Striking Distance. Debra Webb

wouldn’t happen again.

      He had no reason at this point to kill her, but he would if she got in his way.

      The curiosity she’d sparked in him was the only reason she wasn’t dead already.

      But she was toying with him...there could be no other explanation.

      He knew what he was, and no woman would want that.

      Unless she was paid to want it.

      He shook his head in self-disgust when even the mere thought of her got him hard. Not once since becoming a man had he allowed any woman to hold that kind of power over him.

      Sex, he decided, was only about his body’s need for physical release, nothing more. He stepped back into his shoes and tied them. Then reached for his shirt and weapon. Well, physical release would be easy enough to obtain.

      There were plenty of women out there who knew how to use their mouths for something more than talk.

      He didn’t need Tasha.

      Any woman would do.

      They were all alike—manipulative, clingy, untrustworthy. Though admittedly they had their uses, he had never met one he needed.

      He didn’t need anyone or anything.

      Chapter 20

      Tasha sat in the darkness of the compact car Lucas had provided. She peered at the house where Seth had held her prisoner just forty-eight hours ago. Though the place was dark, she knew he was in there, his SUV was in the drive.

      Tonight—this morning, actually, since it was well past midnight—when he’d dropped her back at her apartment, she’d been too furious to think before she reacted. He hadn’t uttered one word to her the entire trip. He’d simply driven her back as he said he would and stopped only long enough for her to get out.

      Even now renewed fury burned away all reason. She’d entered her apartment building, given him thirty seconds and then exited again. She’d jumped in her car and driven straight back to the lake house with no rational thought as to the consequences. She’d sat there for a few minutes watching the eerily dark house, but that extra instinct of hers had nagged her into going back to the Oak Park residence. She’d sensed that he wasn’t at the lake house.

      Somehow, incredibly, they’d connected on a level that she couldn’t begin to understand. The only thing she did know with a certainty was that she’d lost a good deal of her objectivity way too fast. She felt angry at him for drawing her close, only to turn her away when she refused to do things his way. The idea that he could so easily turn off any need or desire made her want to scream with frustration.

      Bottom line, she’d wanted him to want her. Which meant one thing, she’d crossed the line. Hell, she hadn’t simply crossed the line, she’d pole-vaulted over it.

      This wasn’t supposed to be personal, even if sex were involved. It was business—the mission. Somehow she’d allowed the amateur psychoanalyst side of her to get sucked into his world. She was so busy trying to figure him out that she was losing all perspective on reality.

      He was a killer.

      An assassin.

      He tortured and murdered people for money.

      Her career would be over if the Agency or Lucas Camp discovered that she’d crossed that line. Worst of all, she feared her lack of objectivity was even more deeply personal than her overwhelming need to know what made him tick.

      Maybe her career should be over if she couldn’t maintain proper perspective any better than this.

      The headlights of his SUV suddenly glared through the darkness.

      She tensed...forgot all else and moved to a higher state of alert. Where the hell would he be going now? To Victoria Colby’s house? That didn’t feel right. He was surely aware that she would be tucked in for the night with maximum security. He was on to Lucas now, probably had been from the start.

      The SUV he’d backed into the driveway rolled forward onto the street, in the direction of Chicago proper and away from her position.

      Slowing her respiration and pulling her focus on track, Tasha eased into a nearby driveway, turned around and followed him. Maintaining a visual would likely be impossible since she couldn’t risk getting too close. At this hour the very idea of tailing a target was ludicrous. There were no other vehicles on the quiet residential streets with which to blend.

      But she’d give it her best shot.

      Even if he didn’t spot her, she was in deep trouble. Maverick would have her hide whenever she showed up back at her apartment. She was supposed to wear the monitoring device at all times. When Seth had called about the taxi she’d foolishly assumed the destination. Now she had nothing to blame but plain old stupidity. She’d been so angry she followed him without taking the proper precautions. She’d acted on the moment...on instinct. What the hell good was backup if she left them in the dark? She imagined Maverick would report her carelessness to Lucas.

      Somehow she had to make tonight worth the risks she’d taken. Going back empty-handed wasn’t an option. She needed something.

      Something only he could give her.

      And that was the bottom line. As much as his actions had rubbed her the wrong way, pushed some button he shouldn’t even have access to, she’d walked away with nothing and no guarantee that she would see him again. Unacceptable. She was better than this. She would get to him...she would give Lucas Camp what he wanted: Leberman.

      As they neared downtown, traffic appeared, which facilitated her ability to duplicate Seth’s turns without the risk of detection. Since she’d never visited Chicago before this assignment, she didn’t know the name of the area he selected for his middle-of-the-night cruise. But it didn’t take her long to recognize he was headed toward the seedier side of town.

      Block after block of adult-entertainment joints, hole-in-the-wall newsstands, pawnshops, dive bars and the occasional sleazy-looking motel. The heavy flow of pedestrian traffic made it look like a Saturday night on Bourbon Street in New Orleans rather than a plain old weeknight in the low-rent section of Chicago.

      He pulled over to the curb, and Tasha did the same. From her vantage point a block behind him and parked between two other vehicles, she watched a hooker approach the passenger side of his SUV. Since he’d passed at least a dozen in the past three blocks, she could only assume that he’d decided this one suited his taste.

      Try as she might to watch the scene evolving before her with cold, clinical objectivity, a mixture of rage and something she wasn’t prepared to label seethed inside her. He wanted someone he could control, someone who would play the game his way.

      Seth eased away from the curb, drove to the end of the block and turned into a small parking area. Seconds later he approached the woman waiting outside an adult entertainment club. He followed her inside.

      Tasha, wishing like hell she had her weapon, fished for her cell phone. She had to let Maverick know where she was. She might not be thinking as clearly as she should, but she wasn’t completely stupid. According to the display, she’d missed three calls. Oh, yeah, Maverick would be pissed. With the phone set on vibrate there had been no ring. “Dammit.” Even worse, she had no signal now. No signal. How could she be in a city this large and not get a signal?

      “Hell with it.” She tossed the phone to the passenger seat and emerged from her car. Her senses on full alert she started in the direction of the club. She ignored the comments tossed her way by the men, as well as the women, she passed along the way. At least she was dressed to fit in.

      The club Seth had entered was a narrow two-story building sandwiched between a pawnshop and a sleazy restaurant that was closed for the night. No bouncers waited at the entrance to check for weapons or to stamp her hand. Management apparently had a lax door policy. No surprise there.

      Inside, music blared and multicolored