The Omega Team

Chapter 6

Grey kept a sharp eye on the woman stretched out on his couch. He'd been very careful with the amount of pressure he'd applied to render her unconscious, and he hoped he hadn't misjudged this time. Getting her back to his SUV had been a b***h. He'd thought about trying to walk her back, pretending she'd had too much to drink, but wasn't sure that would work. He finally thought himself back to a firefight zone, tossed her over one shoulder, and zigzagged to his point of exit. He even managed to get her over the wall and into his vehicle without anyone seeing them, miracle of miracles. And don't even ask about the magic tricks he pulled to get her car moved to his place.

He had no idea who she was. The clothes she wore had no pockets, so she wasn't carrying any identification. He hadn't even been able to find the key to her car, and hadn't that taken some fast talking with the tow truck guy. All the while, by the way, cursing the added attention he might be calling to himself. But leaving her car there wasn't a real option. What if there was something in there that could adversely affect this mission? She had, after all, broken into Bostic's house the way he had.

Where had she come from, anyway? What had she been looking for? In the time he'd taken to learn everything he could about the politician, he hadn't found even a hint of anyone else sniffing around the man. Oh, he was well aware his quarry's nasty business dealings weren't as secret as the man would like, but he threw so much money around no one wanted to tackle the situation. Certainly no other politicians who didn't want him to bury them.

So, who in the f*****g hell was she?

He glanced at her pausing in his work to decipher the thumb drives he'd copied from Bostic's safe. She seemed to be breathing normally, and her color wasn't too pale. If she didn't wake up by herself in a few minutes, he'd wake her himself. He wondered who the hell she was and what the f**k she was doing in Bostic's house.

He guessed her height to be about five foot seven. Her thick black hair had been pulled back into a ponytail stuck through the opening in the back of a ball cap. A long-sleeved T-shirt and jeans, both black, although loose, did little to disguise what appeared to be a lithe, very toned, athletic figure. When he'd had her bouncing over his shoulder, he'd have had to be dead not to 15

notice the nice round softness of her breasts or the silkiness of her skin where his hand brushed against it.

Can it, Holden. You don't need a boner when you have work to do.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd wanted a woman for anything more than the most casual s*x. This certainly wasn't the time to break a pattern, but, hell, he was only human.

What the hell was she doing breaking into Bostic's office, anyway? It wasn't as difficult for him as it might be for the average burglar, but he was far from average and had exceptional skills and training. Where had this woman come from?

He continued to keep her in his peripheral vision as he uploaded data into a specific program to manipulate it. He was instantly alert when he heard a soft moan from the direction of the couch. He looked over as she shifted position and sat up. He could have told her to take it easy, but apparently he was too late. She sat up too fast and immediately flopped back onto the cushions. For the next several moments he waited, poised to prevent her leaving or screaming.

She did neither. She sat up again, this time much slower, looking around in the darkened room. His sharp eyesight noticed she had arranged her face into a deliberate mask, giving nothing away. Very slowly, she slipped one hand around her waistband. When she looked over at him, he nodded.

"I have your gun." He nodded to where it lay on his desk. "Pretty big weapon for you to be carrying around. Don't see too many women with a Browning 1911 with ACP 380 ammo. Didn't realize the streets of Tampa were that dangerous."

She shrugged. "Depends where you are."

He looked down at his keyboard but kept her in his peripheral vision, waiting for her to make her move.

She snorted. "Relax. I'm not stupid enough to try to escape from a guy who can render me unconscious with his pinkie."

"And I'm not stupid enough to take my eyes off you," he countered. "So. If you don't want to answer my question about the gun, how about telling me why you were sneaking into Senator Drake Bostic's house?"

She laughed, a sound harsh and soft at the same time. "I'll show you mine if you show me yours." When he didn't say anything, she shrugged. "Okay, I guess we could keep this up all night except I have things to do and this couch lacks a lot in the comfort department." She pushed on the cushions as if testing their softness.

He could have told her there wasn't one soft thing in this house, including him.

Silence filled the room, thick and suffocating. For interminable moments, neither of them spoke. Grey continued working the computer program, always keeping the woman in his peripheral vision.

"Where's my car?" she said at last.

"In my driveway."

"Well." She gave a short laugh. "A man who can drive two cars at once. Remarkable."

He made no comment. His training had taught him that if he waited long enough in a situation like this, the other person would feel compelled to speak, to jack up the conversation, find out what the hell was going on. A lot of information had tumbled out this way. But Grey had the niggling sense this woman would be different. She hadn't demanded to know what she was doing there, or why he had rendered her unconscious. She didn't yell at him to tell her what was going on or threaten to call the cops if he didn't let her go. He had the sense she knew attempting escape would be fruitless, and she was just as prepared to wait it out as he was.

A good thirty minutes passed, and she still hadn't said another word, just sat there. The only thing she'd done was lean back and pull her legs up to sit cross-legged. Who in hell was she, anyway, that she carried a powerful handgun and seemed to have as much discipline as he did?

Military? Private security? If so, who had hired her to dig into Bostic's business?

At the forty-five minute mark, she cleared her throat.

Okay, here we go.

"Yes?"