Dare Me (Take Me 2)

She further contended, “In the grand scheme of things...wasn’t it better that she took the approach of making a sacrifice of one person in order to serve the greater good?”

“Don’t start quoting Mr. Spock on me, Nik.”

She smirked. “I’m making a valid case here. And given that I’m the sacrificial lamb—well, along with my laptop—shouldn’t I get a say in this trial by fire?”

She instantly gave this the full consideration it was due.

Damen seemed to know her brain was suddenly churning, because he didn’t immediately respond.

Nikki gazed up at him and earnestly asked, “Should I submit a statement on her behalf? Or, even more significantly—possibly—could I appear before your superiors of this ops jury and offer my comments as to Garcia’s actions and her invaluable skills, in person?”

“Her invaluable skills? Nik, you’ve been furious that she planted that device in your computer.”

“Not ‘planted,’ per se,” she corrected him. “Strategically transported.”

He gaped. For all of a second. Then he scowled. Then he insisted, “Really, Nik? ‘Strategically transported?’ Have you forgotten you were shot at?”

A chill ran through her. “No, I have not. And you know that; of course, I haven’t forgotten. It’s just that... What’s the term you used? I was a mule—an effective one. On Fiora’s side, a smart one. You, technically, played right into her tactic. You knew I was bugged, was being followed...and you weren’t going to let anything happen to me. She was perfectly aware of this and used your affection for me to her benefit. And....this all was a benefit, Damen. You can’t deny that. No one can.”

“I can, however, assert that in doing all of this, in executing her strategic transportation of terrorist information, she put your life in jeopardy. Mine as well.”

“But...” Nikki took a step toward him and imploringly added, “She was successful in her mission. Yes?”

Damen held a hand up and took one wide stride backward. “Oh, no...” he muttered. “You’re not going to use my affection for you against me in this instance, Dr. Kane. I am so fucking onto you.”

She snickered. “Damen—”

“Nik.” He pinned her with a sharp look. “You can sway me to your side regarding just about anything under the sun. But when it comes to guns being drawn on you and us narrowly escaping rounds being fired...”

His dark eyes deepened in color, until they almost resembled polished obsidian stones.

He continued.

“Your life was threatened, when it never should have been. You could have been killed, when all you’d been trying to do was help those who’d been traumatized during the explosions. I am not going to trivialize the danger you’ve been in since we met, since that device was embedded in your computer, since you became the carrier of terrorists’ secrets. Goddamn it, Nikki...” He raked a hand through his thick hair. Then he said, “Your camaraderie with Agent Garcia does not exonerate her. Don’t think for a fucking second that it does.”

He whirled around on the heels of his expensive Italian leather shoes and stalked off. Right through one of the intricately designed doors the butler opened for him.

Leaving Nikki standing there, gaping.

And wondering if her attempt to help Fiora Garcia’s case had just been turned upside down...and she’d actually just tightened the noose around the woman’s neck.

Oh, Fuck.

45

Nikki joined Mrs. Castillo and Mads in the family room to help decorate the tall, full tree, which took quite a bit of time, a couple of glasses of eggnog and innumerable Christmas songs they sang in both English and Spanish.

The backdrop for the gorgeous, freshly cut and recently delivered Douglas fir was a double-paned window running from floor to ceiling, with thick patches of fresh powder gathered in the corners and glittering against the glass as the breeze blew the falling snowflakes toward this side of the mansion.

Mads was ecstatic that it was snowing and she chattered on and on about how she hoped Uncle Damen had bought her snowboarding gear and lessons for Christmas, because she “dessssperately” wanted to learn. All of her friends were boarding and it was apparently severely uncool that she only knew how to ski.

Damen’s mother winked at Nikki, confirming Damen did, indeed, intend to make this particular wish come true for his niece.

Nikki could practically hear his rich, intimate voice in her head, musing, “God forbid Mads should ever be considered severely uncool by her peers.”

To which Nikki would reply, “With that hair? Never.”

She smiled inwardly, thinking how (all-too easily) she could have a mental conversation with Damen and know precisely how it would go.