Kiss or Kill

Chapter 2

Once they had left the building, Renee turned to Mark. “Do you know anything about demolition?”

“Do you?” he countered, one dark eyebrow raised.

“Do you have a place to stay?” she asked, ignoring his question.

“No, I only arrived this afternoon.” He walked beside her, hands tucked in his pockets against the bitter cold, obviously willing to follow wherever she led.

“I have rooms in the Latin Quarter. You’ll stay with me.”

Better to keep him close, as Deborah had ordered, and find out what he was all about than to wonder where the hell he was and what he was up to. She didn’t expect to get much sleep, if any, in either case.

“Are you giving me a choice?”

“Sure.” Renee headed for her rental car, a puke-green Peugeot with a balky transmission. “You could go back and bunk with Deborah and Sonny. How do you feel about threesomes?”

He laughed, a brief, bitter sound. “I don’t see that happening.”

“Who are you working for?” She hoped to catch him off guard with the question, but he replied immediately.

“You, of course.”

Right. Very smooth answer and quick on the trigger. He wasn’t going to tell her a damn thing. And she wasn’t about to volunteer anything until she knew which side he was on.

If he was working undercover, as she was, his suspicions would mirror hers. If he had flipped since she knew him in the States, he might try to kill her. Alert to that possibility, she kept enough distance between them to respond to any attack he made. She was pretty sure he wouldn’t do anything until he knew for sure what she was really doing here.

They got in the car and she drove like a maniac on the streets of Paris. Like everyone else did. When she came to a screeching halt on the curb in front of her apartment building, she noted his knuckles were white as he loosened his grip on the dash. He exhaled as if he’d been holding his breath.

“Here we are. I’ll go up first. Give me a quarter hour alone, then come up to 304. Knock twice, then once.”

“Got it,” he said agreeably. “What’s with the code?”

“Old habits die hard,” she replied.

“So do old operatives in case you plan to wait behind the door to do me in.”

“If I planned to kill you, I would have done it already.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “I thought the drive here was an admirable first attempt. Nearly caused my heart to fail.”

“You have a heart? You’re in the wrong line of work.” Renee got out, slammed her door and left him sitting in the car, hoping someone would steal the wreck tonight so she could legitimately request another.

She could picture Mark on his phone the second she disappeared inside, either checking with his control on her current work status or calling Deborah Martine to reveal who she was and asking how he should dispose of the body. By the time he did either, she planned to know more about him than his own mother did and act accordingly.

The instant the door closed to her room, she was hitting her speed dial. “Get me whatever you have on British operative Mark Alexander. All sources. Instantly. It’s crucial. If you can’t find him in SIS, check other agencies, home and abroad. Then go to private. Also run him as a skel. He could be dirty.” She clicked off.

Renee felt extremely isolated on this op. Minimal phone contact, documents left at a specified drop and no face-to-face with the other agents in place. Three of her fellow COMPASS agents were here in Paris, waiting to help her wrap this up when the time came. Until then, she wasn’t supposed to reach out.

And the role she had assumed for the op—cocky, expatriated Goth chick and experienced killer with no conscience or morals—was wearing thin. There was no break from the act. She wished she could talk to someone as herself, just for a minute or two. She missed speaking English, though her French was fluent. She had acquired it as a child right here in Paris and fine-tuned it under her mother’s tutelage. Her knowledge of demolition had begun then, too, as she and her mom followed her dad from job to job. No one knew more about the business of leveling a landscape than Ed Leblanc. And she was trading on his name and reputation. Though retired in Miami for several years now, a bogus Web site, created specifically for this assignment, had him listed as still running a world class business out of Calgary, Canada.

She missed her mom and dad, her friends and her apartment. Renee let her thoughts drift to her home in McLean, Virginia, where Christmas decorations would be going up in stores even though it wasn’t quite Thanksgiving. Holly would be feeding her fish, tending her plants and collecting her mail. Unless Holly had been called away on assignment. If so, someone else would hold down the fort, one of her fellow agents. They provided good support on the homefront. But this was her first international assignment. It required a great deal of improvisation and all the acting skill she possessed. And she wasn’t used to going it alone.

Now she had a partner, of sorts. That just went to show, one should be careful what one wished for. Company could be deadly. As a fellow operative, Mark would judge her without mercy. And if he turned out to be a traitorous sonofabitch, he’d probably wind up trying to kill her, again without mercy.

Suddenly isolation seemed the lesser of two evils, but one she couldn’t afford.

Anxiously she waited for the report on him. “C’mon, c’mon, I don’t have all night,” she grumbled, frowning down at her cell phone.

Mark cursed as he put his phone away. Not a thing on her. Nothing! Lazlo had pulled every string available within the short amount of time he had with no results. None of the agencies, government or private, in the States or Canada, had a listing for Renee. He had captured a photo of her profile with his phone as she drove through the city at breakneck speed. She wasn’t in any database Lazlo could access which left damn few.

Corbett Lazlo could accomplish virtually anything, connected as he was. He had survived a conviction of treason, escaped prison and proved himself innocent. After that, he had refused to return to MI-6 where he had worked with Mark’s father and had begun his own company. Lazlo operated without the confines of bureaucracy that hobbled the government organizations. And ignored most of the rules. He was a law unto himself. Mark admired him more than anyone he knew. If Lazlo couldn’t get a background on this woman, then it couldn’t be had.

So who the hell was she? He knew she had been cleared to take that course at Langley. If she had been dropped by one of the agencies since then, there would be a record of it somewhere. That meant she must be working at a job important and secretive enough to have her background totally erased in case someone went looking. This was a good sign actually, he realized. If she were a traitor, even a suspected one, the word would be out on her.

He didn’t have to wonder what she would manage to uncover about his past. It wouldn’t look good. His real background had been replaced with one so unsavory it scared even him. She’d be horrified that she’d ever gotten close enough for that kiss they had shared.

Odd, the compulsion he was feeling to spill everything to her, to assure her he wasn’t the lowlife his official records stated. Maybe he had a death wish hidden somewhere in his psyche. More likely his libido was fogging his brain. God only knew how he had resisted involvement with her two years ago. The feelings she engendered then were suddenly active again.

That lovely smile of hers combined with all that barely suppressed energy had gripped him fiercely the minute he’d set eyes on her at the initial training session. Instant accord between them, and she had felt it, too. He had nearly lost his grip on reality and offered her more than he could afford to give. Thank God, he had come to his senses in time. Still, he wouldn’t take anything in exchange for that one long, soul-deep kiss.

The girl was a chameleon, but looked great in both guises. Before when he had known her, she’d seemed the wholesome, suntanned, athletic type, maybe a girl who had a couple of brothers to toughen her up a little and make her competitive. The way she looked now, she could be belting out hard rock on stage or hanging out on street corners peddling S&M. Scary as hell, but wretchedly enticing for all that. It made him wonder which was the real Renee Leblanc.

It wasn’t entirely her looks that fascinated him, but more the way she carried herself, handled herself and met every challenge. She woke something in him that had lain dormant all his adult life. Not that he wasn’t interested in women, just that he had never before craved anything more than a very temporary hookup.

He wanted her. There was also this odd, almost compelling urge to befriend her. He couldn’t thank her for that. Hell, he didn’t make friends. He didn’t need them. But there was something about her that he knew he couldn’t leave alone. Not this time.

She had this bit of vulnerability that he figured no one saw but him, hidden as it was in those whiskey-colored eyes that would make a man as drunk as the real stuff if he drank too deeply.

Her hair had been longer and silky two years ago. Now it was chopped in a chin-length spiky hairdo he found rather silly. What man would want to run his hands through gelled spikes? Still, even that anomaly flattered her features.

Yes, she was a beauty, especially with the added fire of her attitude. Alert, interested and therefore wildly interesting. He couldn’t ignore that heavenly body, toned to slender perfection. He remembered her in the gym, slick with sweat and wearing only a sports bra and shorts. The memory threatened to activate his own sweat glands.

He had to exercise strict discipline and keep this under control. He was older now, more committed than ever to the mission he had sworn to complete and no woman was going to get in his way. Not even this one who affected him more than any other ever had. The fact that she had that effect made him slightly angry with her. Or perhaps with himself.

Mark climbed the stairs and gave the knock as she’d instructed, fully aware that she might try to kill him the instant he entered the room. It would be interesting to see which of them had benefited most by their Langley training. He was fairly sure he could take her, but not absolutely certain of it. That only added to the mystique.

She opened the door and stepped aside, gesturing him to come in. “You’re a real piece of work, Alexander. Have been for a very long time. Must have made a distinct impression on Sonny when he made those calls. Sit down,” she said, indicating the two chairs placed near the room’s one window. She remained standing. “Why was your name deleted from the course records? There is no mention of your training, training I know you had.”

“What training would that be?” He glanced meaningfully at the window, reminding her that anyone with a parabolic microphone could be listening to every word.

“Don’t worry, this place has been screened to hell and back, as well as those buildings across the street. No ears. No cameras. I’m very thorough.”

“And quite mysterious,” he commented. “Apparently you don’t even exist other than in my feverish imagination.”

Her full lips quirked at his sarcasm. “Feverish? Why, Mark, I’m so flattered.”

He smiled back. “No birth, no schooling, no employment, not even a driving license.” He recalled the ride here. “But that last bit I can well understand.”

“You might have found something under my maiden name had you bothered to ask what it is.”

Mark was already shaking his head. “You weren’t married, either. Not officially anyway.”

She strolled to the window and raked back the sheer curtain to look down at the street below. “What’s your real agenda here?”

He stood and headed for the door. “Food, bath, sleep, in that order.”

She dropped the curtain and headed his way. “There’s a café several doors down that’s open late. Food’s cheap but edible.”

He was a bit surprised at how easily she acquiesced but held the door for her to exit first. “So long as we won’t need to drive there.”

They took the stairs at a fast clip, Mark preceding her as she insisted.

He found himself actually looking forward to spending time with Renee, an unusual turn for him to take when he knew very well he ought to be working this alone. He always worked alone. He didn’t like having to worry about anyone else’s safety. Or their potential for making mistakes.

She would only get in his way, distract him, maybe even get one or both of them killed if Trip was around and in his usual form.

He thought about how ironic it was that the very lack of available information about their previous occupations in intel had virtually verified their loyalties.

What a strange world it had become. At any rate, Mark felt like celebrating the fact that he didn’t have to kill her.

They exited the building and she turned left. Mark walked beside her, confident they had a sort of truce going on.

“If the wine proves drinkable, perhaps we could have a little toast,” he suggested. “Something along the lines of good health and long life.”

“Or world peace,” she said with an inelegant snort that made him laugh.

“Ah, but then we’d both be out of work, love.”

She stopped, halting him with a hand on his arm. “Did you cross over, Alexander?”

“Did you, Leblanc?”

For a long moment, she stared into his eyes, then threw her trust at him like a fast ball. “No, I didn’t. I’m working.”

He almost groaned. Was she mad? She must be to grant him that much information without even knowing him. “So I suppose this is where I declare undying love for my country and promise to fight evil to the death?”

She inclined her head and pursed her lips. “Yeah, Mark, this is the place where you do that. Only you had better make me believe you.”

“Or you’ll do what?”

She smiled and managed to look downright evil. “Or I will kill you. Right where you stand.”

It was only then that Mark felt the gun barrel prod his belly.

Chapter 3

“Deborah, you try to make me jealous? Is this why you hired Alexander? I do not trust him in spite of the glowing recommendations.”

“Do not try my patience, Sonny,” she warned. She watched him study her face and knew he wondered who she really was. If he knew, he would be more afraid than he already was. Cassandra DuMont held more power in her small, soft hands than this man could ever imagine. She toyed with the idea of telling him, but decided against it.

Sonnegut was a tool. The double entendre of a thought made her smile as she stroked his sweaty brow. She raked a beautifully manicured nail along his cheek, scraping the roughness of stubble that had caused a delicious burn moments earlier. In bed, he was unequaled, even by John Trip. Trip’s value lay in his inventiveness. Sonny’s size and boundless energy provided an interesting contrast.

He kissed her gently. “You are such a soft, cultured creature, Deborah. Not at all like the women I am used to.”

“Soft?” She laughed at that. “Only on the surface, darling.”

He sighed and lay back, one hand behind his head, the other toying with her breast. “Ah, yes, there are times when I glimpse the steel beneath your charms.”

At the moment, lying with him on silk sheets in her fancy rococo bed, she was soft and wearing nothing but a contented feline smile.

He exhausted her, helped her to sleep soundly, a feat for which she had amply rewarded him. This walk on the wild side had worked in that respect. She loved the edginess of it, operating in disguise, meeting in dark places, the risks of leaving behind the protection of who and what she was.

Becoming Deborah Martine allowed her a certain freedom and keen excitement that she lacked as Cassandra DuMont, doting mother to her son and the chief executive of her family business. Also, this little vacation afforded a perfect opportunity for another, even deadlier strike against Corbett Lazlo. She would give him his own mini version of nine-eleven and bury his people beneath tons of steel and stone.

Sonnegut stroked her tousled hair and inhaled the rich, heady scent of her perfume. He brushed the smooth curve of her lips with his, tickling them with his tongue. “Tell me that you are not attracted to this man, Alexander. You cannot trust him, you know.”

She tweaked his chin. “Ah, darling, I trust no one.”

“Not even me?” he demanded with a pretense of anger.

Cass rolled her eyes playfully. “Don’t be tiresome, please!”

He rolled away from her and sat up on the edge of the bed. “First you enlist that…girl. She is dangerous, that one. And much too young to be of any use.” Cass knew Sonny mistrusted youth. He probably recalled how he had misspent his own doing stupid things that had earned him time behind bars.