Agent I1: Tristan [01] The D.I.R.E. Agency Read online

  He shouldn’t feel that way; shouldn’t feel at all.

  Rachel Monroe made it personal.

  WHACK. The bat splintered in his hand.

  “Oh my gosh, are you hurt?”

  Tristan’s head popped up. Rachel stood behind him on the other side of the batting cage fence. The fingers of one hand were hooked in the chain links, his bottle of extra-rare whiskey dangling from her other hand. Why didn’t he hear her?

  Pushing the stop button on the pitching machine, he took in Rachel’s polished pink toenails, her long legs, and his black shorts rolled up to just inches below her bottom. His Daughtry t-shirt didn’t fit her any better than the shorts, but she looked way hotter in the clothes than he ever would. She had washed her face clean of makeup, her long, sable hair damp from the shower.

  She made him hungry for something he couldn’t have.

  He must’ve stood staring at her like an idiot because the next thing he knew, she said, “I’ll take that as a yes,” and set down the bottle at her feet.

  Rachel opened the gate and stepped inside. Taking the bat fragments from his grasp, she tossed them on the ground and grabbed his hands. The scent of his spicy bar soap filled Tristan’s nostrils. The image of her using his soap on her body...

  “I don’t see any splinters…” She turned his hands over in both of hers.

  Staring up at him, her eyes were lined with concern. She trailed a finger over his palm, leaving a thread of fire along his nerve-endings.

  He snatched away his hands. She jumped.

  “I’m fine.”

  She held up her hands. “Okay…”

  Dammit, he acted like such an ass. Tristan picked up the bat remains and tossed them in a barrel in the corner.

  “This is a pretty nice setup.” She glanced around the batting cage he had hidden in the thick brush beside his house before turning to walk out. “Creekmore has a men's baseball league. My neighbor, Mark, is one of the team captains. His wife, Glenna, is my best friend.”

  Tristan locked the gate behind him. Normal life. So, that’s what it’s like. Go to work, come home for dinner with the family, play ball with the guys and have a beer afterwards.

  He wouldn’t mind giving it a try. Although, if he had a wife like Rachel waiting at home, he may not make it back out the door once he got there.

  “I hope you don’t mind.” She held up the bottle of whiskey. “After today, I feel like I need a drink – or ten.”

  You and me both.

  “Did you grab some glasses?” he said. They made their way around the house to the patio.

  “All I could find were tall drinking glasses and I didn’t want to appear like a lush.”

  “No, carrying around an entire bottle wouldn’t give that appearance at all.”

  She popped him on the arm. “I brought it out here so you could open it for me.”

  He unfastened the French doors and motioned for her to precede him. “So, what you’re saying is if you could’ve opened the bottle yourself, you would’ve had no qualms about filling a tall glass and draining it – possibly ten times.”

  Rachel gasped. “You make me sound like a drunk.” She stopped beside him behind the bar. “Well, maybe.”

  Grinning, he pulled two small glasses from a locked cabinet. They, along with the whiskey, had been gifts from a prince for a job he’d done for the royal family a few years back. He’d been saving them for a special occasion.

  He’d just never thought the occasion would be surviving unfulfilled lust.

  “You smile.” Her aqua eyes shined. “I didn’t think you had it in you.”

  Pouring them both a drink, his fingers brushed hers when he handed her a glass. A tingle raced up his arm. Why did he notice shit like that?

  Rachel tossed back a drink as they made their way to the patio. She coughed into the crook of her arm several times.

  “Wow, that’s strong.”

  She sat on the steps that led down to the beach. As soon as Tristan sat beside her, he regretted it. Her nearness, her shoulder pressed against his arm, made him edgy. If she so much as said, ‘Tristan, would you jump my–‘, he’d pounce so fast she’d get vertigo.

  Hell. Maybe if they both got shitfaced, he could save himself a lot of trouble. They could sleep until Aidan called tomorrow and woke them up.

  “You won’t have a hangover in the morning.”

  “Really? Why is that?”

  “Good whiskey. I’ve had it before.”

  She stared at him before taking another drink without incident. “Good to know.”

  Facing the water and the setting sun, she took a deep breath and let it out. “So, is this your vacation home?”

  “Only home.”

  She turned to him with round eyes. “You’re kidding? You live on this gorgeous beach?”

  Propping his arms on his knees, Tristan stared down into his glass. “When I’m home.”

  “Nice. Why here? Besides the obvious, I mean...”

  He gazed out at the hues of orange, pink and gray that lit up the clouds above the turquoise water. The beauty of Trunk Bay’s sunsets always amazed him.

  “For the obvious. I’ve been all around the world and this place suits me best.”

  She took another drink. “No family anywhere?”

  Tristan laughed to himself. The last time he’d had any semblance of family, he’d been three-years-old. Living with different officer’s families while his father was out with the Teams didn’t qualify as family to him. “No.”

  Wrapping her arms around her knees, she said, “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  You can’t miss something you never really had.

  “Well, it seems to be a pretty quiet beach.”

  “It’s private.” He turned towards her and pointed to his right. “From that rock jutting out of the water…” He turned and pointed to his left. “…To that big palm. I have about a quarter mile of beach front.”

  And, paid for it with money I earned chasing down some of the United Nations most-wanted criminals.

  “Wow.” Rachel shook her head. “I could never imagine owning something like this. I do good to pay the rent on my old, thirteen hundred square foot house every month.”

  Guilt tightened Tristan’s gut. Dammit, how did she make him feel bad for owning a place it took him years to acquire? Even he’d had to save money and wait for this property to come available.

  “Do you like privacy?” she asked, her voice soft. “Being alone?”

  The tightening in his gut spread to Tristan’s chest. The truth was, he hated being alone but he couldn’t afford the complications that came with company and growing close to someone.

  He took another drink. “Depends on my mood, I guess.”

  “Fair enough.” She drained her glass.

  Damn, she could really put it away.

  “With my nursing job, I’m around people all the time and I love it. But, some days I want to be in a quiet place like this and just think… or not.” She gave him a wry grin.

  He got that. “After a really tough op, I try to get back here and spend a day on the beach.” He held up his arm with the armband. “I turn this off, and it’s just me and the water.”

  She poured herself another drink. Apparently, the woman was on a mission of her own.

  “What does your girlfriend think of this place?”

  Tristan laughed to himself. Like that would happen. “No girlfriend.”

  “Wife?” Her voice held a high note of surprise.

  This part of the conversation definitely called for another drink. Holding out his glass, he shook his head.

  She poured him a refill. “Aversion to commitment?”

  He stopped her when she filled it three-quarters of the way full. “No time. I wouldn’t expect someone to sit around waiting for me while I’m out… working. I can be gone for months at a time.”

  Taking another drink, she stopped midstream and stared at him with round eyes. “That’s why this vacatio
n was so important to you.”

  Tristan stared down at his glass again. “Aidan will pay. Take my word for it.”

  Nodding, she refilled her glass, sloshing a little over the side. He steadied it for her before setting the bottle on the step between them.

  “When you and I get through with him, D.I.R.E. may have to piece him back together.” She held out her hand for a fist bump.

  Tristan took her up on it. Her touch caused another spark to ignite under his skin. Maybe he needed to have the science team take a look at his hand.

  “Speaking of Aidan, how did you end up helping him with all of this, anyway?”

  “You sure ask a lot of questions.”

  A blush stole over her cheeks before she dropped her gaze. “I’m sorry. I talk to people all day, every day. Feel free to say no comment.” When she looked up at him, her aqua eyes were soft. “But, I don’t ask questions about anything that doesn’t genuinely interest me.”

  Holding her gaze, Tristan swallowed hard. Did her statement mean she held an interest in him, or Aidan’s favor? Hell, he couldn’t get that lucky. Must be the alcohol making him feel… special. Besides, if he laid a finger on Aidan’s saintly sister, he would be shark bait by tomorrow afternoon.

  “No comment.”

  The silence that met his statement rang louder than any retort she could have made.

  Rachel held her glass in front of her, eyes downcast. The quiet was so unlike the chatterbox that had sat down with him a few minutes ago. He told himself they were both better off remaining strangers.

  Rising from the step, she made her way down to the sand. Her movements were graceful, light - impressive after the number of drinks she’d consumed. Rachel stood for everything refined and soft in a woman, yet he knew she had the stubborn will of an old cat.

  With the wind whipping at her hair, she stood with her back to him. “Your normal day is what: debriefings, teleporting here and there, sitting in on bad guy conversations, taking out someone…?”

  Tristan stilled. Where the hell had that come from? Obviously, he had hit a nerve. “I thought we’d found a truce here but, if you want to go there, we can go there.”

  Staring over her shoulder, Rachel shook her head. “No. For some reason, I can’t seem to separate what you do and what happened to my father. I keep wondering who shot him? Why did they shoot him? What had he done or not done to anger them that much?” She turned back to the water. “My father knew exactly what happened that night but couldn't tell anyone. Some days the frustration eats me alive.”

  Tristan blew out a breath. You’re such a jerk, Jacobs.

  It was no secret that professionals laid the hit on Jim Monroe. Despite Aidan’s denials, Tristan’s gut told him Jim had been mixed up with some powerful people. Professionals didn’t waste time with computer technicians from Podunk, Texas.

  “Now, we’re left with a mountain of medical bills, no answers, and… no father.”

  “I know Aidan wants to investigate now that he’s with D.I.R.E.”

  “I keep telling myself it doesn't matter - it won't bring him back.” Her hand swiped across her face.

  God, what did he say to that? His job involved saving people and right now, Rachel needed saving.

  Dammit. He couldn’t just let her cry like that.

  Shooting up from the step, he stood beside her in the sand. “If you could go anywhere in the world, where would it be?”

  Frowning at him through the tears, her expression was one of ‘where the hell had that come from?’ Her nose shone bright red in her blotchy face, her big eyes framed in teardrops.

  The sight made his chest burn like hot ash.

  She sniffed. “What?”

  “If you could go anywhere in the world, right now, where would it be?”

  Tristan knew she could say Creekmore and he’d take her. He’d do just about anything to make her stop crying.

  Running her fingertips under her eyes, she sniffed again. “You want to teleport me somewhere?” Her voice shook with unshed tears.

  “Why not?”

  She glanced down at her clothes – or his clothes on her. “Like this?”

  “We’re not going on vacation. Just a few minutes to take in the sights.” Anything to distract you. “Haven’t you ever wanted to travel? See the world?”

  A slow grin blossomed on her face. “Well, I’ve always wanted to travel through Europe and see the Colosseum in Rome, the Eiffel Tower, the castles of Scotland – all of it. But, wouldn’t it be nighttime over there right now?”

  He lowered his voice in confidence. “In Europe, they have this new invention called the light bulb–“

  Smiling, she popped him on the arm. “You’re a real smart ass, you know that?”

  “I have been called one or the other, but never together.”

  She squinted her eyes in merriment. “Somehow, I doubt that.”

  The next thing he knew, her small hand slipped into his palm. Tristan’s heart took off at a dead run.

  OK, this is weird.

  His heart beat at warp speed, her soft skin soothing against his calloused hand. She made it easy for him to ignore Mitchell’s words of warning clanging around in his head.

  “Seriously, you want to go right now?”

  “Yes.” He gazed at her in the fading sunlight. “It’s a once in a lifetime opportunity. Take it or leave it.”

  Her big, bright eyes studied him before she wrapped her arms around his waist. Her sweet scent washed over Tristan like the ocean on an early morning swim.

  Oh… hell. Rachel in a t-shirt and shorts was a totally different experience from Rachel in a thick, puffy wedding gown. The feel of her breasts against his chest, her long legs intertwined with his, caused every nerve ending in his body to hum. Tristan felt charged, as if he had already activated his system.

  “Is this where you tell me to hold on and not let go?” Her voice sounded husky in the pale darkness.

  Tristan swallowed hard. D.I.R.E. had never tested his enhancements during sexual stimulation. Wouldn’t that beat all if his system malfunctioned because he was aroused?

  “Where are we going?” he choked out.

  “Let’s start with Italy.” She laid her head against his chest.

  “Start?” He wrapped his arms around her.

  “We’ve got all night, haven’t we?”

  #####

  “Do you realize we are probably the only two people in the world that can say we have dirt from four different countries on the bottom of our feet?”

  Rachel sat beside Tristan on the chapel wall of Dunnottar Castle in Aberdeenshire, Scotland. The castle sat on a large rock one hundred and sixty feet above the waters of the North Sea. It was their fourth stop of the night.

  Tristan had teleported them from Trunk Bay right into the hypogeum of the Colosseum in Rome. Once she had gotten over the shock of actually standing in Italy, Rachel had run barefoot through the tunnels of grass and screamed at the top of her lungs.

  That’s when the security guard heard them.

  It took Tristan seconds to grab her hand and run to a tunnel, where he teleported them to the top of the Colosseum’s outer wall that overlooked the city. The narrow ledge and height made her scream all the more, which amused Tristan to no end. She wouldn’t have traded the experience for the world.

  The Sistine Chapel had been a bit more challenging but Tristan made it happen. Though she’d felt a bit disrespectful standing under Michelangelo’s masterpiece in her bare feet, Rachel couldn’t regret a single moment. The art touched her heart in ways she could never explain, the gripping message potent in its vibrant depictions of the Nine Books of Genesis. When Tristan caught her crying under the Downfall of Humanity, he whisked her away to the Eiffel Tower.

  They took in a panoramic view of Paris and watched skaters on the ice rink. Though she still felt the effects of the whiskey, they indulged in a few glasses of champagne on the top floor of the tower. To say they had received some strange st
ares in the champagne bar was an understatement.

  She didn’t much care. She’d never had so much fun in all of her small town life. Her idea of vacation had been a weekend on the Texas Gulf Coast.

  Flipping on a pale blue light on his armband, Tristan grinned as he held out his feet in front him.

  “I think you’re probably right. But even if someone did dispute it, they couldn’t claim to have champagne spilt on top of the dirt. We’re definitely unique.”

  Add a man who can turn invisible and teleport anywhere in the world… yeah, unique would be an understatement, too.

  Rachel held her hand to her forehead. “I don’t think I’ve ever drank this much in my life. Now Aidan, on the other hand…”

  Tristan’s voice echoed in the inky darkness. “Yeah, he got pretty wasted after your father’s funeral. I met him at a bar near the base and drove him home.”

  “Poor Aidan. After my father died, I went into work mode. I didn’t want to stop moving because once I did, his loss would hit me and I’d just cry, non-stop.” She turned to look at him. “How do you handle loss?”

  He shrugged his shoulders. “I’ve experienced it once, when my mother died. I was three. Since then, I’ve never gotten close enough to anyone to care.”

  Rachel mentally gasped, knowing Tristan wouldn’t appreciate an outburst. Her heart broke for him. Aidan had said he was a loner. Now she knew why. He was too afraid to care.

  “I wish I could do that,” she said. “Once, I even told myself I wouldn’t care about anyone, anymore. That lasted a few days - until Glenna and Mark’s little boy, Ty, gave me a hug one night when I babysat him.” She smiled. “I’m a softie.”

  Tristan braced his hands on either side of his legs. “So, you work as a nurse, pick up prescriptions for your neighbors and babysit for your friends. Are you always helping people?”

  She let her legs dangle again. “Well, I jog with Mr. Templeton three times a week. He hates to run by himself and refuses to use earbuds for music. I pick up dry cleaning, toiletries and an occasional gift for the town attorney, Mr. Hensen. I also pick up clothes, toiletries, and fast food for Ben Adams. He lives in the assisted living center attached to the hospital.” She laughed. “Ben and my father used to be good friends. He lets me know when I’ve neglected him.”