Finding a way out of Thailand wouldn't be easy. He'd been trying for more than a month. It didn't help that he was on Interpol's list of most wanted. But time was of the essence now. Dawson had a solution, and Jackson would do whatever it took to get his life back.

After opening the second e-mail sent to the account, he found it, too, was in code. A minute later he figured out it was from his friend Pete.

Dawson compromised. Do not trust. Intel has him pegged as source of your troubles. He's the one who called you a traitor. Not a friendly.

Jackson's stomach churned.

What the h.e.l.l?

Was it possible Dawson had been the one to screw him over?

Pete had been with the Company for more than twenty years and mentored Jackson in the early days. Jackson didn't trust many people, but Pete was one of them. He'd sent Pete a message weeks ago, but when the man didn't reply Jackson figured he didn't intend to get his hands dirty. He couldn't blame the man.

There was a mult.i.tude of reasons for an agent to get burned, but Jackson hadn't done any of them as far as he knew. For the past month he'd racked his brain going over each and every day of the last two years while he'd been undercover infiltrating Vlad's gang.

Every time he tried to think of something he could have done that would have been misconstrued, he failed. He'd followed the book-well, as much of a book as there was when you were flying by the seat of your pants and doing your best not to get killed.

Still, there were procedures and he'd followed them. Only checking in with his handler every few months with updates. It had taken almost eighteen months for him to reach Vlad's inner circle and that's when he discovered the human trafficking ring.

A week after he told Dawson what was going on and asked for backup, everything had gone to h.e.l.l. Not long after that he'd learned he'd been disavowed and accused of treason.

Pete's message explained a great deal. If Dawson were up to no good, he'd probably convinced the Company that Jackson had been the one to compromise the situation. Whatever the h.e.l.l the situation was, he was no closer to any answers. And if Dawson was involved that was why.

Clever b.a.s.t.a.r.d.

Jackson was still alive, which meant someone was on his side, maybe Pete. Usually a burned agent was dead within twenty-four hours. Jackson had lasted two months so far.

Jackson sent Pete another message.

Tell them I want to come in.

Jackson knew Pete might not be able to do that without compromising himself, but he had already gone out on a limb sending him the message about Dawson. Maybe he'd be willing to do this.

If only he could get to headquarters at Langley, he'd turn himself in. He had no problem talking to the bosses. It might land him in a federal pen if they didn't believe him, but Jackson would chance anything for the opportunity to discover the truth. Of course, he had no evidence. Only his side of the story, and Dawson had made certain the Company thought him a bad seed.

Dammit. Jackson shoved a hand through his hair.

Anxiety. He didn't allow himself to feel it often, but for a few moments he wallowed in it. Then he straightened his shoulders.

Get over it, man. You chose the life. You live it.

After disconnecting from the server, Jackson stopped before closing the laptop. He noticed Mariska had several e-mails marked Urgent. Most of those were from the office, and he didn't need to open them to know what they said. He had a pocketful of messages from the front desk in his back pocket. All of them warning Mariska to call immediately.

He isn't who he says he is had been scrawled on the papers from the desk clerk. Jackson smirked. The SIA was on to him.

Until he figured out a way out of Thailand, Jackson decided he'd stay with Mar. She might not be the a.s.set Dawson sent. The more he thought about it the more likely the jerk had sent a hired gun.

Jackson and Mar must have left the bar before the a.s.sa.s.sin had arrived. He'd come to the bar a half hour early to check it out, and then he'd been lured in by her beauty.

What if? No, it wasn't possible. Mar was no more an a.s.sa.s.sin than a two-year-old. Besides, she could have killed him a hundred and one ways the night before. He hated that his mind had even gone there, but trust didn't come easy for him. Life had made him hard and suspicious of everyone he met. No. We met by sheer happenstance, in the wrong place at the wrong time. Or perhaps there was a higher power guarding him after all. There was a good chance that Mar had saved his life by asking for his help that night. His heart felt lighter the more he was around her.

He grunted. Maybe she really was his own personal angel.

It was wrong to use her as a temporary cover, but he'd only do it for one more day. Then he'd head back to the city and see what he could arrange in the way of transportation out of this G.o.dforsaken place.

There was also the fact, one he didn't want to examine too closely, that his mind and body demanded to spend more time with her. Last night had been the first occasion in years that he'd felt anywhere close to another human, no longer an unemotional robot. The way she'd given herself to him, and he'd lost himself in her. He'd become addicted to the sound of her voice as she fell over that edge into bliss.

The thought of their being together caused him to tighten with need.

She is most definitely my drug of choice.

He'd stay the day, and then slip out during the cover of darkness. The idea of leaving didn't sit well with him, and he hated the deceit. Even more now that he knew she was never meant to be a part of this. He'd dragged her unwilling into his web of lies.

Something caught his attention on the computer. A red folder marked priority. He shouldn't invade her privacy any more than he had, but the spy in him couldn't help it. Clicking on Open, he read her notes about researching and helping out some of the other investigators with their cases. From the copious doc.u.ments he could see she was thorough and good at working behind the scenes. She didn't give herself enough credit when it came to her investigative skills.

There was also a proof of a new brochure they were designing about the Stonegate Investigative Agency.

After reading about all the players-from the FBI profiler Dr. Liu-he'd actually read some of her books-to forensic anthropologist Patience McGee, another top one in her field-he understood why Mariska worked so hard to keep the agency open. This was an amazing group of investigators, most of them women, all of them noted experts. He couldn't believe her mother had been able to ama.s.s so much talent in one place.

People wanted to work with the best, and Mariska's mother was definitely that. G.o.d, and he'd put Mar's life in danger with his idiocy.

Something stirred his senses and he smelled Mariska before he saw her come around the corner. That soap she used brought to mind sweet flowers in sunshine.

Shutting down the computer, he smiled at her as she walked in. She'd showered and her wet hair was up in a clip. She wore a sarong over a bikini, this one navy blue. The top had tiny silver studs.

His troubled morning dissipated with one glance at her beautiful face.

"Good morning." Remembering his manners he stood. Leaning down he kissed her lightly on the lips. She tasted of peppermint.

"I missed you." She tugged at his shirt. Then she pushed him back in his seat and pulled out the chair across from him.

As she took in the table, he wondered what she thought when she saw the laptop. Her eyes skipped past the piece of metal and landed on the cup in front of him. "Is that coffee?"

"It is. Would you like me to get you a-"

She picked up his cup and sipped before he could finish. Sighing with pleasure, Mar closed her eyes as if she were drinking manna from heaven.

Opening her eyes again, she picked up his sandwich. "You're done with this, right?"

Before he could answer, she took a bite and he laughed out loud. "Hungry this morning?"

Her mouth full of egg and bread, she shrugged.

"Breakfast is almost over but we could order some lunch." He turned to find a waiter.

Swallowing, she took another sip of his coffee. "Let's get it to go. I want to do something fun today. That is if you're done with your work." She waved a hand over her computer.

"Yes, I'm done. Just checking my e-mails. Did you need it?"

She gave him a delicious smile. "No work for me, buddy. Like I said, I'm here to have fun." She gave him a saucy wink.

"So last night wasn't fun?" He couldn't help kidding with her, and he was more than a little grateful she hadn't seen what he was doing seconds before she walked in.

A blush crept across her cheeks. He loved that about her. That she could seem so innocent, after the wanton creature he experienced last night, made him shift in his seat again.

She reached across and stroked his hand. "Last night was the most incredible experience of any kind I've ever had. It will be etched in the happy part of my brain for the rest of my life."

Jackson squeezed her hand. "I'm messing with you."

She gave him a sweet smile. "Yes, but I want you to know how special it was. And when I make my list of top ten fun things to do, you will be number one."

Jackson pulled her around the table and into his lap. "It's etched into the happy part of my brain, too." He planted a big kiss on her lips. "Now tell me what this fun thing is you plan to do."

She wiggled against his erection. "After we take care of this," she said, boldly slipping her hand down to his crotch. To anyone walking by they would think she was bracing herself on his legs, but her fingers kneaded his c.o.c.k, making it difficult to sit still. "Let's go surfing."

That was not what he'd expected to hear. Maybe shopping or looking for sh.e.l.ls, but surfing?

"I thought you were kidding yesterday." He finally had to grab her hand and trap it behind her before he embarra.s.sed them both by moaning with pleasure. She had no idea the power she had over him.

Or maybe she did, from that twinkle in her eye. Innocence be d.a.m.ned, she was a tigress and he was her prey.

She shrugged and drew her lips into a pout as if she were upset he'd stopped her fingers.

"Nope. I love surfing. And I checked with the desk. The sharks don't migrate in this area this time of year. So no fear of fins."

He picked her up and sat her back in her chair.

"You're a wicked woman. Now tell me more about the surfing."

She gave him a saucy grin. "I am not wicked, only hungry for more than food." Taking another sip of coffee, she glanced at him over the cup. "To answer your question I learned how to surf a couple of years ago. I'm not great, but I can hold my own. The waves are stellar out there today and I'm in the mood to get crazy."

Jackson was a fairly good surfer, though he hadn't done it in a while. Not since he had an a.s.signment in Australia almost three years ago.

"I asked at the front desk, and we can rent boards from the hotel. So you up for it?"

He gave her a wicked grin. "Oh, I'm up for it."

She slapped at his hand. "You are a bad, bad man. And I think it's time for you to be punished." She stood up. "I'm going to go rent the boards. You order me some lunch and meet me in the room."

Grabbing her wrist, he stopped her.

"First, there's something you need to tell me."

"What is it?" She frowned, seemingly surprised by his sudden change in tone.

"How many people are in the restaurant?"

The question caught her off guard, but he watched as the realization of what he was really asking spread over her face.

Staring straight into his eyes, she told him, "Besides you and me, there are five guests. Most of them chatting, as they finished breakfast a long time ago. There are two waiters and a busboy standing off to the side, ready for everyone to clear up. Probably because they have to get the lunch buffet set up, but I'm sure their orders are to keep everything out until we leave."

A twinkle lit her eyes. "Satisfied?"

"Proud. You're a fast learner."

Giving him a tweak of the ear, she leaned down and kissed him. "Don't be late, or your punishment is going to be very, very bad." She leaned on him so that her hand could slide down his c.o.c.k, and her b.r.e.a.s.t.s were shoved in his face. A moment later she sashayed away.

Jackson flagged down a waiter, grateful there was a tablecloth to hide the hard evidence her hand had caused. She would pay for that. Oh, yes, he'd make her pay over and over again.

13.

JACKSON SAT ON HIS surfboard in the warm ocean water watching Mariska. She was certainly more comfortable on the board than he was. He'd grown rusty, and for some reason, possibly because they'd had mind-blowing s.e.x twice in a row less than an hour ago, he had a tough time staying on the board after riding a couple of waves.

Mariska was more than competent when it came to the sport, and following her slicing through the waves was one big turn-on. The woman rode a curl like no one's business, and she was so d.a.m.n s.e.xy in that blue bikini he wanted to ravage her right there in the middle of the wave.

Catching her attention before she paddled out again, he waved that he was going in, hoping that she would follow suit. He really needed to kiss her.

She held up a finger, indicating she wanted to ride once more.

Jackson felt denied, but pulled his board onto the beach. Stepping into the white tent he'd arranged, he glanced around at the round bed, and the pillows strewn on the floor. They were on one of the private beaches, and he'd paid extra to make sure it stayed that way. Mariska had smiled and expressed how impressed she was with him in arranging such a fabulous treat so quickly.

He grabbed a c.o.ke from the basket of food and drinks the hotel had provided. Trying to replenish his energy. He didn't want to risk missing her surf, so he stepped back outside with his drink.

Mariska paddled out and let a couple of waves pa.s.s. Then of course she picked the biggest one they'd seen all day. Jackson watched with a mixture of fear and awe as she rode through the curl. It was nothing short of perfection.

Every time he thought he had a handle on her, she would say or do something that threw him off track. Thoughtful and sweet, there was also a bit of an edge to her. They'd both been alone a great deal as children and Jackson wondered if perhaps that was why he felt so connected to her.

He watched as she crested a wave and stood on her board. The way she rode it was one of the s.e.xiest things he'd ever witnessed. Her feet slid up the board as she adjusted her balance and her arms lifted horizontally.

Jackson's body heated as he remembered those arms and legs wrapped around him. The way her body moved against his, and that mouth of hers. He'd never tire of the way she kissed him.

She rode the board until it slid into the sand with a gentle splash.

"You lied." He winked as she unhooked the ankle strap keeping the board tied to her.

"I don't lie." She grabbed the soda from his hand and took a long swig. "Okay, maybe sometimes, but only when the job calls for it. You have to clue me in to what I did this time."

Grabbing her around the waist, he pulled her toward him. "You're an amazing surfer. You didn't fall once. I'm kind of jealous."

She slapped playfully at his chest. "That's because I didn't try to be all macho and take the biggest wave of the day, and h.e.l.lo! You hung in there till the end of the curl. That's something."