She was there. The woman who had haunted Zac’s sleep for so long.
Zac had a sense of having been injured, and her voice was like a siren’s song with the power to lead him from the darkness. Or lure him more deeply into it.
“Who did this to you? Who would want to kill you? I know how much is at stake, yet when I thought you were dead…” she whispered.
For a split second Zac could have sworn he felt her lips against his.
“Why did you come? Why did it have to be you?” She spoke once more.
She paused again, and Zac could hear the pounding of her heart. Or was that his own?
“I can’t let any of that matter,” she said harshly. “You can’t die on me, Zac. I have a job to do. I have to find out why you’re here, so I need you alive….”
Dear Harlequin Intrigue Reader,
As you make travel plans for the summer, don’t forget to pack along this month’s exciting new Harlequin Intrigue books!
The notion of being able to rewrite history has always been fascinating, so be sure to check out Secret Passage by Amanda Stevens. In this wildly innovative third installment in QUANTUM MEN, supersoldier Zac Riley must complete a vital mission, but his long-lost love is on a crucial mission of her own! Opposites combust in Wanted Woman by B.J. Daniels, which pits a beautiful daredevil on the run against a fiercely protective deputy sheriff—the next book in CASCADES CONCEALED.
Julie Miller revisits THE TAYLOR CLAN when one of Kansas City’s finest infiltrates a crime boss’s compound and finds himself under the dangerous spell of an aristocratic beauty. Will he be the Last Man Standing? And in Legally Binding by Ann Voss Peterson—the second sizzling story in our female-driven in-line continuity SHOTGUN SALLYS—a reformed bad boy rancher needs the help of the best female legal eagle in Texas to clear him of murder!
Who can resist those COWBOY COPS? In our latest offering in our Western-themed promotion, Adrianne Lee tantalizes with Denim Detective. This gripping family-in-jeopardy tale has a small-town sheriff riding to the rescue, but he’s about to learn one doozy of a secret…. And finally this month you are cordially invited to partake in Her Royal Bodyguard by Joyce Sullivan, an enchanting mystery about a commoner who discovers she’s a betrothed princess and teams up with an enigmatic bodyguard who vows to protect her from evildoers.
Enjoy our fabulous lineup this month!
Sincerely,
Denise O’Sullivan
Senior Editor, Harlequin Intrigue
SECRET PASSAGE
AMANDA STEVENS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Amanda Stevens is the bestselling author of over thirty novels of romantic suspense. In addition to being a Romance Writers of America RITA® Award finalist, she is also the recipient of awards in Career Achievement in Romantic/Mystery and Career Achievement in Romantic/Suspense from Romantic Times magazine. She currently resides in Texas. To find out more about past, present and future projects, please visit her Web site at www.amandastevens.com.
Books by Amanda Stevens
HARLEQUIN INTRIGUE
373—STRANGER IN PARADISE
388—A BABY’S CRY
397—A MAN OF SECRETS
430—THE SECOND MRS. MALONE
453—THE HERO’S SON*
458—THE BROTHER’S WIFE*
462—THE LONG-LOST HEIR*
489—SOMEBODY’S BABY
511—LOVER, STRANGER
549—THE LITTLEST WITNESS**
553—SECRET ADMIRER**
557—FORBIDDEN LOVER**
581—THE BODYGUARD’S ASSIGNMENT
607—NIGHTTIME GUARDIAN
622—THE INNOCENT†
626—THE TEMPTED†
630—THE FORGIVEN†
650—SECRET SANCTUARY
700—CONFESSIONS OF THE HEART
737—HIS MYSTERIOUS WAYS††
759—SILENT STORM††
777—SECRET PASSAGE††
CAST OF CHARACTERS
Camille Somersby—She will do anything to protect her grandfather—and the future—even if it means deceiving the only man she’s ever loved.
Zac Riley—A supersoldier who will go to extraordinary lengths to carry out his mission.
Dr. Von Meter—A megalomaniac who has destroyed lives for over sixty years.
Dr. Kessler—The only one standing in Von Meter’s way.
Roth Vogel—A supersoldier with his own agenda.
Alice Nichols—A woman who knows how to get what she wants.
Special Agent Talbott—Is the FBI agent a pawn in a deadly game or a man who is willing to betray his own country?
Betty Wilson—A nurse who has more than a professional interest in Zac.
Daniel Clutter—A widower who becomes all too susceptible to Alice Nichols’s charms.
Adam—Can the memory of his five-year-old son save Zac?
Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Prologue
The Secret City,
1943
Her cover was blown. She had no proof, of course, only a nagging suspicion that she was being watched.
Sliding her hand inside her purse, Camille Somersby let the cool, deadly feel of the Colt .45 bolster her courage as she hurried out to her car. Climbing inside, she slammed the door, started the engine and then struggled with the gears for a moment before easing the Studebaker from the muddy parking area onto the street.
As she made the first corner, she glanced in the rearview mirror. She didn’t think she’d picked up a tail, but she couldn’t be sure. In wartime, spies were everywhere. Especially here, in a place the locals called the Secret City.
Nestled in a picturesque East Tennessee valley surrounded by tree-lined ridges, the city—which did not exist on any map—was isolated from the outside world, despite its proximity to Knoxville.
Complete with stores, schools, a church, hospital, newspaper and both single and multifamily dwellings, the whole community had been built practically overnight by the Army Corps of Engineers to accommodate the thousands of scientists, engineers and plant personnel employed at three top secret facilities known only by their code names—X-10, Y-12 and K-25.
Security around the perimeter of the city was tight. The borders were patrolled around the clock, and no one was allowed to enter or leave without a pass. Phone calls were monitored and mail routinely censored. In such an environment, fear and suspicion were bound to run rampant.
And maybe that was all it was, Camille decided. This feeling of being watched. It could well be nothing more than her own paranoia at work. The burden of her own secrets wearing on her nerves.
Ostensibly, she was one of hundreds of young women who’d poured into the area seeking employment on the government reservation. But, in reality, Camille had been sent to observe a smaller and even more highly classified entity known as Project Rainbow. The unit was run by Dr. Nicholas Kessler, a world-renowned scientist whose research into electromagnetic fields had attracted the military’s attention at the start of the war.
He didn’t know it yet, but Dr. Kessler’s future was irrevocably tied to Camille’s. She had been sent to protect him, but if her cover had been compromised, the whole mission could be in jeopardy. It would be difficult to insure Dr. Kessler’s safety if she ended up dead in an alley somewhere.
Grimacing at the image, she shot anot
her glance over her shoulder as she approached the gate. Flashing her pass at the guard, she waited for him to lift the barricade, then smiled and waved as she drove through.
Outside the barbed-wire fence, she relaxed a bit as she headed north toward Ashton, a small community five miles away where she’d been fortunate enough to find a cottage for rent. The massive influx of workers to the area had quickly eaten up all the government housing so that newcomers were forced to seek accommodations outside the reservation. Those commuting back and forth not only had to contend with the resentment of the locals, but with gas rationing and long lines of traffic to and from the project.
Camille had been worried at first that living away from the city might hamper her ability to carry out her mission, but so far it had worked out rather well. Ashton was a small, close-knit community, and she knew that if anyone suspicious showed up in the vicinity asking the wrong questions, she was bound to hear about it.
She’d also quickly come to appreciate the tranquility of the cottage. The house was situated on a lake, and the breezes blowing in from the water at night reminded her of happier times. When Adam was still alive.
Even after all this time, the thought of her son still brought quick tears. He’d been gone for over a year, but the pain was still as sharp and deep as the day she’d lost him. The only thing that had changed was her anger. It seemed to grow stronger and more consuming with each passing day. Anger at herself for not being able to protect him. Anger at the person who was ultimately responsible for his death.
And anger at the one man who might have been able to prevent it.
An image of that man slipped through the walls Camille had built around her heart, and, for a moment, she remembered too much. Dark eyes and a deep voice. Strong hands and a knowing touch.
The way he’d held her in the darkness. The way he’d kissed her, caressed her, moved her in ways no man had ever moved her before.
He’d been the love of her life.
And now he no longer remembered her.
But there had to be something left of his feelings for her, Camille thought bitterly. Some buried remnant of emotion that she could use to her advantage when he showed up here.
And he would come. She knew it without a doubt. That was the reason she’d been sent here, after all. To find out what he was up to and then, if necessary, stop him at any cost.
At any cost.
Her hands gripped the wheel as she thought about what that might entail. Lies. Deception. Murder.
Camille began to tremble. Taking a life, even in wartime, wasn’t something she contemplated lightly. Taking the life of a man she’d once loved so deeply would surely earn her a very special place in hell.
So be it. He was the enemy now.
God help her—God help them all—if she forgot that fact even for a second.
Chapter One
Philadelphia,
Present Day
It was the fourth night in a row the old man had come into Blue Monday’s. Zac Riley supposed he should be grateful the club had attracted a new customer. God knows there’d been few enough of those, young or old, in recent months, and if traffic didn’t pick up, he’d soon be out of a job. Again.
Still, a guy who looked to have one foot in the grave was hardly the target clientele of a waterfront blues club. And there was something about the man, apart from his age, that gave Zac the creeps. He didn’t know why, exactly, but he figured it had something to do with the dream. The sudden reoccurrence of the nightmare coincided with the old man’s first appearance in the club. And Zac had had the dream every night since.
The details never varied. He was always trapped in a cold, dark, windowless place with no way out. He could hear the clanking of metal, the steady drip of water and, in the distance, screams.
But upon awakening, what Zac always recalled most vividly about the dream was his fear. A mind-numbing terror like nothing he’d ever known before.
Afterward he would lie awake for hours, not daring to fall back asleep. But sometimes he’d drift off in spite of himself and that’s when she would come. A woman shrouded by mist. A temptress who beckoned and enticed but always remained maddeningly elusive, just out of Zac’s reach.
He had no idea if she was real or not. Maybe she was someone he’d known a long time ago—a lifetime ago—before the accident had wiped out a good portion of his memory. Or maybe she was nothing but a fantasy, a dream lover conjured out of fear and desperation.
Whoever she was, whatever she was, she’d haunted Zac’s sleep for years.
And now he had the sudden, unaccountable notion that she and the old man were somehow connected.
A chill rode up his spine as he tracked the man’s labored progress to the end of the bar where he perched, with no small effort, on a stool, then sat with arms folded, head bowed, waiting.
What’s your story? Zac wondered.
What was a guy like that doing in a place like this? The drinks were watery, the atmosphere gloomy, the location on the dark and sleazy fringes of hip and pricey South Street. There were hundreds of bars scattered all over the City of Brotherly Love. What had brought him to this one?
Zac didn’t think the old guy was homeless. He tipped too generously to be down on his luck, but he had the look of a man that time had forgotten. His heavy wool overcoat was threadbare in places, but Zac suspected it had once been quite elegant, perhaps custom-made for the man’s tall, slender physique.
Zac waited a couple of beats, then ambled to the end of the bar. Wiping off the mahogany surface, he said cheerfully, “What’ll it be tonight?”
“Whiskey,” the man muttered without looking up.
His raspy voice was like nails on a chalkboard to Zac. He poured the whiskey, then slid the drink across the bar. As the old man’s skeletal fingers closed around the glass, he glanced up. His eyes were the color of night. Dark, cold, scary.
Disconcerted by the man’s stare, Zac started to turn away, then paused. “Do I know you? Have we met before?”
The old man lifted his whiskey. “Do you think we’ve met before?”
Zac tried to laugh off his uneasiness. “Now you sound like a shrink.”
The old man lowered his empty glass. “I’m not a shrink. I’m a scientist.”
“A scientist, huh? We don’t get many of those in here.” Zac scrubbed at an invisible ring on the bar. “So what brings an educated man like yourself to a dump like this?”
“You do, Zac.”
The hair at the back of Zac’s neck rose. “How do you know my name?”
The dark eyes gleamed in the murky light. “I know a lot about you. Probably more than you know about yourself.”
“Is that right?” Zac felt the first stirrings of anger. And maybe even a touch of fear. “How do you figure that?”
“Because I’m the man who created you.”
Something tightened around Zac’s heart. Like a fist trying to squeeze the life out of him. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?” he demanded, thoroughly unnerved now by the stranger.
The man smiled slightly as he fished a card from his coat pocket and laid it on the bar. Zac glanced down in spite of himself. Dr. Joseph Von Meter. The address was in the Chestnut Hill area, a historic neighborhood about as far removed from Blue Monday’s as one could imagine.
Zac lifted his gaze. “You’re a long way from home, old man.”
“As are you, Zac. You have no idea.”
HE CAME BACK THE NEXT NIGHT. And the next two nights after that. It was easy to avoid him on the weekend. The live music of Blue Monday’s attracted a noisy crowd—aging hippies for the most part and some suburbanites in town for a night of drinking and slumming. Zac kept his distance, allowing the new bartender to wait on the strange old man.
But the place was empty again on Sunday night, and Zac was alone behind the bar when Von Meter showed up, precisely at nine, just like the other nights.
Bored and anxious to close up, Zac had been staring out the w
indow when the limo pulled to the curb in front of the club. A uniformed driver got out and came around to open the back door, then reached a gloved hand down to help his passenger disembark.
Definitely not homeless, Zac thought, watching the old man shuffle through the snow.
The driver waited until his charge was at the door, then he got back in the car and drove off.
A blast of cold air followed Von Meter into the club. He wore the same rumpled suit under the same shabby overcoat with the same hat pulled low over his eyes. He hobbled to the end of the bar and took his usual seat even though the stools closer to the door were unoccupied. Folding his arms on the bar, he bowed his head and waited.
Zac’s nerve endings tingled in apprehension as he studied the old man’s profile, what he could see of it, and he berated himself for not closing up earlier. He hadn’t had a customer all night. The snowstorm had kept everyone home, which was where he should have been hours ago. Had he subconsciously been waiting for Von Meter to show up?
“I know a lot about you. Probably more than you know about yourself.”
“I’m the man who created you.”
Telling himself he should throw the old goat out and be done with it, Zac walked slowly down the bar until he stood in front of Von Meter. “What’ll it be tonight?”
“Whiskey,” the old man rasped.
Zac poured the drink, then slid it across the bar. As the man’s wasted fingers closed around the glass, a feeling of déjà vu crept over Zac. They’d played this scene too many times before.
“How long do you plan on keeping this up?” he asked abruptly.
The old man set the empty glass on the table and lifted his gaze to Zac’s. His eyes were darker than Zac remembered. Dark and cold and…somehow timeless. “Until you ask the right question.”
Zac lifted an eyebrow. “Then why don’t you save us both a lot of trouble and tell me what the right question is?”
The old man licked his lips, as if savoring the taste of the whiskey. “You don’t remember much about your past, do you?”
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