by Rachel Grant
“It’s a good story. Your niece might even buy it.”
“We’d already successfully destroyed two other bombs.”
Dominick tilted his head in interest. “Smallpox?”
“No. A Cold War–era anthrax bomb in China and a chemical weapon in Vietnam.”
“Can you prove this? That you located and destroyed them?”
“Of course not. We weren’t nearly so sloppy after the arms deal.”
Dominick sat back again. “I’m not fond of fairy tales, Mr. Stevens.”
Andrew sat forward. “I don’t give a shit if you think I’m guilty. I’ve already accepted I’m going to prison. What I need is for you to believe Beck is guilty. I realize now he developed his own ideas about our mission. He knows how to conduct covert arms deals, and now he’s got a smallpox bomb in his possession.”
“What made you come to that conclusion?”
“Mara wasn’t even supposed to go to North Korea. As my niece, she had a higher profile than the others. But the other archaeologists got sick—easily engineered—and Mara went.”
“Why would Beck want Mara on the team?”
He’d been pondering that ever since the idea first germinated. “To create an international incident so they could get the bomb out of the country instead of destroying it on-site, and to keep me on edge as the trial drew near. My guess is Robert didn’t like my noble goals—”
“Apparently delusion runs in the family.”
Andrew smiled at that one. “I think Robert got greedy. He must have decided he didn’t want to find and destroy anymore. He’s had nearly three months to replicate the smallpox bomb.”
“Did anyone outside of Raptor know what you were doing?”
“One person. I told him in the strictest of confidence, my backup against getting caught. Someone who holds sway with the president, should I need a pardon.”
“You sold arms to a war criminal and you’re hoping for a pardon? Do you know how those arms were used?”
Andrew shook his head.
“Your Janjaweed buddy led the massacre of a remote village. He wanted their water supply and killed every man, woman, and child to get it.”
The words cut. But he’d known it wouldn’t be pretty. “I freed six American reporters who were taken hostage. Had they been killed, we would have conducted airstrikes on the region. Those same civilians could have died, as would American soldiers.”
The prosecutor leaned forward. “Who did you tell? Was it an administration official?”
Andrew clasped his hands and leaned on his wrists. He wasn’t praying. It was too late for that. Nothing could save him now, not even the talented prosecutor who might be in love with his niece. But the man could save Mara, and she needed a hero now, more than ever. “I told the secretary of state before the arms deal, and have continued regular updates ever since.”
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
CURT INFORMED JUDGE Hawthorne a plea agreement would be delivered for her approval in the morning, convinced her to sign wiretap warrants for those the former vice president had implicated, and then spent an hour arranging Andrew Stevens’s relocation to a safe house. He had a long-ass night ahead of him, drafting the agreement and getting the surveillance in place.
In Andrew Stevens’s plea, no mention would be made of biological or chemical weapons, or trading arms for hostages. Stevens had agreed to cop to the arms deal without excuses or justifications.
Try getting a presidential pardon for that.
Yet, Curt did believe his fairy tale. A zealot for his cause, the man saw himself as honorable. But if Stevens hadn’t pushed for the smallpox bomb recovery, the bomb would still be in North Korea, safely buried on the same hillside where it had rested undisturbed for over sixty years. Yes, there was a danger it could have fallen into a dictator’s hands, but falling into Robert Beck’s hands was just as bad.
Once arrangements had been made for Stevens, Curt grabbed his coat. He had a ton of work to do, but dammit, he needed to see Mara. He needed to begin his campaign to convince her of his own fairy tale, his own honorable intentions. But deep down, he feared Mara would see him as another misguided zealot.
He took a taxi to Union Station and from there took one Metro train after another, randomly changing lines and direction. Finally, he exited the Metro at Cleveland Park and caught another taxi, which dropped him a few blocks from the safe house. It was after nine by the time he trudged down the cold city block. The residential streets were quiet, making it easy to spot someone following him. The cloak-and-dagger routine would, in most circumstances, make him feel ridiculous, but Raptor was out there, was looking for Mara, especially now that the news had carried the story of Stevens’s courtroom confession.
Each wasted minute hurt. He didn’t have much time to see her, and the moments dwindled before he’d even arrived.
The house was small, a single-story two-bedroom with a steeply sloped driveway that led to a basement garage. A nondescript house nestled between similar houses, the only difference was the porch had been enclosed to create a vestibule, which provided a workstation for the FBI agent assigned guard duty.
Curt paused in front of the security camera, hit the buzzer, and was quickly admitted. “What’s her mood?” he asked after shaking hands with the guard.
“She’s crabby. There’s been some ranting.”
Curt grimaced. “She say anything about me?”
“Nothing I could repeat.” The hulking agent ran a hand over his bare scalp. “My mother taught me better than to use language like that.”
“I’m going in.”
The guard smiled. “You got body armor on?”
“Will you lend me yours?”
He laughed. “No way. Really, most of all, you need a cup.”
Curt winced. “I’m going in unprotected. No matter how much I scream, don’t come in.”
The guard gave him a knowing look and said, “Good luck.”
Curt took a deep breath and prepared to do battle.
THE MOMENT MARA heard the door, she knew who it would be. Who else would show up at this hour? She looked about the living room and grabbed the first loose objects to come to hand. But the remote control wouldn’t hurt him enough and the lamp would hurt too much.
He approached with the unwavering determination of a Terminator as she tried to decide which weapon to hurl at him. She was still weighing her options when he was upon her. He touched her wrists, wrapping his fingers and gently twisting in a way that forced her to drop both items without hurting her, then continued forward, still holding her wrists, until her back was against the wall.
Once again he pinned her wrists above her head and pressed his body to hers. But this time he wasn’t restraining or interrogating her. His body was taut with tension and his hazel eyes bright with emotion. Without saying a word, he invaded her mouth in a hot, searing kiss that put the gas fireplace to shame.
She melted and molded against him. The carnal kiss conveyed passion his earlier kisses had hinted at, but this was Curt, unleashed.
Being a weak fool, she reveled in the heat. His mouth devoured, blazing a hot trail across her cheek, to her ear, down her sensitive neck. He released her hands so he could cup her breasts, and she didn’t hesitate to thread her fingers through his hair, to grip his wide shoulders and trace the muscles that never failed to fascinate.
At last, fantasy, desire, passion, and need could be satisfied. His mouth returned to hers, and she sucked on his tongue, unable to get enough of kissing him. This was real. Not shared fantasy, not incomplete, aching memory.
The frenzy of his initial possession slowed into something more leisurely, more thorough, but more intense. He explored her mouth as his hands investigated her body. She purred with satisfaction. She’d longed for this since they’d shared a narrow bunk in Hawai’i.
He broke the kiss and leaned his forehead to hers, his breathing ragged. “Let’s get one thing straight. When I told you I’m falling in love with yo
u, I meant it. I’ve never said those words to anyone before, and I wanted to say them to you while I had the chance.”
She caught her breath and waited for her emotional compass to right itself. How did she feel about this declaration?
Giddy, certainly.
Satisfaction was there too.
As was elation.
And don’t forget lust.
But then there was hurt. And resentment.
And fury.
She pushed at his shoulders, and he fell back, freeing her. “Goddamn you, Curt Dominick. Do you really think you can just march in here, kiss me silly, and I’ll just melt at your self-righteous feet? Of all the egotistical, supercilious…”
“I may be self-righteous and egotistical, but I am not supercilious!”
She cast him a satisfied glare. She’d hit a nerve. Good. “You tried to lure me here with lies. You didn’t tell me the real reason you came after me—instead you yelled at me for taking risks when you were the one who would expose me. Raptor knows I’m in DC now. Thanks to you! You can’t just kiss me and expect me to forget.”
“I planned to enter on my knees and beg you to understand. But then I saw you and needed to kiss you more.”
She crossed her arms. “I need the knees and the begging.”
FOR OVER TWENTY years the idea of being brought to his knees by love had filled Curt with dread, but now he couldn’t drop fast enough. He took her hands in his. “You win.”
He felt cocky, victorious. Her response to his kiss told him this case was his. The jury was favorable.
She snatched her hands from his. “You risked my life by bringing me here. All to save your goddamned career.”
Cockiness fled, and fear rushed into the void. This was so much darker, deeper than the fear he’d carried of emotional attachment. This was fear of living the rest of his life without a heart.
He dropped farther, to his heels. “I’ve given up so much for my career, and will probably give up more in the years to come, but give up you? Never. If I had to make a choice between career and you, I’d quit tonight.” He studied his hands, unwilling to meet her gaze. “What I did to get you here to testify, I didn’t do for me or for my career. I did it for justice.”
When she remained silent, he dared to look up. “Justice was served today.”
Her eyes were shuttered, giving no hint of her reaction.
The remote silence from his warm, vivacious pixie hit him like a sucker punch. He’d counted on too much, taken the hero worship to heart, and assumed her forgiveness was a foregone conclusion.
For a smart man, he really was stupid. And an ass.
“I’m not a superhero, Mara. I never have been, but neither am I the kind of man to risk your life just to save my career.” He felt the burn of tears but held them in check. “From the moment you stepped into that courtyard blindfolded and handcuffed, you have made me question all of my smug—and yes, supercilious—assumptions about you. But, if you believe I was acting to save my ass, then I failed to show you who I am.”
“At least you’ve cured me of idealizing you.”
He smiled without joy. “Progress.”
“Did it even occur to you to ask me?”
“What if you’d said no? What if you’d bolted? I had a narrow window of time to get you on the stand, but more important, if you’d fled, I couldn’t protect you. Yes, I risked your safety in bringing you here, but I worked damn hard to make sure you’d be protected. I even ensured no one knew you would testify until moments before you were on the stand. Raptor didn’t have time to respond.”
“But did you consider I might have said yes?” The pain in her eyes smothered the last embers of his hope.
“I couldn’t take that chance.” He rose to his feet. “I hate the machinations that were required, but I did what I had to do.” He crossed the living room, putting space between them, knowing he was back on his feet but emotionally still on metaphorical knees, and there was nothing left to do but tell her. “You’re the last person in the world I want to hurt, the last person I want to endanger.” He turned back to face her. “I’m in love with you, Mara. Hopelessly, helplessly in love with you.”
She took a step toward him, then stopped and stared at him. All he could do was stare back and let her see the truth in his eyes. After a lifetime of hiding behind a cold façade, it wasn’t easy to let the shield go.
Speechless, she stood in the middle of the room. Finally, she lifted a hand in the air and studied it wonderingly. “I’m so afraid to believe you, I’m trembling.” He saw her shaking fingers and the shivers that traveled up her arm.
He crossed to her in three quick strides and held out his own hand. “And I’m so scared you won’t believe me, I’ve been shaking since I was on my knees.” He took her hand in his and stilled both their tremors.
She let out a half sob, half laugh. “This is nuts. I started falling for you the first moment I saw you, and I’ve been second-guessing myself every moment since.” She studied their entwined hands. “I can’t fall in love with you. I can pretend to date you, but a real relationship is crazy. You’re a legendary crusader for justice, and my uncle is an arms dealer. You’ll be the next attorney general, and I helped create an international incident.”
His heart pounded as hope sprang anew. “Sounds like a perfect match to me.” He pulled her against him, slowly, giving her a choice, then cradled her face in his hands. “I’m sorry, Mara. It killed me to know how much my actions would hurt you.”
She gripped his tie, pulling him down as she rose on her toes. When their lips were millimeters apart, she said, “Promise you won’t ever manipulate me like that again.”
He raised his voice to be heard over his loud, racing heart. “I promise.”
Her lips touched his. A soft, fleeting kiss, and it took all his willpower not to crush her in a demanding embrace. The only way to win was to surrender and grant her complete control.
Still gripping his tie, she said, “I have something I need to tell you.”
Fear surged at her trepidation. “Hopefully it’s that you love me?”
She shook her head, and his heart dropped. He rallied a second later. Dammit. He’d convince her to love him. She was a jury of one, and he would sway her. “Give me time, then. That’s all I ask.”
She laughed. “No. It’s not that. I mean, I do love you, but it’s not that.”
Relief flooded him. “Wow. And people say men are bad at romance. Could you say that again, but without the other stuff?”
“It’s my fault you were the envoy.”
Her words took him aback. “Your fault?”
“I suggested your name to my interrogator. They wanted—”
He planted his mouth on hers before she could finish. He lifted his head long enough to say, “I don’t give a damn,” then resumed kissing her. Fear, tension, anxiety all left him at once, and now, all he felt was the urgent need to make her his. He dropped small kisses along her jaw, traced her ear with his tongue, and murmured his intention against her skin.
She lifted his head and gazed into his eyes. “If you’d asked me to testify, I don’t know how I would have answered. But I’m glad you forced me. I know if I hadn’t testified, I’d have regretted it.”
This was her gift, absolving him. He sucked in a deep breath, continually amazed by her. “About your uncle, I need to tell you—”
“No. Not now. He doesn’t get to share this moment. This is for us.” She smiled wickedly. “You are finally going to put out.” She worked the knot on his tie.
He grinned and began unbuttoning her blouse. “Yes, ma’am.” When he had her shirt open, he lowered his mouth to her breast, laving the hard nipple through the thin satin of her bra. She let out a soft moan and ran her fingers through his hair. “You’re mine,” he said, feeling positively Neanderthal and enjoying every primal-possessive moment. He slid a hand over her butt and down her thigh, then moved upward to press against her center. “And I’m going to hav
e you.”
She tugged his shirt from his slacks. “Promise me the guard won’t interrupt us.”
He glanced toward the door. “I’m pretty sure he knows what we’re doing.”
She laughed and pushed his jacket and shirt down his shoulders.
He let go of her long enough to remove both items, then nodded toward the fireplace. “I want to make love to you in front of the fire, like we did on our fourth date.”
“Third. The football game wasn’t a date.”
He chuckled, tossed her over his shoulder, and deposited her in front of the hearth. He reached for the clasp on her slacks. “You’re wearing too much.”
“So are you.” She tugged on his belt.
Their arms tangled at cross-purposes. He stepped back and removed his pants, while she doffed her blouse and slacks. She reached for her bra, but he stopped her hands and traced the cups with deliberate slowness.
She purred with impatience and unhooked the back, then slipped the straps from her shoulders. He caught the cups before they slid off and instead revealed her magnificent curves in slow millimeters. Nipples exposed at last, he covered one with his mouth while rolling the other between his fingers.
“You really do have spectacular breasts.” Her skin was hot in his hands. He tasted her other breast, and she panted his name.
Every sensation was heightened, intense. He’d never known what he was missing, engaging in sex without love. This was new. And incredibly hot. She moaned and closed her eyes. The pleasure on her face pushed his arousal to a new level as satisfaction shot through him.
This beautiful woman was his. All his.
He pulled her against him and captured her mouth in another searing kiss. Her hands found his erection, and he groaned as she put his staying power to the test.
“Condoms,” she said. “Please tell me you have condoms.”
“I do.” He released her to rummage in his jacket pocket and returned with a box.
“You’re prepared.”
He hooked a finger inside the top of her panties and pulled her closer. “I wasn’t afraid to hope.” He dropped to his knees, pulling down her underwear as he went. She obliged by stepping out of the skimpy satin.