by Cassie Miles
“How could I? You cleaned the platter.”
“The waiter said he’d bring more.” She looked through the crowd. “He’s over there by the fireplace. You think he’s avoiding me?”
Looking down at her, he couldn’t help smiling. In her purple dress with her long, blond hair curling around her face, she was beautiful in a different way than usual. She was elegant. And he liked the way his ring shimmered on her finger.
Maybe he was overreacting to the Clark situation. Maybe she’d been right when she’d said the real problem was that he hated any situation where he wasn’t in control.
“Should we go after the waiter with the crab cakes?” he asked.
“Let’s track him down.”
Their path was blocked by Matthew Clark. For a man who’d had extensive reconstructive surgery on his face, he looked natural. Clark had avoided the temptation to change himself into the sexiest man alive. His appearance was average, nondescript. His shaggy, gray hair mostly covered his ears, which made Troy wonder how Olivia’s mother had gotten a close enough look to identify him.
Clark introduced himself to Olivia. “I’ve been watching you,” he admitted. “You’re Bianca’s sister, right?”
“Right.” She gestured with her plate. “I would shake hands, but I’m kind of occupied.”
“Have we met before?” he asked.
“I don’t think so.”
She introduced Troy, who shook hands and realized immediately that Clark had no special interest in him, which seemed strange. Even if Clark hadn’t made the connection to Hatari, he had to know that Troy had been driving the car that his men had chased into town.
Clark turned back toward Olivia. “I seem to remember meeting your charming parents at another company function.”
“I wouldn’t know.” She deftly deflected his question. “How do you like working with my sister?”
“She’s a promising young lawyer. I appreciate her stands on environmental issues, even if I don’t always agree with them.”
“I live in Dillon, so I worry about oil exploration in the mountains. You know, like fracking.”
He scowled. “I don’t know why people get up in arms about fracking. The process is effective and efficient.”
“Except for destroying the environment and polluting the water table,” she shot back. “Not to mention the possibility of earthquakes.”
Clark launched into a lecture that rang true for a somewhat condescending executive of an energy company. His speech was more than a performance. After his years undercover, he had taken on the characteristics of his profession. Troy had to wonder how long it had been since Clark, alias Kruger, had been involved in espionage that involved anything more complicated than the transfer of funds.
“I didn’t mean to offend you,” Olivia said sweetly. “My sister wouldn’t represent CRG Energy unless you were a responsible company. You’re one of the good guys.”
“Of course,” he said. “Tell me your parents’ opinion. Have they ever mentioned me? Or CRG?”
“Not that I recall.”
“I think you know a great deal more than you’re willing to admit.”
Troy’s nerves twitched. Clark’s statement came close to a threat. He was tempted to take this guy into custody right now and damn the consequences.
“However,” Clark continued, “I’m sure your condition consumes most of your attention.”
“My condition?”
He cast a pointed gaze at the magnificent swell of her belly under her flowing gown. “My congratulations, by the way.”
“I assure you that my pregnancy hasn’t stopped my brain from functioning.”
“Certainly not.” He gave a nod. “Delighted to meet you. Have a lovely evening.”
As he pivoted and walked into the crowd, Troy watched. If Clark left, he needed to send that text. “I think he’s actually leaving.”
“Good riddance,” she muttered. “Let’s find those crab cakes.”
Her father appeared beside them. In a low voice, he said, “Clark’s heading out. I need to tail him. Give me your car keys.”
No way would Troy send Olivia’s father on this mission without a partner. He glanced around the room at the waiters who might be in disguise, unknown guests and the armed security entourage for the Saudi prince. Leaving Olivia alone here wasn’t a good option; he could only be sure of her safety if he was at her side.
He tucked his hand under her arm. “Let’s go. I’m driving.”
“Wait!” She balked.
“I promise to get you more crab cakes.”
“It’s not that.” She kicked off her high heels. “Would you grab those for me?”
Carrying her heels, he headed toward the door.
Chapter Twelve
Glad to be leaving the party, Troy hustled Olivia and her father across the manicured grounds to the service entrance where he’d parked the Range Rover. The delivery van with the fake-looking logo that he’d seen before was gone. Two men in chef outfits were having a smoke by the rose bushes. One of them was on a cell phone. Had he been posted as a lookout? Troy would have liked to question them, but there wasn’t time.
Though Olivia moved faster without her fancy shoes, she wasn’t exactly sprinting. She was gasping for breath as he opened the door to the backseat for her.
“I want to sit up front,” she said.
“You’re safer in back.”
And her father had already vaulted into the front seat. “We need to hurry, dear.”
She climbed inside, grumbling. “Didn’t you say something about how you’d keep me informed?”
Leaning into the car for a quick kiss on her cheek, he whispered, “Trust me.”
As he came around to the driver’s side, he took out his phone and sent the text message to the forensic team at Clark’s condo. They needed to evacuate. Troy hoped they’d found the evidence they needed.
Behind the steering wheel, he started the car. “All right, Richard. What’s going on?”
“That’s NTK.”
“Need to know,” Olivia translated from the backseat. “And it’s a little late for that, Dad.”
“This is so very wrong,” Richard said. “I made a vow a long time ago to never put my children in danger. Yet, here you are, Olivia.”
Troy pulled onto the street in time to see the taillights of a limo at the corner. “Is that Clark’s car?”
“Yes,” Richard said. “I saw him when we arrived. His driver was parked at the curb in front of the house and stood waiting by the vehicle.”
“He was prepared for a fast getaway. Clark knows we’re onto him.”
“Possibly,” Richard said.
“Who else knows?”
Olivia’s father said nothing. Troy could appreciate his professionalism. It was Richard’s job to hold tight to his secrets, never sharing intelligence with anyone but his wife. But this situation was different, and Troy was in no mood to play games.
“Right now,” Troy said, “I’m your partner.”
“And Olivia?”
“We keep her safe. That’s our number one concern. Agreed?”
Richard exhaled a long-held breath. “Shortly after I informed my people that Clark was Kruger, the information leaked. His cover was blown. There were other people at this event who knew his identity.”
Troy’s gut instincts had been right on target. “Were they watching Clark? Or keeping an eye on us?”
“Both,” Richard said. “My orders are to follow Clark and make sure that nothing happens to him until we take him into custody. Kruger, alias Clark, could be a valuable asset.”
Fortunately, Troy’s orders were much the same. “I was supposed to watch Clark and not interfere with him. We need the information he has about the Hatari terrorist cell and their potential target.”
From the backseat, Olivia piped up. “I don’t see his taillights. Did you lose him?”
“I’m being careful,” Troy said. “I don’t want to spook hi
m. It looks like he’s headed to his condo.”
“Where is it?” she asked.
“He has a penthouse suite at a new building near Broadway.” They weren’t far from the location. He sped up and darted along a parallel street, catching sight of Clark’s limo at an intersection.
“The penthouse sounds pretty posh,” she said, “but I’m surprised Clark doesn’t have a mansion. He’s got to be a gazillionaire.”
“The mansion is in Midland, Texas,” her father said. “He also has a house in the Canadian oil fields. It’s part of his cover. Being able to continually leave the U.S. for business abroad makes it easier for him to disguise his travel schedule.”
“And he has a place in the mountains, as well,” she said.
“How do you know that?” Troy ran a red light so he’d get the jump on Clark’s driver.
“He mentioned it when he was trying to justify tearing up the landscape to suck out all the oil. Weren’t you listening?”
“I was preparing to act as a referee. You and Clark were starting to get into it.”
“His attitude ticks me off,” she said. “So pretentious. He referred to his home in Aspen as a residence.”
Too bad for Clark. The place he’d be living for the rest of his life would most likely be a prison cell—a room without a view.
Troy’s driving maneuvers were successful. They arrived at the condo building before Clark’s limo. The area was mostly residential with nice older homes and plenty of trees. The twenty-story condo was the only large structure, but there were a couple of three-story square brick apartment buildings. Both had lots, and Troy parked in a slot facing the street. From there, they had a clear view of the ramp that led down to a garage door for underground parking at the condo.
He killed the headlights and turned to Richard. “When are your guys going to make the arrest?”
“I made contact when I knew Clark was leaving the party. They should be ready to pick up this package.” Olivia’s father scanned up and down the street. “I don’t see anybody, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t here.”
“Call them.”
If the CIA had the situation covered, Troy would be happy to stand down. He wasn’t in a position to contact or give orders to the forensic team who had searched the condo. His only way of reaching them was via text message.
Richard disconnected his call. “They’re only a few minutes away.”
They should have been here, waiting. If Troy had been in charge, he would have made the arrest as soon as they had reason to confirm the identity. Letting a suspect run around loose was asking for trouble. “Why did they wait?”
Richard shrugged. “I don’t know their tactics.”
Troy was itching to make a move, but Olivia was with him. The right place for him to be was at her side. Still, it didn’t hurt to be prepared. He flipped open the glove compartment and took out two automatic handguns, both Glocks.
“I want you both to stay in the car,” he instructed. “If there’s a threat, I need to be more mobile.”
“Good plan,” Richard said. “I’ll come around to the driver’s seat.”
“I can drive,” Olivia said.
The two men responded with one voice. “No.”
In her tight-lipped expression, Troy saw the image of the little girl she’d once been—the child who wouldn’t let her mother’s kidnappers get away without her. All grown up, she was still stubborn, still determined, still strong. She was an outstanding woman. Soon, she’d be an outstanding mother.
“I’m proud of you,” he said.
“Don’t get hurt. Please, Troy, don’t get hurt.”
“That’s not my plan. I’m just going to watch. When the CIA gets here, I’ll back off and we’ll go home. No problem.”
He left the car and slid through the shadows. A holster was clipped to his belt. The other Glock was in his hand. He crouched, listening. A summer breeze ruffled tree branches, and an undercurrent of urban noise hummed around him. No one was on the street. If others were hiding out here, they were stealthier than ninjas.
Being outside and taking some kind of action felt good. His senses went on high alert. Adrenaline pumped through his blood. Troy never had the patience and subtlety to handle the kind of work Olivia’s parents did. He liked having a direct mission with a clear directive. Keep Clark safe. Keep him from falling into enemy hands. Simple.
The limousine rounded the corner, heading toward the ramp for the underground garage. Troy figured that the driver would hit the remote control that opened the garage door, they’d drive inside, and all would be fine.
But the door didn’t open. The driver stopped the vehicle in the middle of the street.
Troy was four car lengths away from the limo, too far to see inside and know what the driver was doing. But it was obvious that things weren’t going as expected.
The smart move would be for the driver to hit the gas and zoom away fast. Under his breath, Troy whispered, “Go. Get the hell out of here.”
In his undercover identity, Clark/Kruger hadn’t been in action in a long time. He’d grown soft. A frightened man could make stupid mistakes.
Troy watched the limo drive toward the corner stop sign and signal a left turn. Big mistake. There could be an ambush at the front entrance to the condo building. After signaling Richard to stay put, he darted through the shadows and peered around the edge of the building at landscaping of thick shrubs and a tall spruce tree. He spotted an armed man dressed in black with a knit cap pulled low on his forehead and a half dozen tattoos on his exposed forearm. Well, damn. That outfit sure as hell wasn’t standard CIA issue. Clark’s enemies had caught up to him.
With his back against the wall of the building, Troy looked back toward the Range Rover. They had narrowly escaped disaster. If he’d parked at this end of the block, his vehicle would have drawn fire.
He turned toward the entrance where the limo was pulling to a stop. There was no way of knowing how many men were involved, but he was surely outnumbered and outgunned. If he opened fire, he’d be a dead man. His advantage was that they didn’t know he was here. Moving fast, he approached the man in black. The guy didn’t hear him, didn’t turn around.
Using a maneuver he’d done a hundred times before, Troy took the guy out with a sleeper hold. The unconscious man slipped silently to the ground. Troy tossed aside his handguns and took possession of his AK-47, noting that it was a new version being manufactured in China. On the ground at his feet were four grenades. All this hardware for Clark? The ambush obviously wasn’t meant to take him alive.
Troy peered through the branches of the spruce tree. Any minute now, the CIA would be here. And they’ll be too late.
The driver got out of the limo and opened the rear door for Clark. Two shots echoed on the city street. The driver fell.
Clark managed to pull the door closed, but now he was stuck in the rear of the limo. Bullets pinged against the side of the vehicle. The safety glass in the windows wouldn’t last much longer. Clark was pinned down. No way could he escape.
Observing the flash from the AK-47 weapons, Troy guessed that there were two other assailants. Both were on the opposite side of the building’s entrance.
The gunfire ceased. A grenade was lobbed through the air. Floating like an underhand softball pitch, it bounced off the hood of the limo. The explosion tore away the grill and front bumper on the passenger side.
This firefight wasn’t going to last more than a few minutes so Troy had no reason to hold back. He threw all four of the grenades in the direction of the gunfire. Fireballs exploded. Over the roar of the concussion, he heard a man scream.
Gunfire and grenades were going to be aimed in his direction. He let go with a blast from the AK-47 and dodged behind the brick wall of the building. While he was trying to decide whether to step into the line of fire and engage, he heard sirens. Reinforcements were there. None too soon.
The CIA arrived first. Half a dozen guys in bulletproof vests
took over the fight. There was more to this fight, but Troy had done his bit. He needed to make sure nobody else ran in the direction of the Range Rover. He needed to be sure Olivia was safe.
As he dashed across the street to where he had parked, she emerged from the vehicle and ran barefoot in his direction. What the hell was she doing? Hadn’t she heard the explosions? Was she deliberately ignoring danger?
He swept her into his arms. “Get back in the car.”
“Are you all right?” Her eyes were wild. “Tell me you’re all right.”
“Not until you’re in the car.” He shoved her into the backseat and dived in behind her, slamming the door behind him.
She held his face in both her hands. “You scared me half to death.”
“I’ll need to get this suit dry-cleaned for my brother. Other than that, I’m fine.”
Her mouth pressed gently against his. His pulse was still racing. He was breathing hard. The extreme pressure of battle clenched inside him, tying his gut into knots. But the sweetness of her kiss did a lot to ease his tension. Every fight should end with a kiss from a beautiful woman as a reminder of what was really important.
In the front seat, Richard cleared his throat. “Do you mind telling me what happened?”
“Your guys finally got here.” Troy continued to focus on Olivia. He tucked a strand of long blond hair behind her ear. “I’ve never been so glad to see a swarm of agents in bulletproof vests with CIA stenciled across the back.”
“What about Clark? Is he still alive?”
“I don’t know.”
Troy slumped back against the seat and pulled Olivia across his lap. He wanted to take her home and spend the rest of the night in her arms, but that wasn’t going to be possible. He had witnessed the ambush; the CIA would have a lot of questions for him.
And Troy had his own agenda. He took out his cell phone and texted a message. Ambush at Clark’s condo. Need backup. If Clark was still alive, they needed all the intelligence they could get on the Hatari terrorist cell.
Chapter Thirteen
A pregnant woman in a lavender ball gown wasn’t something anyone expected to find at a crime scene. Olivia knew she was drawing stares from the CIA agents, the cops, the ambulance EMTs, the firemen and the mysterious investigators who spoke only to Troy. They’d all be a lot happier if she hitched up her skirts and left. But that wasn’t going to happen.