Page 18 of Enemy of the State

“Yes, but the sooner the better. Weneedthe intel.”

“I’m on it, sir,” I assure him.

“You better be. It won’t be good foranyoneif we don’t get what we need from her. Do you understand?”

Loud and clear.

“Yes, sir,” I reply succinctly. It’s abundantly clear by the way he says the word “anyone,” thatI’mthe one who will suffer the consequences should I fail.

It’s time to take things up a notch, Lou.

Sean

“Bath time,” I grunt from the other side of Louhi’s cage door. She shoves off the back wall of her cell and shuffles toward the barred entrance just as I swing open her door. Coming to a stop before me, she folds her arms below her plump breasts, jutting them upward. Her eyes trace my body as she looks me up and down before arching an eyebrow at my masked face. I’m certain she’s just taken stock of the absence of my rifle, but the presence of my Glock and tactical knives still strapped to me. She never seems to miss a damn thing.

“Does this bath happen to include a clawfoot tub, an endless supply of hot water, loads of foaming bubbles, and maybe a bath bomb? Oh, and wine, please tell me there’s wine.”

A snort threatens to escape, but I glare at her instead, locking onto her eyes the color of the bark on a pine tree. I jerk my head in the direction of the mouth of the cell block where Jace and Stuco wait for us. Her keen gaze slides in their direction, assessing the situation.

I’ve been waiting for the moment when she untethers her self-restraint, but that’s yet to happen. If Thompson’s warning is to be believed, this woman could take me on without a problem.So, what’s stopping her?

Most inmates thrash and fight like hell is nipping at their heels—in a way, it is—when they arrive here, pitching all manners of fits, but not Lou. Lou’s maintained a surprising level of decorum and restraint, and I wonder what it’ll take for her to show her teeth.

Stepping into the hallway, she glances back at me. “Just so I’m aware going forward, whatisthe bath schedule? I didn’t see it mentioned in the welcome packet.”

Again, I stifle the huff of laughter, but I don’t bother to stop the roll of my eyes since she’s now walking in front of me.

As we pass Samuel’s cell, he leers at her, and my fists clench at my sides. He’s in here for being one of the most prolific cyber terrorists the western world has seen. Like Louhi, he’s given us a few answers, but I still like to torture him for the hell of it sometimes. Louhi sticks her tongue out at him, and I mentally admonish her for it. It’s not a good idea to get on Samuel’s radar, but it’s still not as bad as ending up on Kazi’s. That fucker is the one most likely to find a way to break out of his steel-enforced cell like a starving animal and rape her. Planning ahead, I had Borman take Kazi to the playpen for a session before I collected Lou.

When we reach my counterparts, the two men lead us down the hallway and toward the shower room. The inmates don’t get showers very often here, but when they do, they all have to be escorted and monitored the entire time. Fucking tedious.

As we reach our destination, Stuco and Jace take up their posts outside the door, and I usher Louhi inside, shutting the thick metal door behind us.

I had the shower room prepped for her ahead of time so that a fresh uniform waits for her on a bench next to a clean, but dingy towel. The shower stalls in here aren’t enclosed, so I watch as she reaches inside and flips on the water, letting it heat up. She’s lucky I’m not feeling like being a complete dickwad today and allowed her the use of the hot water. Alright, it’s nothot, per se, but it’s not cold. I’m rarely this generous, and I curse myself for going soft.

Leaning against the wall, I survey the scene before me. Louhi wastes no time stripping out of her dirty clothes, tossing them in a pile on the floor, and in the light of day, she’s even sexier than she was on screen. When she’s bared before me, she tosses me a coquettish wink, her expression dripping in sin.Fuck me.

She steps into the stall, the spray from the showerhead drenching her instantly. Her head tilts back and her eyes close as the meager spray cascades down her body. She has a lone tattoo: a delicate black snake that slithers and winds itself along her left side. Halfway up her ribcage, the serpent coils around her breast, its head placed just over her heart, baring its fangs in a clear attack. I have a hard time pulling my eyes from the mesmerizing artwork. It looks so incredibly lifelike.

Eventually, she begins soaping herself down. My eyes are glued to that tiny bar of soap as it glides over her skin, leaving a trail of sudsy bubbles behind that the water whisks away.What I would give to be that bar of soap.

The soap skims over her calves, ankles, then feet. “Do you wash your legs and feet?” she asks, never glancing in my direction.

“What?” I grunt, confused as all fuck.

“You know, do youactuallywash your lower body, or are you one of those heathens who lets the soap just slide down your torso as you rinse?”

“Who the fuck does that?” I reply, keeping my gaze hard and cool, like granite.Of course I wash my goddamn body.

She shrugs, the bone in her shoulder moving, my eyes tracking the movement as I resist the urge to run my tongue along the osseous matter hidden beneath her skin. “I should’ve known that would never be you. I bet you wash every inch of yourself…thoroughly, not leaving a single speck of your skin untouched.”

She isnotworking to alleviate my raging erection whatsoever, and I have to assume that’s intentional. Fuck, this woman is a handful.

An incredibly hot handful,my brain supplies rather unhelpfully.

I stay rooted to the spot, my arms crossed over my chest, my jaw ticking behind my mask. Fuck, she really is beautiful. Her proud nipples stand at attention as she runs the soap over them. She glances my way as she gives them a little squeeze, nibbling on her full bottom lip. Holding my gaze, she slides the fucking soap lower, lower, lower through the smattering of bald skin, and settles the soap between her legs. I kind of want to ask how she’s managed not to grow any hair, but I don’t. It’s none of my business andI don’t care.Instead, I grind my teeth and attempt to tether myself to this spot against the wall.Do. Not. Move,I tell myself.

“I’d say that you can look, but not touch, but we seem to be past that now that you have my toenails in your possession,” she taunts, wiggling her toes dramatically.

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