Debra Webb - Striking Distance

And, unbelievably, she was disappointed.

Chapter 19

He performed his usual check of the perimeter of the Oak Park property before entering. Thankfully no one waited for him this time. A quick sweep for alien electronics and he relaxed.

If Leberman showed his face once more he might just kill him now and put them both out of their misery. Dread, or something on that order, hardened in his gut. He tamped it down. Hated those old sensations Leberman so easily engendered in him. When Victoria Colby was dead they would be even, anyway. What difference would a few days make? Once his score with Leberman was settled he intended to kill the bastard if he ever came near him again. Just looking at him made Seth remember the past, and he didn’t want to remember.

He climbed the stairs to his room without bothering with light. He was as much at home in the dark as he was in the light, maybe more. The dark had always been his friend. No one could see him in the dark.

Before he could stop the mutinous memory, Leberman’s words echoed in his head. He knew what he was all right. He was pure evil...a monster. Hadn’t he been marked long ago? That was just one more reason he couldn’t trust Tasha. She pretended to see what wasn’t there...pretended not to care what he was.

But he knew differently.

He knew a great deal more than she suspected. He knew exactly what she was doing. Leberman had his sources. He untied his shoes and toed them off, then shouldered out of his shirt and dropped it to the floor. The weapon and holster he shrugged off and lay on the bed. A gun had been his only sleeping partner for more than a decade. He was never without it. Never intended to be, as long as he was still breathing.

As he peeled his T-shirt up and off, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He moved closer to inspect the numerous scars that marred his otherwise well-maintained body. Ugly, brutal marks that told the story of his past. A past he wanted to forget. He studied his face and the slash on his jaw that had been the last one inflicted by the bastard who’d trained him.

He banked the fury that ignited instantly whenever he allowed himself to dwell on the past. His lips flattened into a grim line. The bouts of anger he’d been dealing with lately were nothing but an indicator of his one weakness—the past. When he had paid his final debt he would never think of the past again.

The image of Tasha flashed through his mind, sending a new kind of fire straight to his groin. She was proving a weakness, as well. He’d allowed his curiosity to get the better of him.... That had been a mistake.

It wouldn’t happen again.

He had no reason at this point to kill her, but he would if she got in his way.

The curiosity she’d sparked in him was the only reason she wasn’t dead already.

But she was toying with him...there could be no other explanation.

He knew what he was, and no woman would want that.

Unless she was paid to want it.

He shook his head in self-disgust when even the mere thought of her got him hard. Not once since becoming a man had he allowed any woman to hold that kind of power over him.

Sex, he decided, was only about his body’s need for physical release, nothing more. He stepped back into his shoes and tied them. Then reached for his shirt and weapon. Well, physical release would be easy enough to obtain.

There were plenty of women out there who knew how to use their mouths for something more than talk.

He didn’t need Tasha.

Any woman would do.

They were all alike—manipulative, clingy, untrustworthy. Though admittedly they had their uses, he had never met one he needed.

He didn’t need anyone or anything.

Chapter 20

Tasha sat in the darkness of the compact car Lucas had provided. She peered at the house where Seth had held her prisoner just forty-eight hours ago. Though the place was dark, she knew he was in there, his SUV was in the drive.

Tonight—this morning, actually, since it was well past midnight—when he’d dropped her back at her apartment, she’d been too furious to think before she reacted. He hadn’t uttered one word to her the entire trip. He’d simply driven her back as he said he would and stopped only long enough for her to get out.

Even now renewed fury burned away all reason. She’d entered her apartment building, given him thirty seconds and then exited again. She’d jumped in her car and driven straight back to the lake house with no rational thought as to the consequences. She’d sat there for a few minutes watching the eerily dark house, but that extra instinct of hers had nagged her into going back to the Oak Park residence. She’d sensed that he wasn’t at the lake house.

Somehow, incredibly, they’d connected on a level that she couldn’t begin to understand. The only thing she did know with a certainty was that she’d lost a good deal of her objectivity way too fast. She felt angry at him for drawing her close, only to turn her away when she refused to do things his way. The idea that he could so easily turn off any need or desire made her want to scream with frustration.

Bottom line, she’d wanted him to want her. Which meant one thing, she’d crossed the line. Hell, she hadn’t simply crossed the line, she’d pole-vaulted over it.

This wasn’t supposed to be personal, even if sex were involved. It was business—the mission. Somehow she’d allowed the amateur psychoanalyst side of her to get sucked into his world. She was so busy trying to figure him out that she was losing all perspective on reality.

He was a killer.

An assassin.

He tortured and murdered people for money.

Her career would be over if the Agency or Lucas Camp discovered that she’d crossed that line. Worst of all, she feared her lack of objectivity was even more deeply personal than her overwhelming need to know what made him tick.

Maybe her career should be over if she couldn’t maintain proper perspective any better than this.

The headlights of his SUV suddenly glared through the darkness.

She tensed...forgot all else and moved to a higher state of alert. Where the hell would he be going now? To Victoria Colby’s house? That didn’t feel right. He was surely aware that she would be tucked in for the night with maximum security. He was on to Lucas now, probably had been from the start.

The SUV he’d backed into the driveway rolled forward onto the street, in the direction of Chicago proper and away from her position.

Slowing her respiration and pulling her focus on track, Tasha eased into a nearby driveway, turned around and followed him. Maintaining a visual would likely be impossible since she couldn’t risk getting too close. At this hour the very idea of tailing a target was ludicrous. There were no other vehicles on the quiet residential streets with which to blend.

But she’d give it her best shot.

Even if he didn’t spot her, she was in deep trouble. Maverick would have her hide whenever she showed up back at her apartment. She was supposed to wear the monitoring device at all times. When Seth had called about the taxi she’d foolishly assumed the destination. Now she had nothing to blame but plain old stupidity. She’d been so angry she followed him without taking the proper precautions. She’d acted on the moment...on instinct. What the hell good was backup if she left them in the dark? She imagined Maverick would report her carelessness to Lucas.

Somehow she had to make tonight worth the risks she’d taken. Going back empty-handed wasn’t an option. She needed something.

Something only he could give her.

And that was the bottom line. As much as his actions had rubbed her the wrong way, pushed some button he shouldn’t even have access to, she’d walked away with nothing and no guarantee that she would see him again. Unacceptable. She was better than this. She would get to him...she would give Lucas Camp what he wanted: Leberman.