by Dana Marton
“We believe the threat is international.”
“China?”
He nodded. “Did he make any enemies while he was there? Anything you remember could be useful.”
“He wasn’t a popular ambassador.” Or rather, the U.S. had been unpopular at the time due to its protective edicts on Taiwan. Her father had been merely the messenger. She swallowed. Wasn’t there a saying about shooting the messenger? “He could probably give you more information. I was too young at the time to pay much attention.”
“I’m sure he already filled in the case investigators.”
She blinked as her brain raced to catch up. Investigators. Right. There’d be those. And God knows what else. Probably press. If there was one thing she hated, it was the media, but under the circumstances that would hardly be avoidable. The events of the morning played in her head in a never-ending loop. “How long do you think I’d have to stay here?”
“Until the shooter is dead or in custody and we figure out whether there are others involved. But even if there are, I don’t think another attack is likely. They rarely try to hit the same target twice.”
“I vote for that.”
He fiddled with the window locks. “In general, terrorists make their point by sowing terror, disrupting people’s lives. Sometimes they use the media attention to promote their cause. Whether or not the target dies is almost irrelevant.”
“How nice.” Good to know there were distinct guidelines to the business.
“Except, of course, for large-scale hits where the magnitude of damage is what they’re after and body count is more important. Individual cases like yours tend to be either warnings or revenge related.” His expression was sober, his eyes assessing every inch of the room while they talked.
“So which one do you think this is?”
He considered for a second. “Warning. I’m guessing you haven’t done much in China that would call for revenge. Your father maybe, but then they’d be going after him. By targeting you, I think they’re trying to send him a message.”
“To vote one way or the other on some issue of Chinese interest?”
“Possibly. I’d say they’re done with you now.”
She knew he was lying from the way he wouldn’t look at her. Probably standard procedure to say something like this to calm down the people being protected—made things easier on him if she didn’t become hysterical.
“Great.” She could stay under house arrest or risk walking into another hail of bullets as soon as she left. Lovely choices. Alex was right about the “interrupting people’s life” part. She was a business owner. How many clients would she lose if she didn’t turn up at scheduled meetings and didn’t return phone calls for a week? Her business, assisting reputable Asian companies to break into U.S. markets, was her livelihood. Even if the terrorists didn’t come back for her, they could ruin her by simply forcing her into extended hiding.
“Maybe it’s not about my father. What if it’s related to one of my clients? An unsatisfied customer?” Although, for the life of her she couldn’t think of one.
“I don’t think so.”
“How can you be sure?”
“I checked them all out. Thoroughly. And the ‘chatter’ we came across distinctly indicated the senator.”
He had checked out her clients. Without her consent. She tried not to get upset over that. The man was following orders—probably her father’s. And she had to hand it to him, he seemed competent at his job. As much as she hated this whole situation, she was glad she had him on her side. “Am I allowed to get in contact with anyone while I’m here? Can I use the phone?”
“I’d prefer if you didn’t make any calls from this location.” He moved from window to window like a black shadow as he checked out the front yard.
Staying here in isolation was going to cost her. Big-time. She was supposed to sign the deal of her career on Monday. She had put six months worth of work into convincing CEO Du Shaozu that she was the right consultant to help him bring his innovative game software to the States.
“If you’re worried about your business, I might be able to get someone to cancel your appointments as long as you can provide names and phone numbers.”
“You could?” His understanding caught her off guard. “Only one that’s urgent. I have a meeting first thing Monday morning. It should be canceled today—nobody will be in their offices over the weekend. I don’t know the number by heart.” But maybe whoever was going to call could look it up. “The name is Du Shaozu at Du Enterprises.”
“Right.” He nodded, and she had the feeling he knew a lot more about her than he let on. “Anyone else?”
“A half-dozen meetings that I can think of off the top of my head and a few phone conferences.”
“Anyone else from China?”
“Several. I’m an international commerce consultant specializing in the Far East. Look, I don’t want my clients to be harassed.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
“And there are a couple of friends and my neighbors. They’ll definitely notice that I’m missing.” She would have to ask someone to feed her finches, although the birds should be fine for today and tomorrow at least.
He shrugged. “Can’t risk calling everyone around. They’ll just have to worry for a couple of days.”
She didn’t like it but she understood. “This is serious, isn’t it?”
He looked at her for a long moment, probably searching for something reassuring he could tell her. His face was somber as he spoke a single word. “Very.”
“I appreciate your honesty.” She hated the catch in her voice that made her sound like a frightened schoolgirl. Of course, she was frightened. But he probably saw a lot of that in his type of business, had guarded more than his share of frantic women. She would have to try her best not to become one.
“You don’t have to worry. You’re safe with me,” he said.
Her gaze slid over his wide shoulders, the biceps that stretched his black shirt on his arms. He was physically fit, no doubt about that. But even if she didn’t have an armed terrorist after her, feeling safe or even remotely comfortable with Alex in the same room would have been impossible.
ALEX SURVEYED THE ROOM for anything he might have missed on the first run. Rectangular, about twenty feet by thirty, it ran the entire length of the house. The living room and kitchen together, nicely fixed up as far as safe houses went. Two windows looked north in the front, one south by the back entry. He opened the first of two closed doors on the east wall and found a hall closet stocked with clothes and other essentials. Excellent. The other door revealed a steep row of rickety stairs to the basement.
He signaled to Nicola to stay where she was, then walked to the landing and turned, only to find the basement walled off. Looked like the job had been done decades ago. He kicked the stones at a couple of places. Solid. No surprises would be coming from there.
He went back up and walked around the room to check out a door under the staircase that led upstairs. A small bathroom with a shower, simple and clean. Packages of toothpaste and toothbrushes along with a few disposable razors occupied the medicine cabinet. A monster of a first-aid kit was tucked under the vanity next to a couple of old Playboy magazines. He grinned. Some things never changed. He closed the door and walked back into the living room.
“Now what?” Nicola wrinkled her brows as she turned from the window. The Kevlar hid her curves, leaving only her phenomenal legs for him to admire. They were enough. He could have spent days on those legs alone. Weeks.
The woman was plenty enough to get under his skin and keep him tantalized. He definitely didn’t need the magazines under the sink. Best thing for him to do was to drag his mind from that entire direction. He swallowed. “Now I check out the rest of the house.”
He ran up the stairs, forcing his thoughts to the work at hand. A steel reinforced door—dead bolt on both sides—closed off the upper floor. Whoever renovated the old farmhouse hadn’t
bothered with anything beyond that. He scanned one room after the other in quick succession. Not much to look at. The windows were good and locked, but everything else had fallen into disrepair. Drywall full of holes and a leaky roof, no sight of furniture, a gutted bathroom—not a pretty picture. He locked the steel door behind him as he walked back down.
“So?” Nicola was checking out the security system next to the door.
“It’s tight.”
She nodded, and her silky dark curls slid into her face. She pushed them from her jewel-green eyes. “Are you going to check outside?”
“Not until it gets dark.” He clipped his phone off his belt and opened a blank e-mail. “My turn.”
“For what?”
“Questions. I want you to give me the name of everyone you came in contact with in China, and as much information about them as you can remember.”
“That would take hours.”
“Start in order of importance.”
She rubbed her temple. “Meng Mei, my best friend. We went to the same school. I lost touch with her after coming back to the States. I don’t see what this could possibly have to do with—”
“Keep going.” He typed the information into the phone.
“Most of the people I came in contact with worked at the embassy. They went through extensive security clearance, I’m sure. The cooks, the maids, the gardener, the people who staffed the consulate and handled the visa applications.” She rattled off a number of names and he took them down.
“Anyone else?”
She named a few of her Chinese classmates at the English language school.
“How about the people your parents came in contact with?”
“Other than the embassy staff, I wouldn’t know. I know my father met with a number of Chinese officials, but he didn’t talk much about work at home.”
“That’s fine.” The Colonel had probably talked about that with the senator already. “How about your Chinese acquaintances in this country?”
“About twenty clients currently, but I don’t want anyone to contact them.” She fixed him with a stern look. “You said you already checked them out.”
Her generous lips looked even more tempting when she pursed them like that. “That was before the attack. This is a whole new ball game. They’re about to be checked out again.” Right down to their great-grandfathers if he had to.
She started to list some names, and he asked as many questions as he could think of, maybe even dragged it out a little. The role felt comfortable, what he was used to. He didn’t know what to do after he was done, how to make small talk. It had been years since he’d had to spend more than a night with any one woman, his job not exactly conducive to long-term relationships.
Not that spending a night with Nicola Barrington wasn’t more appealing than most anything he could think of. He had spent the past two months memorizing all the spots on her body he would have liked to touch. Seemed harmless at the time, considering they were unlikely to meet. And for damn sure he’d been due some entertainment. Trouble was when night did come, they wouldn’t be spending it together in the traditional sense. She would be spending it on the pullout couch while he took brief naps sitting by the window. He didn’t expect it to be a particularly satisfying experience.
And the chances of him being able to touch Nicola Barrington under any circumstances were nonexistent. After the next few days, their paths would never cross again. He had no right to be fantasizing about her. Then again, why the hell not? What else did he have?
Nothing. He didn’t even exist. Not like other people. He no longer had a social security number, no service record, no contacts beyond his immediate supervisor and occasional teammates. He didn’t even have a pair of damned dog tags. Nothing that could identify him. He was part of a shadow created by the U.S. government to deal with problems that could not be handled in open daylight. And when the shadow fell on the people who created those problems, they disappeared.
That was what he was trained for, what he was good at. Not trying to act normal, playing house with a senator’s daughter. He sent off the e-mail to Sylvia, Colonel Wilson’s secretary, and watched as Nicola rummaged through the refrigerator. Bet she never had to eat food cooked over a camel dung campfire, or breakfast on coconut grubs in the jungle. Had he ever had a normal life? If he had, he couldn’t remember it. Certainly not back in Cuba as a young child, and not later, either, once his parents had died and he was left in the care of strangers.
Didn’t matter now. All he had to do was keep Nicola Barrington from getting under his skin too much in the next couple of days. Shouldn’t take more than that for the rest of his team to pick up the shooter. Between the license plate number for the brown van and the bullets the shooter had left in the pavement at the market, he’d be traced before long.
He should have taken out both men right in the parking lot. Could have from where he was parked, but his primary objective was to keep Nicola safe, which meant getting her away from the attackers rather than engaging them. Damn. He wasn’t used to playing the bodyguard. He was more of a seek-and-destroy man.
But guard her he would, even if it meant hiding in the country and sitting on his hands. He would do whatever it took to convince the Colonel that he was ready to be shipped out. He just had to sit tight and refuse to allow her to become a distraction. Piece of cake. He could handle it.
IF SHE HAD TO WATCH Alex do one more push-up, she’d scream. Nicola squirmed on the couch, pretending to read. He did fifty more; with one hand behind his back. Then he started on the sit-ups. She would have had two heart attacks and a stroke by now if she had to do all that. She wasn’t very athletic. The only sport she had ever played was baseball, and even at that she was only semi-successful. She was a great pitcher but lousy at running.
She exercised regularly, her Tai Chi and at the gym, but it was nothing like what Alex was doing now. She envied his sinuous body. And lusted after it. In the worst way.
It wouldn’t have been so bad if he weren’t wearing those stupid butt-hugging Army fatigues he had changed into from his blue jeans and the unnecessarily tight long-sleeved black T-shirt. She, of course, had to make do with an oversize gray drawstring sweatsuit that made her look like a pregnant elephant. Who the hell stocked these safe houses, anyway?
Okay, so maybe it was partially her fault. She had spilled the stupid Ramen noodles on her lap. Not completely without provocation—she’d been severely distracted. He had been taking off his dirt-and grease-covered jeans in the bathroom to put on a pair of complimentary pants from the hall closet. She had found it hard to concentrate on her bowl when the man was getting naked next door.
At least he had let her take off the vest. She had thought she would have to sleep in it. Which brought to mind the sleeping arrangements. She couldn’t think of any scenario she felt comfortable with.
Now that she had a chance to calm down, this morning’s events didn’t seem as scary. The terrorists had made an attempt and missed. The one who still remained would know she was watched and protected. It would be stupid of him to come back.
She wanted her life to return to normal as soon as possible. “Do you think this is really necessary?”
He gave no indication that he heard her.
She hated to be ignored. “If you’re my bodyguard that means I am the boss, right?”
He threw her a look that started out as amused, then turned into something else entirely. “If I was your maid or your chauffeur, you’d be the boss.”
She thought his voice was unnecessarily sharp. Maybe it was her imagination, but the air seemed to have been charged with electricity between them all day. She had half expected her hair to start standing up. As much as Alex had assured her that he was there to protect her, every time he came near, her instincts screamed, Run for your life.
For the past couple of weeks, he’d been an unattainable fantasy, a gorgeous stranger she’d discreetly ogled to take her mind off the pain in her thighs as s
he suffered on the treadmill. And now here they were. Together.
He was too much—too strong, too tall…too sexy. She had no idea what to do with him, how to relate to him. Men like Alex weren’t exactly common in her life. Other than her middle-aged married neighbors, the only men she associated with were strictly business acquaintances. Well, other than Richard, one of her father’s aides. But Richard had never made her feel like Alex did. Like she wanted to jump out of her skin.
As the U.S. ambassador’s daughter in China, she had been watched constantly, left with few opportunities to socialize with boys her age. When her family had returned to the States, her father had shipped her off to a women’s college. Her mother had been gravely ill by then, so she spent her weekends at home missing the coed parties.
Then came Richard the Slime. She must have been pretty pathetic to fall so in love with someone who wanted nothing from her other than her father’s favor. After the breakup she’d sworn she wasn’t ever going to come within a hundred feet of a government man. It scared her how little judgment she had when it came to the opposite sex—Richard first, and now Alex, some kind of a secret agent.
The key was not to think of him as a man she was attracted to. If she pretended he was a business opponent, maybe she would have better luck with summoning her courage to stand up to him.
She was the one with her life at stake. She wanted to be part of whatever decisions were to be made. No, not just part of. She wanted to be the one who made them.
“Could we at least go home to get some of my things? I need to keep my business running.”
He shook his head.
“It wouldn’t take long and you’d be there to protect me.”
He ignored her.
“You said I could leave anytime I wanted.”