Black Ops Warrior. Amelia AutinЧитать онлайн книгу.
done anything of which he was ashamed...until now.
“Lock your door,” he whispered when he raised his head.
“Lock my door?” Bewilderment shone from her gray eyes.
“I want to hear that lock click behind you. Then I’ll know you’re safe...from me.”
She caught her breath. “What if I don’t want to be safe?”
The sound that issued from his throat was nothing more or less than a growl. “Damn it, Savannah! You don’t know the first thing about me.”
She stared up at him, an enigmatic expression on her face. “You’re wrong,” she said quietly. “I know you better than you think.” A tiny smile tugged at the corners of her lips. “The fact that you have no intention of following me into my room despite what your body is saying tells me all I really need to know about you.” She reached up and touched two fingers to his cheek. “Good night, Niall. Thank you for a lovely evening.”
Then she was gone, closing the door in his face the way he’d told her to do. And the click of the lock was audible.
He walked next door and inserted his keycard in the slot. Savannah didn’t know it, but he’d arranged to have the room right next to hers. She was also unaware he’d broken into her room last night while she was at the lavish three-hour Peking duck banquet outside their hotel, which Niall had missed.
He’d searched everything Savannah had with her and had found nothing. No incriminating papers. No CDs, DVDs or thumb drives that might contain top secret files. He’d hacked into her laptop, too, and copied her data files for perusal back in his hotel room, which he’d done into the wee hours of this morning. He’d also installed worm software on her laptop. Every keystroke she made, every website she visited, every email she sent—Niall would know about it.
And he’d planted nearly invisible voice-activated cameras and listening devices, all of which weren’t necessary if she wasn’t a traitor or a security risk. He wouldn’t turn off the electronic monitoring system yet, just to be on the safe side. But they were checking out of this hotel day after tomorrow. When she went down to breakfast that morning, he would retrieve the equipment he’d installed last night, then install it at their next hotel. Assuming he didn’t get called back to the US in the meantime.
Her laptop was a little more problematic. The worm he’d introduced into her operating system wasn’t as simple to remove as the cameras or audio devices. It could be done, but it would take hours. He’d have to wait for another time, and there wasn’t a rush to uninstall it. And if he was recalled, well...the worm would stay where it was.
That didn’t mean he had to review the data logs, though. He’d have to see what his boss had to say. And he wouldn’t watch the voice-activated video, either. Listen, yes. Just to make sure she didn’t meet with someone she shouldn’t in her hotel room. And if he heard something suspicious, the video would still be there. But otherwise Savannah’s privacy would be inviolate. That was the least he could do, now that he knew she was probably innocent.
But not watching Savannah on video didn’t mean he’d turned off his imagination where she was concerned. He lay on the top of the covers, his arms beneath his head, and closed his eyes.
He could see her clearly in his mind as she’d first appeared when she opened her hotel door. She’d brushed her mousy brown hair until it shone, then piled it on top of her head. Even with that and her two-inch heels, he’d still towered over her. But then, at six-two-plus, that wasn’t unusual for him. She’d done something different to her eyes, too—mascara on her lashes and that shadowy stuff women used to make their eyes appear larger. But it was her mouth that had nearly poleaxed him. He wanted that mouth on him.
“Damn it!” He was fully aroused now, and he had no one to blame but himself. “Stop thinking of her,” he ordered, but it was easier said than done.
He unbuckled his ankle holster, which contained his totally-illegal-in-China-and-he’d-serve-hard-time-if-he-got-caught-with-it Beretta M9, and laid it on the nightstand. He’d carried a Beretta since his days in the Marine Corps, and he loved it. It fit his hand as if it had been made for him, and he always felt naked without it.
Then he turned up the volume on the electronic monitoring system—although nothing in Savannah’s hotel room had set off the voice activation so far—before stripping to the buff and padding into the bathroom. He’d already taken one shower this evening, before he’d knocked on Savannah’s door at dinnertime, but he needed another one now.
Preferably cold.
Two shivering minutes later his arousal was tamed...barely. He fished his toothbrush out of his travel kit, squeezed on toothpaste and was just about to slide it under the tap when he remembered. He cursed himself softly for almost making what could have been an error his body would pay for later. He cracked open a fresh bottle of water, shaking his head at his near stupidity and the necessity.
Not that this was new to him. It wasn’t. He’d been stationed places where bottled water was necessary for everything during his years in the Corps. He’d traveled on assignment to the jungles of Africa and South America, where the sanitary conditions were much worse. But it still bothered him.
He turned out the bathroom light, then crawled naked under the covers...where his thoughts stubbornly returned to Savannah. Wondering what she was doing at this very moment. Was she already in bed on the other side of the wall? Did she wear nightclothes—a gown, a T-shirt, PJs? Or did she sleep in the nude as he did?
Crap! Stop thinking of that, you pervert.
Then he remembered he hadn’t done what he’d intended to do the minute he returned to the privacy of his room. He rose and grabbed his secure laptop from the safe, brought it back to bed with him, then turned it on. It took a few minutes to boot up—the security precautions installed meant jumping through a few extra electronic hoops. Then, of course, he had to log onto the Virtual Private Network. And since he had to access it through a satellite feed, it took even longer. But eventually he was connected securely.
He’d already composed the email he would send while he was waiting for his laptop to be ready, so now his fingers flew over the keys as he typed. Finished, he scanned what he’d written, then hit Send and left the computer on.
The twelve-hour time difference between Beijing and Washington, DC, at this time of year meant he could expect a fairly prompt response. It was—he glanced at the clock on the nightstand—10:06 p.m. So it was just after ten in the morning in DC, which meant he might hear back in a few minutes.
He pushed the laptop to one side and lay back against the pillows, waiting. Hoping to receive the “stand down” command he’d requested, because he didn’t want to waste another day on this meaningless assignment.
There was another reason he wanted to leave China sooner rather than later, and it had nothing to do with wasting his time. He wanted out of here because being around Savannah was dangerous to his peace of mind and to his closely guarded heart. She’d already elicited things from him he never talked about. Like how his dad’s death had affected him. Like his brother’s medical discharge from the Corps.
He was just dozing off despite telling himself to stay awake—too little sleep last night, his body was telling him in no uncertain terms—when he heard an odd thump from the room next door, followed by Savannah’s voice, which he could hear clearly on the monitor, saying, “Who is it?”
“Housekeeping.”
Savannah frowned. She hadn’t called housekeeping for anything, and she remembered the warning given to women traveling alone—never open your hotel door unless you know who’s on the other side. And even then, be on your guard. She peered through the peephole but couldn’t see anyone, and that alone roused her suspicions.
She was just about to tell whoever