Striking Distance

Chapter 15

Tasha moaned softly as the steam rose around her. It felt so good to just soak for a while. She’d taken a shower after her debrief this morning, then a power nap that lasted for three hours. But this...this was pure luxury. She needed this. Her muscles loosened...relaxed as the heat chased away the stress and soreness. It might just take hours to soothe all the kinks and stiffness.

She apparently had the time. He hadn’t called.

Her eyes opened and she lay there, her gaze searching for anything in the foggy room to focus on. She didn’t want to think about him...not yet. Draping her arms along the sides of the tub, she forced his image away.

But not quickly enough. An entirely different kind of heat coiled inside her. She cursed herself for allowing it. He was a killer...the enemy. And yet, somehow he’d gotten to her on a level over which she had no control. It was totally unbelievable. She tried hard to pinpoint the precise root of the feeling. It wasn’t sympathy. There was a definite physical attraction, despite his lack of personality. But that wasn’t such a big deal. As Ramon would say, she wasn’t dead. Any woman breathing would be attracted to Seth on a physical level. But she could handle that. He was an assassin...a very dangerous man...a bad guy...the enemy. Taking him down wouldn’t be a problem.

That last thought echoed hollowly. “Shit,” she muttered. This couldn’t happen. She’d just met the guy. Taking him down was her mission...but something felt wrong.

How could she even think about screwing up this badly? She shook her head slowly from side to side. This was the opportunity of a lifetime. Lucas Camp had come to her! She couldn’t let anything get in the way. Why the hell had she chosen psychology for her major, anyway? If she hadn’t, maybe then she wouldn’t have bothered looking beneath the surface.

She scrubbed a hand over her face and cursed herself again. This wasn’t about what made the guy tick. This was about stopping a killer—a hired assassin—before he accomplished his mission. Her primary goal, outside seeing that he didn’t accomplish his, was making the connection between him and the man who hired him. Nothing else mattered. All those scars... The overwhelming feeling that he was as much a victim as those he hunted was of no consequence.

He would be stopped, one way or another. And so would the man who’d hired him. Lucas’s intentions were crystal clear. He wanted this guy dead. Tasha felt it all the way to her bones. It was personal somehow.

A knock at the front door jerked her from her troubling thoughts. Water sloshed as she pushed upright. Her heart kicked into a faster rhythm.

She shifted to her feet, the steam rising off her skin, and stepped out of the tub onto the fluffy bath mat. Shouldering into the robe without bothering to towel dry, she reached for her weapon next.

As she padded down the short hall, her bare feet leaving a trail of water, she chambered a round in the weapon Maverick had given her. Another knock rattled the hinges as she crossed the living room. She peered through the peephole, her heart pounding, and saw Maverick.

Heaving a relieved sigh, she shook off the tension and opened the door. “What’s up?”

Maverick stepped inside, and she closed the door behind him. “Just wanted you to know that we lifted his prints from your cell phone but they were useless.” He passed the phone back to her.

A frown nagged at her forehead. “He wasn’t in the system?” The guy was clearly a high-end professional, getting caught wouldn’t be in keeping with his skill level. And unless he’d been caught and charged with some crime, he wouldn’t be in any system.

He shook his head and handed her the boots she’d worn last night. “Can’t tell. There’s too much alteration, not enough legible lines to go for a match.”

“He doesn’t intend to be ID’d.” This just kept getting better and better. Seth was really on top of his game. He’d had his fingerprints altered.

“It’s professional work, too, not a homemade job.”

That’s why she hadn’t felt any particular roughness when he’d touched her. This wasn’t a hack job to alter any prints he’d leave behind, this was one of those cutting-edge “escape clinic” laser jobs. Very expensive, very cleverly done. Either Seth or the man he worked for knew how to remain anonymous.

“If he calls,” she offered, “I can try and get a look around his place. See what I can find.”

Maverick nodded. “Just be careful.” He looked at her a moment before he continued. “Lucas would like you to try and get a DNA sample. We don’t know how much good it’ll do, but it’s another avenue of identification.”

The various ways a sample could be obtained flashed quickly through her mind. “All right.”

Maverick looked away briefly before adding, “You know a shed hair won’t get us what we need. If you could lift his toothbrush or razor, assuming it’s not the electric type, that would be better.”

She nodded. “Got it.”

“Just be careful, North.” Maverick shook his head, his expression cluttered with more concern than she would have expected from a man of his background. “You’re right when you said there’s something off about this guy. He worries me more than most I’ve run across in my time. Lucas said the same thing.”

At least she wasn’t the only one picking up those vibes. “Don’t worry, I’ve got it under control.”

That was a flat-out lie, but he didn’t need to know it. In the event that he was fishing for Lucas, she wasn’t about to give him any information that could discredit her in any way.

“I’ll be right downstairs.” He glanced at her robe. “Don’t forget to put another patch in place.”

“Will do.”

When he’d gone, she retraced her damp path to the bathroom, drained the tub and cleaned up the mess she’d made. She set her weapon aside, reached into the medicine cabinet and got the box that contained the patches. To anyone else they looked like a simple birth control prescription. Lucas’s people covered every base. If her target decided to check her out, he’d find nothing that would suggest she wasn’t who she said she was. They’d even furnished the second bedroom of the apartment, complete with young, female wardrobe, to give the illusion of a roommate.

Tasha pressed the patch into place and checked out her reflection. The bruise on her cheek was pretty much gone now, and her lip was way better. A dab of makeup and she’d be good to go. Her side was still a little tender, but not so bad.

The firm knock on her front door made her jump. Damn, she was edgy. Forgetting her appearance for the moment she strode back into the living room. What did Maverick want now?

She opened the door without bothering to check the peephole.

Her target filled the doorway, those piercing blue eyes covered by dark shades.

For one second she was sure she had to be imagining things, but she blinked and he was still there.

He removed the concealing eyewear and focused that fierce gaze on her. “Ask me in.”

A shiver raced across her skin as much from the sound of his deep voice as from those eyes. She summoned a semblance of control and stepped back, opening the door wide. “Come on in.”

He reached down and picked up a bag she hadn’t noticed since she was too busy staring at those unsettling eyes. Idiot, she railed silently. Details. She wasn’t supposed to miss any.

Once he’d stepped inside, he closed and locked the door behind him. That move should have set her on edge but didn’t. Maverick and Ramon would be watching. Her apartment was rigged for surveillance. Seth looked at her, surveyed her lack of proper attire and then settled his gaze on hers. “I have a job for you.”

For just a second it kind of annoyed her that she found not a glimmer of approval in his eyes. She was standing there naked but for the robe, and he didn’t even notice. God knew that she’d absorbed every damned detail about him. Black T-shirt beneath a pale blue cotton button-up shirt. The telltale bulge of the weapon he wore, well-fitting jeans and those made-for-traction ankle boots. If she hadn’t enjoyed the perusal so much she could have chalked it up to merely being part of her job. But the heat funneling beneath her belly button made a liar out of her. She pushed the disturbing sensation away.

“What kind of job?”

“You need money, right?” He said this as he surveyed what he could see of her apartment. It was a nice enough place and wasn’t the reason he asked the question. She remembered telling him that she didn’t have a job yet and was pretty much broke from coughing up her share of the rent.

“Yeah, I need money,” she said bluntly. “But not badly enough to do anything illegal.” She looked him up and down, pausing briefly at his crotch. She looked away just as quickly. Either the guy stayed aroused all the time or he was extremely well endowed. Why she would notice and why it would have such an effect was beyond her. What the hell was wrong with her?

“There’s nothing to worry about.” He offered her the shopping bag he carried. “Put this on.”

Still trying to read his expression, which was impossible, she accepted the bag that turned out to be a good deal heavier than it looked. Inside was a brown uniform. “What’s this?” Her senses moved to a higher state of alert. Even folded up as it was she recognized the delivery-service getup.

“I’d like you to make a delivery for me. It’s very simple.”

“What kind of delivery?”

When he looked at her this time, there was no way to miss his impatience. That he allowed her to see the emotion surprised her and served as a warning at the same time.

“Don’t ask so many questions.”

She shrugged and headed to the bedroom with the bag in hand. For a second or two she allowed the elation of his return to bolster the nagging worry over where this might be headed. For the moment he was back, and that was all that mattered.

Moving quickly, she dragged on a pair of panties and a bra. Surprisingly the uniform was a good fit. Maybe he’d noticed more than he’d let on. The weight in the bag was the shoes. He’d thought of everything.

She brushed her hair and pulled it up with a claw clip, grabbed her purse and sunglasses and readied for whatever the hell he had in mind.

He waited right where she’d left him. Maverick and Ramon would know whether he’d looked around. She would find out later.

Seth scrutinized her from head to toe. “Perfect.”

“Why not just have the package delivered in the usual manner?” she asked as they exited her apartment.

“I have my reasons.”

She locked her door and followed him to the stairs. Fourteen floors, either the guy had a phobia where elevators were concerned or he didn’t want to get trapped in one in case he had to make a run for it.

He didn’t speak again even after they were in his SUV and headed into city traffic, which was no big surprise. He only spoke when he had something to say or she forced a response out of him. She occupied herself with attempting to determine their destination.

A few minutes later he parked in the lot of a large office building right off the Magnificent Mile, Chicago’s main street of shops, restaurants and ritzy office buildings.

He reached into the back seat and picked up a package. Eight-by-ten, she estimated. Wrapped in a plain brown paper. Addressed to... She leaned toward him slightly to read the name and address.

The name slammed into her with all the force of a runaway train.

Victoria Colby.

She was his mark.

“You know...” Calm, stay calm. She forced her heart rate back to a normal pace and focused on slowing her respiration. She couldn’t let him see that she recognized the name. “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea.”

He nodded toward the building. “Fourth floor. The elevator opens right into the Colby Agency lobby,” he went on as if she’d said nothing. “Ask for Victoria Colby. Don’t let anyone else sign for the package except her. Do you understand?”

She moistened her suddenly dry lips. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she realized that he’d just said more to her at one time than any other time since they’d met. “What’s in the package? You’re sure—”

“Go.” He pushed the package and an electronic clipboard toward her and pressed her with a gaze that warned her not to argue. “Now.”

She took the package and the clipboard and climbed out of the SUV. She walked slowly across the parking lot, praying that Maverick had her location. She forced her mind to consider what could be in the package. It felt a little light for any kind of elaborate explosive. A detonator would be required. But then again there were all kinds of lightweight devices. She considered the possibility of some sort of poison. Something absorbed through the skin or inhaled like anthrax.

Resisting the impulse to scan the lot for Maverick’s vehicle, she opened the main door and stepped inside. She strode straight up to the lobby desk.

“I have a package for Victoria Colby,” she said in as professional a tone as she could manage. He could be listening, watching even. Who knew what sort of gadgets he could have added to the innocuous-looking uniform. There’d been no time to check it out thoroughly.

“Fourth floor,” the watchman said without even asking for ID.

It was the uniform. It was too much a part of everyday life for anyone to give it a second thought.

Tasha went to the bank of elevators and pressed the call button. She let her respiration and heart rate increase faster and faster as a signal to Maverick that something was wrong. By the time she reached the fourth floor, her skin felt flushed and she’d all but hyperventilated. Even if Seth had some way of monitoring her now, he would expect her to be nervous going in.

The receptionist greeted her with a smile and a pleasant, “May I help you?”

“I have a delivery for Victoria Colby.”

The receptionist reached for the package. “I’ll take it for you.”

Tasha knew a moment’s panic. “I’m sorry,” she said, grabbing back control. “Ms. Colby has to personally sign for the package.”

“Oh.” The woman’s expression turned to one of confusion, or maybe irritation. She pointed to the corridor on Tasha’s right. “Her secretary’s office is the first one on the left.”

Tasha forced a smile. “Thank you.”

She passed a couple of people in the corridor, both male and wearing suits. Colby Agency investigators, Tasha presumed. Each one surveyed her thoroughly before moving on. She wanted to scream, “Doesn’t anyone suspect anything is wrong here?” But she only smiled stiffly.

“Good afternoon. You have a delivery?” This from a pleasant-looking middle-aged lady whose name plate read, Mildred Parker.

“Yes, for Victoria Colby.”

“Well, generally the receptionist would sign for any packages,” she offered kindly.

Tasha glanced at the clipboard. “The sender requested that Ms. Colby sign for the package personally.”

“Very well.”

The secretary stood and moved toward the door on the other side of the room. Tasha followed. The older woman knocked once and pushed it open.

“Victoria, there’s a special delivery for you. This young lady needs you to sign for it.”

Mildred opened the door wider and stepped to one side for Tasha to enter.

Her pulse racing, Tasha met the dark gaze focused on her from the other side of the massive mahogany desk. So this was Victoria Colby. She looked every bit as dignified and sophisticated as Tasha had expected.

What she hadn’t expected was the incredible complacency where security was concerned. Wasn’t Lucas supposed to have men watching her? Forcing her feet into action, Tasha moved across the room.

Victoria Colby reached for the clipboard Tasha offered. “Good afternoon,” she said with a smile.

Tasha forced an answering smile and nodded.

Victoria signed the clipboard and passed it back to her, her open hand waiting for the package.

As she slowly extended the package toward the woman, Tasha tried to warn her with her eyes...tried to make her see that something was wrong.

If Victoria noticed, she didn’t show it.

“Thank you,” she said as she settled the package on her desk.

Tasha managed a stiff “Have a nice day” and left. She punched the down button at the elevator and fought the need to tell someone that this was all wrong. A part of her braced for the sound of an explosion or for a scream of agony.

When the elevator doors finally slid open, what felt like a lifetime later, Tasha drew up short when a tall, dark-haired man moved to exit the arriving car. He paused and looked directly into her eyes for two beats. She prayed he would see the warning there. When he at last moved past her he allowed his hand to brush hers.

The rush of relief was so profound that she scarcely stepped forward quickly enough to catch the elevator before the doors closed.

Whoever the guy was he had to be one of Lucas’s men. The look he’d given her was one of assurance, the physical contact a sign that he understood something was wrong. Maverick had gotten word to Lucas.

She stabbed the button for the lobby and sagged against the closest wall. Taking long, deep breaths she calmed her racing heart and slowed her frantic respiration.

When she reached the SUV, Seth didn’t ask any questions, just drove away once she’d climbed inside.

The silence that hung in the air ignited a fury in her belly. By the time he pulled up to the curb in front of her apartment building her temper had raged out of control.

“I want to know what was in that package.” She turned on him, glared at him with all the anger she felt inside.

He didn’t even bother taking off his sunglasses or looking her way, he simply offered her a wad of cash.

She almost told him where he could shove the money, but that would be out of character for the role she played. Instead, she snatched it from him, startled to note that it was five one-hundred-dollar bills.

“You can dispose of the uniform.”

She grabbed her purse, shoved the money into it before slinging it over her shoulder. She started to get out, but hesitated, then shook her head. No way was he getting off this easy.

“I don’t like being used,” she told him. “If that package was dangerous and that lady—”

“There was nothing in the package that could physically harm anyone. It was merely a message...a reminder.”

She closed her eyes for one second as another blast of relief hit her.

“Get out.”

Renewed fury obliterated all other emotion. “You’re unbelievable. You come to me for a favor, then you treat me like a piece of trash you can toss away.”

He remained silent, motionless, seemingly oblivious of her heated emotions.

In a lightning-flash move, she snatched off his sunglasses and glared at him. “You really are—”

Before she could finish the statement, he’d jerked her across the console and trapped her between his chest and the steering wheel. The look in his eyes was murderous, his expression hard, his breathing shallow and harsh.