Catch, Release

Their eyes had met across the room and an electric current had zapped her down to her toes. Just like now.

The rough pad of his thumb trailed across her cheek and over her lips, which throbbed at his touch. She dropped her lashes, avoiding the fire in his eyes, afraid of getting scorched once again.

It didn’t work.

His palm cradled the side of her head. His lips touched hers, and her bones melted.

She huffed out a breath against his mouth as she hooked an arm around his neck to stay vertical.

God help her. She’d fallen under his spell as quickly as she had in Zurich.

But now she had responsibilities. She planted her palms against his chest, and her fingers tingled to explore the hard slabs of muscle that shifted beneath his flannel shirt.

She pushed him away even as her lips kept contact with his.

Catch, Release

Carol Ericson

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CAROL ERICSON lives with her husband and two sons in Southern California, home of state-of-the-art cosmetic surgery, wild freeway chases, palm trees bending in the Santa Ana winds and a million amazing stories. These stories, along with hordes of virile men and feisty women, clamor for release from Carol’s head. It makes for some interesting headaches until she sets them free to fulfill their destinies and her readers’ fantasies. To find out more about Carol, her books and her strange headaches, please visit her website, www.carolericson.com, “where romance flirts with danger.”

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For all the strong women in my life

who keep it all together.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Epilogue

Chapter One

Deb’s eye twitched along with her trigger finger, but she wasn’t packing. They’d know. Somehow they knew everything, and they’d warned her if she didn’t come alone and unarmed they’d hurt Bobby.

She believed them. Nico Zendaris had made good on every threat so far. Why would she start doubting him now?

Her gaze darted among the faces surging around the frosty Boston street corner. Would someone give her a sign? She clutched her cell phone in the pocket of her coat. She didn’t know how they planned to contact her.

One if by land, two if by sea? She was in the right place for signals.

Someone bumped her and mumbled an apology. She stared at the stranger’s back, his broad shoulders encased in a puffy down jacket, as he lumbered down the sidewalk. Was that the sign?

She took a few uncertain steps after him, but he turned a corner and disappeared. Stumbling to a stop, she bit her lip. Should she go after him?

The message had ordered her to stand in this spot until further instructions. Was the bump an instruction? Or was the man just a clumsy pedestrian hurrying to his next appointment?

She no longer trusted her instincts since she’d allowed them to snatch Bobby. She should’ve known. She should’ve done more.

With a halting gait, she retraced her steps to the lamppost on the corner. If she did everything they asked of her, she’d get Bobby back. Zendaris had promised.

She ground her teeth against the sour bile rising from her gut. She knew better than to trust that man, but what choice did she have?

She’d have to trust him up to the moment he put a bullet in her head. Or she put one in his.

Her cell phone chirped, and she dragged it from her pocket with a hand shaking so badly she almost dropped the phone. She studied the blank display as the phone chirped again. She’d set her phone to vibrate.

She swiveled her head from side to side. Plenty of people with cell phones walked by, but nobody had stopped near her.

The phone chirped again. Gasping, she plunged her hand in her other coat pocket, her fingers colliding with another phone. Not hers.

She grabbed the cell and pulled it from her pocket. It continued its insistent trilling, so she hit the talk button.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Deb. For being a crack Prospero agent, it sure took you long enough to figure out you had a ringing phone in your pocket.”

The smooth mocking voice stirred her blood, thick with rage. “That was one of your little minions who bumped into me?”

He chuckled. “Very astute of you—finally.”

She didn’t even know if the man on the phone was Zendaris. She’d never heard his voice even though Prospero Team Three had disrupted one of his biggest arms deals four years ago.

She growled low in her throat. “I should’ve dropped him in his tracks.”

“Tough talk from the first and only female Prospero agent.” He clicked his tongue. “But you wouldn’t do that now, would you, Deb? Not while we have Bobby.”

His words twisted a knife in her belly and she bit back a sob. She refused to show this scum any sign of weakness. “Let me talk to him. I’m not going to do anything more until you do. I have to know he’s okay.”

“Deb, Deb, Deb. He’s not with me, or I’d gladly put him on the phone. Rest assured he’s safe and comfortable. We’ll give you proof of life soon enough.”

His phrase proof of life had her sagging against the lamppost. He’d better show her proof of Bobby’s life, or she’d hand Zendaris proof of his own death.

“When? I need something now.”

“You have my word, Deb. That’s all I can give you at the present time—that and the phone you’re using.”

She had an urge to toss the thing and the slick voice coming from it into oncoming traffic. But it represented her only connection to Bobby.

She crushed it against her ear. “What’s the significance of this phone?”

“It will be our way of communicating with you. It’s secure, untraceable, a very special phone. Carry it with you everywhere.”

“So what is it, Zendaris? If that’s who you really are.” Despite the chill in the air, sweat dampened her hairline. She brushed a bead of it away. “What do you want me to do?”

“You Americans, so impatient. You just keep the phone by your side, Deb, and we’ll tell you what to do next.”

“Why the delay? Tell me what to do now so we can end this game.” Silence greeted her plea and she was almost glad of it. A whining, desperate tone had crept into her voice—a tone she didn’t want Zendaris to hear.

She examined the phone and pushed a few buttons. There were no contacts, no phone numbers appeared and it didn’t seem as if she could make an outgoing call. What other special features did it have? A GPS tracking device? A camera? Were they watching her right now?

Closing her eyes, she rested her forehead against the cold metal of the lamppost and dropped the phone in her coat pocket. What was Zendaris after? What did he want her to do?

She swallowed. Why was she kidding herself? He wanted the plans to the anti-drone. He’d had them first, lost them to her Prospero teammate, Cade Stark, and then the plans had been stolen from Cade.

Neither Zendaris nor Prospero knew the location of the plans, but he must think she knew something. Or he planned to use her to get them.

The phone rang again. That was fast. Now maybe they could get down to business.

“What?”

A different voice greeted her this time, rougher, gruffer. “Face east and take the first right.”

She spun around to face the right direction. “Where the man who dropped the phone in my pocket went?”

“Do it.”

With the phone clamped to her ear, she strode to the next corner and turned. “What now?”

“Walk two blocks and turn down the alley after the green awning.”

She spied a flower shop with a green awning in front and aimed her steps toward it. The man on the other end of the line said nothing, but his heavy breathing kept her moving.

Would they show her some sign that Bobby was okay? Maybe Bobby was down that alley. The thought quickened her steps.

She stopped at the entrance to the alley and braced her hand against the corner of the flower shop building. Her gaze tracked along the length of the alley, stumbling over two Dumpsters but nothing else. No Bobby.

Her shoulders slumped. “I’m in the alley.”

“Go to the second Dumpster and take out the black bag.”

Her stomach tightened into knots as she crept down the pavement, avoiding the patches of ice that the winter sun hadn’t melted. She didn’t want to look into that Dumpster. Didn’t want to look into any bag.

Fear had her in its grip. Even though she hadn’t been acting like it, she was a trained Prospero agent, programmed to laugh in the face of fear.

Without cracking a smile, she pushed up the green lid of the second Dumpster with the heel of her hand. She peered inside and eyed a black duffel bag sitting atop bags of trash and stems, leaves and broken blooms from the flower shop. She gagged at the stench of rotting organic material.

Holding her breath, she balanced one foot on the wheel of the Dumpster and hoisted herself up. She reached into the refuse and snagged the strap of the bag and pulled. It didn’t budge.

“I have to put the phone down.”

The man grunted in response, and she slid the phone in her pocket. Using both hands, she propelled herself farther into the Dumpster, grabbed the bag with both hands and hauled it out.

She dropped the heavy prize on the ground and crouched beside it. She dipped her hand in her pocket and retrieved the phone. “I have the bag. Should I open it?”

“Yeah, whaddya think?”

She thought if she made one wrong move they’d harm Bobby. It took her two tries to unzip the bag with her trembling hands. When the bag gaped open, she sat back on her heels, her mouth as wide as the opening of the duffel.

“What am I supposed to do with this stuff?”

“Rob a jewelry store.”

The shock made her giggle and she toppled over. She sniffed and rubbed her eyes. “What are you talking about?”

“You’re robbing a jewelry store. It’s a few blocks away.”

“Are you crazy? This is what Zendaris wants me to do? Steal some jewels?”

He ignored her questions and began giving her instructions for the robbery. He stopped after every instruction and asked her if she understood. She’d had him repeat the first few directions as the fog slowly cleared from her mind.

Zendaris was serious. He wanted her to rob a store. She knew the consequences if she didn’t do it. Was this it? Was this all he’d ask of her?

She might get killed in the attempt, and if she were arrested she would never reveal her motivation. She understood what that would mean for Bobby.

“You got all that?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t fail.”

“I don’t plan on it.”

She cleared out her own purse and dumped the contents into the big designer bag that was stuffed in the duffel. She pulled the blond wig over her head and clapped the huge sunglasses on her face.

While sitting on the ground with her back against the Dumpster, Deb slipped a pair of high heels onto her feet. Zendaris had told her to dress professionally. The towering heels must’ve been an afterthought and were more suited to a hooker than the low heels she’d kicked off, but they added to her disguise.

Peering into the mirror Zendaris had thoughtfully provided, she shoved the dark strands of her hair beneath the wig and applied red lipstick.

She crammed the black ski mask into the purse as well, and then tucked the loaded .45 inside—not that she planned on shooting anyone unless Zendaris showed up in the jewelry store.

She pushed to her feet and dropped the duffel bag along with her own empty purse into the Dumpster. She’d put her shoes and everything else from her purse into the designer bag. She tightened the belt of her wool coat and emerged from the alley a new woman.

Maybe blondes did have more fun. A few men cast assessing glances her way as she wobbled down the sidewalk in her high heels.

She passed by the jewelry store once and waited until the lone customer had left. Then she approached the door and stabbed the buzzer. They must’ve liked what they saw because the door clicked and she pushed through with butterflies taking flight in her belly.

Two clerks. Deb smiled. In her affected Southern accent, she said, “Ahm lookin’ for a diamond bracelet?”

One of the clerks, probably a jeweler, looked up from poking at something on a glass table. The magnifying contraption he wore on his head enlarged his eye and Deb felt as if he were staring right through her disguise.

He went back to his work, and the female clerk crossed the room to a velvet-lined case. “We have some beautiful bracelets over here.”

“Perfect.”

While the clerk bent over the case to unlock it, Deb stepped back and locked the door to the shop, flipping the sign to Closed. She withdrew the gun from her purse as she yanked on the cord to the blinds.

“Excuse me?” The noises had caught the attention of the jeweler and he looked up with his hideously magnified eye.

Before turning around, Deb pulled the ski mask over her head, blond hair and everything, and swung the gun toward him. “Ahm sorry, sir, ahm goin’ to have to ask you to move away from the counter.”

He dropped his hand from the top of the counter and Deb aimed the gun at his head. “Please don’t.”

The clerk stood with her mouth open, holding a tray of bracelets in front of her.

“We’ll start with those.”

While the jeweler kneeled in the middle of the store with his hands behind his head, Deb had the clerk scurrying around the store dumping trays of jewels into her big bag.

Deb apologized repeatedly, but she knew these people would be traumatized. If she could make it up to them one day, she would.

Zendaris never told her how much to steal, so with the bag bulging and half the cases empty, Deb held up her hand. “That’s enough. Both of you in the back room. Ahm not goin’ to hurt y’all.”

She herded them into the back office, which Zendaris had known about. She’d already collected their cell phones, and now she ripped the desk phone out of the wall and smashed it.

“Ahm goin’ to lock you in here now, but you should be able to get out soon.”

She slammed the door shut and dragged a chair over to wedge it beneath the doorknob. That should hold them until she got away. If she got away.

She pulled the ski mask from her head, shook out her blond hair and replaced her sunglasses. Hoisting the bag with the loot over her shoulder, she slipped from the store, keeping it locked behind her.

Her heels clicked down the sidewalk as she clutched a key chain in her hand and made for the corner. She let out a breath when she saw a blue compact car parked at a meter.

The remote Zendaris had included in the duffel unlocked the car and she slipped inside, her heart pounding unsteadily. She adjusted the rearview mirror and brushed the blond locks from her sweaty brow.

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?”