by Gayle Wilson
“Sometimes.”
“The people who are most successful at forensic sculpting use intuition as well as a knowledge of physiology. And you have been remarkably successful.”
Again Griff waited, and this time, after a small silence, she told him what he obviously wanted to hear.
“Sometimes it’s as if I can visualize the person. Almost anyone who does that kind of work will tell you the same thing. It doesn’t mean—”
“Remarkably successful at putting flesh on bone,” Griff interrupted her explanation as if she hadn’t attempted to make it. “Just as you have been far more successful than almost anyone else at finding things that are missing.”
“I don’t find things, Mr. Cabot, as you obviously know. I find people.”
There had been something in her voice that made the hair on the back of Ethan’s neck lift. Whatever emotion he heard was reflected in her eyes, as well. It wasn’t pleasant.
“Particularly children,” Griff suggested, his voice as low as hers had been.
“I don’t do that anymore.”
“Isn’t it the same process as remote viewing? Child’s play, surely, to someone like you,” Griff said, echoing the words she’d used in her description of what she’d done for the CIA.
Raine crossed her arms over her chest, running her left palm along the outside of the opposite arm. “I’ve told you I can’t help you, Mr. Cabot. I can’t identify the members of your secret society. I couldn’t even guess the intentions of the man who tried to abduct me today.”
“But you did know what he was capable of,” Ethan said, breaking his silence for the first time.
She had told him that the man who pursued her would fire into that crowded cafeteria. And there had been no doubt in her voice when she’d said it.
Her eyes shifted to his face. “That’s hardly the same. Everyone has some sense of the inherent good or evil in the people they meet.”
“I don’t.”
“Maybe you call it instinct. Or chemistry.”
As she had told Griff, words have certain connotations. To Ethan, her use of that particular one in this situation seemed to imply sexual chemistry.
It made him wonder if she could be aware of his attraction to her. An attraction that had begun almost from the moment she had opened her door to him.
“Is that what you felt about the man at the hospital today?” he asked. “Some…instinct.”
“It would be hard to be trusting of anyone who put the muzzle of a 9 mm pistol in your back.”
“Especially if you’re convinced he’ll use it.”
There was another, longer silence before she responded. “I thought he would. If he felt he needed to. If he were threatened.”
“That’s all we’re asking you to do for the Phoenix.”
With Griff’s comment, she turned her attention back to him. “I beg your pardon.”
“We’ll make the arrangements. All you have to do is mingle with some people we’ll introduce you to here in Washington. There’ll be a variety of situations—some more intimate than others. Just use your ‘instincts.’ Then tell Ethan what you think about each person you encounter.”
“I’ve told you—”
“Otherwise he’ll need to take you back home in the morning,” Cabot interrupted. “You are free to make the flight, I take it?”
It took a second for Ethan to realize the last question had been addressed to him. Since his only assignment was the ongoing investigation of The Covenant, he was free to do whatever Griff wanted him to. Even if he didn’t like it.
“Of course,” he said reluctantly.
“So you see, the decision is entirely up to you, Ms. McAllister. By the way, if Monty Gardner is your father, as you insist, I’m curious as to why you call yourself McAllister?”
“That’s what’s on my birth certificate. I supposed McAllister was my mother’s name.”
“And Raine? Rather unusual. Was that her name, too?”
“Actually it’s Lorraine. I thought you knew.”
“Why would you think that?”
“Because it was his grandmother’s name. I was named for her.”
The involuntary narrowing of Cabot’s eyes, quickly controlled, revealed his surprise. That was one piece of information he hadn’t known, Ethan realized, despite the thickness of the folder in front of him.
“For Monty’s grandmother?”
She nodded. “My father. And I intend to see him again, Mr. Cabot. With or without your approval.”
“You claim he sent for you for personal reasons. As far as we’re concerned, he gave us your name for strictly professional ones. If you were willing to cooperate with us to that end, however…”
It was blatant blackmail, and they all knew it. Despite Cabot’s reputation for being pragmatic, this seemed to Ethan to be taking things to the extreme.
“What about the man who threatened to kill me? Suppose I run into him during one of your arranged outings?”
“A very good reason for Ethan’s escort while you remain in Washington. I’m sure you’d agree with the logic of that.”
“You don’t even pretend to believe that I can do what you’re asking of me, Mr. Cabot. Neither of you believe it,” she said, glancing at Ethan before she turned back to address his superior. “So I don’t understand what’s behind this proposal.”
“I admit to being a skeptic, Ms. McAllister, but as soon as Monty Gardner told us to send for you, someone tried to kill him. And as soon as you arrived today, someone tried to abduct you. I may not believe in your abilities, despite the glowing reports in here.” Griff touched the file from which he’d been reading. “I do, however, very much believe in cause and effect. Someone in this town is afraid of you or of what you can tell us. We need to know who that person is, and we need to know why they’re afraid.”
Raine shook her head. “I’ll tell you exactly what I told Ethan last night. I know nothing about The Covenant. Other than what I did for the agency years ago, I have no idea why Mr. Gardner thought I could be useful in your investigation.”
“Neither do I. It’s enough for me, however, that he did. Do we have a deal? Or does Ethan take you home in the morning?”
“I don’t need your permission to see my father. What’s to prevent me from walking out of here and going back to the hospital on my own?”
“I should think the memory of that 9 mm pressed against your spine.” Griff allowed the threat to rest between them a moment before he went on. “Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe you aren’t as talented as your devoted fans believe. Or maybe you aren’t as clever as I think you are.”
Their eyes held for endless seconds. They were clearly evaluating one another. Ethan wondered if she could sense the honor and integrity at Griff Cabot’s core, despite the unfeeling demand he had just made.
“I repeat, Ms. McAllister,” Griff said, choosing to break the stalemate. “The choice is yours.”
He closed the folder on his desk. It was an obvious sign of dismissal that anyone associated with the Phoenix would have recognized.
Raine didn’t move. Nor did she answer for several long seconds. When she did, surprisingly it was to capitulate to Griff’s demands.
“I’ll mingle with the people you want me to meet, Mr. Cabot, but be warned. I don’t read auras anymore. Or, as evidenced by what happened at the hospital today, not even murderous intent.”
“But then, unlike the rest of us, you always have your well-tuned ‘instincts’ to rely on, don’t you?”
Griff’s sarcasm was more open than it had been at any other time tonight. Raine’s mouth tightened slightly before she rose from her chair.
“You also have very good instincts,” she said. “When you choose to use them. I’m not sure why you aren’t in this case, but you should remember one thing, Mr. Cabot. I’m not the enemy. I may not be the solution you’re looking for, but I am also not any part of your problem.”
Chapter Seven
Raine couldn’t
imagine who had chosen the clothes that had been delivered late this afternoon to the hotel suite where she and Ethan had been staying. Griff Cabot seemed far too wed to three-button suits and old school ties to have selected the black lace cocktail dress she was wearing. And the idea that he would have solicited Claire’s help in securing a wardrobe for her part in this evening’s investigation struck her as ludicrous.
Ethan might have picked out something like this, she acknowledged, making a minor adjustment of the off-the-shoulders neckline. His own clothing indicated that he not only had a sense of style beyond Cabot’s expensive buttoned-up elegance, but a feeling for what was most becoming to his tall athlete’s body.
For a second the statue of the runner was in her head, the memory so vivid she could feel the clay under her hands, as alive as when she’d been working it. Although she hadn’t met Ethan when she’d conceived that sculpture, there was something sensual now in thinking about her fingers molding his body.
As she visualized the figure, she had unconsciously been running her palms over the tightly fitted lace bodice and down to her waist. When she realized what she was doing, she lifted her hands away, holding them out to the side.
A very dangerous combination, she acknowledged. This particular dress and the thought of Ethan Snow.
It had been hard enough during the last forty-eight hours knowing he was in the other bedroom of the suite. She had been all too aware the last two nights that he slept only a few feet away from where she lay tossing and turning, trying to decide if she had done the right thing in giving in to Cabot’s blackmail. And trying to decide what role her attraction to Ethan had played in that decision.
She had been determined to see her father again, but she was honest enough, with herself at least, to admit that hadn’t been the only consideration. After all, she could have done exactly what she’d threatened to do and returned to the hospital on her own. Aware of the possibility of the kind of attack that had happened yesterday, she wouldn’t be so easily caught off guard again.
She had chosen instead to accept Cabot’s suggestion that she needed someone to protect her. It hadn’t hurt his case that the bodyguard he’d proposed had been the man who had brought her to Washington.
And when she had finally drifted off to sleep last night, her dreams had confirmed what she’d known intuitively from the moment she had opened her door and found Ethan standing on the front deck of the beach house. There was a connection between them that, judging by his resemblance to the statue she’d molded, she’d been aware of even before she’d laid eyes on him.
And tonight…
She denied the thought, substituting a less tantalizing one instead. Tonight she would attend the first of the social events Cabot had arranged. She would spend hours with Ethan as he introduced her to the people the Phoenix wanted her impressions of. Then the two of them would return to this suite….
She shivered involuntarily and discovered that her palms were again flattened over the front of the dress she was wearing, this time slightly below her waist. She glanced up and found her reflection in the mirror.
The fabric of the dress clung to her breasts and hips as if beneath it she were wearing nothing at all. That was obviously the effect the designer had intended since the black lace had been cunningly sewn to a gossamer under-sheath of flesh-colored silk. Surprisingly, the woman in the glass appeared sophisticated enough to carry that illusion off, although the gown was like nothing else she had ever worn.
She had gathered her hair in loose curls at the top of her head. As a concession to the occasion, she had also darkened her lashes with mascara, brushed a shimmer of bronzer along her cheekbones and used a tinted gloss on her lips.
She had decided against stockings since her legs were already deeply tanned. The shoes that had been sent with the dress consisted of nothing but a couple of strategically placed black straps attached to three-inch heels.
Obviously not chosen by a woman who has ever had to stand at a cocktail party, she thought, her lips curving into a slight smile.
She took one last look at the finished product and then turned away from the mirror, almost uncomfortable with the image reflected there. As if she were pretending to be someone else. A little girl playing dress-up. Lost in some fantasy world.
If the purpose behind what she had been asked to do tonight for the Phoenix were not so serious, she might have been able to think of the evening in that light. As a role she was playing. Make-believe.
Considering what Ethan believed would happen if they failed to stop The Covenant, however, this was no game. And the investigation had already produced a nearly deadly result.
Despite her doubts about the value of what Cabot proposed she do, she understood that the quicker the Phoenix had answers, the quicker that threat would be removed from her father’s life. And from hers.
She had already turned toward the door leading to the central living room of the suite when she remembered there had been something else in the package Ethan had handed her. Although she hadn’t been familiar with the name written in gold script across its top, she had recognized the box itself as a jeweler’s case.
She had set it aside on the dressing table unopened because she’d never had any great interest in jewelry. Perhaps that was because she’d never owned any, she admitted ruefully, as she picked it up again. At least not anything that had come in a box like this. As she lifted the lid, she vowed that if whatever it contained were too gaudy—
The half-formed thought was destroyed by what she discovered inside. Lying against the black velvet was a pair of earrings.
Far larger than anything she would normally wear, their lozenge shape would dangle perhaps an inch below the lobes of her ears. Despite the fact that, like the dress, she would never have chosen anything remotely like them, there was something about the earrings that drew her.
She put the box down on the dressing table and lifted one of the pair out. As she held it up, the stones caught the light from the chandelier, glittering with an internal fire that left no doubt they were diamonds.
Compelled by their beauty, she lifted the earring to her ear and discovered it was the old-fashioned screw-on kind. From that realization, her absolute certainty they were antiques was instantaneous.
As was her sudden image of another woman. One who had lifted these same jewels to watch them dance and sparkle in the light.
It had been candlelight then that had created their brilliance. And the dress that woman had worn was of a style that hadn’t been seen in more than a hundred years.
The vision shimmered away almost as quickly as it had appeared. Raine looked down to find the earring she’d removed from the box was now clutched in her fist.
Slowly she opened her fingers to reveal it shimmering on her palm. She had gripped it so tightly that there were small indentations in her skin on either side of it.
Without any hesitation now, she fastened the earring to the lobe of her ear, making sure it was tight enough to hold securely throughout the evening. Then she lifted the second one from the box and put it on as well. A last look in the mirror assured her that they were the perfect accessory for the dress she wore.
“Thank you, Mr. Cabot,” she whispered to her reflection. Then she turned and headed toward the door that would lead to the other part of the suite. And to Ethan Snow.
THE PAST FORTY-EIGHT HOURS had been an exercise in self-control, Ethan admitted. In no way, however, had they prepared him for the sight of Raine standing in the doorway to her bedroom, dressed to attend one of the most prestigious events of the Washington season.
He’d seen her half a dozen times since they’d checked in to the suite two nights ago. Necessary encounters, since he’d been the one who had ordered and accepted their meals from room service, answered the phone and inspected the packages that had arrived this afternoon. All those meetings had left him looking forward to the next opportunity to interact with her.
The last had come less tha
n three hours ago. Cabot had kept his promise to keep Raine informed about Montgomery Gardner’s condition. Thankfully the news today had been much better. The old man had not yet fully regained consciousness, but there had been encouraging improvements in his responses to outside stimuli.
When Ethan had knocked on her door to relay that news, Raine had been wearing a pair of jeans and a knit top, her face devoid of makeup. And she’d again been barefoot, just as at the beach house.
The transformation she’d undergone between then and now couldn’t have been more complete. Or more startling.
His body responded, his groin hardening instantly. As if he were sixteen instead of thirty-six.
The black lace dress was cut straight across the shoulders, revealing a tan that clearly hadn’t come from any bottle. Her hair had been put up, perhaps to better display the only jewelry she wore—a pair of diamond earrings that caught the light whenever she moved her head. High-heeled black sandals and a small evening bag completed the ensemble.
“I’m ready when you are,” she said.
Her eyes then made the same slow assessment of his appearance that he had just made of hers. He wondered if his had been as obvious. Or as unnerving.
Unable to return to his apartment because that would leave Raine unprotected, Ethan had asked fellow Phoenix agent John Edmonds to pick up the things he thought he’d need during the next few days. Given tonight’s assignment, the tuxedo he was wearing had been one of them.
He’d showered and shaved, of course, but he had changed into the familiar clothing quickly, hardly glancing into the mirror until he’d had to tie the black tie. Now, for the first time in years, he found himself wondering what a woman thought about his appearance.
“You look…” he began, and then hesitated. There seemed no reason not to state the obvious, however. “Amazing,” he finished softly.
For a moment it seemed as if she were evaluating the word to determine if he had intended it to be mocking. With the obvious admiration in his eyes, her mouth finally relaxed, the corners tilting.