The Specialist Page 6

  He made a humming noise under his breath. “I understand your mother is a beautician—did you learn how to split hairs from her?”

  She stiffened once more. “You and your friends had better leave my mother out of this. That was a shitty thing to do.” Her lips twisted. “And here I’d heard you had a reputation for being honorable.”

  That dart found a mark. “And I’ve heard you have a reputation for being ruthless.”

  His found a mark as well, judging by the blinking pause that met his statement. “I don’t give a damn what you’ve heard,” she said, clearly lying. “I’m not ruthless, but I am determined and since I know you’re here looking for the same thing that I am, it would be extremely stupid of me to tip you off, wouldn’t it?” She snorted. “I don’t owe you a damned thing, especially not an explanation.”

  All true, he knew, and yet he couldn’t help being disappointed. “No more than I owe you anything. Given the circumstances, I find it highly ironic that you don’t have any qualms about keeping me in the dark, but get pissed off when I use whatever means necessary to shed a little light on things. Guy shouldn’t have called your mother, but am I sorry that he did? No.”

  “That was low.”

  “So was sticking me in that little car,” he said, surprised at the level of irritation he heard in his own voice.

  She smiled and flicked an imaginary speck of lint off her cuff. “No, that was a stroke of genius. How does it drive, by the way?”

  “Better than I expected. You should really work on handling that Hummer better, though. You were all over the road.”

  A total lie, but he couldn’t stand the smug look on her face. It was provoking, and Brian Payne never allowed himself to be provoked. It meant that he wasn’t in control of his own emotions, and that this little slip of a female could incite him into exchanging juvenile barbs told him he was wading into uncharted waters.

  Her eyes widened in outrage. “I was not all over the road—I owned it. There’s a difference, but I guess you couldn’t see that perched five inches off the pavement, could you?”

  This was pointless, Payne decided. Time to move things into a more productive line of conversation. “How much is Hastings paying you?”

  “That’s none of your damned business. What’s Garrett paying you?” she shot back.

  “Garrett and I have different terms, but if you’ll leave right now, I’ll match Hastings’s offer simply to get you to leave.”

  Payne blinked, certain those words hadn’t just come out of his mouth. Surely to God he hadn’t just tried to bribe this woman simply to be rid of her. He didn’t bribe anyone. He didn’t need to. He played by the rules and he won, fair and square. What the hell was wrong with him? He wasn’t threatened by her, dammit, though given the suddenly crafty glint in her eye, that was the conclusion she’d instantly leaped to. A litany of anatomically impossible curses ricocheted through his head.

  “That’s a kind offer, Major Payne. Very generous,” she said, with a patronizing little smile that made his teeth grind together. “But I think I’ll stick with my original plan.”

  He leveled a cool stare at her, purposely letting a beat slide into five before he responded. “You’re in over your head. Are you sure?”

  She met his hard stare with a surprising amount of lead in her own. “I made an agreement with Colonel Hastings,” Emma told him. “And, believe it or not, my word is worth more than your money.”

  Honorable and ruthless—now there was a combination one didn’t encounter very often, Payne thought, reluctantly impressed. Unfortunately, it put them right back where they started.

  At odds.

  Payne nodded. “I am also a man of my word and I’ve given it to Colonel Garrett, so may the best man win.”

  Those ripe strawberry lips slid into another provoking smile. “No worries. The best woman will.”

  Plucky and sexy. A lethal combination. She might not be the only one in over her head, he thought, slightly alarmed.

  “Tit-for-tat time,” Emma said. “You know Hastings has offered me a nice bonus in exchange for finding this pocketwatch. What’s Garrett giving you?”

  Freedom, Payne thought instantly.

  The final payment on a life he desperately wanted to leave behind. This favor for Garrett was Payne’s last tie to his military career, to Danny’s death. Visiting Arlington again the day before yesterday had been like sticking a hot poker into a gaping wound.

  Though Payne knew he wasn’t directly responsible for Danny’s death, he’d been the one who’d coordinated that mission—his tactics had failed—and, as a result, no matter what anybody ever told him, he bore a major share of the responsibility.

  Naturally they’d all known the risks—they’d known that death had been a possibility—but up until the moment Jamie had carried Danny Levinson’s lifeless body over that hill, it hadn’t been real to them.

  They’d been invincible.

  Untouchable.

  They’d never failed. Hell, they hadn’t failed then, either—they’d just come back as three rather than four.

  Did Payne doubt his mission? His service? The belief in a greater good? No. Somebody had to do the hard work and he’d always prided himself on being one of those people—on having the stones to step up—on shouldering the burden that had been passed down from generations of fearless Americans who’d laid down their lives for the freedoms and wealth their nation enjoyed.

  But something had changed the night Danny died—Guy and Jamie had felt it as well. It was as though the spark that had made them the unit they’d been had been snuffed out right along with their friend’s life. Suddenly all that had mattered was getting out—passing the torch—and starting over.

  Guy had been the first to bring it up. It had been after the funeral, but before they’d even left the cemetery. A sea of white crosses, the newest of which belonged to their friend, lay out before them. “I don’t know about you guys,” he’d said. “But this Bama boy is sick of fishing and ready to cut bait.”

  Both he and Jamie had been thinking the same thing. They’d merely nodded and, after a final goodbye, turned and walked away. Shortly afterward, they’d come up with the idea of Ranger Security and Payne had once again lost himself in the details.

  Deadened his pain with daily minutiae.

  One way or another, though, by the end of the week, his debt to Garrett would have been paid. God willing, he could make a clean break and, while he never expected to understand Danny’s death—to an organized mind, there was no way to process senselessness—he hoped that he could come to terms with it. To move on and get past a margin of the guilt. For whatever reason, this favor to Garrett provided him with a way to do it. That was the chance Garrett was giving him.

  That’s why he couldn’t bail.

  But he couldn’t tell her that any more than he could explain it to Guy, so he twisted his lips into a semblance of a smile and fired her line right back at her. “It’s none of your damned business.”

  READING BRIAN PAYNE WAS like staring at a broken-down TV that occasionally flashed into focus. It was nearly impossible to make sense of the whole program with only a few frames for guidance. And that’s how Emma felt now. From the instant she’d barged into this room, she’d been catching flashes of Payne, but never the total picture.

  For instance, only a second ago she’d glimpsed a pain so stark that it made her breath catch. Then just as quickly it was gone, only to be replaced by a fleeting look of fierce determination. Finally he’d told her his reasons for looking for the pocketwatch were none of her damned business and was currently staring at her as though he wasn’t quite sure what to do or say next.

  Brian Payne at a loss. Surely this was a momentous occasion, she thought, suppressing a smile.

  Emma was suddenly aware of his big shoulder leaned so casually against the bedpost, the intriguing landscape of muscle displayed beneath his khaki cable-knit sweater. He’d pushed the sleeves up a bit, revealing forearms t
hat were equally muscled and covered with a smooth dusting of light blonde hair.

  His hands were big and capable and a rush of heat flooded her belly as a picture of those hands splayed across her naked back leaped instantly to mind. He could easily span her waist, she realized, and the knowledge was like an immediate aphrodisiac, making her senses swim, her nipples tingle and her stomach flutter. He reminded her of a palomino stallion she’d seen once, huge and glorious and splendidly proportioned. Harnessed energy and strength, ready for action should the need arise.

  A soft breath stuttered from between her lips as the rest of the room seemed to shrink and the bed loomed even larger into focus. In less than a blink of an eye, she imagined them naked and sweaty, her riding him until every bit of that legendary ice melted, leaving nothing but a sizzling, steamy puddle of satisfied man. Fire licked through her veins, flaring hotter in her breasts and settling in for a slow burn in her sex.

  A knock at the door startled Emma out of her daydream. Payne pushed away from the bedpost and answered it, giving her a chance to wipe some of the imaginary dribble off her chin.

  Good Lord, she had to get a grip. He was a man, Emma told herself. That was all.

  Yeah, and the Great Wall of China was a chain link fence, too, she thought with an inward snort, briefly wondering if sexual attraction could make a person’s reason completely snap. Hers had definitely suffered some sort of fracture over the past few hours, otherwise she wouldn’t be standing in her competition’s room, imagining carnal acts of depravity fit for a premium porn channel.

  “Cookies and lemonade,” Emma heard a familiar friendly voice say. It was the same older gentleman—Matthew, Norah’s father, if memory served—who’d delivered her refreshments, as well.

  Payne murmured his thanks, then went to give the man a tip.

  “Oh, we’ll have none of that,” Matthew said with a soft chuckle. “Just compliment the cook and that’s tip enough. Enjoy your stay.”

  Payne looked momentarily out of his element, as though he wasn’t accustomed to anyone refusing a tip. Given the trendy clothes, the designer watch she’d noticed only moments ago and the pricey Italian loafers on his enormous feet, she imagined he was more accustomed to staying at a five-star hotel than a quaint B&B.

  Emma paused, giving him the once over again, this time for completely different reasons than she’d had only moments before. Well, I’ll be damned, she thought with belated realization.

  She’d missed it—money.

  Evidently she’d been too bowled over by his seemingly infinite sex appeal to note it before. She’d been too busy imagining him naked to pay any attention to what he’d been wearing, but now that she took a closer look…it was obvious.

  Hell, the watch and the shoes alone would pay for a new car she wanted, Emma realized. She considered him thoughtfully. Either Brian Payne was relatively wealthy, or he was in serious debt and, for whatever reason, the latter didn’t fit. He didn’t seem like the extravagant type.

  Furthermore, this answered another question. Whatever his reasons, she could safely assume that he wasn’t here for the money. She seriously doubted Garrett could pay him enough.

  So if it wasn’t cash, then what was his motivator? Had Garrett offered him something else? Did he owe Garrett? And if so, then what? She couldn’t imagine—

  “Cookie?” Payne offered before she could ponder the conundrum any further.

  “No, thanks,” Emma told him. “I’ve already had some.”

  “Right,” Payne said with a knowing quirk of his lips. “You were quicker about getting up here than I was. You practically sprinted up the stairs.”

  Emma tucked her hair behind her ear. “I needed to stretch my legs.”

  He selected a cookie. “You needed to get away from me.”

  She winced, making light of the too true comment. “We have spent a lot of time together recently.”

  “Then you aren’t going to like the next few days.”

  Oh, hell. “What do you mean by that?” she asked cautiously.

  He lifted his shoulders in a negligent shrug. “I’m in the room next door, we’re both looking for the pocketwatch. We’re bound to run into each other. Coincidentally, of course,” he added, his lethally sexy lips sliding into a smile that held more warning than humor.

  It was just as she suspected. He’d pegged her as the enemy and intended to keep her close. A perverse thrill swept through her, even as a tense ball of dread landed in her stomach. She let go a somewhat shaky breath.

  Game on, then, Emma thought.

  “You could always move to another hotel,” she suggested, just to annoy him.

  Payne actually laughed. “Now what would be the fun in that?”

  “I didn’t realize we were here to have fun,” she said.

  In fact, she had too much riding on this to label it fun. But given what she knew about Payne and considering Hastings’s you-don’t-have-to-play-by-the-rules comment, she could sure as hell make it interesting for him. If he thought she was simply going to allow him to follow her around without putting up any resistance, then he’d better use that big brain of his to think again, Emma thought. She had too much riding on this to allow him to toy with her.

  “Odd how Garrett didn’t tell you about me,” she commented, shooting him a speculative glance.

  His expression turned grim. “‘Odd’ isn’t how I’d describe it,” he said, his voice an ominous mixture of anger and promised retribution.

  “Oh? Then how would you describe it?” Blatant fishing, but she had nothing more to lose at this point, right?

  “Stupid.”

  Oy. Emma waited, hoping he would elaborate. After a moment, when it became annoyingly obvious that he wasn’t going to, she decided to do a little more excavating. Or blasting, because she could see that trying to get anything out of this guy would be like trying to coax water from a stone. “Why do you think he decided to omit that information?”

  That cool blue gaze met hers over the rim of his lemonade glass. He took a swallow, seeming to be weighing the merit of sharing his opinion with her. “I imagine because he knew it would piss me off. I’m not used to having my services bartered in a bet. It’s insulting.”

  She had to agree with him on that. Initially she’d been too excited over the money to really stop and think about how Garrett and Hastings had pitted them against each other like lab rats, eagerly watching from a distance to see whose gopher would win. Unfortunately, right, wrong or indifferent, she didn’t have the luxury of dwelling on the insult. She had to keep her eyes on the prize, so to speak, and couldn’t afford to consider Hastings’s offer as anything more than a business arrangement.

  Another thought struck. “You said you’d had Guy McCann find out who I was and what I was doing here? How did he do that without my name?” That was something that had been really bugging her. She’d been too careful about not revealing her identity.

  “I had him call the rental car company.”

  “And they gave him my name? Isn’t that against the law?”

  Payne shrugged. “The clerk was young. It’s amazing what kind of information people will share over the phone, particularly when you tell them you’re with a security company.”

  Emma grimaced. Her mother included. “Security company?”

  “Me, Guy McCann and Jamie Flanagan started our own business when we left the military—Ranger Security. We’re based in Atlanta.”

  “Congratulations,” Emma said, because it was the appropriate response.

  Meanwhile the cookies she’d eaten a few moments ago were whirling around her gut like a load of laundry on the spin cycle and were undoubtedly going to make an encore appearance if she didn’t get a grip. He’d started a security business? she thought faintly. He’d become a friggin’ private investigator? Hell, he had resources at his disposal that were more than likely going to make this a walk in the park for him.

  Surely Hastings had known this, Emma thought, feeling blindsi
ded by the news. And, for reasons known only to himself, he’d chosen not to tell her. No doubt this was akin to the unhappy sensation Payne had felt upon learning of Garrett’s duplicity, she decided, and suddenly felt a smidge of belated regret for his situation.

  Nevertheless, Payne had most likely researched the pocketwatch and was operating on more information than the few facts Hastings had passed along to her. In addition, Payne had a staff in Atlanta who could handle a lot of the menial things—phone calls, etc.—that she’d have to take care of herself. Her gaze slid to Payne and an unhappy truth surfaced—one that, in light of this new information, she could not deny.

  If she wanted this—and she did, so very, very desperately—then she didn’t have any choice but to be ruthless.

  And she instinctively knew he was the type of person who would hate her for it.

  7

  SHE’D GIVEN HIM THE SLIP.

  Payne was so astounded he could hardly believe it. Years of special training in one of the most elite armies in the world, hours logged in reconnaissance missions which would have made men of lesser mental fiber crack, not to mention the fact that he was The Specialist, dammit, a nickname he’d earned for being so bloody good at everything.

  And yet one little woman had somehow managed to not only exit her room—hell, he’d been listening for that—but had somehow managed to crank up a friggin’ Hummer and drive it out of the parking lot without him hearing it.

  If he wasn’t so damned annoyed, he’d be impressed.

  As it was, he was pissed. His face burned from what he grimly suspected was the first blush he’d had since puberty and he silently thanked his lucky stars that neither Guy nor Jamie were here to witness his humiliation.

  To make matters worse, breakfast smelled out of this world—the tantalizing scent of French toast, eggs, bacon and sausage permeated the air—but would he get to enjoy any of it? No, he thought as his stomach rumbled with hunger. Because, thanks to little Ms. Competitive, he didn’t have time. He was not accustomed to being thwarted or missing breakfast and as such, had gruesome predictions as to how the rest of his day would go.