Traitor Games Read online

  She followed him across the living room. “Dub—what?”

  “Dubstep.” Noah grinned and mashed the buttons on the remote.

  A throbbing beat set against the trilling sounds of an electronic synthesizer blared from the speakers.

  Lillian clapped her hands over his ears. She growled her frustration at him, but the sound was drowned out by the godawful stuff he called music. How could he be so obnoxious, dangerous, and charming? It wasn’t fair.

  She tried to snatch the remote, but Noah grasped her wrist and stepped in close. The jovial smile was gone. He stared at her with all the feeling of a statue. Those sparkling eyes of his were bitterly cold, his fingers so tight they made her wrist ache and her little finger throb.

  She froze, suddenly feeling like the rabbit caught in a trap. Noah was dangerous. She could never forget that.

  “My handler wants me to kill you,” he said just loud enough for her to hear over the music.

  Kill. Her?

  As in ding-dong-dead?

  The music wasn’t her problem. Hell, she couldn’t even hear it past the rush of blood in her ears. Her stomach knotted up and she thought she might hurl on him.

  Would he let her go if she displayed her dazzling upchuck abilities?

  Part of her had been waiting for this, knowing there would come a day when she was the target. She’d simply expected it to be a surprise. One moment she was alive, the next not. She wasn’t prepared to stare death in the eyes.

  Except she wasn’t dead yet.

  Fight back.

  All of this flitted through her brain in a matter of seconds while Noah continued to watch and wait.

  She sucked in a breath and shoved her free hand at his face, doing her best to drive the palm of her hand into his throat or nose.

  Noah reacted just as fast, twisting so that her blow carried her stumbling past him. He wrapped his other arm around her waist and picked her up off the ground, her back to his chest, his face next to her ear.

  He kept her body close to his. “Lily. Stop.”

  She kicked back, but her blows didn’t seem to so much as distract him. Noah was sent to kill her. He would do it, too. She’d seen him practically giddy about ending a man’s life. Would he regret her death? Would he enjoy it? She had to get to the Taser in the vase by the sofa. Her phone. Something.

  “Goddamn it.” He let go of her and she stumbled a few steps away before he was there again, crowding her back against the wall, his face inches from hers. “I’m not going to kill you. Stop acting like a brat.”

  The room rushed back into focus. She was aware of the smell of food. The pictures rattling on the walls from the thump of the bass. And the way Noah smelled.

  The microwave dinged in the kitchen.

  He jerked his head. “The microwave.”

  She grasped a handful of his shirt, the emotional and logical whiplash a real thing. “Wait. What?”

  Noah dislodged himself from her grip and backed up. “Get your dinner.”

  She gaped at him. How could he talk about food when her life was on the line? “I’m not hungry anymore.”

  He shrugged. “Fine. I’ll take it out.”

  Lillian staggered to the sofa and fell back onto her ass as he headed into the kitchen.

  If she wanted to get away, now was her chance. She could be out the door and into her car before he came back. But Noah said he didn’t want to kill her. She needed to know why, as well as who, exactly, had sent him.

  She couldn’t leave without knowing everything Noah knew. Lillian gripped the sofa with both hands and forced herself to breathe, staring at the blinking audio levels on the sound system. She’d gotten it for movie nights, usually with her best friend Carol. She was gone now, wrapped up in this same spy drama that Lillian was. It was all so surreal, and she was in over her head.

  Noah ambled into the living room, her dinner in hand. “This is good. You sure you don’t want it?”

  “First you want to kill me and now you’re eating my food?”

  Noah winked, then handed the fork and dish over. “I do not want to kill you and I’m making sure it’s not poisoned.”

  Lillian took it on principle and set it on the coffee table out of easy reach from Noah.

  He leaned back, spreading his arms along the sofa cushions, taking up all the space he could. His fingers brushed her shoulder and she resisted the urge to lean toward him. He could still be a danger to her, and she’d be stupid to forget it.

  Noah’s gaze went cold again and he tugged on a bit of her hair. “You’ve got crosshairs on you, Lily. Why does someone up the ladder want you dead?”

  Lillian blew out a breath and faced forward, sorting her thoughts. Did she trust Noah? Could she? The others had put her in control of their operation. It was her call to bring him in or not, and she didn’t know what the right choice was.

  Eight months ago, her best friend, Carol, an analyst for the CIA, stumbled onto very dangerous information. A man like Noah, a private contractor for the CIA by the name of Andy, had saved Carol. Together they’d uncovered some pretty damning evidence. It was enough that someone had tried to silence them by portraying Carol and Andy as traitors and terrorists. Whoever it was succeeded, and in doing so, sent six people on the run. A former CIA operative and his humanitarian girlfriend, Rand and Sarah, had been in hiding since last year. Lillian had the least interaction with them. Then there was Mitch and Irene, two CIA agents fighting to do the right thing. And of course Carol and Andy. The idea that the CIA had been breached, that there were enemies within the department, was something no one wanted to happen. Now that it had, anyone who knew about the existence of SICA was a target.

  Noah’s voice hardened. “Lily, why does the CIA want you dead?”

  She smoothed her slacks over her knees.

  The truth was so absurd he’d never believe her.

  His tone gentled and he slid his hand down her arm to her wrist. “I might be your only friend right now.”

  He was trying different approaches, figuring out how to make her open up to him. If she wasn’t used to watching her sister do this same thing with clients it might work. She didn’t want Noah treating her like that. She didn’t want to be managed.

  “I need a minute.” She pushed to her feet and paced the living room in time to the music.

  It was kind of good for pacing. The heavy beat. It put a rhythm on her thoughts.

  In the beginning, when Rand and Sarah first stumbled on the existence of a double-agent with ties to an organization no one had ever heard of, Noah had been there. Been part of the solution. But in the last few months he’d distanced himself. Why? He knew enough to be a danger to the team Lillian ran. If he was under pressure, he could easily tell someone in the CIA connected to SICA what her team was up to or what they’d done. But he hadn’t. And instead of doing as he was told and killing her, he was looking for answers. That was a good sign, wasn’t it? Unless he was here to find out what she and the others were up to. It would be completely logical to send a person she was familiar with to question her.

  “Lily, not to rush brilliance, but we don’t have all night. Eventually your neighbors will complain about the music.”

  She stopped and stared at him. “How do I know I can trust you?”

  “You haven’t called your watchdog,” he said.

  “Watchdog?” She frowned. “Jesse?”

  She could call Jesse. He’d come. But what would Noah do then?

  “Yeah.” Noah grinned. “Deep down you know you like me, you just don’t want to admit it.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “Like you? I don’t even want to know you.” That was a lie. She was curious about him, but wouldn’t stroke his ego enough to ask.

  “Back to the part where you tell me why someone wants to kill you.” He pinned her with a serious stare. “What have Rand and Andy got you involved with?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Lily, I’m not stupid. No one would send me
to kill a pretty, harmless girl like you without reason. I know Rand and Sarah haven’t been seen since we rescued her from the Chinese. I was there when we pulled Andy’s ass out of the fire and rescued Carol. I know they’ve got you roped into something that as of this moment could get you killed. What’s worth killing you over?”

  She bit the inside of her lip. She knew a little about the incident that had sent Rand and Sarah into hiding.

  There were times when she wanted someone to talk to about all this. She was barely thirty years old. She was in so over her head it was a wonder she hadn’t succumbed to this already.

  She turned, breaking the stare with Noah. “I need a real reason to believe you. To trust you.” Her gut only went so far.

  “I’ve never told anyone about my involvement at the marina with Rand and Sarah—”

  She whirled around to face him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  Noah was right behind her, not safely on the sofa.

  She sucked in a breath and took a step back.

  “They didn’t tell you about the marina?” He frowned.

  “No.”

  “That was where the showdown with the Chinese happened. Rand’s girlfriend got captured. We played G.I. Joe and rescued her. Andy got to scratch a kill off his bucket list. And I got to shoot things. We all went home happy.” The corners of his mouth curled up in something that was supposed to be a smile. “Point is, I know a lot and I’ve said nothing. This could be your opportunity.”

  “What opportunity is this?” She tried rotating the situation in her head, but couldn’t yet see the whole picture. Who? What? Where? Why? How?

  “Not dying?”

  She threw her hands up in the air. “You haven’t spoken to any of us. You’ve been out of contact for months. What changed? Why now? Why help?”

  His smile widened into a grin. “You take me to the most interesting places. Remember that romantic stroll in the sewer?”

  She nearly gagged at the memory of the smell. “Noah, I need you to be serious.”

  The smile dropped and the person staring back at her was every bit of the killer he’d been sculpted into. There were no smiles now, no sparks of mischief, just coldness. “I am serious. Give me a reason to disobey my orders. Any reason you can think of.”

  Lillian drew herself up. “Because I’m one of the good guys and you know it.”

  “Good guys die every day, sweetheart.” Noah edged closer. “I need something else.”

  She couldn’t tell him. It wasn’t smart. He could be lying. “Because I could get your order overturned,” she hedged.

  He was so near now his breath brushed her cheek. “You’d have to be plugged into someone pretty far up the food chain for that to be a viable option.”

  Did the President of the United States count?

  She swallowed.

  That went straight to the top of the list of things she couldn’t say to him.

  She tipped her chin up. He would not rattle her. “Give me a few hours, okay?”

  “One hour.”

  “Fine.”

  “I’ll wait right here.”

  “Noah—”

  He grasped her shoulders. Some of his badass agent mask seemed to fade. Under the grins and the bravado, he really was struggling with this.

  Was it possible Noah had a heart?

  The idea fascinated her.

  “If I don’t do this, they’ll send someone else. Someone who may be cruel. I don’t want to see you killed, but I don’t want to see worse happen to you either. We get this handled now.”

  She jerked her head in a nod. There were worse things than death. “Wait here.”

  Lillian padded down the hall to the large closet under the stairs. She pulled the door open and looked at Noah. He remained standing where she’d left him, but the way he watched her made it feel as though he were right behind her. This was outside the normal protocol, but threat to life was one of the admissible deviations to the order of things.

  This would change everything.

  She stepped into the closet and flipped on the light. The space was just big enough for one person to stand between the rack of winter clothes and holiday boxes. She pulled the door closed and locked it from the inside. Jesse had reinforced the walls. Metal plates were hidden under drywall, creating a little bullet and bombproof room. The idea was that in the instance of a true emergency she’d be safe until someone could extract her. But it served another purpose, too.

  While Lillian had contact with a limited number of CIA agents, there was only one person she answered to.

  President Fowler.

  And there wasn’t a soul alive who just called him up. No, getting a hold of the president required a secure line and room.

  She reached between the winter coats on the left side and grabbed the black case hidden behind them. Jesse had installed a shelf on the sloping side of the closet to act as a makeshift phone desk. She set the case there and unlocked it using her code and thumbprint. The locks disengaged and she opened it, blowing out a breath.

  This wasn’t what she wanted to do. Every time she had one of these chats she felt like crawling out of her skin.

  How had her life led her here?

  It all went back to deciding that going through the CIA Academy was a fantastic idea. She was a Matthews. She was destined to work for the family firm, but attending the academy gave her contacts and friends inside the government. Her sister had actually valued her opinion and resources. Oh, and along the way she’d managed to get their whole family company involved in a covert, off-the-books operation to hunt and eliminate SICA.

  And now that had come back to haunt her.

  She plugged the phone cord into the wall jack and the phone light flickered green.

  The inner workings of the case encrypted the call, making it a secure line. She only spoke to a handful of people this way to preserve their safety. Tonight she was going all the way to the top.

  Lillian dialed the number from memory.

  It rang once, not even enough for the tremor of nerves to pass before a male voice answered.

  “Yes?”

  “Lillian Matthews.”

  “Code?”

  “The sun also rises.”

  “Confirmed. Report?”

  “I need to speak to him.”

  “He’s busy.”

  “It’s important.”

  “Is there a danger to life?”

  “Yes.”

  “Who?”

  “Mine.”

  “One moment.”

  The line went silent.

  These chats were brief, but from the questions she could infer that there were acceptable losses, lines she knew nothing about. It was the frustrating reality of what she did.

  “What is it?” This voice was different. Smooth like milk chocolate and satin. It was the voice that had seduced a nation.

  “SICA has dispatched Noah White to kill me. He’s sitting in my living room waiting for an order to overturn the one he was given.”

  “Then whoever is pulling SICA’s strings doesn’t know he’s sympathetic to our side.” His voice relaxed. “Interesting.”

  “Is he really? Can you call him off?”

  “Hmm.”

  That one sound had her stomach knotting tighter and her knees wobbling. She’d put her life in this man’s hands and he had to think about what to do?

  “You’re going to have to handle this one on your own,” he said.

  “But, sir—”

  “I’ve put my neck on the line, and I’m the one getting raked over the coals. Not you. You handle this man. Turn him if you can, but I can’t play my hand on this. Not yet. Understand?”

  The line clicked before she could get a sound out.

  What was she going to do?

  Chapter Two

  Noah crept toward the closet door. If he hadn’t explored the house earlier, he’d wonder if she had an escape hatch built in and was currently trying to es
cape. But he knew she didn’t.

  If she were his to protect, that would be one of the first things he’d do after booby-trapping the various entry points.

  Fuck.

  He shut his eyes, tamping down on the knee-jerk urge to protect her. That wasn’t his job. But he wanted it to be. He was screwed up in the head. He had no business getting involved in trying to do good.

  The door swung open, almost nailing him in the face. He caught the edge and stared down at her pale face and wide, fearful eyes.

  He reached for her without thinking. There was a half-formed escape plan forming in the back of his head. “What’s wrong?”

  “We…” She cleared her throat and gave herself a little shake, pulling herself together. She was damn amazing.

  She pinned him with a stare that was likely supposed to be authoritative. “We need to talk.”

  Noah nodded.

  “Downstairs.” She gestured toward the kitchen. “Turn the music off.”

  “Ladies first.”

  Lillian closed the closet door and locked it with a key he hadn’t seen her use before. She led the way down the hall, through the arch, and into the kitchen. They descended a set of stairs next to her pantry down to her basement.

  He’d been down here while waiting for her to arrive. The finished basement was its own cozy apartment. It, like the rest of her home, was done in neutral colors that weren’t her. No, Lillian made him think of rich jewel tones, warmth, a bit of sparkle. Her home was boring. Bland. An image he didn’t believe. But the Matthews were a name people recognized. It stood to reason that even their private lives had to measure up to public scrutiny.

  All in all, it was a good spot to chat with the added security of no windows.

  He sat on the pull-out sofa up against the wall and watched Lillian pace. “How certain are you there are no bugs in this place?”

  “Jesse has a thing installed down here.” She waved at the TV.

  “Mind if I…?”

  “Go ahead.”

  He pushed to his feet and crossed the floor. Sure enough, taped to the wall was a low frequency device commonly used to jumble less sophisticated listening devices. Someone would have to sneak a sizeable microphone and transmitter into the house to get past this thing.