Chapter 34
Don”t call me chick
April 24
Wednesday late afternoon
The gridthat Donovan currently had up in his war room at Kristin’s was huge. It was a detailed map of the Harvard psychology hall. I had an antsy feeling all over and I had a hard time sitting still in my chair.
Donovan frowned at a monitor showing a series of transcripts from some of Harvard’s professors and students. We’d recorded these today while Jensen and Weiss went in and did their thing.
From the fact that we knew Kristin was in the Boston area, that she had attended Harvard, and from what Carlene had said, my bet was on the Harvard lead, too.
In the meantime, we were all following every other damned lead we hit. Internet chat rooms, snitches, surveillance tapes—
So far everything led to nothing.
The doorbell rang.
I frowned at Donovan.
“It’s probably the guys.” Donovan’s eyes looked so tired.
The doorbell’s ring was more insistent and I stood. “The special, special specialists?”
Donovan started to get up, but I reached the door first. “I’ll go see if it’s your special, special guys.”
A little amusement crossed his features, and I turned and headed for the front door.
The doorbell rang again. I yanked the door open.
A huge man was on the other side. And I mean huge.
His intense black eyes and the deadly air about him that said he’d kill a person without thinking twice had my heart pounding and blood pumping.
I stepped one foot back, just enough to anchor myself, and my whole body went on guard as I took a loose-limbed stance.
“Who are you?” I asked.
He gave an amused aren’t-you-a-cute-little-thing look. A thick braid brushed his back as he looked over his shoulder and at the same time braced one hand on the door frame. His huge biceps flexed, as did the Bengal tiger tattooed there. “Some chick is here, guys. She’s pretty hot, but I think she’s got a temper.”
Speaking of hot and a temper, heat flushed beneath my skin and I ground my teeth before speaking. “First of all. I’m not some chick. Second of all, I don’t appreciate being talked about like I’m not here.”
The man looked back at me and narrowed his black eyes. I narrowed mine.
“Tiger, the five-four agent with the attitude of a six-seven linebacker is my partner,” came Donovan’s voice from his war room. “You can let them in, Steele.”
Them? The guy was so huge I hadn’t seen the men behind him until I peeked around his arm.
“Jeez,” I muttered before letting by all that steely muscle and testosterone.
“Oh, yeah,” the first guy said. “That’s the naked chick we found.”
“Don’t. Call. Me. Chick,” I shouted at his backside. The naked part I ignored.
The tiredness in my bones totally fled when I came face-to-face with another man who had “killer” written all over him. The soreness of my body was just an afterthought as I stepped back and two more huge men passed by. One of them had an earring and winked at me.
I just stared at their backsides for a moment before I shut the door and followed them into Donovan’s war room.
The four huge men crowded the relatively small space. The guy called Tiger was the closest to me. Including Donovan, I was in the Land of the Giant Testosterone Factories. My brothers were big guys—with the exception of my twelve-year-old brother—but this…. I felt like a peg about to be pounded by five huge hammers.
Donovan stood and with one hand rubbed his eyes, which looked as tired as I’d felt before I’d come face-to-face with Tiger.
Donovan braced his hand on the back of the chair he’d been sitting in and looked from me to the men surrounding me. I saw another flash of amusement. “These guys worked Special Ops with me when I went back into the service, and you might say we”ve kept in touch.”
I hadn’t realized Donovan had gone back into the service. I had wondered what he’d done after Kristin turned eighteen, but we just never had a chance to have another heart-to-heart.
“Guys, this is Special Agent Lexi Steele,” Donovan said, “and you’d better play nice because she was a sniper in the Army Special Forces, and a trained assassin.”
The guys looked interested, if not disbelieving, as they looked down at little ole me. Jeez, these behemoths were all anywhere from ten to twelve inches taller than me.
All four of the Special Ops guys were even more powerfully built than Donovan, a couple of them more musclebound than the others. I wouldn’t call Donovan musclebound, but he was damned muscular, and if there was the tiniest bit of fat on him I’d kiss that tight ass of his.
So what if I’d like to bite that ass anyway?
I kept my expression clear as I looked from man to man to man to man. Tiger moved so close to me my skin prickled.
Donovan gestured to the guy beside me. “Tiger Manning.” Then he named off the other three guys as he pointed to them. “Aaron Lloyd, Mike Freeman, and Eric Harrison.”
The men came up to me one at a time and we shook hands, each guy making me feel as small as a child as they took my hand in their big grips.
I went for the casual you-don’t-scare-me-one-damned-bit approach as I was introduced to the guys. “Hi, Lloyd,” I said as he gave my hand a firm squeeze. Aaron Lloyd had a hawk’s amber eyes—totally amazing eyes.
Mike Freeman was next. “Didn’t know Donovan had such a sexy partner,” Freeman said in a slow, deep, Southern drawl that could curl a girl’s toes.
“Didn’t know Donovan had such oafs for friends,” I said with a sugar-sweet smile as he released my hand and he grinned.
“We usually call Freeman ‘Tank,’” Donovan said.
Yeah, the man with the blond crew cut, barbed wire tattoo around his biceps on one arm, and a big stocky build did look like a friggin’ tank.
Next, Eric Harrison took my hand in the firmest grip yet. He had an even more vicious air to him than Tiger had, if that was possible. It was in his grin and in his brown eyes as he looked at me.
“Harrison,” I said as I assessed him, taking in his long brown ponytail and gold earring. He was the one who’d winked at me.
I made myself shake Tiger Manning’s hand and he gave me a wicked, wicked grin. Jerk. “Manning,” I greeted him before I removed my hand from his grip.
By this time, we were all crowded into the small room, me at the center. “Bet you guys are a real kick at a keg party,” I said, and Freeman laughed while the others grinned.
I braced my hands on my hips. “So, what’s the deal?”
Donovan gestured to the other chairs. “Have a seat, guys.” I swear it was a wonder those chairs didn’t bust beneath their power-packed bodies.
I took my seat close to Donovan. So what if I’d rather be closer to him?
He started laying everything out to the guys, all our plans for tracking down the professors at Harvard who were involved in the “sex with a student dropout.”
“We’ll take care of that at RED.” Donovan didn’t notice my stunned expression because he’d named our agency.
“What I need you guys to keep working on is to find that soon-to-be-dead sonofabitch Cabot. We’ll keep in close contact, and I’ll call you in if we think we’ve found Kristin.”
The guys talked a little more and I mentally took full measure of each man. Speaking of, these guys were mean sonsofbitches, every one of them. I calculated what I thought their biggest weaknesses were, just for the hell of it. Wasn’t easy, and I knew it wasn’t necessary. If Donovan could trust them, then I would.
I glanced at Tiger Manning. Didn’t mean I had to like them.
April24
Wednesday evening
The sheaf of papers I’d printed out, of notes from the Harvard team, almost slipped from the fingers of my good hand when I picked them up, and I had to tighten my grip.
After the “special special team” left, Donovan and I spent all of our time doing everything we could to search for Kristin. We couldn’t find her fast enough. Already she’d been missing far too long.
The ache in my heart was like an anchor weighing me down. I hurt for both of them, especially Kristin. If it was the last thing I did, I was going to help Donovan find his sister.
Okay, one of the last two things I did. I was going to help find Kristin, but I was going to avenge Randolph’s death by gunning for Cabot, too—even if I had to chase him around the world.
Why did every breath I take in seem to hurt? It wasn’t from my broken ribs.
The back of my eyes ached. I closed them and tried to slow my breathing. It wasn’t going to do anyone a bit of good if I lost control because of what was happening to Kristin.
Breathe in. Breathe out. Open your eyes.
My gaze rested on Donovan. So serious. So intense.
The words on the Harvard notes blurred. My focus was nonexistent, and my brain started misfiring. A loud growl sounded in the room, and it took me a moment to realize it was my stomach making all that noise.
Donovan looked away from what he’d been studying and pushed his chair back from his desk. He swiped his hand down his stubbled face. “I’ll fix dinner.”
“You so know how to sweet-talk me.” I managed a tired smile as we stood.
Talk about a long day. It had started with the early morning meeting with the team penetrating the school, work at RED, then more work at Donovan’s, then meeting Donovan’s “friends,” and then more time on reviewing the first day’s notes from the Harvard op. It was hard to believe Carlene’s call was only last night.
Donovan caught me by the shoulders before I could leave the room. “Why don’t you listen to me and rest? You don’t need to be doing this.”
I kept my gaze on him. “I’m going to help you find Kristin. Try and stop me.”