Lyn Stone - Mission - Marriage - Bulletproof Marriage

She met him thrust for thrust. As their bodies moved together, more than physical sensation passed between them. Lovemaking had always been like this between them, raw and heady, sensual and cerebral.

For him, there was no other.

When he could hold himself back no longer, when he poured his essence into her, he gave her all of himself. Emotion, love—everything she’d been to him, always would be to him—he laid bare before her. His heart on a silver platter. His body, hers to arouse. And his soul, shivering in the palm of her hand, for safekeeping.

If only she’d realize the truth before it was too late.

Still holding Natalie, Sean drifted in and out of sleep. His cell rang, instantly bringing them both awake in the early-dawn light.

Caller ID showed Corbett’s number. Sean answered on speaker.

“My operative found someone who may be helpful.” As had become his habit lately, the older man didn’t bother with pleasantries. “He’s agreed to meet with you. He claims he has key information for deciphering the code.”

Sean glanced at Natalie, holding up a finger in warning. “That’s not enough. We need more. Find someone who knows how to get in contact with the Hungarian. I have a message I want to deliver.”

“A message?” The normally unflappable Corbett sounded surprised. “What kind of message?”

“That’s between me and him.”

Corbett cleared his throat. “Come on now, Sean. You’re not about to try something foolish, are you?”

Before Sean could respond, Natalie spoke up. “What about my father? Have you heard anything else from him?”

“Nothing.”

The loud sigh showed Natalie’s feelings. “I’m worried. I don’t like him being involved in this at all. I’d like to get him out of there before the shooting starts.”

“Shooting?” Sean could picture Corbett’s raised brows. “What are you planning?”

“Nothing.” Her impatience came through loud and clear. “But you never know. Sometimes a hail of bullets is the only way to get inside. We can never predict what might happen.”

“I understand.” And Corbett did. He’d done his own share of fieldwork over the years. “But I’m quite certain your father is safe for now. I would have heard if he wasn’t.”

“You think so?”

“Definitely. The Hungarian would have wasted no time. He knows how much Phillip means to me.”

“True,” Sean agreed. “Still, I agree with Natalie. We need him far away from there before we go in. The possibility of him being used against us is too great.”

“Of course it is.” Again, Corbett sounded weary. “And I assure you I’m working on locating him. In the meantime, what would you like to do?”

“I want to meet with this informant.” Natalie shot Sean a look daring him to contradict her. “I’m on the edge of cracking this code, which might be a fast line toward finding his location. Whatever information your informant imparts could be the key I need.”

“Excellent. Do you have a pen?” At Natalie’s affirmative, Corbett listed the details, his voice returning once more to its normal professional crispness. “Phone in once the meeting is finished and let me know the details, will you?”

“Of course.” She punched the off button, staring down at the phone silently.

Dragging his fingers through his hair, Sean sighed.

“What do you think?”

When she raised her gaze to his, the tortured look in her beautiful eyes made him want to comfort her. Since he knew she wouldn’t welcome this, he refrained.

“Damn him to hell.” Her low voice sounded fierce. “Going after me is one thing—it comes with the job. But my father? When I find him and get him out, that Hungarian is going to pay, I promise you.”

Sean didn’t tell her what he privately feared. If their enemy was as ruthless this time as he’d been when he’d cut down Sean’s entire family, her father was already dead.

He crossed his arms. “Hopefully, this informant won’t get killed.”

She checked her watch. “We’ve got a little over an hour. How long do you think it will take to get there?”

“Thirty minutes, tops. Even in traffic.”

“Then let’s head out. I’d like to be early.”

Outside, the damp drizzle and slate skies suited his mood. They drove into the city in silence, arriving at the agreed-upon meeting place—a city park—in good time. Parking, Sean took a deep breath, noticing how pale Natalie looked.

She got out of the car first, waiting for him to lock it and walk over to join her. The air smelled like moist dirt, as though the thirsty ground was absorbing the rain.

“Are you ready?” Hunching into his coat, Sean stole a glance at Natalie, who remained ominously quiet.

With a brisk nod, she surged forward, obviously wanting to walk ahead of him.

“Together,” he cautioned, relieved when she slowed and waited for him to reach her side.

“You’re right.” She chewed her bottom lip. “I’m sorry. I’m worried about my father.”

“I hope this guy will have some useful information.” He kept his tone calm and professional.

“He’s supposed to have a clue on the code. If I can break that, we’ll really have a worthwhile bargaining chip.”

“If he’s not lying.” He sighed, patting the battered briefcase he carried that held the required money. “Informants do that occasionally, you know.”

“Of course I know. Especially since this guy knows we’re willing to pay his price. His info had better be good.” Trudging into the rain, Natalie seemed not to notice the chill, or how leaving her head uncovered made her wet hair plaster to her scalp. She looked like a determined, drowning swimmer struggling to stay afloat.

He could only hope the analogy wasn’t really accurate.

They slipped through the iron gate and into the deserted park. In the summer, the area would be brimming with tourists, but on a blustery autumn day, not even the locals ventured out.

If the bad weather was an omen …

“Not promising,” she muttered. “Open spaces, with lots of trees to hide behind. If there’s a sniper, we’re obvious targets.”

“This guy’s an informant. He should be used to being careful.”

“Maybe. But this is too much like the abbey.”

Damn it, she was right. They could only hope this meeting didn’t mirror the other.

“There,” she whispered. “Straight ahead.”

Near the gazebo, a man waited, collar turned up against the rain. He wore a dark slicker and stood, head down, hands crammed into his pockets, pretending not to notice their arrival.

Not a good strategy for staying alive. Still, Sean cautiously approached, cursing his rapidly increasing sense of apprehension.

“Are there ducks in the pond?” Sean asked, using the prearranged phrase.

The man looked up. His eyes were such a bright blue they had to be colored contacts. “Ducks in the pond, ducks in the sky. They even fly in the rain.”

The right answer. Still, Sean knew better than to relax. The informant, with his bright, darting eyes and facial tic appeared strung-out. His rumpled clothing and mussed hair indicated he hadn’t slept in days. The musty odor emanating from him confirmed it. Meth addict.

Natalie moved closer to Sean. A reflex action, made without thinking, no doubt, but such a small thing pleased him.

The informant noticed. “I’ve been down for a while,” he said, scowling. “This job ain’t easy, you know.”

Being a snitch was a difficult—and messy—way to earn cash. Only desperate men attempted to take on such a job. If word got out, death awaited. If you were lucky, they’d put a bullet in your head and you’d die swiftly. Not so lucky, and who knew what limbs they’d remove? Sean had heard of one informant who’d become an organ donor—while still alive.