THE LAWS OF PASSION Read online

  "Gee, thanks." He reached over and took her chin in his hand, forcing her to look at him. "You mean when I first told you I wasn't guilty you thought I was lying?"

  She pulled her chin from his grip, but turned in her seat to face him. "That's how I was trained. Suspect everyone and trust no one. It isn't personal. It's just my job."

  Not personal? And here he'd been dreaming of making things between them as personal as you can get. He still wanted that. In fact, his fingers ached right now with wanting to touch her again.

  "Okay, Dana. Let's go see the man who can prove who you are." This revelation of hers was going to take a bit of getting used to.

  She bent to crank the ignition, but he suddenly thought of something and stopped her. "Hey. Dana Aldrich is your real name, isn't it?"

  "It's the name I've always used," she told him flatly. "That's all I can tell you."

  * * *

  Marc sat in stony silence while Dana drove them all over town, ending up only a few blocks from where they'd started. She'd made two mobile-phone calls, but he didn't catch much from her side of the conversation.

  A war was going on inside him. He was mad. Confused. Slightly frightened and … still desperate to find a way into Dana's bed. She was totally different than any woman he'd ever known. And he'd never figured that he would be so attracted to a tough, professional law-woman.

  In fact, he never figured he would be attracted to any woman ever again after that monumentally embarrassing fiasco of last year. Yet, here he was, lusting after a woman with long, soft curls and the biggest brown eyes he'd ever seen.

  They finally pulled into a darkened garage behind a nondescript building on East Bryan Street and parked the car. "Where are we?" he asked.

  "The FBI Resident Agency office. Luckily, my boss is here in Savannah from the Atlanta field office. I want him to meet you."

  They climbed the back stairs to the fourth floor. "The office is open at this hour?" he asked.

  She shook her head and led him into a shadowed hallway. "The public reception area closes at five. We're headed to a small conference suite in back."

  Dana opened a door for him to walk through. As he stepped inside, he saw a medium sized room, absolutely crammed with high-tech equipment. When his eyes adjusted to the dim light, he recognized state-of-the-art computers and a screen that seemed to be some kind of radar scanner. A young man was sitting in front of communications-style machines that blinked with lights and buzzed with noises.

  But Dana didn't acknowledge the man who was operating the computers. She walked right past the guy.

  "This way." Dana motioned Marc to follow her into a side room. "Good evening, SAC Simon," she said as she closed the door.

  "Dana." A middle-aged man with steel blue eyes and a little gray at his temples stood and walked toward them. "And this must be Marcus Danforth. I'm Special Agent-In-Charge Steve Simon. Please just call me Steve." He shook hands. "How're you doing?"

  "I'm not so hot, at the moment," Marc grumbled. "This morning I was in jail, and tonight I seem to have been dropped into some kind of weird espionage movie. I'm not thrilled about either one."

  "Have a seat, son. I think we'd better talk." Steve moved to the polished wood conference table and took a chair.

  When the three of them were seated, Marc couldn't wait to start asking questions. "Why am I here? What do you want from me?"

  "You're here in our covert operations office because Dana has disobeyed standard procedures and told you who she really is," Steve replied. "You are also here because you may be able to help both your family and your country. Are you willing to listen to and then consider a proposition to do both of those things?"

  Marc nodded his head but kept his mouth shut. He wasn't sure how he'd gotten himself into this mess, but now he knew he needed advice on how to get out of it.

  "Good. But first, I want to assure you that the woman you've known as your bodyguard is indeed Special Agent Dana Aldrich. I've already received a call from my old friend, Michael Whittaker, saying your brother Ian is determined to find out the truth about her. I'll call Ian later and explain. We'll probably be needing his assistance on this investigation anyway."

  Steve sat back in his chair and studied both Marc and Dana. "I understand your brother received a phone call tonight from Ernesto Escalante. If he is determined to get your family's assistance in his schemes, there is no way you can escape his wrath. He's one of the most dangerous men on earth. So far you have all been very lucky."

  "Lucky? I wouldn't say that what we've been through qualifies as anything but bad luck." Marc gritted his teeth in frustration. "Don't tell me there's no hope of besting the cartel. I refuse to believe it. I intend to get the proof I need to beat my frame-up."

  Steve smiled at him. "I believe you would try it. But you might die trying. And then what? Escalante would just keep the pressure on Ian to do what he wants. Killing off your family members one by one would be his next move."

  "That's what Ian said." Marcus was annoyed as hell now. There had to be a way out of this.

  "Your brother is a smart man who's been in a terrible bind. But I have an idea for something that might end your family's terror right here. Will you listen?"

  Marc sat up in his chair and looked from Dana to Steve and back again. "I'll listen."

  Steve spent the next hour outlining a plan for him and Dana to investigate the whereabouts of Escalante and then for them to participate in a sting designed to capture the man and put an end to the blackmail once and for all. Marc wasn't positive the plan would work. But he figured it was worth a shot. After all, he was the one family member that now had nothing to lose.

  It was two a.m. when he and Dana left the FBI office and climbed back into her car. "Does this car really belong to you?" he inquired as he stifled a yawn.

  "It's a Bureau vehicle," she told him. "It has a few modifications over the standard issue. It'll do sixty in eight seconds flat. There are airbags across the front and on all doors."

  She smiled as they buckled up. "And it's also equipped with a transmitter and GPS positioner that will work in a radius of up to three hundred miles."

  "Terrific." Marc was becoming more irritable by the second. Regardless of being warned by her boss to obey Dana's instructions at the risk of his life, he was tired and still furious that Dana had lied to him. Oh, he knew it was her job, but still…

  "Where are we headed?" he scowled.

  "To your farm. Now that I know for sure you're not involved with the cartel, I'm convinced they have no reason to take you out … yet. They need you alive, temporarily, to use as a hold over Ian. So we should be fairly safe at your home for a while."

  Dana backed out of the garage and headed down the river road in the general direction of the farm. "Besides, you look like you're about to drop. We'll be able to form a clearer strategy after you get a good night's sleep."

  Marc stewed in silence for the entire forty-five minutes it took them to travel what should've been a twenty-minute trip. Evidently, she was never going to drive in a straight line to any destination.

  When they arrived, she pulled in behind the barn and they got out as she locked the doors. "I'll check your SUV for bugs and tracking devices in the morning. We may need to use it as part of the sting."

  "Swell." He grabbed her arm and swung her around to face him. "You owe me something. You've admitted you lied, and I want to know how many of the things you told me were true and what was just part of the game."

  In the clear light of a full moon, he saw her face flush with anger and her hands ball into fists. "I told you … it was all part of the job."

  She tried to jerk herself free from his grasp, but he tightened his grip. "No dice, sister. That's not going to cut it anymore. I want to know who you are—underneath the tough special agent."

  "Don't make a huge mistake before we even get started, Danforth. You're asleep on your feet. It'll all look better in the morning."

  "Maybe so, sugar. But I'm still going to want answers."

  She was right. It was a mistake to take out all his frustrations on her. But what the hell? He'd been dying to get his hands on her since the first instant she'd spoken his name in that spun-sugar voice of hers. And now he could feel her muscled upper arm flexing under his hard.

  He wanted to touch her skin without the clothes. He wanted to see what she looked like standing naked before him. He wanted…

  "Take your hand off me." She slipped her keys into her pocket with her free hand. "And don't call me sugar." She turned her body away from him and jerked on her arm again.

  "Oh. Excuse me. I meant Special Agent Sugar." The wave of tenderness he felt was a complete surprise. But the wave of passion that pushed it aside with an erotic shove was nothing new. He'd been plagued by those sexy urges for most of this very long evening.

  In one fell swoop, Marc swung her off her feet and into his arms. "Aw, the hell with it." He forgot his irritation and forgot the rules of decency along with it. "Let's just find out what's real and what's not—right now."

  * * *

  Four

  « ^ »

  "Marcus?" The look on Dana's face had to be pure amazement. Not so much because he'd physically assaulted her—they both knew she could've defended herself against him with little trouble.

  No, she looked—self-conscious. A bit frightened by her own lack of resistance, perhaps. Or maybe she was simply amazed because she'd let things get out of control. He wondered if she was feeling concerned by his actions … or if she felt as stunned by her own reactions as he did.

  Lost in the sensual moment, Marc forgot everything as his blood heated and pulsed. He forgot about being arrested. He forgot she was an FBI agent. He surprisingly managed to even forget that he'd sworn off women forever.

  "Dana." Desire roughened his voice as they stared into each other's eyes. He tried again. "Please…"

  Never before had she heard anyone say her name in quite that same raspy, pleading kind of voice. The sound sent licks of fire spiraling down her spine. She shivered in the flames, without really understanding why.

  She would give anything to hear him say her name that way once more. But instinct made her afraid to ask for what she wanted. Afraid to break the spell. She wasn't frightened of him—only of herself.

  A soft uncertain noise sounded in her ears, and she realized it came from her own throat. It surprised her, the same way she'd been amazed when she placed a hand against his chest to balance herself and found his heart beating as rapidly as her own.

  Finding her throat suddenly dry, she swallowed hard. His eyes dropped to her mouth, and she knew in an instant what would come next. He lowered his head the few inches separating their mouths and grazed his lips against hers.

  Soft. The thought registered with surprise. The texture of his mouth felt like velvet—so soft, so exotic.

  Dana couldn't exactly remember when she'd last kissed a man—if she ever really had. But she did know for sure that it could not have been like this.

  For all its gentleness, there was a deep demand in Marcus's kiss. Hunger and passion were buried under the guise of a tender touch. She was certain about his desires because the drugging insistence of them was pulling the same responses from her own body.

  A breathless whimper rumbled deep and escaped her lips, amazing her yet again with such wanton responses to him. As if with a life of their own, her fingers began to knead the cotton of his shirt. The navy-blue pullover bunched as she flexed her hand.

  She wished she had the nerve and the time to rip his shirt all the way off so she could run her fingers through the hair on his chest. The vision of him shirtless was as clear to her now as it had been a few hours ago when he'd first stepped from his shower. And she felt every bit as desperate to touch that hair-covered flesh—to slide her palms over his work-hardened muscles … as she had then.

  Marcus eased one of his hands away, slowly letting her slide down the full length of him, without ever breaking the kiss. She felt his stiffened flesh pressing against her belly, right through both their slacks.

  When he tenderly placed his hands on her face and kneaded her jaw, she opened for him. His tongue caressed her lips, seducing its way past them to find her teeth. She opened wider yet and gingerly touched his tongue with hers.

  Intoxicating and sweet. Like nothing she'd ever experienced before.

  Marcus anchored a fist in her hair and slid the other hand down her back. Endlessly, his palm inched a heated path down her spine, finally coming to rest on her hip.

  Deepening the kiss, he coaxed her tongue to wind around his. Then he drove deeper still, blasting her with a wicked heat. He dragged her hips tighter against his groin.

  She melted against him. There was no resistance anywhere in her body. In her whole life she'd never felt so limp and needy. Wanting this, wanting him, she moaned into his mouth.

  Marc heard the sound like a roar of white water across slickened rocks. She tasted sizzling hot, icy sweet. When he felt her hands tentatively touch his shoulders, it was as if the rest of the world simply ceased to exist.

  Passion and power. He'd found all of that and more in her kiss. Feasting on her softness, he filled his hands with her rounded jeans-covered bottom.

  He broke the kiss, needing to taste the rest of her. Licking his way up her jawline, he found her sensitive earlobe and suckled. What fascinating sensations she had stirred in him. He kissed his way down her neck, restlessly moving his hands up and down her sides, eager to fill his palms with her breasts.

  Finally covering one breast with his hand, he lasered his mouth back across hers, letting the beast inside the man go free. He wanted to taste every inch. He wanted to go on, licking and lathing, until he could bury himself deep inside her welcoming body.

  Somewhere, back in a still-rational part of his brain, he knew this was not how a man kissed a woman for the first time. But this was the kind of kiss—the kind of woman—that he'd dreamed about for all of his life.

  Dana was so much more than anyone before. So strong, yet so tender. Passionate, vibrant and real. She was everything that Alicia had never been.

  That shocking thought brought him up abruptly. The pain of remembering Alicia's betrayal threw ice water against his heated skin and numbed his desire. What in God's name was he doing?

  Clutching lamely at Dana's shoulders, he levered himself away from her and tried to catch his breath. She reached out to him and opened her drugged eyes, silently pleading with him to come back.

  Heaven knew that's what he wanted, too. He wanted to go on kissing her … and much more.

  He shut his eyes and cursed through gritted teeth.

  Dana found herself blinking furiously, but at last she cleared the confusion from her brain. "Where the hell did that come from, Danforth?" she demanded with a shaky voice. "What were you thinking?"

  Marc opened his eyes wide, but took a step back. "I'm not sure. But whatever it was, you were thinking it too." The look in his eyes held the same accusations and disorientation that she was feeling.

  Many inadequate images ripped through her, but she wasn't positive she could articulate any of them. She'd definitely wanted him to keep on kissing her. But the rational side of her knew it had been right for them to stop.

  From deep in her gut, she tried putting up an invisible shield around her emotions. But her fingers wouldn't obey her brain and automatically went to her swollen lips, tentatively touching the still-pulsing flesh there.

  It had never occurred to her that she might ever kiss a man like that. And for it to be this man—the man she was supposed to be using to get to the head of a dangerous cartel…

  Well, she supposed there was just no explaining it. Not to him and certainly not to herself.

  Clearing her throat, she pressed her lips together and tried to think. "Let's get inside the house before we're spotted," she finally managed. "Do the gates on your fence actually close and lock?"

  Marc had been standing there, studying her in the glare of the automatic yard lights. "Yeah," he answered with a drawl. "At least they did a year ago when I first moved in. The chain-link is mostly just for Laddie, not for protection. But the dog has never needed fencing. Outside the house, he knows where he belongs."

  "Go lock the gates then," she ordered. "I'll get a couple of things out of my trunk and meet you inside after I disarm the security system."

  Her words seemed to shake him from his sensual stupor. "Make sure Laddie is inside the fence before I lock the gates," he told her before spinning around and heading off into the crisp autumn night.

  After he'd gone, Dana finally took a huge deep, cleansing breath. She stood five foot eight and sometimes towered over men, but Marc's six-two had made him seem like a giant standing next to her.

  Shaking the cobwebs from her head, she dug the duffel out of the trunk. Ridiculous. Men simply did not make her nervous. Never had. And she was determined that Marc Danforth would not be the first.

  In all of her life … first in high school while walking the dangerous streets of her neighborhood, then in college taking law enforcement courses with tough ex-marines, and finally at Quantico during FBI training … she'd turned men into friends or enemies. But every single one of them had kept a respectful distance.

  She'd never allowed any of them to push her, and she'd worked hard at being one of the guys. It had been important to her to maintain that professional distance.

  Always managing to keep her sexual naiveté quite well-hidden, in high school and college it had been a matter of self-preservation. No dates meant no sex. No sex meant no chance of ending up with a scoundrel like her father.

  Eventually, though, she'd stopped thinking about men as anything but friends, co-workers or suspects. And at this point in her life, it would be just too embarrassing to admit that she was inexperienced at something so basic as relations between men and women.

  Dana threw the duffel over her shoulder and went to the back porch, calling Laddie as she went. Finding him standing on the step, eagerly awaiting her arrival, he made her smile.