He was an island unto himself, the team had revealed. Friendships were all work related, and female relationships lasted only weeks. Ian scratched an itch, nothing more, when it came to those women that he so easily walked away from.
The only thing that had given her hope was the knowledge that Ian knew her. No matter her disguise, no matter her persona, he could see through it. It took more than a good eye to do that. And it took more than a good eye for a man to walk away from scratching his itch as he had the night when he slipped into her condo.
She had made him feel something that night. She knew she had. She had been watching his eyes at the same moment she had realized herself that Ian could touch her as no other man ever had.
"You're not answering me, Ian. Why would you help me even if I felt I didn't need your help?" Strike while they're weak. Jason had drilled that into her since she was ten years old, but somehow, she had a feeling he hadn't envisioned this situation.
She slid from her seat, lowered herself to the soft carpet of the floor between them, and wedged herself between his thighs.
And he hadn't expected that. But she hadn't expected it of herself either. Something softened that she hadn't known was hard inside her. She was a woman rather than an agent. A lover rather than a weapon. And the transition was so natural, so freeing, that for the first time in her life, she was beginning to wonder exactly who she was as well.
* * *
Sixteen
YOU'RE TOO QUIET NOW," SHE murmured, her hands sliding up the insides of his thighs then along his tight abs to his chest.
"I would have still tried to protect you." He swallowed, the movement tight, tense. As tight and tense as the muscles beneath her hand. And his eyes were warming, darkening.
"Why would you have done that, Ian? That's my question. Because you're a chauvinist, or because of something more?"
He surprised her when he reached out, trailing his fingers down her cheek, and said somberly, "I am a chauvinist, Kira. I need to protect you."
"And I need to be here with you, Ian." It was all she could do to keep her voice from shaking, her eyes from filling with tears. "I need to watch your back."
"What the hell am I going to do with you?" He pressed his forehead against hers as he framed her face with his hands and stared down at her as though confused by her. "I know what I'm doing here. I can work this better alone."
"And do without this?" Her lips touched his, smoothed over them before she allowed her tongue to peek between her lips and dampen the male curves. "Why should either of us do without, Ian? I can help you. And I can . . . satisfy you." Love you. Those words had almost escaped past her lips. They did send a surge of heat and fear rushing through her.
Did she love him? Was that why she couldn't let him go? Good Lord, when could something like that have happened?
"You can only distract me," he growled, but his lips were still whispering over hers. His tongue touched hers. His teeth caught her bottom lip and nipped erotically. She shouldn't have felt such pleasure from a simple caress, yet it streaked through her senses and sent heat curling through her womb.
"Only when you need to be distracted." Her hand curled around his neck, fingers sliding into his hair, holding him to her as her lips parted further beneath his.
Unfortunately, he didn't take the offered kiss or satisfy her need for his taste. One hand gripped her hair and pulled her head back enough for her to glimpse the knowing light in his eyes.
"I'm not such a pervert that you can distract me with sex in the limo, Kira," he assured her, amusement mixing with irritation. "And this was a serious conversation we were attempting to have."
"Since when?" She rolled her eyes in mocking exasperation. "All I'm hearing are warnings and dire threats. Chill out, Ian. I make a damned good partner if I say so myself. You should really consider yourself lucky to have me."
A frown jerked between his brows, but before he could speak the door beside him was pulled open. Before Kira could react herself, Ian pushed her back, jerked his weapon from his side, crouching in front of Kira, the barrel of the gun locked beneath Deke's chin.
"Protein," Deke wheezed, his tanned face paling. "Thought you knew we stopped."
Kira peeked over Ian's shoulder at the small covered silver tray. She could smell coffee and bacon and she was hoping against hope there were fluffy eggs under there as well.
Ian eased the gun back as she pushed past him, took the tray, and flashed Deke a smile.
"He's touchy, huh? I told him to chill out."
Deke cleared his throat. "Brought you breakfast as well, boss." He rubbed his neck as he pulled back, reached behind him, and accepted another tray. Leaning forward, he placed it in the seat across from Ian. After delivering the food he moved back quickly and closed the door. A few seconds later the vehicle restarted and was moving once again.
"She sat back, uncovered her tray, and inhaled in satisfaction when she saw the mound of fluffy scrambled eggs awaiting her. Coffee, no cream or sugar. A pile of bacon, two homemade biscuits, a dish of jam, and silverware.
"Almost like home," she murmured. "Why haven't I found this place during my visits here?"
"Veronick doesn't do breakfast for just anyone," Ian snapped. "Goddamn, Kira, you didn't even realize the fucking car had stopped."
Kira dug her fork into the fluffy eggs. "Of course I did. And so did you."
She watched his expression from the shield of her lashes. God, she was loving this. Loving sparring with him, confronting him, pushing him.
He stared back at her in bemused irritation. "How the hell do you figure that?"
She sighed, swallowed, then pointed her fork at him. "I felt it. You tensed, your eyes dilated, then you slowly relaxed. You knew. Deke just caught you off guard when he opened the door."
He dropped his head back, stared up at the ceiling as though he were praying, and breathed out roughly. "You're going to drive me crazy."
"Of course not." She gave him a rather delicate snort. "But I might be able to teach you to have a little bit of fun. Did I mention you had grown rather prickly over the last eight months? You used to know how to have fun, Ian."
He used to know what fun was, anyway.
"I used to know better than to involve myself in operations with you," he bit out. "You're dangerous, you're reckless, and I swear to God I've never met a woman that needed tying down for her own safety more than you do."
She widened her eyes. "Wow. Been holding that in for a while, Ian?"
She had to suppress a smile. He wasn't angry, at least not at her. She was affecting him, and she knew that affecting Ian wasn't an easy thing to do. She hadn't expected him to handle it nearly this well. He hadn't tied her to his bed while he went about his business; she considered that a major step in the right direction.
"Tonight, you're spanked," he informed her darkly. "Spanked until you scream for more, Kira."
"That's punishment?" she asked with a grin as a shiver of anticipation raced up her spine. She could handle that.
"No." He shook his head slowly. "That's my reward for not strangling you."
JOSEF MISSERN WAS AT HIS most charming. He stepped into the limo, taking the rear-facing seat and staring across the short distance at Ian and Kira. A sly smile curled the Frenchman's lips and lit his light blue eyes.
"Ah, how nice to see you again, Ms. Porter," he greeted her. "As lovely as a sunrise and as deceptive as the oceans." He chuckled. "You are a fitting mate to one such as he." He nodded to Ian with a sharp movement of his white-blond head.
"Let's get down to business, Missern." Ian's voice hardened at the obvious flirtation in the other man's voice. If Ian hadn't wanted to kill him before, he wanted to kill him now. "Would you like to tell me the connection you have to Sorrell?"
The slightest dilation in Josef's eyes assured Ian he wasn't off the mark.
"We are here to discuss weapons, my friend." Josef smiled easily once again. "I am willing to make you a onetime deal at a w
holesale price in apology for the assassin that showed up at our meeting, as well as the strike Martin would have taken at our fair Miss Porter. His games are sometimes not always understood by those who do not know him."
"And the assassin? Was he a game as well?" Ian asked coldly.
"He was an unknown variable." Josef sighed as though in regret. "We did not know he was there."
"Let's cut the shit, Missern," Ian snapped. "You knew, because you told Sorrell about the meeting. Just as Martin's attempt to strike Kira was a move designed to draw our relationship out into the open."
Josef's sensual lips pursed in amusement. "The information came to us by an anonymous source that told of your connection in Atlanta, and here as well. It seems you have other eyes watching you, my friend."
"And you report your tips concerning me to your good friend Sorrell," Ian suggested. "It's a very dangerous way to live, Josef."
"I did not relay this tip, Ian." Josef shook his head firmly. "Rather, I received it from a source that paid a hefty amount to have the connection proven." He spread his palms upward. "It was a business transaction. Yes?"
"Or your death warrant." Ian dropped his voice to a guttural suggestion, aware of Kira's subtle tension beside him and Missern's flash of fear before he covered it.
"We are men of business, Ian." Josef shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "This is what I have enjoyed in our dealings together. You understand the value of the dollar over the stains of blood. I am here to make amends for these things. I do not wish to war with the Fuentes cartel."
Ian tilted his head and stared back at Josef mockingly before he turned and stared out the window of the car instead. There, Trevor was landing the specially modified helicopter just as planned.
"Ian?" Josef questioned him curiously. "Is there a problem?"
"Order your men down, Josef," he ordered as the Missern bodyguards turned their weapons on the helicopter. "You're in no danger. You have my word on it."
Josef watched him closely but pulled his cell phone from the pocket of his jacket and hit the keypad.
"Pull back," he said into the receiver as his gaze clashed with Ian's. "We have his word no harm will come."
Ian let a smile tug at his lips at the unspoken trust. He had learned that even here, in this world, a man was judged by his word.
"I've exacted my payment for Martin's attempt to touch what belongs to me," he told Josef as he held Josef's gaze. "I'll also accept a hundred M-16s at wholesale price, three grenade launchers, and an amount of ammo to be determined once I return to the villa and discuss our needs with Diego."
Josef blinked back at him. "Quite a bit of apology, wouldn't you say?"
"Consider yourself lucky." Ian lowered the window beside him and nodded toward the helicopter. A door slid open, and the instantly recognizable form of Martin Missern tumbled from the side. He struggled to his feet, his swollen, bloodied face staring in weak bemusement at the limo as several of the bodyguards rushed for him.
"What the hell is this? Mon Dieu, what have you done to him?" Josef's hand went to the door only to have his wrist caught by Ian's, twisted, and his body jerked around until his face was pressed into the leather seat as he bellowed in pain.
"He's alive," Ian snarled, tamping down his regret that Kira was here. That she was seeing him as he was. "I should have killed him, Josef. Next time, I'll kill both of you."
He leaned over the arms dealer's body, his head next to Missern's, his eyes glaring into the light blue pain-ridden gaze of the other man.
"The next time Sorrell wants information, the next time he wants you to strike out at what's mine, remember this. And remember, next time I'll beat the life out of you myself. I don't think you want that, do you?"
Josef shook his head desperately, sweat beading his brow as broken gasps left his lips.
"I learned a lot of ways to hurt a man in the American military." He twisted Missern's wrist easily, dragging another cry from his lips. "Ways that make a man pray for death. Don't make me watch you pray, Josef. It would just piss me off and bite into my schedule. When you do that, I get mean." Ian pressed his thumb deeper into the other man's wrist, gave it a hard twist, and heard it crack. It didn't break. It didn't dislocate, but the distinctions in pain were so slight as to be negligible.
He released the shuddering man, moved back to his seat, and pushed the door open.
"While you're contemplating betraying me and talking to Sorrell on the phone, inform him that if he wants to end this, then he'll meet with me. The next time he sends one of his fuck buddies to strike out at me, I'll start killing them. That's a promise, Josef, you hear me?"
Josef struggled back to the seat, staring back at Ian fearfully, his once perfectly combed white-blond hair lying mussed around his face now.
"You are letting us leave alive?" he asked hesitantly.
Ian shook his head and tsked mockingly. "I keep my word, Josef. Unlike Sorrell. I'll give you one last piece of advice. Get the hell out of Aruba until Sorrell and I come to an understanding, because I'd hate to have to kill you. Now get out of my limo. I've had enough of you."
He grabbed the lapels of the arms dealer's jacket, jerked him from the seat, and threw him from the car. Josef struggled to his feet, lurched toward his bodyguards, and cast one last wary look back at the limo as Ian slammed the door closed.
The helicopter lifted from the ground as the limo pulled from the meeting area and began to pick up speed along the eastern coast of the island.
"Why did we drive out here rather than flying?"
The question wasn't the one he had expected, nor was her calm demeanor. Though he knew he shouldn't have expected anything less.
"Because I like the drive," he growled.
"Liar."
He breathed out roughly. "The first two months I was here I had two copters brought down and three bodyguards taken out. They have a harder time attacking the limo."
"They?"
He grunted a sharp laugh. "Who the fuck knows. Pissed-off SEALs and SFs, Sorrell's men, DEA, CIA, FBI. Hell, there are agents from a dozen alphabet-soup agencies in the world staked out on this damned island since I came here."
And he didn't blame a damned one of them for trying to take him out. Now, it wasn't just him though. It was Kira as well. Son of a bitch. Suddenly, this mission was beginning to seriously tax his patience. In ways he had never imagined possible.
He pushed his fingers through his hair and checked their location. He pulled the Glock free of his side holster, checked the clip then pulled the extra clips from the pockets of his pants and checked them.
Turning, he stared through the back window at the SUV following them. Mendez and Cristo had the heavier weapons with them, Trevor was watching overhead with the copter.
Hell, he wished he was in that damned copter. Unfortunately they were too easy to track and too easy to take out of the sky. And he had too many enemies now.
"What's happening with this meet we're driving to, Ian?"
He returned his gaze to her as he shoved the Glock back in its holster.
He shook his head firmly. "I told you what the meeting involved."
Her expression was scoffing. "Come on, Ian, don't pull that on me. Tell me what's really going on."
"There's nothing to pull." He shrugged. "I need to meet with some of the men that are transporting loads between Colombia and American waters. I give them their GPS coordinates for the first phase of delivery. After that, they receive transportation routes in phases."
What he wasn't telling her was the fact he suspected at least one of the transporters was going to be mildly upset when they learned that their loads had been shifted to other parties.
The men he was dealing with here weren't regular Fuentes soldiers or cartel members. Diego had been using independent contract workers for the most part until Ian arrived. Ian had slowly been replacing those contractors with cartel members. Efficiency, he had explained to Diego. Efficiency be damned; it would make the cart
el that much easier to take down when Diego fell.
In this particular instance though, the men he was getting ready to replace wouldn't exactly take it with a shrug and smile. He wasn't firing a union member, he was firing a cutthroat, murderous drug dealer with delusions of status.
Rodrigo Cruz was on the DEA's and FBI's most wanted lists. When this was over, Ian hoped he would be either dead or maneuvered into a position that would allow capture within a matter of days.
At times like this, he was forcefully reminded that perhaps genetics and DNA were indeed stronger than hatred. Because he had learned he could be just as deceptive, controlling, and manipulating as the man who had donated the sperm in his conception.
"How dangerous do you anticipate this little meeting turning?"
He stared at her, proud of her, terrified of losing her, though a part of him knew she was his greatest strength now.
"Oh, I don't know, Kira," he drawled. "I'm meeting with half a dozen cocaine transporters whose fortunes depend upon securing each successive shipment. What do you think?"
"I think that if you weren't planning something to piss them off then there would be little danger involved. Unless you suspected one of them of conspiring with Sorrell."
"Right now, I suspect everyone in the Fuentes camp of conspiring with Sorrell." He snorted. "I've learned to be careful, that's all."
"If that's all, then I can go in with you," she stated.
"Do you want me to tie you to the bed the next time I have a meeting that I refuse to allow you to attend?" He stared back at her, knowing the look on his face was just short of savage. Hell, he felt savage. He knew each time he walked into one of these meetings that it could be his last. And now it could endanger her as well.
"Chauvinism doesn't become you, Ian." She sighed. "Very well, I'll wait in the limo like a good little girl."
Ian nodded sharply. "This shouldn't take long," he told her as the limo neared the port town Oranjestad. "It's just a meeting. The business Fuentes does here in Aruba is simple. Orders go out from here. Dealers pick up their cargo in Colombia. I don't risk actual shipments onto the island."