Dangerous Page 4

  Liam stared at her as if she’d grown an extra head.

  “How do you know that?” he demanded. “How did you find out about that?” His eyes narrowed to amber slits when she didn’t respond immediately. “There are only a handful of people who know how to kill a Morphate. Even fewer know what happens to them when they die,” he said in a low voice full of threat. “Now I ask you again, Ms. Candler, how do you know that?”

  “Hmm.” She contemplated her answer for a moment, watching as his huge hands dropped to his sides and curled into tightly clenched fists. “I suppose I don’t have a choice,” she mused.

  Devon was testing his patience and taunting him, and it probably wasn’t at all wise to do so, but there was something fascinating in the way Liam Nash reacted to her. She had seen hours of video files on this man, everything from interviews to reports, and even supremely stressful tests of strength and mental fortitude. In each and every one he had remained as still as stone and even less expressive.

  Not anything like the man who stood before her now, clenched tight with suppressed storms of emotion.

  The man whose extraordinarily fit body, in spite of its forbidding solidity, had quivered like a taut bowstring when she had boldly touched him.

  Devon concealed a shiver as her fingertips burned with carnal memory of the all too brief caress against his blatantly aroused cock. It had been a shocking surprise in spite of her bold tease. She had never expected him to respond to her as a man does a woman. Not after everything she had seen, read, and learned about him. She had assumed that as well trained as he was, a veteran of every tactic known to man, he would have been completely dispassionate. Completely immune to … well, to her.

  But he had been hot and hard … and he had scolded her for wearing an “overt” dress.

  Devon lowered her eyes lest he see the smug amusement blooming in them and twitching against her lips. She liked the idea of having him a little off center. She didn’t know why. She just liked it.

  “Candler International,” she said quietly, “has a military contract. Research focused on stopping Morphates both temporarily and permanently. Specifically, creating viable weapons.”

  “And you succeeded,” he breathed in unabashed awe the instant comprehension dawned. “That’s why they are after you. That’s why they all want you dead.” He dropped quickly to his knees again, swiftly energized, his amber gaze gleaming with anticipation. “Tell me, how are you carrying the main component? What’s your delivery system? The bullets we’re using now are hazardous for humans to handle and too unpredictable. How did you get around the toxicity factor?”

  Devon laughed at him, unable to help herself. He was like a kid on Christmas morning. His hands and inspection returned to the wound inside her leg almost absently and she felt them actually shaking.

  “I’ve never seen anyone get so excited about a new weapon before, Mr. Nash,” she teased him.

  “Liam,” he corrected. Devon sucked in a sharp breath when his probing fingers hit a painful spot. She hoped she hadn’t pulled her hamstring muscle again during the fall. She’d done it once already and it was a damned nuisance as well as painful. Incapacitation irritated the hell out of her.

  Then the sadist squeezed her thigh again and she threw her body back against the cushion, her hips lifting reflexively as she moaned long and low.

  “Something I can help you with there, Nash?”

  Nash twisted around when someone spoke from across the room. Devon turned her head to see a man and a woman standing there, fully armed and wearing outfits identical to Nash’s. The woman was a Latina beauty with insanely gorgeous hair, but the man was almost prettier than she was. He was about six feet tall with golden hair cut short and neatly fashionable, and dark, almost black eyes. He looked more like a model than a soldier, even though he was clearly the latter. With a Roman nose, chiseled lips and cheekbones, he probably melted hearts everywhere he went. The body he maintained in order to perform his job only improved the package. Plus, the mischievous smile and amusement dancing within his eyes instantly made her want to return his good humor.

  Devon realized what she and Liam must look like. When Nash merely turned back to what he’d been doing, she was momentarily impressed with his composure. But that was only until she realized the so-called hard ass soldier was flushing slowly from the neck up, and she bit her lip as she stifled a giggle. His eyes shot to hers and he gave her a look that could have killed even a Morphate.

  “Gordon, we got a medpack in the Hummer?” he asked evenly.

  “Of course,” Gordon snorted as if he couldn’t believe Nash had asked such a thing.

  “Bring it up.” He added sharply, “Double time!”

  Devon watched as the man and woman exchanged looks of humor, but the male did move quickly out of the room to obey the order.

  “Devon Candler, this is Inez Flores,” he introduced without looking at his coworker, but raising a hand to beckon her forward. “Flores, this is Devon Candler. Ms. Candler was assaulted not too long ago and has a healing gunshot wound to the thigh. She fell and has re-injured herself. Could you take a look please?” Nash turned to Devon. “Do you mind? She’s an excellent medic.”

  “I don’t, but I wish you wouldn’t make so much of a fuss.”

  Nash just gave her a look that asked her to indulge him so she lay back with a sigh and tried to brace herself for the pain of more probing. Flores kneeled beside her commander. “She’s already starting to swell,” Nash indicated softly as he turned Devon’s leg with incredible gentleness for such daunting looking hands. She could feel the roughness of his calluses gliding over the skin along her inner thigh and she suppressed a shiver. She had reacted the same way the first time he had touched her, an unexpected thrill from an unexpected source. “It’s the exit side I’m worried about. How long ago were your stitches removed?” he asked her.

  Devon smoothed back her hair on one side and told him her first lie since they had met. “A couple of days,” she said vaguely. “Please, I wish you wouldn’t …”

  His quelling glance worked. Devon’s heart danced with a flutter in her breast when he mastered her so easily in spite of her own assertive personality. She was instantly fascinated, probably as he had been when he’d first seen her. He’d been obviously taken aback, though she was certain he hadn’t realized how transparent his expressions had been. She’d gotten used to the reaction from those who expected Devon Candler to be a man, or some sort of old gray warhorse instead of a young, thriving beauty, but there was something more to Nash’s response than there was with others. She’d been studying him ever since.

  “No bleeding. Not at the edges of the wound anyway. The bruising isn’t darkening yet so I don’t think she tore anything inside,” Flores mused as she gently probed from one side of the wound to the other. “Too soon to tell for certain, but nothing more than swelling as far as I can see. Actually, it looks pretty good for a recent injury.”

  “I’ve always been quick to heal,” Devon dismissed easily, finally losing patience and brushing away the hands touching her leg. She sighed with relief when she was able to pull the skirt of her gown back into place. She didn’t sit upright, however, her leg too sore now to withstand the pressure of sitting directly on it. As if reading her mind, Nash picked up a pillow and placed it under her calf and knee, raising her thigh from the couch and supporting the weight of her leg, instantly making it feel even better.

  Soon after that, the fair-haired Mr. Gordon came bounding back into the room, breathless enough to have run the entire way back and forth. He handed a nondescript black box she assumed was the med kit to Nash, who laid it on the ground and popped it open. Gordon stood with feet braced and arms across his chest as he watched his commander pull out a white chemical pack. Nash crushed it in one hand and shook it rapidly to combine the chemicals that would cause it to become instantly cold. Then he pushed it under her elevated thigh.

  “Let me know if that’s too cold. We can put a t
owel between the pack and your skin,” Nash said as he closed the kit.

  Flores had risen to her feet, but Nash remained kneeling beside her.

  “So tell me something,” Nash asked thoughtfully. “Who is currently doing security for you? You have to have someone manning those cameras.” He paused. “You do have someone, don’t you?”

  “Of course. I have two private guards for the interim. Once you bring your people in here, all security becomes your domain. My only exceptions are the obvious. No cameras in my bedroom, private sitting room, or office. No personnel inside any of those places, even on rounds, when I’m not present at the manor. I deal with a lot of sensitive documentation and it’s out of the question when it comes to confidentiality. You can do whatever you like surveillance-wise along the boundaries of those rooms, but nothing that views the interiors through the windows or doors.

  “You’ll also have to maintain surveillance on my offices at Candler International. That’s here, London, Japan, and Kuala Lumpur. I have permanent residences in all those cities except Kuala Lumpur, where I stay at a hotel, but I will give warning of travel at least two weeks in advance if I can at all manage it, and you can have parts of my schedule up to several months in advance if you consult with Carter—”

  “Okay, as to that,” Nash interrupted her with a staying hand, “I don’t want you planning your schedule beyond two weeks. Also, Spencer has your entire schedule on an unsecured smart phone. Anyone can take it and get your schedule in advance without even breaking a sweat.”

  Devon’s eyes went wide with surprise at that bit of information. She was shocked that Nash had already made such a pertinent discovery for her benefit when he hadn’t even accepted the job yet. It impressed and pleased her, confirming she’d made an excellent choice in him, for many reasons.

  “That shouldn’t be,” she said with a frown. “Carter knows how finicky I am about securing all electronic devices.

  Specifically for this reason.” She began to tap her long nails against her thigh, realizing she was projecting her irritation, but not really caring. A feeling of chilled trepidation crept through her and she began to nibble on her bottom lip. She looked up into eyes of amber and found comfort in the fact that she could read his thoughts, and that they were following the same unthinkable path as hers. “Carter has been in my employ for a very long time,” she argued softly, knowing that it was an emotional excuse and not a logical one.

  “And yet, all of a sudden your enemies have incredibly detailed access to you that they shouldn’t have,” he reminded her gently, his hand resting over the top of her thigh in a dreadfully effective indication of her recent wound.

  “Morphates don’t work with humans, though. They detest them,” she said, reminding him of the powerful prejudices between species. Yet, she knew it wasn’t universally true, just as she knew why her enemies could never send a Morphate in to spy on her undercover … or even to covertly assassinate her.

  Because she was Morphate, Devon would have sensed one of her own kind instantly.

  But that wasn’t information she was about to impart to one of the few men in the world who knew how to kill a Morphate.

  The next day, Liam turned in his office chair to look down on the traffic moving through the compound drive. As usual, someone was always coming or going. The compound was a hub of activity from dawn to dusk, and beyond, if they were training in night tactics. At the moment, his team was swarming around the equipment shed, gearing up for the initial installation at the Candler manor house. Liam could see the warehouse from his window and the activity moving smoothly along.

  After the main Candler residence was secure, he would send a team on to her primary offices and others to her secondary residences. There was a helicopter and associated pads on the tops of her business buildings, and a private jet, also for convenience. And secrecy, he noted. He was beginning to see why it was so easy for her to conceal herself when she barely set foot onto unfamiliar or uncontrolled grounds.

  Securing the secondary and tertiary offices and residences would be organized according to Devon’s future plans to visit them. There was also a fleet of cars to take into consideration.

  While she had been extremely open to all of Liam’s suggestions so far, Devon was finicky about her privacy in certain understandable ways. He’d had no arguments with her so far, but he was certain to step on her toes eventually. He invariably clashed with clients on the issue of where security ends and where privacy begins. It was inevitable.

  And she most definitely was now his client.

  It had been the photograph of her blood spilled across that bed that had committed him. The idea of her fighting off an assassin while she’d been shot had won him over in a heartbeat. There was nothing more impressive to him than a tough woman who knew how to handle herself in a moment of supreme danger. Especially when she came in such unexpectedly elegant packaging. Incredibly sexy packaging. Much too gorgeous to risk losing on a ‘next time’ possibility where she might not make it out with her life.

  Liam groaned when he realized how unprofessional and sexist that sounded, even if it was only in his own brain. He threw down his digital pen and watched it roll across the top of his desk. The neglected schedule he was supposed to be working on flashed on his tablet in irritable reminder of his slacking. He ran both hands over his head, raking his fingers through his short-cropped hair.

  The trouble was, he couldn’t get their first meeting out of his head. That wicked dress she’d worn, so casually showing off a perfect body, her obvious wit, and the strange exotic beauty of her features. The feel of her hands on his thighs. Warm palms he’d felt burning through the material of his blacks even though the cloth wasn’t exactly thin. Then that teasing stroke of her fingers …

  Liam cursed aloud as his entire body tightened with the memory, mimicking his initial reactions perfectly. He brushed his hand across his fly, adjusting himself away from his sudden discomfort.

  “Clients are off limits,” he reminded himself aloud, as if it would change the aroused state of his body, not to mention the memories of her that were haunting his mind like teasing wraiths.

  He turned back toward his office window, leaning forward to watch Inez and Kellen spar in a little hand-to-hand on the lawn. The pair often had philosophical arguments about different maneuvers in their differing forms of martial arts and it invariably ended up in a sparring match to prove the winning point. He ought to reprimand them for goofing off when they had other duties to perform, but he had a hard time doing that when they were goofing off over training techniques.

  Liam believed that Inez and Kellen were his best team for a reason, and that reason could very well be the way they constantly challenged themselves and each other. Inez was determined to prove that a single mother with a child could flourish in this career choice without neglecting her kid, and Kellen was determined to prove he was more than just a pretty face. Inez had been denied SWAT, and though they’d never say it right to her face, it was obvious that being a single mother had been the reason. She’d quit the force because of it. Kellen had made it all the way through FEDOPS training and three years of active missions before resigning for what he simply called ‘personal reasons.’ Then he’d been surprised to find that the civilian world had a hard time taking him seriously on account of his looks and laid back personality. Employers mistook all that natural charm and easygoing attitude for weakness. It made the pair of them a couple of very serious overachievers, forging the perfect team, and also the perfect friendship. Liam had never had a doubt about either one of them.

  His eyes then sought out Colin. Colin was doing equipment checks before final load, testing lights, cameras, sensors, and the like. He was the only doubt Liam had ever had in all of his hires, and he would probably continue to doubt himself until the day he died … or the day his baby brother did. Considering the considerable danger on this pending assignment, Liam thought he was probably more sensitive to his doubts than he might nor
mally be. It wasn’t that he questioned his brother’s skills in the least. Colin was a fine soldier, and an excellent subordinate. He’d been born to take and follow orders with a sense of duty and precision that would make any commander proud and fully trusting of him.

  It was more a matter of Liam feeling the weight of the responsibility he had taken on every time he gave Colin an order or duty that could cost him his life. However, he’d made a measure of peace with himself about it, especially after a night not too long ago when he and Colin had kicked back with a couple of beers and had a heart to heart about it. Colin had reminded him that there was more danger under someone else’s command than there would ever be under Liam’s experienced hand. Since Colin was determined to be in the business, it was actually safer for him to be under Liam’s watch.

  Liam’s phone buzzed, tugging him out of his contemplations.

  “Nash,” he greeted.

  “Devon friggin’ Candler! You sonofabitch, I didn’t think you had it in you!”

  “What’s up, Micah?” he asked, smiling at his partner’s usual enthusiasm. He had known that Micah was going to orgasm when he heard about NHK landing the Candler job. Micah loved to make money, and Devon would be paying out a great deal of it over the next few months.

  “When this gig came up, I thought for sure you were going to blow it. I thought, ‘Sure! Ripest plum to ever plop in our laps and I’m stuck in Milan, leaving the man with the personality of the Antichrist to seal the deal!’ But Glory just told me you handed in signed contracts good for six months of 24/7 coverage, with an option to pick up. Now, we both know it wasn’t your winning charm, because you don’t have any when it comes to handling business, so how’d you get the contract?”

  “Oh, we have an expertise no one else can claim,” Liam told him, taking no offense whatsoever to Micah’s colorful description of the facts.

  “And that is?”