Page 51

Hungry for it all.
Just open that bedroom door, growled that beast.
She wants you and you know it, whispered that wolf.
Make her yours like your body wants, panted that predator.
Now Ice almost shouted out loud as his temples throbbed like his skull wanted to split in two. He slammed the base of his palm against the side of his head, doing it again and again like a madman as he stalked through the room like a caged lion driven insane from going back and forth over his own footsteps, his own thoughts, his own desires.
Then the phone buzzed against his thigh, startling him back from the abyss his thoughts were spinning him towards. He yanked the phone out of his cargo flap.
It was Jack, and Ice had never been happier to see his kid brother’s oversized profile picture grinning back at him. He strode over to the far side of the suite, pulled open the window drapes, gazed out over the grayish haze of smog-clouds and street-lights that lay over the city like a blanket.
“Now what?” said Ice, doing his best to mask his relief, his gratitude that Jack had rescued him from his own thoughts.
“Now I want to know what’s really going on with you and that woman,” came Jack’s crackling voice. “Benson conferenced me in cold. I had no idea he was listening in on you until I heard that shit about the rubbing-post.”
Ice groaned and rubbed his eyes. Now he regretted taking Jack’s call. “Rubbing-post. Right. So you just called to rub my face in it. Fine. Laugh it out, Jack. Just remember that soon enough you’ll have to see me in person, and I will make damn sure to wipe that jackass grin off your ugly face.”
Jack chuckled wickedly, then took a loud breath and sighed it out equally loudly. “I’m already laughed out, man. That’s why I waited three hours to call you. Had to catch my breath. Replenish my electrolytes.”
Ice gazed out over the smog-covered city, then sighed and pulled the drapes closed again. Daybreak was still a couple of hours away. If nothing else, listening to Jack bust his balls would keep him alert.
“Where are you?” Ice asked. “Still watching over the Senator and his family in DC?”
“Negative. Benson pulled us off guard duty.”
Ice frowned. “Why?”
“Said it wasn’t his decision. Senator asked Benson to do it.”
“You didn’t say something stupid and piss off the Senator or his wife, did you, Jack?”
Jack chuckled. “Nah, I save all my smack-talk for you.” He took a breath, exhaled into the phone. “Benson says the Senator doesn’t want to be associated with Darkwater right now. His regular security detail has a couple of Army veterans. They’ve been hearing things about Darkwater.” He paused a beat. “Not all of them good.”
Ice rubbed his jaw. “Not surprising. I warned you to stay away from Benson and Darkwater. Now we’re both in it, and—”
“Nobody put a gun to your head,” Jack interrupted sharply. “I don’t need you watching my ass. Joining Darkwater was your own damn choice.” Jack took a breath, and when he exhaled Ice knew that shit-eating grin had broken wide on his kid brother’s face again. “And I’d bet you a thousand push-ups you’d make the same choice if you could do it over. Am I wrong?”
Ice’s jaw tightened. He glanced across the room at the bedroom door. Thought about what lay beyond it, resting peacefully between silky smooth sheets, safe because Ice was standing guard, watching over her like a sentinel stalking the perimeter.
He didn’t take Jack’s bet.
Ice knew he’d lose.
Of course, he couldn’t admit that to the grinning jackass, so Ice just moved on.
“So what’s Benson got you doing now?”
Jack sighed. “Nothing. I mean, we’re still all hunting this guy Diego officially. Or unofficially, I guess. Hell, nobody’s even certain it was him on that ship. Hogan only got a brief glimpse of the guy in the dark. And Hannah got choked from behind. She barely remembers what the guy looked like.” He sighed again. “Benson’s certain it’s him, though. Says Diego wouldn’t trust this mission to anyone else. Apparently, the Zetas expect their leaders to be hands-on.”
Ice nodded, peered through the spyhole into the hallway again. It was still clear, and he went to the hard-cushioned sofa and sprawled lengthwise on it, his boots hanging over the armrest, eyes facing the closed bedroom door.
“Did Benson bring the FBI in on this? Secret Service? Local police?”
“Negative,” said Jack. “FBI and NYPD helped search the harbor and shoreline after that mess on theRivington, but there was no sign of anyone making it ashore. No body washed up anywhere. Benson let the issue drop. You know how it is with these CIA guys. FBI and police cramp their style. Too many rules.”
Ice grunted in agreement. He knew damn well that the CIA and FBI didn’t always see eye to eye—especially on trivial things like probable cause, due process, and basic human rights.