“Yes, do you have any reservations under the name Diana Prince?” Maggie held her breath, and closed her eyes in relief when she received an affirmative answer. Oh, Viper was clever. She’d used Maggie’s comic book heroine as an alias. She slowly hung up the phone and took a deep, shuddering breath. Step one, check. She’d located Viper. She pulled the pad off the table and scribbled a note before tearing off the sheet and tucking it into her pocket. She frowned at the handcuffed wrist. Step two, get out of here.
She glanced at the door. “Uh, Noah? I need to use the bathroom.”
Luke tapped the keyboard a little more forcefully. Why couldn’t Maggie just tell them what they needed to know? He wasn’t getting anywhere with his search of the reservations databases, and the clock was ticking.
When he’d confronted her with her lies, she’d initially acted hurt and confused. And he’d almost believed her. Again. Then she’d apologized. The pain that had speared his heart had been breathtaking. Quickly followed by the slow burn of anger, both at her and at himself.
He’d left the Special Forces because he’d become weary of war, especially after a fire fight with insurgents at Kandahar. Several men in his unit were killed that day, including his close friend, Zack Lyon. Zack was his age, and hadn’t had the opportunity to settle down and start a family. Luke realized that after all the violence, all the deaths, he wanted to have his own little peaceful haven, with a woman at his side and kids to dangle on his knees.
He was attracted to Maggie. Or at least, the woman he’d thought she was. Her strength, her ingenuity—she was full of surprises. Her intelligence was undeniable. Even those funny little facts she’d come out with at the most surprising times attracted him. And Maggie as a centerfold? Well, that wasn’t too much of a stretch for his imagination. To find it was all a façade, that the woman he’d begun to fall for did not exist, had rocked him to his core. And now she was toying with him.
He was ex-Green Beret, damn it. Liberate the Oppressed. It was a motto he’d lived by all of his life. His father had drilled it in to him from a very young age. If this suit wasn’t recovered, then everyone he knew, everything he held dear, would be tyrannized by their enemies. He couldn’t let that happen. He wouldn’t.
“I can’t find anything under their aliases,” he muttered to Drew. He opened up a fresh window on his laptop and quickly keyed in a program.
“I guess that would be too easy. It’s not like Jafari and Tzin Shu are going to want to show their faces,” Drew commented. “They are on the watch list, after all.”
Luke nodded. “Ah, but that’s exactly what they’re going to do.”
Drew frowned as he sat up. “How?”
“I can check all the security cameras in and around the hotels and use a facial recognition program to compare file photos of Jafari and Tzin Shu.”
Drew’s frown deepened. “I know Reese likes the latest and greatest in gizmos and gadgets, but does your laptop really have that capability?”
Luke’s lips twitched. Drew was right. One of the reasons he loved his job was because he often worked with cutting edge technology and equipment. “This little machine is good, but not that good,” he admitted. “I’m getting some help from some friends.”
Drew’s eyes narrowed. “What friends?”
Luke shrugged. “When I investigated Maggie’s laptop, I left a backdoor to access the mainframe at the university. They have some serious kick-ass power in their network.”
Drew froze for a moment. “That’s illegal.”
Luke smiled. “Yes, it is.”
“I like it.”
It didn’t take long before the program raised a flag. Triumph flashed through Luke as he pulled up the record.
“Jafari is at the downtown Imperial. We have a confirmed image of him entering the lobby.”
“Bastard is walking in, plain as day.” Drew shook his head in amazement. “Now that’s audacious.” A polyphonic ring tone interrupted them. Drew stood up to take the call. Luke turned back to the screen. A thought hit him.
Perhaps if he could prove to Maggie, once and for all, that they had the goods on her, he could convince her to help them. And maybe the Feds would go easy in the face of her cooperation. She insisted the woman at TI wasn’t her. What if he could prove it was? He knew of a powerful 3-D facial recognition program in its testing phase that he’d been trying to convince Reese to buy for the McCormack Security Agency. One of the problems was that it took a lot of juice to run, and Reese would have to upgrade the McCormack Security network in order to run it. But Luke temporarily had access to a university mainframe. The processing could be done remotely, and in a fraction of the time. He shook his head as he hacked his way to an illegal copy of the program—it was a Tek-Intel program. Talk about ironic. He pulled up Tek-Intel’s security footage from the night of the theft, as well as Maggie’s DMV photo, and ran a 3-D comparison test using the facial recognition program.
In mere seconds the results flashed back at him. Hot damn, that mainframe was fast. The McCormack network would be still booting the program files. He wondered if he could organize permanent access to the mainframe. His muscles stiffened as he absorbed the information in front of him.
“Crap.” The images don’t match. The algorithms used to compare eye sockets, nose and chin couldn’t match the images. And this 3-D program catered for pretty much every conceivable factor. The woman in the TI footage didn’t match Maggie’s DMV photo.
“Luke? That was Reese,” Drew said.
Luke tore his eyes away from the screen, and tried to control his breathing as he met his friend’s eyes. They both wore the same stunned expression.
“The autopsy results for the two men at the warehouse are in. A break between the C3 and C4 vertebrae also broke the spinal cord, resulting in death, but both had perimortal injuries at the time of death.” Drew looked at the phone in his hand, his usual good humor gone.
Luke swallowed. “Let me guess,” he said hoarsely. “One had a non-fatal puncture wound to the neck, and the other had injuries consistent with vehicle impact.” He felt like the bottom had fallen away from his stomach.
Drew nodded.
“Well, here’s something else.” Luke turned the laptop so his friend could see. Drew read the details on the screen.
“Crap.”
“She’s been telling the truth the whole time,” Luke said. He felt about as low as the stained carpet they stood on.
“She’s not Viper,” Drew groaned, clapping his hands to his head. “She is just a librarian.”
Luke shook his head. “Not just a librarian.” She wasn’t just anything. She was complex, she was intriguing, and she was probably ready to skin him alive. “Let’s go talk to her,” he said. His feet dragged as he followed his friend out of the room. God, he hoped she’d forgive him. After what he’d done to her, what he’d said to her, he wouldn’t be surprised if she didn’t. But he had to try.
Chapter Thirteen
Noah sat on the bed, playing solitaire. There was no sign of Maggie.
“Where is she?” Luke asked.
Noah nodded to the bathroom door. “She wasn’t feeling well.”
Luke strode to the door and rapped his knuckles against it. “Maggie? Are you okay?” There was silence from the other side. Luke tried again. “Maggie?”
A sinking feeling grew in the pit of his stomach. He tried the doorknob. It was locked. He darted a look over his shoulder at Noah, who stood up, a grim expression on his face.
“Not again?”
Luke took a step back and placed a well-aimed kick to the door. The door jamb splintered, and he kicked again. This time the door swung inward. The bathroom was empty.
He stepped into the dingy little room. A small window above the toilet was open. It would have taken considerable effort to squeeze through it. Luke shook his head as he stood on the toilet and looked outside. The parking lot lay below, and the car parked directly underneath bore distinct impact marks from a body dr
opping on to it.
He swore as he climbed down, and a piece of paper on the dirty vanity caught his eye. A note.
He picked it up and read it.
Luke,
I’m not Viper, but while you think I am, she won’t be caught. I’ve got to try and find her.
Maggie.
It was brief and to the point. No salutation, no emotion. Luke closed his eyes. He’d hurt her. He’d accused her of murder, and worse. He hadn’t trusted her when she’d protested her innocence, and now she didn’t trust him to help her. She was out there, putting herself in danger because he hadn’t believed her. He wanted to roar with frustration, with panic. She was going to get herself killed. And it would be his fault.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Drew exclaimed from the bedroom.
Luke shoved the note in his pocket. Drew held up the phone book. The names of hotels had been crossed out, with the exception of one. It was circled. Seattle Imperial. There was a name scribbled along the side, and Luke shook his head when he read it. Of course. He’d approached the problem by using technology, algorithms and equations. Maggie had used Viper’s history of mimicking her, and they’d arrived at the same place. It summed them both up as people. He used cold logic. She used the personal approach. It was a pity they hadn’t worked together to combine the two.
His friend wore an astonished look on his face. “You used a university network and new technology, and she used the damned phone book. And she still figured it out before we did.”
“Maggie’s gone after Viper.” Luke ran to the door.
“I thought Maggie and Viper were one and the same,” Noah commented as he followed with Drew.
Drew shook his head. “We’ll catch you up in the car.”
“Hey, you look vaguely familiar,” a slurred voice said from behind Maggie. She caught her breath. Of course. Her face was plastered all over the news. She’d forgotten that. She slowly turned to face the three women who had just stumbled out of the bar, wincing as her bare foot stepped on a pebble.
“Uh, do I?” She gulped. Busted. She felt bruised, battered, and her feet were freezing. She needed to get off the streets and to the hotel as quickly as possible, but she’d forgotten about the nationwide manhunt for her. She glanced over her shoulder at the motel across the road. She shivered, feeling vulnerable. Any minute Luke and his team would figure she was gone and come running. She had to get out of there, fast.
One of the women teetered closer in her six-inch heels, and Maggie winced as she saw one ankle turn awkwardly. Those shoes could pass as lethal weapons. The woman thrust her face forward, and the sweet smell of cloying perfume and alcohol vied for attention. Maggie discreetly turned her head to the side. Phewy!
“Hey, do you work at Nordstrom’s? Is that where I know you from?” the woman asked, her gaze slightly out of focus.
Maggie seized upon the suggestion. “Yes, that’s it. Nordstrom,” she said, a bright smile on her face. She’d never stepped foot in any of the stores, couldn’t possibly afford to buy from there. Hopefully the woman wouldn’t try to remember any more details.
“Hah! I knew I knew you.” The woman smiled triumphantly. “What are you doing out this way, girlfriend?”
Maggie lifted a hand and gestured to the bar. “Oh, just enjoying the nightlife.” It was way after midnight. Practically morning, in fact. She couldn’t believe so much had happened to her since she’d shown up to work at eight o’clock that morning.
Another woman squinted and peered down at Maggie’s bare feet. “Where are your shoes?”
“I was mugged,” she lied. “They took everything. My handbag, my keys.” She glanced at her feet and wriggled her toes. “My shoes.”
The third woman gasped. “They took your shoes? Hey, that’s just wrong.”
Maggie’s eyebrow rose. Money, ID and keys were apparently lower on the list of necessities. She nodded. “Yep, they took my shoes.” She ran a hand through her hair, grimacing as her fingers snagged at some knots. She wasn’t used to wearing it down. “And I need to get into town. My boyfriend is waiting at a hotel for me.” She inwardly cringed at the ease with which the lies sprung to her lips.
“Oh, don’t worry honey, we’ll help, won’t we gals?” The first woman gestured to the road. “We’ll catch a cab.”
The other women nodded and made noises of agreement, and staggered to the curb. The second one turned to her, looking in sympathy at her feet. She tugged around her handbag.
“Here, you can use these. We’re about the same size.” She pulled out a little pouch from the bag and removed what looked like rolled up leather.
Maggie frowned. “What is it?”
The woman laughed. “Shoes, silly. I save them for the end of the night, when my feet are killing me.” She gestured to the nose-bleed heels she wore.
Maggie gaped as the woman rolled out what looked like a pair of ballet flats and held them up. “See. Slip them on.”
Maggie shook her head in amazement. “How very James Bond-ish.”
The woman snorted. “More like Charlie’s Angels, hon.”
Maggie pulled the shoes on just as the first woman successfully hailed a cab. They were a little big, but wearable—and definitely better than no shoes at all. She sighed as she joined the women in the cab and sank back into the back seat amidst a cloud of perfume, alcohol and a generous outpouring of sympathy, the motel receding behind her. As the cab took her further away, Maggie felt the growing distance reflected the emotional chasm that had opened between her and Luke. She pushed the thought from her mind, and focused on her present company.
She’d never hit the club scene, didn’t really have any girlfriends, certainly none like these ladies. They talked, laughed and sang the whole ride into town, and Maggie actually smiled a few times, her cheeks muscles unused to the workout. They’d even used their makeup on her to hide the bruises on her face.
She got them to drop her off behind the hotel, and a block down. She stood by the curb and waved as the cab took off, laughter ringing out from the windows. The women had decided to go somewhere in town for breakfast. Maggie looked around her. The street was empty, and the sky was beginning to lighten. Dawn was approaching. She glanced at her watch. Nearly six in the morning. She rubbed her arms. No wonder she felt cold. The pre-dawn March winds were chilling. And she was so tired. The only sleep she’d managed to catch was a couple of hours in Luke’s arms.
Her cheeks flushed, despite the low temperature. But she wasn’t going to think about that. She wasn’t going to think about the things he’d done to her body, or what she’d done to his. Her cheeks grew hotter. She wasn’t going to think about how he made her feel, how he’d made her breath catch and her body convulse. She wasn’t going to think about the heat he’d generated within her, or the companionship she’d felt talking with him and being held in his arms. The friendship, the intimacy. She fanned herself. No, sirree. Not going to think about it.
Viper, she said to herself. Focus on Viper. In a little over four hours the woman was going to sell a piece of military research that would wreak irrevocable change on a global scene. She thought of the women she’d just met. They were fun-loving and easy-going, with a joie de vivre that was contagious. She thought of the 2002 Bali Bombing, where a Kuta nightclub became an inferno, killing two hundred and two people. With the Visi-suit, horrendous barbaric acts like that could occur in the United States. People much like those women would be at risk just for their love of life.
She had to stop Viper. But how? She couldn’t just waltz into reception and ask to speak to Viper, notorious spy and murderer. She wished she knew more about the buyers too. Were they spies as well? Were they merely negotiating a deal for new research, or were they terrorists, fundamentally focused on creating as much anarchy and tragedy as the financial restraints their causes would allow? Each creature would involve a different mindset.
I hope I’m dealing with spies, and not terrorists. She blinked. Never in a million years wou
ld she have thought she’d be facing down either of those parties, and now she was expressing a preference? Good grief, how her life had changed in the last twenty-four hours. Life in the library was starting to look darned good, right about now.
The beeping sound of a truck reversing caught her attention. She glanced down the street. A truck bearing the logo of Anderson’s Laundry was backing into the hotel dock. That’s my ticket in.
Luke disconnected his call. “There are three rooms booked under the alias Diana Prince,” he informed Noah, who was driving with the skill of a NASCAR driver.
“One each for Viper, Jafari and Tzin Shu,” commented Drew.
Luke nodded. His stomach felt like it was in his throat. Maggie was in danger. She was going up against a spy who had thus far foiled all forms of international law enforcement. She was also placing herself in the path of two very dangerous, very lethal men.
He’d fought in several skirmishes. He’d faced down the Taliban in Afghanistan, the insurgents in Iraq, just to name a few. But nothing, nothing made him feel as nervous as knowing Maggie was out there, in danger, because of him. He wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans. He had to find her, had to stop her from doing something that would get her killed. The woman he’d gotten to know in the motel room did exist. The gentle, sweet, caring woman who could make his blood sizzle and pull at his heart strings. He wanted to kick himself. He’d ruined any connection they may have formed. He had to accept that, but if he could just keep her safe, know she was alive and well, then he could live with that. If he failed—well, he purposely shied away from that dark, yawning pit of remorse and despair. He couldn’t go there. He wouldn’t go there.
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