s been working in hotels a while, I’m sure he’s seen everything.”

Beau stationed the cart by the table and began lifting silver domes. “Looks good. You hungry?”

The steam that rose from the dishes carried some savory scents that made her mouth water. It had been several days since she’d eaten a real meal, and her stomach grumbled with the realization.

“I am hungry.”

Beau transferred the plates from the cart to the table and pulled out a chair. “Have a seat.”

Deb shook out a thick white napkin and dropped it on her lap. She started with the soup and didn’t stop until she’d licked the last smudge of cream cheese frosting from her fork.

“How long has it been since you’ve eaten more than a few bites of food?”

She patted her mouth with the napkin. “Since the day they took Bobby.”

“I thought so. You look—” his gaze dipped from her face to her body and back again “—a little thinner than when I last saw you.”

Warmth crept into her cheeks and she covered the bottom half of her face with the napkin, pretending to wipe her mouth again. He should know.

They’d spent almost the entire night naked in her hotel room. They’d eaten room service that night, too, but not seated at a table with napkins in their laps. They’d lounged across the king-size bed, feeding each other morsels of food, even incorporating the chocolate cake into their lovemaking. Instead of daintily patting their mouths with napkins, they’d hauled off to the shower, together.

She coughed. “Being a mom keeps me on my toes. I don’t have as much time to work out at the gym, but I get to run at the playground and throw balls and chase after a speeding tricycle.”

“Sounds like you love it...and him.”

Deb studied his face. Was it time to tell him Bobby was his? Nope. Loki wouldn’t want to be saddled with a son anyway. How could he squeeze in a battle with Somali pirates between Little League games?

Beau Slater may have come from ordinary, but he didn’t want to go back there.

The cell phone by the bed chirped. The fork she’d been dragging across a plate dropped with a clatter and she half rose from her chair.

“It’s him.”

“Answer it. It’s what you’ve been waiting for.”

She swallowed and all the sweetness from the carrot cake dissolved like ashes on her tongue. When the phone rang for the fourth time, she dived across the bed and grabbed it.

“Yes?”

“Good job at the jewelry store. You can keep the loot.”

“I don’t want it. What was the point of that? Someone could’ve gotten hurt.”

Beau jerked his thumb up, and she punched a button for the speaker.

“Someone would’ve gotten hurt if you hadn’t followed our instructions, Deb. Just look at it that way.”

“I—I’m in a different hotel. Someone was aiming a high-powered weapon into my hotel room this afternoon. I saw the beam on the wall.”

Zendaris sucked in a breath. “Are you scamming me, Deb?”

“Are you scamming me? Are you trying to kill me?”

“Why would I do that? We’re just getting started.” He clicked his tongue. “But maybe your colleagues want you dead.”

“Never.” Her gaze darted toward Beau slumped in his chair, his fingers steepled beneath his chin. Why had Prospero sent the best in the business after her?

“Are you sure about that? If the mighty Jack Coburn gets wind of your betrayal, you’re finished.”

She ground her teeth together. “It’s not a betrayal if it’s coerced.”

“But they don’t know that, do they? Do they, Deb?”

“As far as Prospero is concerned, I’m on a leave of absence. They have no reason to suspect otherwise.”

“Where are you?”

“Another hotel in Cambridge.” She held her breath. Would he demand the location?

“Excellent.”

“What next, Zendaris? A bank robbery? A high-speed chase?”

“A party.”

She raised her shoulders at Beau. “You want me to go to a party?”

“A very special party with very special people.”

“Where?” Deb licked her lips.

“In Boston. You’ll be attending the gala fundraiser as part of the Symposium on Alternate Methods of Defense.”

“What do you want me to do at this party besides eat, drink and be merry?”

“I want you to get close to Dr. Scott Herndon.”

“Get close to him and do what?”

“Kill him.”

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