Agent E2: Aidan (Superhero Romance) (The D.I.R.E. Agency) Page 3

  The man sat across the table from her. The others stood behind him, staring at her. Cassandra refused to look at Aidan for fear of giving away her physical reaction.

  The other agent was definitely eye candy, but didn’t affect her like Aidan. He sported one of the armbands Aidan wore, but had no gloves. None of them carried weapons. If they were normal men, she could probably get out of this mess once she got her hands free. However, she had taken enough shocks today to last her a lifetime.

  She had to find d-Artagnan. These three were her best hope.

  “Cassandra, my name is Mitchell Jacobs.”

  Though her heart pounded inside, Cassandra hoped her face gave away nothing.

  So, this was Mitchell Jacobs. The man her father held a vendetta against her entire life. She had always wondered what happened, what had caused the animosity her father felt. Robert Naylor never told her or Dar anything; had only expected their allegiance with him and his hatred.

  “You’ve met Agent E1, Aidan Monroe.”

  Her gaze glanced off his face then back to Mitchell Jacobs. Aidan’s brilliant green gaze still managed to wedge itself in the forefront of her mind.

  “The other is Agent I1, my son, Tristan.”

  Cassandra slumped back against the chair. This was the mysterious Tristan Jacobs. The primo super-agent of the world. The man whose identity Mitchell had wiped from the record. The man that had foiled most of her father’s business deals over the last year or so.

  She flexed her fingers behind her, her hand dangling free of the cuff. It would behoove her to remain submissive. She sat in a room with three of the top agents in the world.

  “Where is my brother?”

  Mitchell’s face remained expressionless. “We have him in custody, along with several of Naylor Interests’ agents.”

  Cassandra released a breath. Dar lived. They had a chance.

  Thank you, God.

  “What is my father’s condition?”

  “Extremely critical. It’s touch and go at the moment.”

  “May I see him?”

  Aidan’s deep voice echoed in the empty room. “You’ve already seen him.”

  She glared at Aidan. He glared back, his hands clenched at his sides.

  Leaning back in his chair, Mitchell crossed his arms over his chest. “I’d be willing to let you see him if you answer some questions.”

  “I want to see d’Artagnan, too.”

  “That’s certainly possible, depending on your answers.”

  Cassandra studied the man before her. Of course, he wanted information on the gun deal tomorrow. A gun deal she didn’t dare go through with if she couldn’t simply pull off a set up. If Dar was close by, they had a chance of gaining freedom if they were in the same room.

  “Do you have some water?” She gave Mitchell a warm smile. “I’m parched.”

  Aidan growled low in his throat. “How about a robe? Some fresh towels? Today’s menu, perhaps?”

  She cocked an eyebrow at him. Escort service? Her eyes scoured his ripped body despite her brain’s fierce admonishment.

  Tristan turned and walked out the door. She’d give them minimal information, just to string them along.

  “What do you want to know?”

  Sitting forward in his chair, Mitchell leaned his forearms on the table. “Tomorrow’s gun deal. I want details: who, what, where, when...”

  “I don’t know who.”

  Rolling his eyes, Aidan turned away. Mitchell continued to stare at her.

  “They called Naylor Interests from a pay phone – once to set up the deal, a second to confirm. To my knowledge, they never identified themselves.”

  “Why do you speak in the plural?” Mitchell said.

  She shrugged. “The first time, a woman called. The second, a man. Neither call lasted long enough to trace.”

  Tristan returned with a bottle of water. He held it out to her.

  She stared at him with raised brows. “Cuffed hands, remember?”

  “You’ve been loose about five minutes now.” Aidan scowled at her.

  Dammit, these men were good.

  Turning in the chair, she held the cuff in place and pulled her other hand through the restraint. She left it dangling from the chair arm.

  Taking the water from Tristan, she gave him a nod of thanks. Unscrewing the cap, she took a long, slow drink, her eyes on Aidan. The hot walk this afternoon had nothing on the heat in his eyes now. Lowering the bottle to the table, Cassandra smiled at him through heavy-lidded eyes. She tossed her hair over her shoulder and crossed her arms on the table, enhancing her cleavage.

  “The heat is unbearable, isn’t it?”

  Aidan’s lips parted a moment, before he swallowed hard. If she thought his fists clenched before, they were white-knuckled now.

  Take that, hottie.

  Mitchell cleared his throat. “Monroe, bring me Dar Naylor.”

  d’Artagnan always had a sixth sense about impending trouble or danger. Right now, his gut burned like he’d eaten too much Cajun at Gumbo’s in Denver. Had something happened to his father?

  Lying back on the hospital bed, one hand and foot cuffed to the rail, he stared at the evening news anchor. D.I.R.E. had covered up yesterday’s entire incident. Not one media outlet carried the gun battle that had taken place in the back of the hospital. Considering the number of people involved, Mitchell had performed a damned miracle. Then again, D.I.R.E. carried off miracles well.

  He smothered a yawn. Sleep had been non-existent since it all happened. Dar couldn’t seem to get the image of his father falling to the ground out of his head. When he closed his eyes, the scene played over and over in his mind like a bad play, the guilt and turmoil eating at his chest until he felt he had no heart left. The blood, Kate’s scream, his father’s pale face…

  He shook his head to clear it. Cassandra would hate him.

  His sister was in for a world of shock. Their father’s condition, Dar’s part in the shooting, her new sister.

  Kate.

  He didn’t trust her. From what he’d been told, she hadn’t left his father’s side since the shooting. What the hell was that all about? She had dumped him for another man. Now, all was supposed to be forgiven because he could die, and she confessed Rachel was his daughter?

  When Kate walked into the room yesterday, Robert Naylor acted entranced. After twenty-five years, he still wanted her and had even taken a freaking bullet for her.

  Dar now understood why his father hated Jim Monroe so much.

  “Let’s go, Naylor.”

  Aidan Monroe entered the room. That feeling in Dar’s gut intensified. The agent carried a palpable energy about him, an electricity that hummed and sizzled in the air. He wore some kind of gloves on his hands, his forearms covered in bands like the one Jacobs wore. Could he disappear, too?

  “Well, if it isn’t the spawn of Monroe, himself. Or, should I say Frankenstein?”

  His teeth clenched, Monroe unlocked the cuff at Dar’s foot. “Don’t screw with me today, Naylor. It wouldn’t take much for me to kill you.”

  Dar sat up as Aidan worked on his handcuff. Dar definitely believed every word Monroe said. Anger, or maybe frustration, radiated off of him like sunrays. Dar knew when to play it safe and when to go for it, and until he learned more about these super powers the D.I.R.E. agents carried, he would follow orders. He had to do it for Cassandra and his father.

  Aidan cuffed Dar to his wrist. The hair on his arm stood on end. Aidan led him out into the fourth floor corridor.

  “Where are we going?”

  “To see your sister.”

  Dar stumbled a step. No, not Cassandra. If anyone was innocent in all of this, it was her. He and his father had kept her out of the danger for a reason. She meant the world to both of them.

  “Where?”

  Turning a corner, Monroe shoved open the first door on the right. His sister sat at a table in the middle of the room, Mitchell Jacobs across from her. Tristan stood ag
ainst the wall – wearing his shirt?

  Hell, they’d set her up. No wonder his gut had been going spastic.

  Cass’s face lit up when she saw him. Rising to her feet, she rushed to Dar and threw her arms around his waist. Not exactly what he would recommend in this situation, but then again, she was Cassandra. A woman who wore her heart on her sleeve.

  Tristan escorted Cassandra to her chair. Once she sat, he cuffed her wrist to his and pulled up a chair beside her. She gave him a fierce frown.

  Dar smiled for the first time in days.

  He and Monroe sat in two chairs against the wall adjacent to the table. Mitchell would play their safety against one another. At this point in time, Dar knew it wouldn’t take much for him to cave. He had already caused the probable death of his father. He couldn’t live with his twin’s death on his hands, too.

  Mitchell took a deep breath. “If the two of you cooperate, we’ll allow you time alone and give you an update on your father. If not, we’ll make the two of you disappear. Bottom line.”

  Cassandra didn’t move a muscle. However, the rapid pulse at the base of her neck gave her away.

  She had never faced a situation where death proved a serious threat. He hated these bastards for doing this to her.

  Her gaze shot to him. Dar expected her to wait for a signal but her gaze moved on to Monroe.

  She just stared at Aidan, her brow puckered, her eyes turned down at the corners.

  What was that about?

  Dar spoke up. “What do you want?”

  Lifting her chin, Cassandra gave Dar a haughty brow. “They want to know about the gun deal tomorrow.”

  The freaking thirty-million-dollars-in-gold gun deal that would’ve put Naylor Interests on a whole new level. Maybe even garnered them weapons like Tristan Jacobs possessed. If he and Cassandra could get out of this somehow, they could still pull it off. However, with each of them cuffed to these super-powered agents, their chances weren’t looking very good. Naylor Interests would be a no-show in this deal, ruining their reputation as one of the best in weapons distribution.

  “What have you told them?”

  “That we don’t know the buyer’s identity. They called us from a pay phone but we were never able to trace the call.”

  Dar shrugged. “There you go, Jacobs. Now, give us time alone.”

  Sighing, Mitchell whipped out a gun from his shoulder holster and pointed it at Cassandra. She caught her breath, her eyes round.

  Oh, hell no. That would not happen. Dar would kill them all with his bare hands first.

  A tiny spark of electricity zipped past Dar’s red line of vision. A second later, hundreds of them shot from Aidan’s body, zipping and sparking around him like fireflies on crack. Monroe emitted an audible hum, the low frequency reaching Dar’s ears. The hair on the side of Dar’s head stood on end.

  This guy was f’d up.

  Aidan said, “She’s your freaking sister, Naylor. Talk, dammit.”

  Tristan and Mitchell acted like Monroe did nothing out of the ordinary. His sister had a gun pointed in her face.

  He and Cass didn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell of getting out of this. Was this the end of Naylor Interests and all he had lived for his entire life?

  “The deal goes down tomorrow night…”

  Mitchell lowered his gun. The sparks disappeared from Aidan’s air space.

  “Ten o’clock.”

  “Location in Brazil?” Mitchell said.

  Dar cursed under his breath. They hadn’t known the true location, after all. Tristan hadn’t come to Creekmore in anticipation of the deal.

  Dammit.

  “Brazil was a decoy.”

  Mitchell sat up in his chair.

  “The deal is going down at an empty electronics store here in Creekmore.”

  Chapter 3

  Get a grip, Monroe.

  Aidan nearly swallowed his tongue when Cassandra blessed him with that ridiculously sexy pose in the interrogation room. The sweat on his temple proved the heat certainly had been unbearable, and Aidan gained renewed confidence that he could still get an erection despite her attempts to neuter him that morning.

  Thank God Mitchell had sent him out of the room. Based on the smirk on Tristan’s face, her effect on him had been evident to both of the Jacobs’s men.

  Then Mitchell had to go and shove a gun in her face. Bald and blinding anger came out of nowhere, shooting Aidan’s system into overdrive. He had freaked the hell out of Dar - himself too – with those short zaps of electricity. Controlling his temper had become an issue.

  Now, they knew the gun deal would go down in his father’s electronics store. The buyers had to be the same people that dealt with Jim the first time. Aidan relished the idea of killing them.

  Tristan walked beside Aidan as they made their way to the hospital cafeteria for dinner. The cafeteria closed after the noon meal so they should have the room to themselves. Ben Adams’s attorney had made a special trip to the hospital to meet with Rachel on Ben’s funeral. Tristan ordered in Vinnie’s pizza – Rachel’s favorite. The poor guy had to do something to lift her spirits after being separated from her all day.

  “Dar said the buyers had limited travel capabilities,” Tristan said. “Why would anyone come back to the scene of the crime months later?”

  Aidan shrugged. “Because no one would expect it.”

  “Or…” Tristan pushed open the cafeteria door. “...they aren’t the original killers at all, and they’re trying to frame them.”

  Aidan shook his head, refusing to believe that. He needed this shot at vengeance.

  Looking around the room, he spotted Rachel at a distant table with Mr. Coffee, the attorney.

  “I know you want a shot at them, Monroe. I get it. But, it would be a brilliant plan, wouldn’t it?”

  Yes, it would be clever. However, out of all of the places in the world, little Creekmore, Texas?

  “At least we know we can rule out Naylor.” Tristan said.

  “That will make Rachel feel a little better.”

  If he admitted it to himself, it made him feel better too, knowing Cassandra Naylor had nothing to do with Jim’s death.

  Tristan said, “I had pretty much ruled them out when Ben told me about the Commando revolvers.”

  “Yeah. Every one of the Naylor agents had PPXs. Whoever we’re dealing with, they’re not a run of the mill buyer. We have to expect the unexpected.”

  Reaching the table, Aidan smiled at the relieved look on Rachel’s face when she saw Tristan. It did his heart good to see his sister in love.

  Tristan kissed her, then shook Mr. Hensen’s hand. Aidan did the same before they all sat.

  “Tris.” Rachel clasped his hand on top of the table. “We’re going to hold the funeral on Tuesday. Is that doable with your schedule?”

  His sister’s eyes were rimmed in red, her nose and cheeks blotchy.

  Tristan nodded. “That’s fine.” He turned to Mr. Hensen. “What do we need to do?”

  Hensen’s partially-bald head shined in the lights overhead. “Nothing. Ben had already taken care of everything with the funeral home. He elected to be cremated.”

  Although Aidan hadn’t been around Creekmore much since he joined the SEALS, he would miss old Ben Adams. His father and Ben had been good friends, and would even catch a few beers together at Willie’s during football season.

  His life, and Rachel’s, had changed so drastically. Aidan felt like he stood on a spinning top that would never halt.

  Hensen ran a hand over his bald head. “I understand things are rather hectic at the moment, but Ben requested that his will be read immediately following his funeral.” He glanced back and forth between Rachel and Tristan. “Would you have time for that?”

  Aidan frowned. “Why the rush?”

  Hensen shrugged. “I think he wanted Rachel to have the money right away, knowing her financial state of affairs following your father’s illness.”

  Jacobs had
taken care of that for Rachel, the old, lovesick fool. Now, she had to figure out how to run a five thousand acre ranch with several oil rigs scattered throughout.

  Tristan kissed Rachel’s palm. “I’m yours for the day, baby. I’ll be there for you.”

  He shook his head. “Make no mistake, Mr. Jacobs. You’re in the will, too.”

  He pulled back his head and frowned. “Me? I only knew him a few days.”

  “You were a late addition.” Hensen smiled.

  Rachel hugged Tristan’s arm and smiled up at him. “I told you he loved you.”

  Aidan signaled to the pizza delivery boy. “Maybe we’ll finally learn what he meant about the barrels.”

  “The barrels?” Hensen frowned.

  Tristan said, “The last words out of Ben’s mouth before he died were ‘it’s in the barrels.’”

  “Well,” he said, “Ben does have barrels. Considering the number of oil rigs on his place, there are hundreds of oil barrels scattered all over his ranch. Good luck with that one.”

  #####

  “d’Artagnan, why did Mitchell say he would let you tell me what happened to Father?”

  Cassandra swallowed down a bite of her hamburger as she watched the color drain from her brother’s face. She had never seen her twin look so pale or so… sick. He looked like he wanted to barf.

  Dar had always portrayed a sarcastic confidence, an emotional banner that told everyone he could never be hurt. Of course, being his twin, she knew that to be a show for the public. Like her, he had missed out on a normal life, a mother, loyal friends, etc. and had bought into her father’s wrath - hook, line and sinker. He had adopted the hatred even though he never learned why their father hated the D.I.R.E. Agency and Mitchell Jacobs.

  She, on the other hand, had gone along for the ride. She had done whatever it took to please her father, had supported him in whatever he did even though she held no personal vendetta against any of them.

  After meeting Aidan Monroe, she wished things were different. She was attracted to him like no other man before him, and she had met several over the years, all vying for a spot in the Naylor Interests organization. All vying for marriage to Robert Naylor’s daughter.