by Alison Kent
“I’m not Callie.”
“And I’m Mickey Mouse.”
“How’s Minnie?”
He released the arms of the chair and turned away, but not before she saw the flash of amusement in his eyes.
“I’m Callie’s sister. Her twin. I’m an interior designer. It’s our birthday today. At least I think it still is today. Is it?”
“No. That was yesterday.”
“Well, happy birthday to me. No cake, no ice cream. My present was to get kidnapped. Meanwhile, my sister gets an apartment makeover. I’d say it wasn’t a very good deal. What I don’t know is who you are.”
“Did the chloroform addle your brain? You know who I am. Why decorate your decoy apartment?”
“Decoy apartment? Great. I’ve just busted my butt decorating an apartment that my sister doesn’t even live in. The only people who’ll get any benefit out of it are scary guys like you. And let’s face it—you’re probably not going to appreciate my butterscotch throw pillows.”
He snorted. “Callie, this act isn’t going to work.”
“It’s not an act, and I’m not Callie.”
“Sure you’re not,” he said, but his tone sounded as if he wasn’t quite sure. “And I’m not Drew. And you’re not an operative working for a top-secret agency affiliated with Homeland Security called Watchdog. And you have no agreement to work for Watchdog in an undercover setup called Operation Meltdown as an arms dealer to broker a buy for a load of automatic weapons with the Ghost, one of the most notorious and elusive arms suppliers in the world. And we don’t have plans to sting him here in LA in one week, and you won’t be playing a crucial role. See, without you, babe, there can be no buy and no arrest.”
He paused, but Allie didn’t say a word. She was just too stunned to respond.
“This is all hard to believe, Callie. Watchdog was formed just about six months ago. You remember, because six months ago, you left the CIA to join Watchdog at the request of the President of the United States.”
Allie swallowed. This was bad, worse than she’d first thought. She’d really stepped in it this time, her and her twin game. It explained everything—her sister’s secrecy about her job, her barren apartment, her refusal to give Allie a key, her long business trips. Like their brother, Max, who’d joined the FBI, Callie had become a secret agent, the if-I-tell-you-I’ll-have-to-kill-you kind. “Oh, damn, my sister is Sydney Bristow.”
“What?”
“A government agent. And I’m not her. I swear. I’m her twin sister, Allie.”
“That’s good. Callie and Allie.”
“It’s true. Her real name is Carolyn and mine is Allison. It’s our cutesy-twinsy nicknames. Is twinsy even a word?”
He shrugged.
“Anyway, we’re identical twins. I’m not lying. I was in the wrong bed at the wrong time. You’ve totally kidnapped the wrong woman.”
“I’m not fond of playing games,” Drew said, once again placing his hands on either side of her chair. “Have you gone over to the other side?”
“Yes,” Allie said, “I’ve gone over to the other side, all right.”
Drew leaned in closer, his eyes narrowing.
“The Twilight Zone. Have you got Rod Serling out in the hall? Is he going to come in at any minute?”
He sighed. “I’m not amused, and the games have to stop.”
Allie didn’t flinch as she was sure he expected her to. “That’s really interesting coming from some government spook who does that particular thing for a living.”
“I’m not a spook. I don’t work for the CIA.”
“Who do you work for?”
“I work for myself. I’m a freelance operative hired to bring you in. Watchdog has strict orders about their agents, Callie. You neglected to call in at your designated time.”
“If you’re not affiliated with an agency, then that makes you a mercenary. They hired a mercenary to go after my sister? Why?”
“You know why, Callie.”
“If I was Callie, I might, but I’m not. Why don’t you enlighten me?”
“Okay, I’ll play along. You haven’t checked in to Watchdog for seventy-two hours.”
“So, she’s out past curfew?”
“Something like that.”
“You have strict rules in the spying business, huh?”
“Look, you know as well as I do that all operatives must report in every seventy-two hours, especially when they’re as deep under cover as you are.”
“What exactly has my sister gotten herself into? What is Watchdog anyway?”
Drew gave her a long-suffering look, but Allie tilted her head, signaling she wasn’t going to settle for anything less than a description.
“Watchdog was formed by the President of the United States as a branch of the office of Homeland Security. It employs a black-ops force to conduct undercover operations to apprehend persons of direct threat to the United States, to track and seize import of high-threat weapons, including weapons of mass destruction, missiles, automatic firearms and biological weapons, and to assist other agencies as needed.”
“Then, pal, you’d better make sure that I sign something when I leave here because you’ve just told someone without a security clearance about a secret organization that she doesn’t want to know about. I liked it much better when the only covert stuff I knew was written in my pretty pink diary. I’d much rather live vicariously through my ass-kicking heroines.”
His expression never changed. Had Allie found herself up against someone she couldn’t charm? The man was good. Really good. He did this for a living, after all. He’d better be good at it. And speaking of good, the scent of him was intoxicating, and each time he leaned in like that, it only made her want to move forward, not back.
She leaned closer, whisper-close, so close she could feel the heat of his skin, see the unique golden rim of color around his irises. She lowered her voice, so that whoever was listening on the other side of that one-way glass couldn’t hear. “Is that supposed to intimidate me? Considering what happened in my sister’s bed, I have to tell you that you’re only turning me on and your hands, they’re very skilled.”
“I was hired to bring you in for questioning, not…That was a lapse in judgment.”
“That was a very powerful orgasm. It was wonderful.”
“This is a serious matter, Callie,” he said, but he moved away, glancing over his shoulder toward the glass.
“How many times do I have to tell you I’m not Callie? I’m sure you’ve pretended to be someone else in your line of work. I do it for fun. Twins do it all the time.”
While he was checking out the situation, Allie’s gaze drifted to the tousled length of his dark hair, the short dark lines of his eyebrows, to the hard, wide curve of his jaw. He was the ultimate American James Bond all wrapped up in a corded muscle-and-testosterone-honed-to-a-razor’s-edge package. The only remotely soft-looking thing about him was the slight fullness of his lower lip. It fascinated her, the one provocative feature in a face that could easily have been described as tough.
And he’d kissed her and made her come.
She went to move her hands and the handcuffs jangled. “Look, could you take these things off? I left my deadly martial arts moves in my other purse.”
His eyes narrowed again. Geez, this guy needed to grow a sense of humor.
“I’m not dangerous.” She crossed her legs. “The only concealed weapon I carry is my color wheel. I’ve never used it to kill a client, but, oh, I’ve wanted to use it like a ninja throwing star at times.”
“Are you for real?”
The barb hurt and she stared straight at him. “Apparently you’ve never seen real before.”
For the first time since he’d walked in the room, he reacted, his eyes widening slightly.
“Really, thank you for inviting me to this shindig, but it sucks. Can I go home now?”
Without a word, he pivoted on his heel and left the room.
Thi
s experience was certainly zooming to the top of her crazy list. Her family wouldn’t believe it even if she told them. But, of course, she wouldn’t. That would be just one more ditzy Allie story they could add to their arsenal.
“IS SHE Callie Carpenter?” Mark Murdock, Deputy Director of Watchdog folded his arms across his chest, a gesture that signaled he wasn’t happy with the situation.
Had it only been forty-eight hours ago that Drew had been hired to track down Callie Carpenter and bring her in?
Drew Miller sighed. How could he have been so wrong? The moment he’d looked deep into those baby blues, he’d seen a vulnerability that Callie would never have revealed to anyone, even undercover. “No. She’s not Callie. Let me see that file.” Drew all but snatched the manila folder out of the hands of the agent standing next to Mark. “There’s nothing here about her having a sister.”
“Maybe it is Callie and she’s playing us,” Mark said.
“She looks like Callie and she pretended to be Callie. Twins do it all the time, she said.”
“Where’s Callie, then? We’re in deep trouble here without her.”
“Maybe you’d better try to find out?” Drew said.
DREW STOOD at the one-way glass in the small viewing room, staring at nothing. An hour had passed while Mark and the Keystone Cops tried to locate Callie. Drew had only worked with her on and off for years, and he remembered her to be very, very good at her job. His eyes rested on the face of Callie’s agitated sister. For her sake, he hoped Callie wasn’t dead.
The door to the viewing room opened and Mark stepped inside.
“She’s in intensive care at Pitie-Salpetriere Hospital. She never left Paris. She was hit by a car three days ago while jogging. It took me some time to get information out of the French. We’ve sent agents to Paris to secure her and bring her home.
“Son of a bitch. She was protecting her sister. So typically Callie,” Drew said.
“Callie’s hard to read,” Mark said. “But she’s an amazing operative. While in Paris taking down French arms dealer Charles Girard, believed to be conspiring with a state-department official, she caught a break and was introduced to Jammer. He works for the Ghost. It’s the first contact we’ve had with the Ghost’s organization. Watch-dog considers the Ghost one of the biggest threats to national security. We’ve been broadcasting for some time that Gina Callahan can get her hands on any kind of weapon. Jammer wants a boatload of AK-47 machine guns and Callie made a deal with him to deliver these guns to him in LA in one week. She related that much information to us when she checked in three days ago.”
Mark moved next to Drew at the one-way glass. “She didn’t go over to the other side like we thought. It could have been worse. She could have ended up in the morgue. We still have a shot at the Ghost.”
“What’s the bad news?”
“Callie has been injured. She has a severe concussion, causing disorientation after the accident. She didn’t call because she didn’t have a secure line and she didn’t know who to trust. She’s got soft-tissue damage and a broken wrist. Otherwise, she’s okay. It could have been worse,” Mark said. He rubbed at his temples and squeezed his eyes tightly shut.
Drew felt the same headache coming on. They’d had a word for this in the Rangers, but Drew kept it to himself as he turned, thinking about Allie’s plea for him to remove the cuffs. He couldn’t imagine what the unforgiving metal was doing to the tender skin of her soft wrists.
He also remembered how soft her mouth had been, the skin between her thighs, and the whisper of her breath as she tried to breathe around her growing orgasm.
Dammit. He should have known she wasn’t Callie. Allie dressed like a modern-day Audrey Hepburn and Callie was much more edgy, that’s why the Gina Callahan persona fit her so well.
He was trying to remain emotionally disengaged here, but remembering Allie’s reaction to his hands, his mouth and the pure, raw pleasure on her face didn’t help. He prided himself on his cutthroat abilities. But when she’d crossed her legs in there, his eyes had riveted to the curve of silky thigh beneath the demure skirt she wore.
That was a first.
Getting a hard-on in interrogation.
Way to be professional.
He was absolutely positive this was a step down the road to disaster, a real shit-for-brains idea. He’d had no intention of touching Callie like that, but his attraction, his need for the woman on the bed had overwhelmed him. All she had done was given him the chance he’d wanted. He’d be lying if he said a small, yet totally irresponsible, part of him was hoping for more.
“I’d better get Ms. Carpenter out of those handcuffs, apologize and send her home.”
“Wait just a minute. It’s crunch time and I have an idea.”
Drew didn’t like the look in Mark’s eyes as he stared at Allie through the glass. It was the look of a predator catching sight of its prey.
2
“SHE’S UNTRAINED.”
“Even monkeys can be trained. She looks just like Callie. We don’t have a choice. If you train her…”
“You hired me to capture Callie. We made no agreement about her. No way. I’m not putting Allie’s life, my life and the lives of others at risk. Find someone else with a death wish.”
Drew headed down the hall, his steps beating hard along with his heart.
“Miller!” Mark shouted.
Drew ignored him. It was suicide to put this woman undercover. He wanted no part of it. At least, the rational part of him wanted no part of it. As he walked, he couldn’t seem to get the feel of her skin off his mind. The soft sounds she made; her warmth and zany sense of humor. Mark should just cut his losses and wait until Callie was well enough to continue with her undercover operation. There would be another chance at the Ghost.
He paused before a set of the glass doors to the FBI Headquarters, a high rise on Wilshire Boulevard called the Westwood Building. His rational and irrational parts fought with one another. Finally, he shoved one of the doors open and stepped out. Too dangerous. His interest in this woman was much too dangerous for him to take a chance. Distance had always served him well and in this instance, he needed to get far, far away.
“ME?” Allie gaped. “You want me to fill in for my sister?” The shock of being told that Callie was in a Paris hospital after being injured in a hit and run had not had time to wear off before she was being told that Watchdog wanted her to replace her sister. With nonchalance, the man had told Allie to call him Mark, as if they were study buddies.
“I’m not a secret agent. I decorate. Homes. Out in the open where everyone can see me. I use my own name. I wouldn’t know the first thing about going undercover.”
“We will give you a crash course in what you need to know. Leave that up to us.”
The door to the interrogation room opened and her kidnapper stepped inside. Allie caught her breath at the sight of him. He always made her feel as if there wasn’t enough oxygen in the room.
Mark turned and looked at Drew. “Changed your mind?”
“I still think it’s an insane idea, but if it’s going to happen, I want to run it.” He turned to Allie. “I’m Drew Miller.”
“Good…” Mark said.
“Wait, not so fast.” Drew walked up to him. “I have demands.” His hard profile brooked no opposition as his un-blinking eyes met Mark’s.
Mark stared at Drew and Allie got the feeling he was completely relieved that Drew had shown up.
“What are your demands?”
“I pick my team. I decide how to train her.”
Again he didn’t blink, just held Mark’s stare. Drew’s eyes were fixed and unrelenting. A shiver of alarm raced down Allie’s spine and almost stopped her heart cold. This was too damn real: her sister, her abduction, her in the middle of this crazy mess.
The sound of the door opening brought all eyes to it. A woman with an artful messy mop of auburn hair that looked as if she’d just rolled out of bed or stepped off a fashion sho
ot stepped through. Five feet eight inches of gloss and curves in a black pencil skirt, stark white lace shirt that clung to her and a vest decorated in multihued curlicues of the color wheel. And her shoes, Allie sighed with envy at the patent-leather Mary Jane Blahniks.
“Mark, give Drew what he wants, when he wants it, and in whatever capacity he wants it.” Her voice was husky and melodious, but authoritative.
“Director Santiago,” Mark said with reverence in his voice.
The woman looked at Allie with striking amber eyes. “She would have fooled even me, Drew. She’s the spitting image of Callie.”
“Gillian, where do you stash your gun in that getup?” Drew asked.
She smiled. “That’s my little secret.” She walked over to him and put her hand on his shoulder. “Why can’t I convince you to work for me?”
“Then I couldn’t tell you to go to hell right to your face.”
She laughed. A soft, gorgeous sound that made Allie wish her laugh could garner the attention the men in the room were paying the stunning redhead.
“I hear that congratulations are in order. I hope to get to meet Mr. Santiago.”
“Esai. I hope so. He’s also out of the field and riding a desk like me. That’s what we get for uncovering a major threat to the country.” Gillian’s face turned serious. “The President has made it quite clear to me that the Ghost is to be apprehended at all costs. When Watchdog was formed, the Ghost went on the most-wanted list. Now that he’s vying for the position of Eduardo Fuentes’s new arms dealer, anything we can do to disrupt Fuentes’s operation is authorized. We’re working on this in tandem with the DEA. Do you think this woman can do the job?”
“In the time frame you’ve given me…maybe.”
Allie was used to skepticism, used to people dismissing her and not seeing her strengths. That was okay, she could deal with that. But at this moment, she was tired, her head hurt and she was being talked about as if she wasn’t standing here.
This could be a grand adventure for her to expand herself, learn something new and help her sister and the government out. The danger part was daunting, but with trained professionals on her side she could do it. Just because this was a side of life she had never been exposed to nor had even thought about short of a movie thriller didn’t mean she couldn’t handle it.