Page 13 of Only the Wicked (The Sinful State #1)

Chapter Eleven

Sydney

Harsh sunlight streams through the windows, cutting through the room like an interrogation lamp—merciless and exposing. A deserved intrusion given I failed to close the drapes last night. Failed to maintain the barriers that keep things professional. And the man sleeping in the bed beside me?

Don’t think about it .

One tweak of the watch charging on my bedside table and the time glows in bright green numbers. Barely seven in the morning and I’m up. There’s no going back to sleep for me. I’ve trained my psyche to wake with dawn, to push myself hard.

And how’s that working out for you?

In bed with the enemy. But is he really the enemy?

If he cut deals to sell lists of assets, then yes, he’s the enemy.

But my gut says he wouldn’t. He comes across as genuine and from what I’ve gleaned from studying him, his heart’s in product development—the actual mechanics and coding.

It’s widely known his system can parse through reams of data and produce useful calculations.

But that, in and of itself, is not illegal.

The US government is one of his clients.

He’s vocal in defense of the system he’s built and of its varied uses.

When Hudson approached me about joining the team, about leaving the CIA, he shared a closed case file he acquired from an undisclosed source.

I read the redacted file. The death rate of US assets across the world increased 45 percent.

Any number of theories existed, including the normal leaks and sloppy spycraft.

But a source claimed ARGUS had completed closed-door deals with sanctioned countries.

Also, ARGUS was listed as a potential source for highly confidential asset and personnel lists.

An investigation into ARGUS had been opened and summarily closed.

It had all the markings of high-powered connections.

In and of itself, nothing in the redacted file included evidence.

However, for the investigation to close so quickly was suspicious.

I would’ve left the CIA to investigate the breach regardless, but Caroline’s pitch that KOAN will specialize in investigating those deemed too connected, too powerful to be investigated—well, I couldn’t accept the contract offer fast enough.

I need to confirm with Quinn that she gained access to his phone. If I can get to his laptop, that could be gold. If there’s a way for Quinn to breach his network through his laptop…we might confirm leading deals or if there are questionable sources of income.

I slip out of bed, careful to let the sleeping genius rest.

As far as male specimens go, he’s beautiful. Curled on his side, facing away from the intrusive light, he’s a vision. Chocolate-brown strands twist every which way, and a rough scruff emphasizes his masculine jaw.

Rhodes MacMillan is a person of interest. In more ways than one.

I turn on the tap and lift my toothbrush from the water glass. The hotel-provided toothbrush and mini toothpaste lie on the counter, a reminder the man in question stayed the night.

If he weren’t on the other side of the door, I’d call Caroline.

She’s the one friend I can count on to justify anything.

Working in the field had never been an option for her as she’d been in the news too much for marrying and divorcing President Moore’s nephew.

What started as me sharing tells of dreary, boring days slowly building relationships with possible assets, evolved into mini-therapy sessions, with her justifying my lies.

Every friendship I slowly built for clandestine purposes, she reminded me the friendship was real, even if it had a purpose.

When I told her I was leaving the CIA, she flew into D.C. to take me out to celebrate. What would she say about this? I could use one of her therapy-like sessions to help me hash through what I’m doing, what I’ve done.

The reality is, male officers wouldn’t think twice. Hell, in some countries, seduction is expected of intelligence officers. When I ran my hiking interception idea by Hudson, he expected I’d flirt. He didn’t expect I’d make headway by becoming a platonic friend.

I spit in the sink and splash some water on my face.

What we did last night? It was fun.

A tremor climbs my spine as I relive his groan, the weight of his hand on the back of my head, the pulsing in my mouth. His hazed expression. The glorious knowledge that I left him dazed.

I didn’t have to do what I did. But I wanted to. I let myself enjoy the moment and we both had fun.

When I open the bathroom door, he’s still in bed, the shades partially drawn, and he’s reading his phone. He’s been up and about.

What’s he reading?

Has he requested a background report on me yet? It’s only a matter of time now that I’ve shared my name.

I’ve shared as much of the truth as possible with him. His surveillance capabilities are second to none. A fake identity was never an option when approaching Rhodes. The chances of his system identifying red flags are too great.

He lowers his phone, and his countenance darkens. The energy between us? Last night served to intensify the reaction. His wolf-like hunger reminds me I’m in only a thong. Theoretically, there should be a tampon string tucked in the scrap of cotton, but of course, there’s not.

My nipples harden, either from his heated gaze or from the cool breeze wafting from the overhead fan he must’ve turned on.

“You’re getting back in bed, right?”

I grin. “I can’t fall back asleep.”

“Did I say anything about sleep?”

I stride for my suitcase and unzip the compartment holding tops.

“I thought we were going hiking today?”

“Do you have any idea how gorgeous you are?”

My hair slides over my shoulder as I glance back at him, smiling. “I need a shower.”

“I can join you.”

I narrow my eyes, tempted but...

He groans, shaking his head. “Fine. If I stay here, I’ll beg and that’s not attractive.”

With an audible groan, he moves off the mattress, scoots by me with a slight caress of my ass, and the bathroom door shuts.

I pull on a T-shirt that hits at my hips and stare at the closed door.

Should I confess to my lie and haul him into bed? Say, screw the hike and screw him?

No. Go on the hike. Get to know him. Get the job done.

You’re a professional. Score access. Allow the team to breach his systems. Withdraw.

The door swings open and in four long strides he reaches me, tilts my head back, and places his lips over mine. A profusion of mint fills my mouth. Strong hands grip my bottom and haul me against him.

My arms lift over his shoulders and I rock against his hard, lean body, loving the pressure against my core and the heat rolling off his hard chest.

He breaks the kiss, brushes his thumb over my lips, slaps my ass, and says, “I’m going to shower. Meet in thirty? We’ll grab breakfast and head out?”

The beats of my heart reverberate through my breastbone. It’s like I’ve run a marathon, but I’ve only kissed the man. The novel reaction to a kiss is one I’ve got to wrap my head around, because the strength of the physical reaction goes beyond lust. Adrenaline? The thrill of an op?

He’s at the door when it occurs to him I haven’t responded.

“Syd? Is that okay?”

I nod, and he’s gone.

Syd? How is he already shortening my name?

The silence that follows his departure feels heavy, loaded with everything I’m not letting myself think about.

I sink onto the bed, stunned by my reaction to his kiss. This isn’t good.

I should call Quinn. Check in. Do my job.

But my hands shake slightly as I reach for the work phone Hudson gave me. When was the last time a target affected me like this? I’ve cared for targets before, but intimacy? Never.

The phone feels foreign in my hands, heavier than it should.

I stare at Quinn’s contact information, thumb hovering over the call button.

Once I make this call, I’m back in mission mode.

Back to thinking of Rhodes as a target instead of.

..whatever he’s becoming. Dozens of assets died last year in addition to mine.

Professional distance is a luxury I can’t afford.

I dial Quinn’s number and set the phone to speaker, busying myself with digging through my suitcase to pick an outfit for the day.

Multitasking maintains the illusion that this is just another check-in call.

“Sydney?”

“Hey Quinn. Checking in.”

“How’d last night go?”

“Good.”

A male voice says, “How good?”

“Am I on speaker?” What the fuck ? “Can you take me off?”

“Ignore him.” Static crosses the line, along with footfalls and a loud click that I assume is a door closing.

“Who was that?”

“A juvenile jerk. Backup Hudson called in should you need it. Are you stopping by the house today?”

“No. And I’ve got to jump. I’m meeting him for breakfast in thirty.”

“Awesome. I won fifty bucks.”

“What?”

“Oh. When I was bringing Jake–your backup–up to speed, he bet me you’d spend last night with him. I bet you wouldn’t. I win.”

“Noooo,” a muffled deep voice groans.

Grand. Quinn bet I wouldn’t do what I did. Whatever. Juvenile is a good word for any bet.

“It doesn’t matter. Look, I need you to do me a favor. Tell Hudson to hold my paycheck.”

My first payment should hit my account on Friday.

“What?”

“I told Rhodes I’m between jobs. It’s too likely he’ll see a deposit to my account or payroll tax or something will be picked up on his systems.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Quinn says. “It’s not hard to verify employment and salary. Are you not going with the cover I created?”

“It’s not that I don’t believe you’re good, but his systems?—”

“You told him the truth? Right down the line?”

“Yep.”

“These are things we should all be in agreement on. To back you up, this is need-to-know.” There’s clear annoyance in her tone, and she’s right to be annoyed.

“I know, I know. I adapted on the fly.”

“I’ll run a check to see if anyone’s pulled a background check. Will be good to know if he’s curious about you.”