Deadly Little Secrets

by Jeanne Adams

  Gates hated that it had become SOP—standard operating procedure—to have things happen at the estate, to get shot at. He’d left his PDA in the limo, locked in his briefcase. As he retrieved it, he heard the soft chime that meant he had voice mails, texts, and other contacts.

  “We’ll talk about it when I get there,” he said to Dav, absently scrolling through the e-mail on the PDA, all while making sure Ana was settled and they were going the correct way to drop her off. “I’m sorry I wasn’t available.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. Did you find out anything useful?”

  “Still working on it. I’ll be back shortly,” Gates said by way of good-bye and disconnected. He shifted to look at his lovely companion. He hated that their ongoing difficulties were ending the evening. He’d been dramatically attracted to Ana from their first meeting at the estate. Having dinner with her tonight had only heightened the sense that he wanted to know her better, get to her intense core of brilliance both mentally and physically.

  “What’s up?” she demanded, her mobile face alert, her eyes scanning his face for telltale signs.

  “Another attempt on the compound. Dav’s getting pissed, so I’m going to have to set something up with the local police to catch some of these irritating idiots.”

  “Any way I can help?”

  He gave it a moment’s thought. They’d waded through the case file, discussed her current searches and others she might try. He’d offered his expertise on the search, but he now realized that despite his searches he hadn’t uncovered exactly what she did for the CIA, nor what the difficulty in Rome had been.

  His own life was one thing, he realized with a pang. Before he let her into the inner circle in Dav’s life, he had to know more.

  “There probably is,” he prevaricated. “I’ll know more once I’ve gotten the details. Any chance we could meet up again tomorrow? Cover some more of this ground?”

  To his surprise, Ana pulled out a slim leather-bound date book. He figured her for an electronic gadget type. Then he remembered she had that too. Dual systems, built-in redundancy.

  “Good with me, although I don’t know what’s going on with my car. Can I call you in the morning?”

  “Call me tonight if you know more, or tomorrow. You can e-mail me or text me here.” Gates offered a card, on which he’d written both his private e-mail and cell numbers. The one he’d given her before was a company phone.

  He couldn’t say why he already trusted her. Probably, it was because his gut told him she was straight-up loyal and driven by justice more than anything else. He ignored the little voice that questioned whether or not he just wanted her, and any reason to be with her.

  Ana betrayed her surprise with a quick glance and an odd look, but made no comment as she tucked the card into her date book and put both into her briefcase. “Thanks,” she murmured, then pulled out a card of her own and scribbled on the back. “Here, you obviously have the office number and my cell, but this is my home number, and private e-mail.”

  They’d crossed some vast emotional line in the course of the evening, between her tearful release and his own internal revelations about his attraction to her. The car slowed to a halt by a neatly maintained bank of condo apartments, brightly lit and surrounded by a genteel neighborhood and boutique-like shops.

  “Just pull in there,” Ana directed the driver, and he followed her lead. Gates walked her to her door.

  The apartments were older, and well maintained, with full plantings and flowerbeds just showing spring’s arrival. They were far enough away from the car, which the driver had turned around, so he didn’t feel watched as they said good night.

  “Thank you,” Ana began, holding out her hand as if to keep it all business.

  “You don’t really think I’m going to shake your hand, do you, Ana?” he said, bending down to close the distance in their heights. He let his lips caress her cheek, feel the soft texture of her skin. She didn’t wear heavy cosmetics, and most of what she did wear had been washed away in the crying jag. He could still smell the faint echo of her perfume when she swayed toward him.

  “Gates,” she said, hands rising to his chest. “I know I was upset earlier.”

  “You’re not upset now, are you?” He looked into her eyes, making sure she was with him. He saw no trace of fear or hesitation, so he dove in. When he kissed her, his hands resting lightly on her hips, it was Ana who leaned in, deepened the connection. To his delight, she gripped the lapels of his coat, tugging him closer. Taking it as permission, he wrapped her in his arms, letting one hand twist in her gorgeous fall of black hair.

  He could have stayed there forever, tasting her, discovering what made her sigh and what, like the kisses along her jawline, made her moan. The bark of a neighbor’s dog and the porch lights coming on reminded him that they were out in the open, exposed to not only the prying eyes of her neighbors, but anyone who wanted to target either of them.

  “We need to stop,” she whispered, and he reluctantly agreed. “You need to go, and I need to go in.” She tried to pull away, but he kept her close, kissed the end of her nose, which seemed to surprise her more than the passionate kisses had.

  “I know,” he murmured, kissing her nose again, just to see the surprise flare, keep her guessing. “I’m looking forward to another dinner. What about tomorrow night? Your car won’t be ready for a couple of days, if I know the dealerships. I’ll pick you up again after work. You can let me know how the warrants are progressing.”

  “Oh, but,” she began to demur, bring up her defenses. He could almost see the wariness edge back into her eyes as the heat between them naturally cooled. He knew it was manipulative, but he did it anyway, he claimed her mouth in another searing kiss.

  “Just say yes, Ana.”

  “Yes.” Having answered, she kissed him back, rocking him to his toes with implied promises and sensual heat.

  “Tomorrow then,” he rasped, releasing her, stepping away so he wouldn’t be tempted by the lush curves on that long frame. The need to touch her, everywhere, was nearly irresistible.

  With one last kiss, he tore himself away. All throughout the long drive into the hills, he thought about her, wondered if tomorrow night he’d be driving home or if she’d let him stay.

  In a daze, Ana stumbled into the apartment. She was so exhausted, mentally, physically, and emotionally, that it was all she could do to feed the cat and fall into bed. She woke at two in the morning when her phone rang.

  “Burton, you okay?” Pretzky demanded. “I told you to call when you got in.”

  Ana switched on the light, trying to wake up. “Sorry. It’s been a pretty overwhelming day,” she admitted, yawning enough to make her jaw crack. “I’ve been home since nearly twelve. My apologies, Special Agent. I did say I’d call, and I didn’t.”

  “Don’t beat yourself up about it. Thing is, with all that’s gone on today, I wanted to be sure,” Pretzky said, and her voice held no rancor. “Get some sleep. See you tomorrow.”

  “Good night,” Ana replied, but Pretzky had already hung up.

  The blink of a waiting text message caught her eye, and she opened her phone back up, retrieving it.

  Sleep tight. See you tomorrow, and no, I won’t let you renege on dinner.

  Ana had to laugh at that, since she probably would have tried to call it off. Now, she couldn’t since he’d never believe any excuse she gave.

  Despite your sucky day, I had a good time tonight matching wits and programming skills with you. I look forward to more. Gates.

  “More what?” Ana wondered in the darkness, cocooned in her bed. She wanted to stay awake, ponder everything. Something teased at her brain, some errant fact that she knew must be important. For the first time in months, with no drugs in her system to help her sleep, Ana dropped with no hesitation back into a deep, healing slumber.

  When her alarm went off, Ana leaped out of bed. It was so shocking not to already be awake, already pondering the day’s schedule, tha
t she was shocked into wakefulness.

  “Jeeeez,” she complained, rubbing a hand on her chest to still her pounding heart. “I’d forgotten how loud that stupid thing is.”

  As she showered and dressed, she went, step by painful step, through the previous day’s events. What had she missed? Or, conversely, what had she found that someone else was afraid for her to find?

  Opening her daybook, she found the day’s blank page and listed names.

  Carrie McCray/Prometheus. Moroni Gallery?

  Pratch/Berlin? Artful Walls/Miami.

  She’d contacted each of the galleries that still existed, but the biggest losses had come through those four. In lieu of talking it out, writing it out helped her think. Even though she was alone, she decided Pretzky was right: walking through the data out loud could be dangerous.

  She made a list of all the victims she’d contacted, but underlined the five who had lost the most. Dav, a German businessman, and a New Jersey socialite had lost the most, both in money and number of paintings.

  “That’s close,” she murmured, noting that the German businessman was in Berlin. Pratch, then, for that one. The Jersey socialite would have been Moroni. “And Dav’s Prometheus.”

  A random fact was still pestering her, though. The killings were so different, East Coast to West Coast. “Who knew something?” she questioned, as she underlined Moroni, remembering that one of the women tortured had been a gallery clerk. “And what did they know?”

  Knowing she couldn’t do more from home, Ana replaced her daybook in her briefcase and got her phone, so she could call a cab. Before she could open it, it rang.

  “Good morning.” Gates’s luscious baritone rolled through the phone to shiver her bones. Without even meaning to be, the man was sexy. How was she supposed to cope with that?

  “Good morning. Is everything okay with Dav?” she asked, not knowing what else to say. Why was he calling this early? She hadn’t even gotten to the office.

  “Dav’s fine, nothing to worry about,” he said, dismissing that issue. “When you step outside, there’ll be a car waiting. I couldn’t come in myself this morning, but Damon, the driver from last night, will be there to get you to the office.”

  “Gates, that wasn’t necessary,” she protested. She refused to admit what a thrill it gave her that he would think of it. “I was about to call a cab.”

  “Which would be why I called so early. Have a good day, Agent Ana.” He all but crooned her name, and the intense tug of sexuality that his touch engendered flared in her belly. Without another word, he was gone.

  Ana peeked out the window. Sure enough, the black town car sat waiting in the space marked for her car.

  “Which reminds me to call about my car,” she muttered, as she got her keys and gave Lancie a last pat. “Go do your cat chores,” she ordered, and headed out.

  Nothing prepared her for the luxury of riding to work, rather than driving. People touted the BART—the Bay Area Rapid Transit—for giving them time to read, or study, or just relax before work. The BART had nothing on a chauffeured car. The driver stopped for Starbucks, when she said she preferred it to Peet’s. There were Danishes waiting for her, and the day’s paper neatly folded on the seat.

  When she got out at her building, after clearing through the security at the bottom of the driveway, she was pinching herself to be sure it was real.

  “Thanks, Damon,” she said, getting out before he could come around. That would have been too much, way too much luxury to start an ordinary work day.

  “You’re welcome, Agent Burton. Have a nice day,” the man said, and drove away. Ana walked into the building, still a bit dazed over the whole incident.

  “Wow. If that’s what you get when you investigate a billionaire,” Pearson said, jumping on the elevator with her, “I’m going to see if I can find a few cases like yours.”

  Ana had to laugh. “It’s crazy, isn’t it?”

  “Hey,” Pearson said, patting her shoulder. “You had a crappy day yesterday and he knew you’d lost your car, right? Pretty cool, I’d say.”

  “Yeah, pretty cool,” Ana agreed. The difference in her relationship with Pearson, evidenced by the friendly words and familiar gesture of a pat on the back, was indicative of the change in her office status. Everyone, barring the pus-ball, Davis, had suddenly changed to treating her as one of the team.

  When she met with Pretzky behind closed doors, she mentioned it.

  “Sure, they warmed up some, but you changed too, Burton,” Pretzky reasoned. “They just met you halfway.” The older woman paced back behind her desk and sat. “Tell me about this case. Start at the beginning and don’t leave anything out.”

  “I ran through the listing of cold cases,” Ana began. “This one had an art connection, and some interesting angles, so I pulled it next.” Step by step, she went through her process, detailing everything from the calls with the former lead agents, to her calls with the victims.

  “Any word from the other agent, the one you didn’t talk to?” Pretzky said, as they broke for lunch.

  “No, and I need to follow up there. His secretary said he was out of state yesterday, so I’d better try again. I have a different pattern to try, as well,” Ana admitted. “A different set of searches. I’m going to need your help, though.”

  Pretzky gave her an odd look. “That’s good to hear. Put it together, bring it in after you’ve had some lunch, and we’ll discuss it.”

  “Will do.”

  At her desk, a stack of pink message notes lay propped on the keyboard. It amused her that with all the computer gadgetry and instant message capability, most people still preferred handwriting reminders.

  Ignoring them for now, she turned on her laptop, and while it was booting, she called the number the secretary had given her for Hines.

  “I’m sorry,” a mechanical voice stated. “This number is currently unavailable. The subscriber you are trying to reach may be out of the area or have the phone turned off. Please leave a message…”

  She frowned. They were in the same time zone, so Hines would be up and about. “Probably in a meeting,” she muttered, then left another message for Hines to call her. Opening e-mail reminded her to send the one she’d cued up for TJ. She was really curious about what her old friend was stirring up. It was really peculiar.

  She had an e-mail from McGuire.

  Sending the grandkids and daughter away for a bit. Just a bad feeling, but I trust those. Keep me posted, girl. McG.

  “Paranoid agents live to retire,” she quoted one of her academy instructors. Obviously McGuire had retired, so his paranoia was bone deep. She e-mailed him back, answered the calls that were about the case, and spoke with the dealership about her car.

  “Two days,” she told Pretzky when they reconvened so Ana could tell her about the proposed search and the warrants she needed. “What’s so hard about replacing a window and the headrests?”

  Pretzky shrugged. “No idea. I gave up on trying to figure out car dealers a long time ago. Let’s hear this plan.” They ran over the policies, the warrants, and the issues that would be covered or come up based on the parameters Ana laid out. That took them right up till the end of the day. When she was packing up, Ana realized she had no idea if she needed to call a cab or if Gates was picking her up again.

  Right on cue, her phone rang. “Hey,” he said, his deep voice making one word a caress. “I’m nearly to the building. You ready to head out, or do you need more time?”

  “I’m ready. How did you know?”

  “Magic,” he intoned, then laughed. “I’ll see you downstairs.”

  The evening was nearly a repeat of the previous night, in all the good ways and without the emotional upheavals.

  “Hello, dear,” he said, when she slid into the car. He kissed her, long and deep, then handed her a glass of wine. “How was your day?”

  Shaking her head, she laughed. “It was boring. Agent stuff. Databases, searches, calls—the usual.”
>
  “Sounds exciting to me. Say databases again. You know how it turns me on,” he joked, chiming their glasses together in a brief salute.

  Though they discussed the case, and more about their respective businesses, the meal was lighter, and briefer than the previous evening. Throughout it, however, Gates kept up the same torturous, drugging massage of her neck; drove the same tingling awareness throughout her body.

  “Shall we go?” he finally asked, when they’d eaten dessert. She barely knew what she’d eaten, or how long they’d been sitting there. Every point on her body, every nerve, seemed to be rooted to the spot where his hands caressed her, warm and promising.

  She knew this dance. It was leading to bed, to sex, to them being together. Ana knew it was crazy. It was nuts, in fact, but she was heedless to stop it. She didn’t want to stop it.

  They were silent in the car, riding back to her place. He held her hand, his thumb making restless circles on her palm. Her imagination was in overdrive, thinking of having his hands on her body.

  “Ana, you are going to invite me in, aren’t you?” he asked, his voice sure.

  Part of her, the part that was so afraid of screwing up again, wanted to say no. That part wanted to scoot away to the other side of the seat; deny, deny, deny.

  The rest of her, the part that was more truly Ana, agreed. “Yes,” she said, forcing herself to meet his dark gaze. “I am. I’m not sure it’s smart, but I’m going to do it anyway.”

  Gates watched her for a moment, assessing her decision. He felt the smile blossoming on his face, saw the answer on hers. “Smart?” Gates asked, knowing it was a rhetorical question. “Hmmm. I’m not sure I’d call it that, either. Ana—” He started to tell her that this wasn’t something he did on a whim. He didn’t get to finish.

  The window next to her crackled, and there was a sharp snapping sound as the bulletproof glass buckled, but held.