Page 3 of Kept By The Agents

Anger rushed over me. Who the hell was this other guy? And why did he think he had any influence over what I did? Why were they here?

Before I could ask anything, I felt myself arcing through the air. It took all my willpower not to scream as Suave tossed me over his huge, beefy shoulder. I pounded against his back. "You have no right to do this!" I hissed as he hauled me back the way I'd come.

"I have every right, Baby. You belong to me," Suave said with a chuckle.

Rolling my eyes, I went limp. There was no way I was going to get away from the overgrown ape. I'd just have to wait to find out what he wanted. There was no point in arguing with him that I no longer belonged to him, and hadn't for a very long time. He wouldn't listen. His head was as thick as his biceps.

I watched with a forlorn expression as the light over the door that Denis had disappeared into grew fainter with every step. "I really need to go back there," I said, trying to appeal to Suave's sensible side. That should have been my first clue that the jerk would ignore me. Suave didn't have a sensible side. He was all action and chaos.

It'd been that way since I'd first met him in my sophomore year of high school. He'd been a senior and on the football team and I'd been on the school newspaper. Even then, I'd been forced to report on things that didn't matter to me. The last thing I'd been interested in was sports. At least until Suave had set his sights on me and pursued me until I agreed to go out with him. We'd dated all through high school and into college.

Shoving away the past memories, I pounded my fist on Suave's back again. Biting my lower lip, I shook out my hand. The man had always been built like a tank and somehow it was like he was bigger, harder, as though he was made of steel.

"Darro! I'm not fucking kidding. I have to go back." The realization that the last three weeks of my work—and five months for Alyona and her family—digging up contacts who would actually speak to us, and chasing down every lead was slowly slipping through my fingertips made me desperate. I was going to not only lose the chance to bust up this organization, but more importantly, I'd lose Elena.

I couldn't let that happen. Shifting as much as his burly hand on the back of my thighs would allow, I kicked forward. My sneaker bounced off rock hard abs, but a smile spread over my face at his pained grunt. "I'm about to start screaming bloody murder," I warned.

The world tumbled as Suave flipped me off his shoulder and set me in front of him. "Go ahead, Cat." His smile was pure sin. "I'll enjoy gagging you."

My eyes narrowed as I tried to discern whether he meant that sexually or not. Then I mentally berated myself. It's Suave. Of course it's sexual.

He wore his charm and prowess the way other men wore clothes. His bulky arms folded over his chest as he glared down at me in the dim lamplight. We were a few alleys over from the door that would take me to the information I needed. "What's so important?"

"The better question," a man with light brown hair and glasses cut in, "is, what are you doing here?"

"Who are you?" I asked. "Actually, the better question is, why do you think you can stop me from my mission?"

"Mission?" The third man asked from behind me. They circled around, placing me in the center. Somewhere along the line the moon had reemerged in the sky, shining its waning light over us.

Smart. I couldn't bolt away without one of them reaching out to catch me. Not that there was much space between us. I swore I could feel the third man's—the one who said I had a filthy mouth—chest brushing against my back.

My nipples peaked as I turned my head to study him. It was an inappropriate response, but given the fact that my adrenaline was pumping and I was surrounded by sexy men, I gave myself a break.

He was handsome, in that 'take no prisoners' kind of way. It was obvious by the air of authority clinging to him that he was the leader of this little trio. My eyes went back to the man with the glasses. He looked like one of the geeks from the chess club in college. He was still good looking, no one should have eyes that blue, but it was easy to see he was less brawn and more brain. Not that he was necessarily lacking in the muscle department. He was lankier than the other two, but where Suave was a tank, this man had a lithe swimmer's build. His shirt was tight enough to show biceps that would still make the girls drool.

"It's classified," I said with a haughty sniff.

"Is she-"

"No," Suave answered, cutting off the leader's question. "She's a reporter."

"Conflict Journalist," I corrected.

The man's lip lifted in what could only be disgust and I bristled. I turned toward him and drilled my finger into his chest. It wasn't easy to ignore the well-defined pecs I was poking, but I managed because of my anger. My mother had always told me that my temper would be my downfall. "You have something against journalists?"

Suave's chuckle echoed through the alley when the man looked over my shoulder at him. "You weren't kidding about her temper."

"Who are you?" I snapped in frustration, dropping my hand. "And why did you grab me?" That question was directed at Suave.

"This is Brandon and Weaver," Suave finally said.

Weaver's head was moving as he continuously scanned the alley to make sure we were alone. The moon reflected off his glasses at the movement. He looked incredibly tense. It was understandable considering the neighborhood we were in. It wasn't a nice part of town. It was well known for its crime and debauchery. The Bratva and the Raleka had a foothold here and it spanned at least ten or more blocks.

"They're my team."

"I heard you started working for the government," I commented, turning back to face Suave. It would have been nice if they'd stand in a damn line so I could stop spinning like a ballerina. I didn't bother to ask them to move. "No one would tell me which branch, but I have my methods. You're CIA." My smile was smug when Suave's eyes narrowed. I knew him well enough to read his slightest expressions. His career wasn't the only thing I'd been following over the years. I wouldn't consider myself a stalker, but I knew a lot about the man he'd become.

"She's smart," Weaver said quietly in an approving tone.

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