Mommy Under Cover

by Delores Fossen

  But, mercy, she hated to rely on luck.

  “All done,” she heard Fletcher say. He pulled down his green surgical mask and walked around the examination table so he could face them. He gave her a comforting pat on the arm that nearly made her skin crawl. “You’ll need to rest here for a few minutes, then I’ll move you two to a room so you can get some sleep. I suspect you’re tired.”

  A massive understatement. It was nearly two in the morning and she’d been up nearly twenty-four straight hours. And it would be heaven knew when before she got any real rest. Now that Phase One of Project Ideal Baby was finished, they had to prepare for the move to the other facility.

  Of course, with Fletcher’s penchant for surprises, there could be no second facility. Either way, here or there, Riley and she had to do whatever was necessary to search the place, then figure out how to tap into Fletcher’s records to see if he’d left any incriminating evidence behind.

  “I’ll be right back,” Fletcher said. “I need to check on a few things.”

  It was a welcome reprieve. The moment the doctor was out of the room, Riley faked a yawn and laid his head next to hers.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “Yes. It wasn’t painful at all.” Definitely not as difficult as some of the procedures she’d endured when she was a teenager.

  Riley readjusted his position, just slightly, but in doing so, he moved his hands between them. He raked his thumb over the base of his watch.

  “Good, just touching base,” he whispered.

  This time the words weren’t meant for her but for anyone at SIU headquarters who might be monitoring their equipment. Riley leaned in close and cupped her neck, then gently nuzzled her cheek with his own. His watch lay directly beneath both their ears. And they waited.

  Praying that someone was indeed monitoring.

  “Can you give us your location?” an almost-silent response came several seconds later.

  Riley’s gaze met hers for a mutual mental groan of relief. They had communication. That was the good news. The not-so-good news was that apparently SIU didn’t know where they were, or the person wouldn’t have asked that question.

  “Thirty minutes, south southeast of Dallas,” Tessa whispered, turning her cheek into Riley’s hand. “Rural. One-story brick surrounded by woods.”

  Riley concurred with a mumbled yes that he covered by kissing her on the cheek. They’d both no doubt estimated distances, but with little visual, it was difficult to pinpoint where they’d been taken.

  “We’ve got a general direction off your signal. We’ll keep searching,” the person assured them before he ended the transmission.

  With luck, the search might be productive. However, they couldn’t rely on it.

  Riley moved his thumb from his watch, ending the connection they had with SIU, and put his mouth to her ear again. “Are you ready for a little recon?”

  She smiled, as if he’d just whispered a sweet nothing instead of a cue for them to begin their search.

  Tessa threw off the white cotton sheet that Fletcher had used to cover the lower half of her body. The gown only went to midthigh and, without her underwear, she felt more than a little exposed. She took the time to put back on her panties while Riley pretended to occupy himself with another yawn and a stretch.

  When she’d finished dressing, Riley looped his arm around her waist and they went to door. Tessa expected to see Fletcher or a guard standing there, but they had the doorway and the hall to themselves.

  They didn’t walk toward the entrance where Beatrice had ushered them into the building. Instead, Riley and she went in the opposite direction. Down a corridor with two doors.

  Both closed.

  Riley tested the first one and found it unlocked. It appeared to be another examining room similar to the one they’d just left. Unfortunately there were no windows and no sounds of activity anywhere outside the building to give them a clue about their location.

  Riley shut the door and led them to the next one. It was an office, complete with a laptop computer sitting on top of a desk. Judging from the artwork and the expensive rug, it was Fletcher’s office.

  They stepped just inside and scanned the place for cameras or other surveillance equipment. None visible.

  Which meant nothing.

  “Should we?” Tessa whispered.

  He nodded. “You go, I’ll stay.” Then, in a normal level voice that was for the benefit of anyone monitoring them, Riley added, “Darling, I’m sure no one will mind if you check your e-mail.”

  Tessa didn’t waste another second. But she didn’t hurry, either. She tried to make it seem as if she were only mildly curious about the computer. That way, if they were being observed, she could explain that she was indeed doing something as innocuous as checking her e-mail.

  Tessa booted up and did a quick scan through the files to see if there was something obvious. Not that she expected to see a file labeled with Colette’s name, but she did check for hidden files.

  And she found nearly a dozen.

  Dr. Barton Fletcher was listed as the author in the file summary in the first file she checked. Tessa slid her gaze down to the comments section. Nothing in the first. Or the second. But then she finally spotted a familiar name in the third file summary.

  Patient Number 823: Ellen Carmichael.

  The cover name that Colette had been using when she was murdered.

  Tessa’s heart jumped to her throat. This was perhaps the very evidence they’d been searching for.

  Unfortunately the file was huge and would take her more than a few minutes to examine. Worse, if she opened it, Fletcher would learn that it had been accessed and probably move or even delete it.

  That couldn’t happen.

  They were too close to let the evidence get away from them now.

  “What are you doing in there?” she heard someone ask.

  Not Fletcher.

  But Beatrice.

  “My wife wanted to check her e-mail,” Riley quickly volunteered.

  He eased just inside the door, blocking Beatrice’s view of the room. It was only a temporary measure though, and Tessa knew it. Beatrice would do whatever it took to get inside.

  Tessa managed to get the computer closed down just seconds before Beatrice muscled her way past Riley, her gaze snaring Tessa right away. The woman lacked some of the subtly of her slick boss because she slipped her hand inside her jacket and Tessa’s body went on full alert. Still, she forced herself not to overreact. The situation was salvageable.

  She only hoped Beatrice cooperated with that theory.

  Beatrice’s mouth tightened. “I’m afraid you’re not allowed in here.”

  “Is there a problem?” This time, it was Fletcher. He, too, appeared in the doorway, and judging from his disdainful expression, the gathering wasn’t social.

  “There’s no problem,” Tessa assured him. “We were just out for a little walk, and I thought it’d be a good time to check my e-mail. Especially since none of our friends know where we are. I had scheduled coffee with a friend tomorrow. I was afraid they’d get worried when they didn’t hear from me and try to contact…someone.”

  And Tessa left it at that. “Someone” in this case would be the authorities. Maybe that would justify her actions.

  Maybe.

  Fletcher’s attention slid from her to the computer. His attention lingered there just long enough to cause her stomach and chest to tighten. “My office and the other examining rooms are off-limits,” he reprimanded. “Patient confidentiality. I’m sure you understand.”

  Tessa nodded and tried to look embarrassed at her faux pas. “Of course.”

  “Your room is ready,” Fletcher finally said. “It’s not as accommodating as the estate, but I believe you’ll find everything you need.” He turned as if to leave but then stopped. “Oh, and once you’re inside the room, your door will be locked. Don’t let that alarm you. It’s simply a security precaution.”

  Ril
ey propped his hands on his hips. “A security precaution?” He shook his head. “I don’t like locked doors. I have this problem with claustrophobia.”

  “Then perhaps I can give you a sedative or something. Because I’m afraid there’s no other option, Mr. Tate. The door will remain locked until morning. And please don’t try to tamper with it, either. If the guards see you wandering around the hall, they might mistake you for an intruder and will respond accordingly.”

  Tessa truly didn’t care for that term, “accordingly.”

  “Is this necessary?” she demanded. “We’re your patients not your prisoners.”

  Fletcher dismissed her with a sharp glance. “The security’s necessary. As is the guard who’ll be posted outside your door. As I mentioned in Dallas, there are those who object to what I do. We must all be careful.”

  And with that not so veiled threat, Fletcher turned and walked away.

  IT’D BEEN A TOUGH day and Tessa was positive it wasn’t about to get easier.

  After they’d been locked in their so-called guest suite, one with an observation window on the door and a guard posted just outside, Riley and she dressed for bed.

  In the same bedroom, of course.

  In fact, dressing and undressing in front of each other was becoming a common occurrence on this mission. Not that she was sneaking looks or anything like that, but there was a weird kind of intimacy that happened when you stripped down in front of a man. And that intimacy happened even if it wasn’t supposed to happen.

  Such as now, for instance.

  Even though Tessa was doing everything humanly possible not to watch Riley, she heard his “issued” pajama bottoms whisper over his skin when he pulled them on. A sound that for some strange reason really revved up her body. A revving she would ignore because she’d been trained to put duty first and all else second.

  Her involuntary physical reaction would definitely come in second tonight.

  Definitely.

  Tessa repeated that to herself.

  She finished putting on her nightgown and slid into bed. Riley flicked off the lights and joined her. Like the room at the estate, the lack of overhead lights didn’t plunge them into total darkness. The fluorescent lights in the hall were still on and enough seeped through the observation window to give them adequate illumination.

  Not a welcome amenity, either. If she could see Riley, then that meant Fletcher could see them.

  Of course, that might not even be necessary if the man was still monitoring them with thermal infrared equipment, as well. And he probably was.

  Wondering how they were going to carry on a conversation about what she’d found in the computer files, she glanced at Riley, but it didn’t stay a glance exactly. It turned into a full stare.

  Oh, mercy.

  What had she done to deserve this?

  And better yet, how was she going to deal with these unwanted sensations simmering inside her? All right. So they weren’t exactly simmering anymore. Those sensations had started to boil.

  Riley’s hair was tousled. Again. Not unkempt. And more than a little attention-getting. It was a stark contrast against the white pillow. As was his skin. Something else to capture her attention. Tessa knew from reading his dossier that his mother was Italian. His paternal grandfather, a born-and-bred Scot. Riley had inherited his mother’s Mediterranean-olive skin. His grandfather’s Highlander attitude.

  Simply put, he was hot.

  Not drop-dead gorgeous. And definitely no pretty boy. She wouldn’t have been attracted to him if he had been.

  And there was no denying it—she was attracted.

  It didn’t matter, of course. Nothing would come of it. At a minimum, a personal involvement during an ops would seriously violate regs. But that wasn’t the only reason. As did Riley, she needed to stay focused, to close out this mission and then see what she could do about clearing her father’s name and getting that promotion.

  Besides, Riley had his own issues to deal with. He was still grieving for Colette. In fact, Tessa suspected he’d been thinking about Colette when they were at the estate. That would explain his physical reaction to her. That, and the old stand-by excuses: adrenaline and the intimacy created by close proximity.

  And Tessa was almost certain she believed that.

  Almost.

  Riley moved closer to her, bringing with him the scent of the tropical-smelling soap that had been in the shower. Another “oh, mercy” moment.

  “We’re probably being watched,” she whispered. Not that it would come as a surprise to him, but she thought it best if she tried to concentrate on the mission.

  “Guaranteed. I think the camera’s behind the mirror over the dresser.”

  She nodded. “What about eavesdropping equipment?”

  “The detector on my watch located some kind of monitoring equipment in this room, but judging from the weak signal, it’s probably only strong enough to pick up sounds louder than a whisper.”

  Tessa hoped that was true.

  But just in case, they needed to be careful about what they said. Not easy. Because they had a lot to say to each other. For one thing, they needed to figure out what their next move was going to be.

  That computer check had cost them dearly, and Fletcher wouldn’t let down his guard again anytime soon. Still, they had to figure out a way to get back in there.

  Riley turned to his side and faced her. “I never did ask—were you able to access your e-mail?” he said out loud.

  “No.” Also said out loud. Tessa moved closer to him and gave him one of those air kisses. “I wonder why Dr. Fletcher is so concerned about security?”

  Riley took a few moments as if considering that. “There are a lot of jealous people out there, darling. People who might try to stop us from getting our baby.”

  In the dusky light, she saw him glance in the direction of the camera. She also saw the debate he was having with himself about what to say.

  Or how loudly they could get away with saying it.

  He reached for her. Curving his arm around her waist, he slid her closer, turned and eased on top of her. But that wasn’t all he did.

  Oh, no.

  He aligned their bodies in the best way possible to convince Fletcher that they were in the throes of foreplay and not having a crucial conversation about possible incriminating evidence.

  Of course, even though this was a charade, their body alignment was torture. As were the fake kisses that Riley aimed at her. Yes, they were indeed pretend, but since his warm breath landed on her mouth, they felt very much like the real thing.

  It took more than a few seconds for Tessa to tamp down her own breathing so she wouldn’t sound as if she were on the verge of an asthma attack.

  “Do we seem like missionary-position people to you?” Riley asked, obviously hoping to interject some humor into a situation that needed some.

  Tessa smothered a laugh by clamping her teeth over her bottom lip for a few seconds. “I wouldn’t know. It’s been well over a year since I’ve experienced any position, missionary or otherwise.” Sheez. She shook her head. “And why I just said that, I’ll never know.”

  Now it was his turn to chuckle. “It’s been a while for me, too. Besides, even if we’re not supposed to be the conventional type, tonight we can blame our lack of creativity on fatigue.”

  And therein was a major problem. Fatigue wasn’t helping in her case. In fact, it was doing just the opposite. The thick haze in her head was clouding the fact that this was all for show and tell.

  Not good.

  Because a few moments of levity and embarrassing confessions didn’t soften what she had to say.

  “There are about a dozen hidden files in Fletcher’s computer,” Tessa whispered. She also paused. “One of them mentions Ellen Carmichael.”

  She felt him freeze. It was no doubt a name he recognized instantly. One that would be forever part of his memory.

  And not a good memory, either.

  “That
was the cover name Colette used for her last case,” he mumbled.

  “Yes. The file might not contain anything useful though,” Tessa explained, her voice with hardly any sound. “But it’s large and it’s a start.”

  And it just might be the very thing that would make all of this worthwhile.

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  Riley dodged the question. “What else did you find?”

  “Other files. They all seem to be connected to the Ideal Baby project, but I won’t know what’s in them until I can go through each one.”

  “You need a way to copy them so the SIU techs can study each file.” Riley dipped his head down and kissed her. Not an air kiss and not her mouth. It landed on her cheek, but it was close enough so that it would appear like a legitimate full-blown kiss. And they moved, adjusted and otherwise simulated the throes of passion-inducing foreplay so they could mask a conversation with the sound of the rustling cover. “Fletcher might have a disk we could use.”

  Yes. But that would take time to find. Time to copy. And then there was the whole issue of getting such a disk out of here. Fletcher wouldn’t hesitate to search them, under the guise of maintaining security.

  Heck, he wouldn’t hesitate to kill them, either.

  Riley worked his fingers through her hair, pressed another kiss on her neck.

  Tessa sucked in her breath.

  “Not there,” she mumbled, adding a soft groan. “That doesn’t feel fake.”

  “Welcome to the club,” he grumbled right back at her.

  That brought Tessa’s gaze searching for his. And she found it. For one of those long, lingering looks like the ones that passed between lovers. Or between two people who were on the verge of becoming lovers.

  Riley shook his head. “This can’t happen between us, understand?”

  “Believe me, I know.”

  He cursed and rustled the cover some more. “Oh, saying that helped a lot. And just in case you didn’t catch the sarcasm, I’m not even close to being serious.”

  “It’s the…fatigue.” Best not to suggest the adrenaline anymore. She’d already worn out that particular excuse.