Carol Ericson - Catch, Release

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?”