by Meryl Sawyer
“Do what?” he asked, his lips against the hair on the top of her head.
“I have to be careful.”
“You said Nate Albertson is in federal prison.”
“That doesn’t mean he won’t send one of his henchmen after me.” She forced herself to pull out of his arms. “I don’t want you involved.”
“I can take care of myself,” he replied as he led her down the beach toward a bench. “I was in Delta Force.”
On the way up to the North Shore, Chad had told her about himself. No doubt he was a highly trained man who was far better able to protect himself than Romero had been. Still, Rutherford and Ames could afford a top-notch hit team like the one they sent to Santa Fe. Chad might not even see them coming.
Zach bounded up to them, his exuberance forcing her to smile. “Good boy.” He had a stick in his mouth that he’d found somewhere on the beach. She tossed it high in the air but away from the water. She didn’t want him in the treacherous surf.
“There was a man,” she told him as they sat down on the wooden bench, “a friend who had a gallery next to where I worked.”
Chad’s eyes roved over her in silent appraisal, and she wondered if he was asking himself why she hadn’t mentioned this earlier. She’d wanted to tell as few lies as possible. She’d told him that she’d been working in a gallery in Portland when a hit team had come to kill her. Basically she’d re-hashed the Santa Fe story including the part about the two cell phones, but she hadn’t mentioned Romero’s death. She’d claimed she’d gotten away and had driven south to Santa Barbara where she was able to crew on a sailboat bound for Hawaii.
This jibed with her explanation of how she’d escaped Nate Albert by flying to London, hitchhiking to the south of France and hiring on as crew on a boat sailing to Florida. Chad had remarked that this was an ingenious way of getting back into the country. Airports had extremely tight security since 9/11 but yacht harbors had lax customs check points.
“What about the man?” Chad prompted.
“They killed him.” She exhaled, hard. “Slit his throat.”
“I’m sorry.” He ran his fingers along the curve of her cheek. “I know you’re worried about me, but—”
“Don’t you get it? He died because he befriended me. I don’t want to put you at risk. If they—”
“They?”
Careful, she warned herself. She’d been thinking of Rutherford and Ames and had said “they.” Slow down. Watch what you say. “Remember, I told you the hit team was an ordinary looking couple from the Midwest. They weren’t what I would have expected. Who knows what the next team will look like?”
His eyes raked her face, their blue depths gleaming with an inner light that was almost frightening. Tenderness replaced the fearsome intensity in his expression. “We’re in this together.”
She’d been alone and lonely for so long with only Zach for comfort. To know someone cared touched her in a very unexpected way. She wanted to wrap her arms around him and cradle him against her breasts. To keep him safe. It was an irrational, maternal instinct she realized, but she couldn’t help herself.
We’re in this together.
He didn’t have a clue about what was really happening. Devon was tempted to warn him, but there was so much about him she didn’t know, and she couldn’t risk getting tossed out of WITSEC. She had no choice but to stick with the story she’d fabricated.
Zach pranced up to her, the stick in his jaws. She took her time extracting it from his mouth while she tried to decide what to do about Chad. She threw the sand-coated stick as far down the beach as she could.
Chad reached over and threaded a tendril of her hair through his fingers. His eyes never left hers as he played with her hair. Unrelenting determination in his voice, he repeated, “We’re in this together.”
Chest swelling emotion welled up inside her. She couldn’t look into his eyes any longer. She was afraid he would see through the web of lies. He leaned down and she almost sighed as his lips hovered over hers.
“Don’t,” she managed to murmur.
“You don’t want me to kiss you?”
“No. I don’t.” Even to Devon, her voice sounded pathetically unconvincing.
“If I recall…you kissed me big-time last night.”
She hadn’t forgotten, not for a second, not even when she’d been spinning the tale about Nate Albert. Her entire body had been taut with anticipation since he’d walked into her apartment. Encouraging him was dangerous for both of them.
Tell a joke, her mind ordered. Defuse the situation.
“Know what God said after creating Eve?”
Chad frowned at her.
“Practice makes perfect.”
He shook his head. “Very funny. You joke to get out of tight spots.”
She couldn’t deny it. Jokes relieved tension. She’d learned that as a young child when her parents had been fighting.
He took her face in the palms of his hands and tilted it upward until she was forced to look into his eyes. In their smoldering depths she saw something she couldn’t name. Ever so slowly he drew her to him.
She knew she shouldn’t do this. Kissing him only encouraged feelings of intimacy. His we’re-in-this-together attitude would only increase if she allowed him to get close to her like this. She tried to pull away, but his powerful arms anchored her in place.
His lips touched hers and longing rose, swift and overwhelming. Devon admitted the truth to herself. She wanted this man. It wasn’t just, sex, either, she realized with shattering clarity. She needed much, much…more from him.
He teased her lips apart and nudged his tongue into her mouth. Her pulse went berserk, throbbing heat invading the sweet spot between her thighs. She clung to him, savoring the male scent of his body, the salt air dancing around them, the trace of woodsy aftershave.
His hand inched up her rib cage and cradled her breast. He stroked the nipple with his thumb until it was a taut bead straining against the sheer fabric of her sundress. She arched against his rock-hard, inescapably masculine frame and furrowed her fingers through his hair.
She molded her body against his and kissed him, not even thinking about holding back. Passion surged through her and she knew she didn’t have the willpower to resist him. She’d known she had a sensual side, but her physical reaction to other men had never been this intense.
He pulled back a scant inch. His heavy-lidded eyes gazed down at her. “You see? All it takes is a kiss.” His warm breath stirred her hair. “And we’re ready to go.”
There was no point in denying it. Unwilling to trust her voice, she merely nodded.
“I don’t think a public beach is a very good spot.”
“No, it’s not,” she agreed.
“Let’s go to my place.”
BROCK STARED AT 251’S FILE. There was nothing in the jacket about the agent’s Mennonite background. It listed his parents as Martha and David Norton. Place of birth: Belize City, Belize, Central America.
Did another more comprehensive file exist somewhere else at Obelisk? If it was stored in an electronic format, Brock would know about it. But if it was in an old-fashioned paper file—it could be anywhere in the building.
Cassidy’s office was the most likely spot. As CEO he should have information on everyone. Brock had never found Cassidy to be particularly clever. Why would he hide 251’s religious background? It didn’t make sense.
While he mulled over the puzzle, Brock logged on to refdesk.com and looked up the Mennonites in Belize. They were distant relatives of the Pennsylvania Amish who had moved to Mexico in the 1900s. They were devoted pacifists who rejected any form of taxation. In the 1950s the Mexican government tried to make them join the Social Security network. The whole group packed up and moved to Belize.
Unlike the Pennsylvania Amish, the Mennonites in Belize didn’t reject modern equipment. None of that horse and buggy crap some people found quaint. The Mennonites in Belize were very successful farmers and prod
uced most of the country’s dairy products. The small but influential group was wealthy compared to their countrymen.
Brock read a little more but didn’t find anything online that gave him the slightest clue about why 251’s Mennonite background wasn’t in his file. Brock knew he was going to have to get into Cassidy’s office and see if he had paper files that hadn’t been scanned into the security system.
There wasn’t any reason Brock could see not to go ahead with his plan. Tomorrow 251 would be back in this country. 77 had already been prepped on the mission.
“Samantha Robbins is as good as dead.”
His words echoed through his office. With the bitch out of the way, he could send 77 after the DARPA device some jerk was testing in Hawaii.
“Speaking of bitches.” He picked up the telephone and called Jordan Walsh. The bitch hadn’t returned a single one of his phone calls. Who did she think she was? The damn answering machine picked up, and he slammed the receiver down.
Maybe he should just go over to her place tonight. The message didn’t say she was traveling. He assumed she would be home. He didn’t care about Jordan Walsh blowing him off—but he did care about her Gull Wing. He intended to have that car.
Brock killed the rest of the afternoon running security checks on Obelisk executives. No one but Cassidy seemed to be in contact with Bash Olofson. It occurred to Brock that Olofson might have files on Obelisk operatives. Brock had never tried to get into his computer.
“Too risky.”
If he were caught breaking into Olofson’s house, it would be the end of his career. He had no doubt the general would have him killed. Brock liked to get into computers directly. He had no trouble accessing the Obelisk executives’ terminals because they were in the building.
He could send the general an e-mail greeting card and use some other general’s name so Olofson would be sure to open it. Most people didn’t yet realize that worms could be embedded in those cutesy online cards. The worm wouldn’t destroy files. It would relay them to another computer.
Brock would have to purchase a computer and use a false name. There was always the chance the worm would be discovered. He didn’t want it traced back to him.
That evening he went to Jordan’s condo. No lights were on and no one answered the bell. He slipped a note under the front door.
Call me. I miss you.
He wanted to go to his warehouse and detail his cars, but night was the only time he could safely search Cassidy’s office. He drove back to Obelisk, parked in his spot and checked his watch. The security guards patrolled the building every thirty-seven minutes.
Brock slipped into the building and took the backstairs to Cassidy’s twelfth-floor office. He had keys to every office in the building, even though the only other set of keys was supposed to be in the security guard’s office. He slid the key in the lock and the door clicked open. Brock slipped inside and shut it quietly behind him.
He turned on the special military flashlight. It was longer and thinner than a standard flashlight, but gave off tremendous light. He checked his watch. In thirty-one minutes the guard would make rounds and check this office. He had to be out by then.
It didn’t take half that long. Cassidy had nothing of interest hidden in his office. Nothing. Where was the file?
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAD WAS HALFWAY BACK to his house when his cell phone rang. He wasn’t in the mood to be interrupted, but the caller ID indicated Ane was trying to reach him. She rarely called so he decided this must be important.
With a smile to Devon, he answered, “Lil eha?” What’s happening?
“The police need you at Kewalo Basin. A little boy disappeared. They think he may have fallen in.”
“I’m on my way.”
Chad hit the end button and cursed under his breath. Just his luck. Devon had finally warmed up to him, and he had to leave her.
“I have a contract with HPD,” he told Devon. “I do underwater forensics for them. A kid fell into the water at the Kewalo Basin.”
“Kewalo Basin. Isn’t that where the fishing fleet is based?”
“Right. But there are lots of children around the docks. They wait for the fleet to come in and help out or take home fish too damaged to sell.”
Devon sighed so softly that he might not have heard except his head was tilted toward her. “That poor mother. She must be frantic.”
“If the kid’s been underwater for more than a few minutes, he’s gone.” It disturbed him to say it, but from experience, he knew this was true. “Children drown without a sound and without much splashing.”
“Unlike adults who yell for help and flail around in the water. Right?”
“Absolutely. Kewalo Basin is an extremely busy place. A child in the water might not have been noticed.”
“Won’t the police send divers down?”
“Trust me. Fishermen searched the minute the mother alerted them. By the time the police arrive, it’ll be treated as a crime scene.”
“This sounds like an accident, not a crime.”
He could hear the emotion in her voice and knew she was empathizing with the mother. Devon had a soft side she rarely allowed people to see. She would be a great mother. Where had that thought come from? he asked himself.
“Look, the islands are surrounded by water,” he said. “It wouldn’t be the first time a parent tossed in a kid who was already dead.”
“You mean…to cover up child abuse?”
“Exactly. Once it was police policy to bring up the body and collect evidence on the surface. Now they send down underwater forensic experts like me. I locate the body, take photos and measurements and thoroughly examine the area. I’ll be the one to put the body in a plastic mesh bag so the water can drain when it’s on land.”
Devon covered her eyes with one hand for a moment. “Sounds like grim work. How did you get into it?”
“I always loved the water. Part of Delta Force training is the same course they give navy SEALs. I took underwater investigation classes when I was in the service. When I got out, I started Underwater Investigations. I work primarily for insurance companies when they need to verify a cause of death that occurred in the water.”
“Shelby told me you worked on the Laci Peterson case.”
Chad smiled to himself. So she’d been asking Shelby about him. The airhead didn’t know much, but it pleased him that Devon had asked. Actually, it pleased him a lot more than he would have believed.
“Laci’s parents called me in, but the police had already sent down a team of underwater experts. There wasn’t much I could add.”
“I guess she and her baby were badly decomposed.”
“You bet. The water there is very cold, but she was under a long time. Here with the water so warm decomposition is extremely rapid.”
“How do you know if they drowned or if they died elsewhere and were thrown into the water?”
“First I check the victim’s mouth. If there’s sand or seaweed in it, I’m fairly certain the person was alive and breathing when he hit the water. Foam at the mouth is another sign. It’s mucus secreted from the trachea when water is inhaled.” Chad drove off Kunia Drive onto Highway 1. “Sometimes I can’t tell. The coroner has to autopsy the body. He looks for small tears or hemorrhages on the lungs.”
“Interesting,” Devon said, her voice low.
They drove in silence for a few minutes. He turned off the highway onto city streets. A slug fest. No question about it. Honolulu had traffic problems as bad as those on the mainland.
“You can let me off at the corner,” Devon said. “Zach and I will walk home.”
An oddly primitive warning sounded in his brain. Now that he knew she was in danger, he didn’t want her to be alone.
As if reading his mind, she said, “I’ll be careful. This way you can get to Kewalo Basin faster. The child’s mother must be going out of her mind with worry.”
He knew she was right, and he also realized he couldn’
t be with her every moment of the day. “I don’t know how long this is going to take. I’ll call you. Maybe we can get together later. It’ll depend on how long I have to be underwater.”
She nodded slightly and he hoped she wasn’t going to change her mind. He brought the Porsche to a halt at the curb in a loading zone. Devon got out. Her skirt hiked up for a moment and gave him a glimpse of her long, slim legs. Zach hopped out of the back.
“Thanks for showing me the North Shore.”
“See you later.” Chad watched them walk up the street until they disappeared around the corner. As usual Devon had subtly checked the people nearby.
He’d been right to try to get close to her. Devon was too frightened to allow many people into her life. But now that he had persuaded her to open up, he was going to be part of her life. They had chemistry going for them, but more than that, Chad related to Devon in a special way. He saw something of himself in her. They shared the same independent streak.
Chad drove to Kewalo Basin and parked beside a police cruiser. In the trunk of his car he kept his gear. The water in Hawaii was so warm a wet suit wasn’t necessary, but he needed his dive vest and regulator. He had a special face mask with an earpiece and a speaker. When he was conducting an underwater investigation, he had to be able to contact officers on the shore. He also used an underwater camera and a waterproof recorder to document his findings.
“Aikane!” Buddy! His friend, Rafe greeted him. “Good news! The kid didn’t fall in the water. He and a cousin wandered into the video arcade down the street.”
“Great. The last thing I want is to search for a drowned child.”
He chatted with Rafe while he repacked his gear in the trunk of his car.
“Hey, thanks for getting that info from the DMV for me.”
“No problem. Did it help?”
“You bet.”
They said goodbye and Chad climbed into his car. He revved the engine to kick on the air conditioning. He tried Devon’s number on his cell, but she didn’t answer.
She wasn’t in trouble, was she?
He drove to his office, telling himself that he couldn’t worry about her every second of the day. It didn’t seem likely that Nate Albert would send a hit team from behind bars, but stranger things had happened. Obviously Devon thought it was a real possibility. She’d taken elaborate measures to ensure her safety.