Whispered Lies

“So, where are you getting your information?” he asked again.

She shrugged. “The Internet, where else?”

His scoff of derision rode on a laugh. “I don’t think so. Not all of it. You’ve passed information to the CIA, MI5 or MI6, Interpol, FBI, and a slew of other groups that couldn’t have been found randomly on the Internet. Pick a new answer.”

She would not tell him about her associates in South America who had fed her information for the past four years. Contacting Ferdinand and his son for help with Mandy’s kidnapping had been risky after all the trouble she’d gone through to set up a secure process for the Diaz men to feed information to her.

A one-way electronic street. Taking the initiative to contact them first opened a cha

Please, God, tell her she hadn’t put Ferdinand and his son in danger by breaking protocol, but Mandy wouldn’t have been found without that information.

Had the young woman even been found? Had anyone, including Carlos and his group, even cared about what happened to Mandy? Was the young girl really safe after all this? As far as Gabrielle could see, everyone was more interested in Mirage’s contacts than anything else.

But asking Carlos about Mandy right now would only confirm what he was fishing for.

She would not give up her South American contacts no matter what his people threatened. Please, God, give her the strength to match that conviction if it came down to torture.

Her mind wandered with disjointed thoughts.

Sleep crooned to her like a lover. Her eyelids drooped.

Carlos ground his teeth against the throb in his temple. He didn’t particularly care what they discussed right now since Gabrielle would be answering every question at BAD headquarters tomorrow. He needed to keep her talking until they were close to the secure residence BAD had in Hiawassee, then she could drift back off to sleep while he drove to the cabin.

Otherwise, he’d have to make a wide circle of the area until she faded again. Or blindfold her and tie her hands, which he really didn’t want to do.

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. Exhaustion underlined her striking eyes that were such an odd shade of blue-violet at times.

A skilled observer would be hard-pressed to choose her exact age. She wore no makeup and could be anywhere from early to late twenties. Loose hairs from the brunette mane she’d twisted up onto her head with a clamp now fell in restless wisps along her neck. Her oval face wouldn’t turn every head in a room, but she’d force a few discerning male gazes to linger while they considered the possibilities.

This was the informant who had broken through international intelligence communication?

Wedge that firmly enough into his psyche and he’d have an easier time interrogating her tomorrow.

Her bottom, deep-pink lip puckered softly as if in thought. She leaned an elbow against the base of the window and propped her head, struggling to stay awake, probably trying as hard to figure out where she was going as Carlos worked to keep his cabin location secret.

The blanket slipped off her shoulder to pool around her waist. Her baggy gray pants and oversize T-shirt sure as hell didn’t camouflage the curvaceous body.

Especially the damp T-shirt that clung to her breasts.

Carlos felt a stir inside his jeans and scowled at the purely male reaction. Not the time for his body to remind him he was way overdue for some R and R.

He bumped the heat a little higher even though the warmth fed his body’s need for sleep as well, but he could stay awake another half hour.

Her eyelashes fluttered against the cream-white cheek.

The minute her breathing fell into a constant rhythm, Carlos turned off the main road. The night closed in around the Beemer headlights as he slowly wound his way up a lonely ridge road.

Gabrielle’s soft and steady breathing filled the silent car. He reached over and lifted the blanket back around her shoulders. The urge to keep her safe thrummed as strong as it had when bullets were flying earlier.

An urge that was in direct conflict with the job he’d have to do at headquarters.

But for tonight, she’d be safe from everyone.

When he approached the secluded drive to the cabin, he hit a button in the headrest panel that opened an electric gate. He entered slowly, watching to assure the gate closed behind him.

At the house, he let the car idle in the circular drive while he lifted a remote from the console between the seats and pressed a series of three buttons. Had one signal come back in a default of any kind, he’d have continued around the circular drive and left immediately.

All clear.

Once he had the car inside the triple-door garage, Carlos locked the doors and left Gabrielle while he opened the house. He made a physical check of each room, then returned to her side and opened her door slowly to catch her. Unclipping her belt, he lifted her into his arms, grunting at the stab of pain in his forearm and side. The jagged bullet gash and glass cut would need stitches tonight.

He carried her to the master bedroom, where he’d already drawn the covers back on his first pass through. She didn’t stir while he removed sneakers and her sweatpants, which had finally dried. When he lifted the edge of her top, he found the tail of a silky undergarment, so he took the T-shirt off, too.

She curled up in a ball of smooth skin, candy-red lace underwear, and a matching silk camisole.

How could someone who looked like a librarian wear sin underwear? He debated over how to secure her for the night.

She could rest unbound while he was awake, but he needed sleep and would crash hard once his head hit the pillow after so many hours on his feet.

The safest thing would be to cuff her hands and arms to each corner of the bed, especially if armed guards showed up tonight to take her into custody.

The vision of her cuffed spread eagle in that red lace rushed through his brain then charged south to his loins.

And that kiss still lingered on his lips, in his thoughts.

He really had to straighten out his thinking about her, starting with not thinking about her mouth…or her underwear.

Carlos pulled the covers over all that temptation.

The information she’d shared electronically may have led them to Mandy, but he’d never met an informant who was simply a Good Samaritan with no hidden ulterior motives. They always wanted something and couldn’t be trusted since their allegiance shifted with the best deal being offered.

So think enemy.

He glanced back down at her sweet profile and regretted having to stake her to the bed, but he couldn’t leave her free or she’d run at the first chance she got.

There was another option. But she wouldn’t like it.

Hell, he wouldn’t either.

His head hurt too much to make one more decision, so Carlos dug a quarter out of his pocket and flipped it.