Pawn

by Carla Cassidy

  Stella eyed her with speculation. "You two have a fight? You look like you're upset."

  "Yeah, we had a little fight," Lynn replied.

  "Let them get into your pants, but never let them get into your heart, that's what I always say. Me, I got lots of boyfriends," Stella said. "Mostly dock-workers that smell like fish, but they all treat me okay."

  That was more than Lynn could say about her "boyfriend." She settled back in the seat as Stella continued to look at her in open curiosity. "So, what did you fight about?"

  "Stella, mind your business," Tiny chided.

  Stella huffed indignantly. "I am minding my business. I've just decided her business is mine." She smiled at Lynn.

  "Tiny told me you do all kinds of computer stuff."

  "That's right."

  "Maybe you could make him—" she pointed a thumb at Tony "—one of those Web page things to advertise his church. I hear that's what everyone is doing these days, those Web pages. He's a good preacher but nobody ever comes to the church. I keep telling him nobody knows he's there and he needs to advertise. A Web page would maybe help."

  "Stella," Tiny admonished. "That's Lynn's work and you know I don't have any money. That's like her asking you to turn a trick for free."

  "I've done that before," Stella protested. "When it's somebody I really like."

  "I'll make you a Web page, Tiny," Lynn said as they pulled up in front of the apartment building. It would only take her maybe a half an hour to pull together something simple.

  "I can't ask you to do that." He shut off the car engine.

  Stella huffed in exasperation. "You're always preaching to ask and you'll receive."

  "It's no big deal, Tiny. I can get something up and running sometime tomorrow."

  They all got out of the car and Lynn was thankful to see there was no sign of Nick. The groceries she'd bought and had dropped to the sidewalk were gone, as well, probably stolen by one of her neighbors. She hoped they enjoyed the big juicy steaks she'd bought to feed to the dogs in the shipyard.

  "Thanks for the ride," she said.

  "No problem. Stella and I are going to head down to the church. You want to join us?" Tiny asked.

  She shook her head. "Not tonight. I have some things to do."

  "Okay then, we'll see you later."

  Lynn watched as the two headed down the sidewalk, Stella's skinny hips swinging like a hyper bell. When they'd disappeared from her sight, she turned and stared at the entrance to her apartment building.

  She wasn't ready to go back inside. She wasn't ready to face the small confines of the room and the bed that she hadn't made with the sheets and pillowcases that smelled like Nick.

  She suddenly remembered the car that had been provided for her, a car she hadn't touched in the time she'd been here. She pulled the keys from her purse, then walked around the back of the building to the parking lot.

  There it was, a beat-up black sedan with the license plate number BAW029. It was a far cry from the sports car she'd driven when she'd been living with Jonas.

  She got into it and headed out, away from the dock area. Driving had always been her escape. When she'd been with Jonas, her little sports car had been her best friend. Whenever she was feeling stifled by Jonas's overbearing and overprotective ways, she'd sneak out of the house and into her car and drive.

  Although this car didn't have half the power of the vehicle she'd once owned, she pushed it to the max with all the windows open so the evening air could blow in her hair.

  A wild abandon filled her as she zoomed by other cars on the road. She'd like to drive forever. Drive away from her heartache, from the job that had her crawling into containers and from anyone who wanted or needed anything from her.

  She had enough money in her purse to drive to the state of Washington or Oregon, where she knew nobody and nobody knew her. But, she wouldn't. She'd never been one to run away from problems.

  She left behind the dock area and headed down a highway that would take her to the familiar streets she'd once haunted.

  She passed an upscale boutique where she'd often shopped for clothes and accessories and drove by a restaurant where she'd often met her college buddies.

  She'd lost touch with her friends when she'd moved. Besides, she'd been too embarrassed by the news reports of Jonas's crimes to maintain those friendships. She'd been afraid she'd see pity or curiosity in their eyes and she didn't know which would be worse.

  Memories flooded her brain, mostly good memories of a time when she'd been ignorant and relatively happy. She'd been blissfully ignorant of the evil Jonas harbored in his heart. She'd been a college student pursuing a career in computer science and thought she was doing good deeds with the work Jonas gave her. And, for a little while, she'd had Nick.

  She frowned and tightened her fingers around the steering wheel. Or had she? Although he'd professed to love her at that time, he'd also had a job to do. In the effort to get close to Jonas, he'd consciously set out to seduce her.

  And seduce her he had. She'd fallen for him like a fragile palm tree in a hurricane, tumbled head over heels for his charm, his wit and his passion.

  Had it all been nothing more than an illusion? Even though he'd told her afterward that the seduction had been ordered, but had been heartfelt.

  He'd assured her that his feelings for her were real and true but in retrospect she didn't know what to believe. After all, he hadn't mentioned the little fact that he was married.

  He'd proven himself to be a man who would do anything to get the job done. He was a man committed to his work. He'd been working undercover jobs for so long she wondered if he'd lost touch with who he really was.

  Had last night simply been a way to mollify her and keep her happy? She hadn't hidden the fact that she wanted him. Had he decided to give her what she wanted to stop the fight they'd been about to have? Had it merely been a way to win the fight, a way to keep her from going out in the storm?

  She pulled the car to a halt in front of a pair of familiar massive gates. She turned off the engine and stared through the ornate security gates and up the driveway to the mansion beyond.

  This was the home of her childhood, the place where she had lived in splendor with a man who had never loved her, but had used her. This was the place where she'd been groomed to break the law, where she'd been encouraged to explore her genetic enhancements and use them to gain wealth for Jonas White.

  She got out of the car and stood, noticing that there were lights on in various windows of the house. The government had seized the property when they'd gone after Jonas, but apparently since then it had been sold to somebody.

  Somebody had used her all her life. As far as she was concerned, Jonas's crimes against her were no greater than those of Nick. Betrayal tasted just as bitter no matter who perpetrated it.

  Although she'd had moments of happiness here in this big mansion, she'd never really been happy. She'd longed for an average life. She'd hated the genetic gifts that Jonas told her made her a potential kidnapping victim, forced her to live like a prisoner.

  A steely resolve filled her as she got back into her car. She'd finish what she started. She'd do the job at the shipyard and she'd continue to work with Nick, but it would be the last time she'd be used by anyone.

  HELL HATH NO FURY like a woman scorned, Nick thought as he rode the elevator up to Lynn's floor that night. He'd only seen Lynn angry once before and that had been the night she'd discovered he wasn't one of Jonas's grunts but was rather an FBI agent.

  Her anger had been an awesome force to behold. As he knocked on the apartment door he was prepared for the worst. He was prepared for the possibility that Lynn might very well rip his throat out before he got an opportunity to say anything.

  All he wanted was a chance to explain, an opportunity to make her understand the position he was in and why he hadn't told her about his marriage.

  But, the woman who opened the door to admit him didn't have fury burning in her ey
es. As usual she was clad all in black, ready for the night's work. Instead of the warmth that usually lit her eyes when he walked through the door, her unusual blend of green-and-gold eyes radiated a coldness that was far worse than any anger.

  "How many containers?" she asked without preamble.

  Nick placed his duffel bag on the table and gazed at her. She looked as beautiful as he'd ever seen her, with her chestnut hair swept up into a ponytail emphasizing the graceful curve of her neck and her delicate features.

  "We need to talk," he said.

  "No, we don't," she replied tersely. "We have nothing to talk about except how many containers came off the ships tonight."

  Her eyes, which had always sparked with such life, with such emotion were dead and their very lifelessness made him mourn. "Lynn, you need to let me explain."

  A flash of color swept over her cheeks. "Are you married?"

  "Yes, but…"

  "Then the discussion is over."

  "Dammit, Lynn, you've got to listen to me." He exploded, raising his voice to a near shout. He hit the table loudly with the palm of his hand, driven by a combination of frustration and anger.

  She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him. "You've got some nerve raising your voice to me after what you've done."

  As quickly as it had come, the anger left and Nick sank down heavily on one of the chairs at the table. "You're right. I'm sorry." He closed his eyes and rubbed the center of his forehead and wondered how everything had gotten so screwed up.

  He opened his eyes once again to see her still standing with her arms defensively crossed, but pain radiating from her eyes. "How could you, Nick? How could you sleep with me knowing that you belong to another woman? How could you do that? How could you lie to me?"

  "I never lied," he protested. She narrowed her eyes. "Okay, I lied by omission," he admitted. "I should have told you, I know that."

  Her eyes held the faint sheen of emotion, but her features remained passive. Even though he knew he probably couldn't ever make it right, he had to try. He stood and faced her.

  "It's not a real marriage, Lynn. It's a legal one, but it isn't real. It's part of my cover. I needed an in on the assignment I'm working in a small town. The FBI had a contact who was a local woman. The only way to make everyone believe the relationship and get me where I needed to be was to marry Colette. I couldn't tell you because I didn't want to compromise the job in any way."

  "And so you compromised me."

  He winced. "The marriage is nothing more than a paper legality."

  "It's a paper legality that matters," she cried and unfolded her arms.

  "I know." Once again he rubbed his forehead and wondered why he hadn't told her. He'd had a week and a half to tell her, but he hadn't. Maybe he hadn't wanted to because he'd known that if he did, last night wouldn't have happened.

  If he'd told her he was married she would have made sure that last night didn't happen. The thought that he hadn't told her so she wouldn't stop their lovemaking made him a real selfish bastard.

  He stood, wanting nothing more than to take her in his arms, but he knew better than to even attempt it.

  "I tried to keep last night from happening. I knew it wasn't the right thing to do, but I'm a weak man where you're concerned, Lynn."

  He tore a hand through his hair in frustration. "Dammit, I tried not to get close, not to smell your damned perfume and remember how you felt in my arms. I tried not to want you because I knew I shouldn't have you. But, I screwed up. I let things get way out of control. And once you were in my arms, I couldn't stop."

  He thought he saw a softening in her eyes, but it was there only a moment, then gone. "What's done is done," she said. "And now we have work to do."

  He knew nothing more he could say to her now would make any difference. She was completely closed off to him. All he could hope for was that before all this was over he'd get an opportunity to talk to her again.

  "Eight containers," he said as he handed her the latest photo of the shipyard.

  "Plus the ones from last night. I'll see you at three." With those final words she disappeared out the door.

  Chapter 13

  As Lynn walked toward the shipyard, she tried not to think about Nick or what he'd said. She knew how dangerous it was to work while being distracted.

  Still, it was hard not to think about what he'd told her. He'd said the marriage had been part of his undercover work and was only a paper legality.

  What he didn't understand was, to her it didn't matter. Married was married and any hope she'd had of any kind of a relationship with him was gone.

  How could she believe anything he'd said to her? How did she know that he'd told her the truth, about another assignment, about his marriage? She'd lost all trust in him and that hurt as much as anything.

  Even if he had told her the truth, he would always be a man who put the job first, who would make all kinds of personal sacrifices for his work.

  Okay, so nothing had really changed in her life except it had now been one night since she'd had good sex rather than over a year. Nick was nothing more than a memory and that's what he would have to remain.

  The night was warm and a three-quarter moon shone from a cloudless sky. She would have much preferred dark clouds.

  She picked up her pace and shoved thoughts of Nick away. She'd blown off working on the Spider files today but had checked her e-mail when she'd first rolled out of bed.

  There had been no further communication from A. But that didn't stop her from being concerned about the first e-mail she'd received. Who knew about her connection with the women and the school? It had to be connected to the Spider files. As soon as she got back to Phoenix, she intended to have another talk with Kim Valenti.

  As the shipyard came into view she emptied her mind, focusing only on the job that had to be done. She went over the wall in the same place she had every night. She hit the ground inside the holding area with barely a thud, thenfroze as she surveyed her surroundings.

  In the distance she could hear the sounds of guards talking, but they were far enough away that she wasn't too concerned. Thankfully, she didn't sense the close presence of any dogs.

  Still, she wished she had the steaks she'd bought that morning at the store just in case she was to encounter any of the dogs.

  "I'm in," she said softly, letting Nick know over the transmitter on the collar of her hoodie. I'm in, and you're a jerk, she wanted to say. She'd love to give him a piece of her mind now, while he could hear her and she couldn't hear him.

  It was every angry woman's dream, to talk until she was talked out without a man being able to interrupt or make explanations.

  Of course she wouldn't do it. Although it would certainly make her feel better to vent all the emotions she had stuffed inside her, she couldn't risk unnecessary chatter that might be overheard by a guard.

  Instead, she got to work. Quickly, efficiently she picked the lock on the first container that had to be checked. The door rolled up without so much as a squeak. She slipped inside and used her penlight to view the contents.

  The interior was stifling hot. Racks of clothing and crates of shoes were inside. It took her only a few moments to run her scanner over the lot. "Container 15596 cleared," she said as she eased the door down and returned the lock to its place. One down, eleven to go.

  For the next hour she moved from container to container, clearing them and letting Nick know the number of each one.

  As she snapped the lock on the fifth container of the night, a flashlight shone from around the corner of a nearby container. She hit the ground with enough force to momentarily knock the wind out of her.

  She pressed her face against the concrete and tried to make herself as small as possible. Don't find me, she thought. Please don't see me.

  "Julie has been bitching that we never do anything, we never go anywhere." The male voice sounded young.

  "Wives always bitch about something," a deeper voice
replied.

  "She doesn't understand that working these hours makes it hard to do the club scene or go to parties."

  "Wait until you two have kids, then she'll really have something to bitch about."

  Lynn's heart pumped frantically and she pressed herself harder against the concrete on the ground beneath her. If they came around the corner with that flashlight there was no way they'd miss her. She'd be arrested and spend the next fifteen or twenty years in jail.

  The last time she'd been arrested, when Nick and his FBI buddies had caught her when she'd been working for Jonas, she'd been locked up and her sister Dawn had broken her out of jail.

  Of course, at the time Lynn hadn't known that Dawn existed. Dawn had come into the jail like an avenging angel, setting up a couple of small bombs to provide a distraction while she rescued Lynn.

  I should have run then, she thought. I should have claimed a new identity when I had the chance. But she hadn't run. Not wanting to live her life in shadows, always looking over her shoulder, she'd turned herself in to Nick and had agreed to help the FBI take down Jonas.

  Dawn wouldn't be around to help her this time and Nick had strict orders not to ride to her rescue. She was on her own, flying without a net.

  She felt every gravel pebble beneath her body. The light flashed again. She pressed her cheek into the ground. Winced as the rough concrete abraded the side of her face.

  Breathe. She had to focus on taking a breath, then another. Every muscle tensed as she prepared to run. Go away. She mentally willed the men to move to another area.

  She smelled the scent of sulfur from a lit match, heard the faint draw of breath that indicated to her one of the men had lit a cigarette.

  Her entire body trembled with nervous tension. Would they never go away?

  She drew her first breath since hitting the ground as the voices finally, mercifully drifted farther away. She remained lying down for several long seconds, then eased into a sitting position.

  She winced. Every contact point she'd made with the pavement ached. Thank God they hadn't come around the corner and found her. "That was close," she whispered.