Deborah laughed. “Oh, I know exactly what you mean. We were there for a few weeks.” She stopped pedaling, hopped off the bike and immediately did some quad stretches.
Okay, the woman was being deliberately evasive.
Ryan placed the free weights back on their racks and the dumbbells neatly in their wall positions. The damn things gleamed. Must not get used very much.
Deborah bent her arms over her head and performed some basic biceps and triceps stretches before approaching the weight rack.
“Need a spotter?” Ryan offered. Helping her with her weights could give him an opportunity to get closer to her without being obvious, see if she had any faint scarring that could be a result of extensive face reconstruction.
Deborah laughed and held up a hand. “Oh, no, I don’t do anything heavy. Not looking to build, just tone.” She patted her flat tummy. “Besides, I don’t want to strain. It’s against doctor’s orders.” Her smile faltered, and she turned abruptly to survey the weight equipment.
Doctor’s orders, huh? Ryan lifted his arms to stretch the muscles and warm down after his routine. This case could be a slam dunk. Deborah had been “out of the country” for a period of time. It could be that she was lying, and had been recuperating in Chicago after several operations on her face. Was Deborah really Jade Maxwell?
He watched as the petite woman moved to another section sporting lighter, fixed weights, and she lifted down a pretty pair of purple (purple?) dumbbells and crossed over to the treadmill. She smiled at him as she selected the program on the machine and started jogging.
Okay, so that was the end of the conversation. At the rate she was running and pumping her arms, she wouldn’t be able to talk further, and if he approached her now, it could look like either a flirtatious come-on or an uncomfortable stalker approach—neither was the effect he was after.
He nodded at her as he grabbed up his towel. “See you at the group session,” he said casually.
She nodded and gave a halfhearted wave with the light dumbbell and continued running.
He changed and made his way back to his cabin. He needed to talk to Drew, get him to make some calls. Deborah’s details needed to be checked. He smiled. This case could be sorted by lunchtime. He and Vicky could be on their way home. He thought of the woman he’d left sleeping, and his smile faltered. They needed to solve this case ASAP. Last night had been sheer torture. He didn’t know how long he could hold out before he gave in to temptation. And that would ruin everything.
He swiped his card and entered the lodge. Everything was exactly as he’d left it. His blankets were tumbled on the sofa. Vicky was snoring faintly underneath a mountain of bed linen...and her things lay strewn all over the bedroom.
He pursed his lips. Her gown lay on the floor, and he bent to pick it up, tripping over a killer heel as he did so. He picked up the offending article. It was...lethal.
He hung her dress in the wardrobe, and looked dubiously at the jewelry, hair combs and cosmetics strewn in a jumble across the dressing table. He shook his head. Women sure used a lot of crap.
He turned and looked at the bed. Time to wake up Sleeping Beauty. He wanted to talk to Vicky about Deborah, let her in on his suspicions. He walked to the head of the bed, and the painting above the bed caught his eye. He reminded himself that somebody, somewhere, was listening into their conversation.
“Cassie, wake up.”
Nothing. Not even a rustle of a sheet.
“Cassie.” This time he said it louder.
There was a soft little sigh, and the mound of blankets shifted, just a little. He arched an eyebrow. She was dead to the world.
He pulled the sheets back from the head of the bed. Two feet, with pink-tipped toes lay on the pillow. He frowned, trying to follow the shape of the body beneath the blankets until he figured where her head was, and pulled the blankets back. A mass of golden red curls obscured her face.
Raising a finger, he gently swept back some of the hair. Vicky’s cheeks were sleep-flushed, her lips in a relaxed pout. He smiled. He’d never seen her look so peaceful. She was always so busy, so active. Now, she looked very Zen. He hoped she woke up switched on. With the listening devices planted about the room, she needed to have her cover in place from the moment her eyes opened.
“Wake up, Cassie,” he said. He deliberately used her cover name.
Vicky’s eyes flicked open, and she lurched, rolling over to the side. She would have fallen out of the bed if he hadn’t caught her.
“What? Who?” She blinked, swaying. “I’m awake. Where am—wha?”
Okay, so she didn’t wake up “in the zone.” “Good morning, Cassie.”
She looked at him and frowned. “What? Ry—”
He clapped a hand over her mouth and jerked his chin to the painting. Slowly the dazed confusion left her gaze, and she nodded.
“Good morning, Peter.” Her brow wrinkled. “What time is it?”
“Time you got up, sleepyhead. We need to go eat breakfast and be in the lounge for the first session, so we’d better start getting ready.”
She eyed him, seeming to notice his clothing for the first time. “You’re dressed.”
“You know me, Cass, I like to work out in the morning.”
“Oh, yeah.” She wrinkled her brow, and managed to look cute and sexy all at once.
“Come on, let’s go shower.”
Her jaw dropped and she shook her head. “No.” Her tone was emphatic. Final. He sighed. He needed to tell her about his conversation with Deborah in the gym. He pulled the covers back.
“Come one, I’ll soap your back, honey.” He jerked his head meaningfully at the bathroom door.
She nodded, finally catching his drift. “Fine.” Excited to share a shower with him, she was not. Fortunately, whoever was listening in would expect some friction, some distance between a couple. So Vicky had done good with creating that impression. It didn’t have to mean he liked it. Or that he’d admit it to her face.
She rose from the bed, and Ryan tried to, too, but stopped midway. She was wearing some silky shorts that showed a lot of curvy toned leg, and her top screamed sexy strength, showing off the creamy skin of shoulders and arms, with a sexy little doll-like image spread across her breasts that winked at him. He swallowed. Her pajamas were a combination of tomboy and tease, and he wanted to pull her warm body back into the bed. She strode over to the bathroom, oblivious to his lusty thoughts.
And he needed to keep it that way. He didn’t want things to change with Vicky. In his line of work, you couldn’t allow anyone too close. It made you vulnerable. He never wanted to be vulnerable. Not like that, not where the person you were with knew your weaknesses, your insecurities, your fears, and used them against you. Memories stirred, and he forcefully shut the door on past hurts, and followed his partner into the bathroom.
As soon as the door closed, he started running water in the shower. Vicky put the seat down on the toilet and sat, not bothering to hide her yawn.
“What’s going on? And what time did you get up?” She shook her head. “I can’t believe you went for a workout. Why?”
He arched an eyebrow. “I was awake. Besides, I like to keep fit.”
“So do I, but you don’t see me getting up at the crack of dawn.”
No, you’re too busy talking to yourself. “Aaanyway, I bumped into your good friend Deborah at the gym.” He proceeded to fill her in on the conversation he’d had with the woman, and her eyebrows rose.
“So she was out of the country for a while, huh? That should be easy enough to verify. We’ll let Drew know.”
Ryan nodded. “I just wanted to make sure you were up to speed.”
She beamed. “Thanks.”
Her appreciation took him by surprise. It was as though he’d given her a gift of some sort, or p
aid her a compliment. He shrugged. Whatever. He didn’t think he’d ever understand Vicky. He glanced at his watch.
“We’d better get a hustle on. Breakfast, then therapy.” Huh. He never thought he’d hear those words popping out of his mouth. He turned to the shower and tested the water, then shrugged out of his T-shirt. He turned around to find Vicky as still sitting there, her mouth open.
A smile curved his lips. Sometimes she was as confusing as all hell. Other times, like now, he could tell exactly what she was thinking. He was flattered. And horny.
“I’m going to keep stripping, so unless you want an eyeful, you’d better hightail it.” He arched an eyebrow, and drifted his hand under the warm running water. “Or would you like to join me? Come on in, the water’s warm.”
Vicky sprang from her seat and bolted for the bathroom door, and he couldn’t help chuckling at her haste to disappear.
Chapter Eleven
Vicky shifted in her seat. They were in the lounge. All of them. She glanced around at the other couples. One of these couples was responsible for the attack on her close friend and the murder of Dr. Kruger. The muscles in her thighs tightened. Anyone of the couples in this room were cold-blooded killers. The thought was unsettling. Nerve-wracking. Yet, she really, really wanted to catch the murderous bastards.
The women were meticulously made up, and she was relieved that she’d taken more time to apply some cosmetics of her own. Yet she knew she wasn’t one of them, no matter how much she looked the part. Of course, she didn’t think the other women had a semi-automatic pistol shoved into their left boot. Despite the light, compact state of the weapon, it still felt like something heavy weighed her down. She was conscious of it, with every step, every movement, hoping it wouldn’t fall out, hoping it wouldn’t be detected. Hoping the damn thing wouldn’t go off. Ryan had assured her it wouldn’t.
The men gave the impression of casual relaxation that looked to have taken a lot of effort and expense to achieve. Except for Ryan.
It wasn’t fair. He could shower and shave and be dressed with a casual ease in under fifteen minutes, yet still look amazing and...hot. Gorgeous. Thank God Jessica had picked out a stylish wardrobe for them. Both she and Ryan fit in perfectly with the rest of the guests.
Of course, Ryan didn’t seem to notice what she was wearing. She thought she looked good. He’d looked her up and down in the room and nodded. As though she’d passed muster, and that was it. He looked gorgeous, she’d had to wipe the drool from her chin, and she—well, apparently she’d do. She bit back the sigh and glanced around the room. Forget Ryan, and focus on catching killers.
Each couple sat on a comfortable two-seater sofa, strategically arranged in a circle. Ryan’s shoulder and thigh branded her side. He was a big guy, and the sofas were...cozy.
Gavin and Neil entered the lounge, and Neil greeted them with a smile.
“Good morning, folks. Thanks for being on time.”
Both counselors took the last two seats, individual wing-backed chairs that seemed to envelop the men.
Vicky glanced around. The room was gorgeously appointed, and she made a mental note to tell Jessica all about it. The woman had handed the running of her deceased aunt’s interior design business over to an external director, but Jessica still had an interest in the field, and had a newly discovered knack with interior design.
With a golden patterned carpet, blue and terracotta accents, and brass and dark walnut finishes, the room had a relaxed yet luxurious air about it.
Ryan nudged her in the ribs, and she dragged her gaze from a brass wall sconce back to the therapists. Gavin was talking.
“...and everything we discuss here is entirely confidential. You all signed the contract to participate, and are aware of the penalties of sharing any information outside of the group. We do this so that, as our guests, you can be assured that your conversations remain private, and you can feel comfortable in sharing intimate information. What is said in the group, stays in the group.” He gestured to his colleague.
But not whatever you talk about in the privacy of your room. Vicky wondered if there were any bugs planted in this room.
“So, why are you all here?” Neil asked. He clasped his hands together. “You’ve all probably got different ideas about what life coaching and power management are. Here at Ultima we look at improving your relationships, your career, your lifestyle, by working on the way you communicate with each other and in general, as well as problem solving and dealing with conflict. Gavin?”
Ryan muttered something under his breath, but Vicky ignored him.
“This week is all about you,” Gavin said, and she could see that although they needed to prompt each other, they both communicated well together. “We look at the impact you have on your relationship, and how you can turn conflict into cooperation. Motivate yourself, and you motivate others.”
He opened the folder in his lap and started to pass around sheets of paper. “We have your Client Background Forms that you all completed prior to this week, and they’ve given both Neil and myself some insight into your history and experiences, and some of the issues you face in your relationships.”
Uh-oh. She probably should have finished reading the file Mal had given her. Her mouth went dry, and she felt like she’d been pulled into the principal’s office for not doing homework.
“But that’s for later,” Neil said, with a kind smile on his face.
Phew.
“Right now, we’ll start with some fun things to break the ice.”
Ryan snorted, and Vicky nudged him without looking at him.
“Here is a list of questions you need to answer,” Gavin said, handing out sheets of paper and pens. “You’ll need to get up, roam around and ask questions to find these answers. You have five minutes.”
Vicky skimmed the questions. How many women have brown eyes? What is the weirdest thing anybody has eaten? And that was just two of them.
“This is going to be hell,” Ryan muttered, and Vicky hid her smile as they stood and started to mingle with the other couples.
It actually took them about ten minutes to answer the questions, but Vicky couldn’t help her sigh of relief when Neil called to them to take their seats. She’d felt like a gauche prom reject, trying to start conversation, but all the time she kept thinking “are you a killer?”, which had an inhibiting effect on her conversation.
She’d learned that Paula had once eaten a dead snail that had been inside a lettuce leaf in one of her salads. It had turned the woman off lettuce for life. Unfortunately, while the exercise had been a great icebreaker, it still hadn’t given her a clue as to which couple were really Simon and Jade Maxwell. The weight of that task, of finding the killers, seemed to bear down on her gut, heavy and uncomfortable.
Please, don’t let me screw this up. She smiled faintly at Jennifer, who just glared back at her. She used to be a covert courier, blithely lying her way past border control with a quick chat and a smile to a customs official. Nothing that required sustained and repeat interaction, like perpetuating a cover with the same people over several days.
“Okay, so what did we learn?” Neil asked.
That discussion took another fifteen minutes of chuckles, groans and laughter. Vicky gritted her teeth and joined in, trying to give the impression she was enjoying the experience as much as everyone else seemed to be. Gavin nodded eventually.
“Good start, folks. So we’ve just shared some interesting information. This time, taking turns, I want each of you to tell the group about the first time you met your partner, and what was so special about it.”
Vicky tried to keep the smile on her face as she shot Ryan a glare. She knew they should have got their stories straight. Ryan winked at her and turned back to the group. Easy for Mr. Pants-On-Fire Liar here.
“Let’s start with you, Jeffrey. T
ell us about meeting Margie,” Neil suggested.
Jeffrey blinked and turned to his wife, who gazed at him expectantly. “Uh, well, we met at college.”
“And?”
“And what?”
“What do you remember of that first moment?”
Jeffrey frowned. “Well, I can’t remember what she was wearing, if that’s what you’re after.”
“That’s okay. Where did you first see her?”
“In the library.”
“No, it wasn’t. It was at a party,” Margie interjected coolly.
“No. The first time I saw you was at the library.”
“No, dear, it was at a party.” Margie’s smile was brittle.
“Actually, dear,” her husband responded, stressing the endearment, “it was at the library that I first saw you. I introduced myself to you at the party.” Jeffrey spoke through his teeth.
Margie frowned. “Really? I don’t remember seeing you at the library until after we met.”
Jeffrey nodded. “I know. I saw you at the library, and you looked so pretty, concentrating so hard on whatever it was you were reading. I asked my buddy to invite you to his party so I could work up the courage to talk to you.”
Margie stared at him, her mouth open slightly. “You never mentioned this to me before.”
Jeffrey shrugged. “It’s never come up in conversation.”
“What kind of impression did Margie make on you? It must have been something for you to have your friend invite her to a party.”
Vicky watched as Jeffrey ducked his head.
“She was dressed like a lady. Oh, I’m not saying she was prim and proper, but she just looked...lovely. She had this air of confidence about her that a lot of the other girls at college didn’t, like she knew what she wanted, and what she had to do to get it.”
Neil nodded and smiled. “Thanks for sharing, Jeffrey.”
For Her Eyes Only (McCormack Security Agency) Page 10