Verifiable Intelligence

by Kaitlin Maitland

  The bus rocketed around a curve and screeched to a stop inches away from their toes. A uniformed driver hustled onto the curb and started grabbing people’s bags and tossing them inside, as the waiting passengers jostled each other for space.

  Used to being a small person tossed about in crowds, Dayne prepared herself to squeeze into whatever opening popped up. Before she could move, Jace wrapped an arm around her shoulders and hauled her close to him. Head and shoulders taller than most other people, he used his bulk to blast a way through the crowd. Once inside, he pushed Ryan into the last empty seat.

  “How’s your balance, Dayne?”

  Jace's low voice reached her ears through the chattering din of the surrounding travelers. A thrill slipped down her spine. His gaze held hers, hazel eyes easing from green to brown flecked with gold in the overhead light.

  It took her a second to realize that they’d begun to move. And though her balance was just fine, she was pressed against him anyway. A niggling voice in her head told her to step away, to maintain her personal space. Another voice argued that the shuttle was crowded and the air conditioning was turned up so high that she expected to see ice crystals on the windows.

  “You’re warm,” she murmured.

  He leaned down, his breath whispering across the sensitive skin of her ear. “Some parts of me are warmer than others.”

  When she would’ve leapt back in surprise, she found his arm locked like a vise around the small of her back. Dayne inhaled sharply and then wished she hadn’t. She’d gotten a noseful of Jace. Even after a day of exhausting travel he smelled divine. It sent her good sense reeling and left her body in a heated rush.

  “You should let me go.”

  He lifted a brow. “Now why would I want to do that?”

  “We have to stay professional. You know, focused.”

  “Does that mean you’re having trouble concentrating?”

  “Are you suggesting I can’t keep my mind on my work?” she demanded, outraged.

  “Are you working right now?”

  She should’ve replied that she was always working, but she got distracted. The hem of her fitted green cotton T-shirt had inched its way north at some point. Now the hand attached to the arm locked around her waist was resting on the bare skin of her midsection. The friction of Jace's calloused palm against her sensitive flesh sent a zing whizzing throughout her nervous system.

  He tightened his grip, his fingers pressing against her hipbone. “I was only going to mention that there are other things in life worth concentrating on.”

  A flush crept up her neck, making her ears burn. She was also aware of at least three other people who were now watching their conversation with less than polite interest. It felt like her cheeks had gone up in flames.

  “You know,” his mouth was right beside her ear, lips barely touching the surface of her skin. “You should really try to relax. You seem tense.”

  It was fortunate that the shuttle lurched to a halt and the doors opened. It gave her an opportunity to focus on something other than her indignation. The smug look on his face alone made her want to deck him, to say nothing of the outrageous ideas he was trying to suggest. As if they’d come to Boston to sightsee!

  There was really no time for romance in their itinerary, especially when it involved melting an ice queen. Unfortunately, Jace was having difficulty keeping that in mind when Dayne was anywhere near. She couldn’t seem to get a grip on her own reactions either, and damned if that didn’t make him feel good.

  He could hear Ryan behind him, rifling through the area pamphlets and rapidly firing questions at Dayne. Striding up to the rental desk, he offered the stone-faced agent his warmest smile, despite her lukewarm greeting. She looked to be in her mid-twenties with bleached blonde hair and dark eyes.

  “How many days will you be staying in Boston, sir?”

  “Can I just get it for the week? I’m not sure what our schedule is yet.” Jace offered a conspiratorial smile. “You know how it is with family vacations.”

  Stone Face nodded, and he could see a flicker of mirth in her eyes as she pounded away on her keyboard. “I see you have a preferred status, Mr. Stafford.”

  He nodded; he had a preferred status attached to all of his identities. It made rentals a helluva lot easier. Jace loved rental cars. You used them, and then the company sent them five thousand miles away from the scene of the crime for you. And most rental companies were horrible at keeping records. It made his life so much more convenient. If an investigator ever did catch up with a car, it had already been used by three to five more families full of people who trashed the inside and made trace evidence too convoluted to be of any use.

  Stone Face finally cracked a smile. “Your son looks just like you.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I’m single,” she admitted, purposefully catching his eye. “But I can remember going places with my parents when I was a kid. It was always a hassle.”

  “Things haven’t changed much.”

  “I hope you get a chance to relax here in Boston, Mr. Stafford.” Stone Face hesitated. “Your wife looks kind of stressed out.”

  Jace was a master at reading people. Their tones, facial expressions, and posture could give more information than their words. Right then, Stone Face was sending him a clear signal, of the unmistakable feminine variety.

  She stood on tiptoe and passed a tourism map across the counter. “I’d be really happy to help you out, Mr. Stafford, with directions and things.” She fluttered her dark eyes, her voice sliding suggestively over the words. “I put my personal numbers on this map, just in case.”

  Dayne’s voice came from a point just beside his right shoulder. “Wow. That was exceptionally helpful of you.”

  Stone Face snapped to attention. “What kind of vehicle would you prefer?”

  It was all he could do not to burst into a full-out belly laugh. Dayne’s gray eyes were shooting sparks, her stubborn chin aggressively thrust forward. He’d wondered how long it would take her to appear at the counter. She had remarkable hearing and enough pride to take this woman’s flirting personally.

  “Something small,” Dayne said. “Parking is such a bitch.”

  “I have some Chevy Blazers…”

  “No SUV’s.”

  Jace frowned. “There’s more room in an SUV.”

  “I want a car, a sports car if you’ve got it.”

  “It needs a backseat,” he reminded her.

  “He’s young. He can climb in. It’s not like his legs are ten feet long, and we don’t have that much stuff anyway.”

  “Would a Pontiac GTO be all right?”

  Dayne sniffed. “If that’s the best you can do, it’ll be fine.”

  Without another word to Stone Face, Dayne turned and stalked off toward Ryan. The kid was now trying to climb on top of the pamphlet display to get a closer look at a map hanging on the wall.

  Jace accepted the keys from the agent with a soft smile. “Thanks so much for your help.” He slid the map back across the counter. “But I’ve been to the city before. I know my way around pretty well.”

  There was no talking on the way across the parking lot. Dayne walked so fast that Ryan had to trot to keep up. Hostility rolled off her in waves. Her back was painfully straight, shoulders pulled up, chin lifted and jaw clenched tight.

  Jace popped the trunk, hoisting first his and then Ryan’s bags inside. When he reached for Dayne’s, she pushed him aside.

  “I can do it myself, thanks. I’m not some helpless female.”

  Knowing it would be useless to argue, Jace left her to handle her own luggage. He opened the driver’s door of the white Pontiac, and Ryan scrambled into the backseat of the low-slung car. Heaving a resigned sigh, Jace climbed in after him.

  “Dayne’s mad,” Ryan commented quietly once he’d settled himself in the bucket seat.

  Jace started to comment but changed his mind when Dayne flung open the passenger door and plopped inside before s
lamming the door.

  “Seatbelt,” he growled, starting the car.

  The nylon sang as she yanked it across her chest and clicked it shut. “Careful, I might think you give a shit!”

  “C’mon Dayne, don’t act like this.”

  She turned. “Ryan, find your earphones and put them on.”

  “Hey now, there’s no need to yell at him. He didn’t do anything,” Jace protested.

  There was a distinct snort from the backseat. “She’s not mad at me, Jace. You’re the one who pissed her off.”

  Jace swung around to remind Ryan of his manners, but the ten-year-old was already immersed in his PSP.

  “By the way, who the hell said you could drive?”

  He shoved the gearshift into drive. “I did. And if I didn’t know better, I’d think that woman back there made you jealous.”

  “Jealous?” she sniffed. “Why would I be jealous? You get yours, I get mine. Isn’t that the way the world works? Although I was kind of surprised. I’d heard you get around, but I had no idea you worked that fast! What did you get, like three phone numbers in five minutes? That must be some kind of record!”

  He gritted his teeth and resisted the urge to reach over and strangle her. “I didn’t keep the numbers.”

  “That’s not the point, is it? It’s showing how incredibly virile you are, and how much women want you. So getting the numbers is the important part. At least that’s what I’ve heard.”

  “You heard wrong.”

  She grumbled something inaudible beneath her breath.

  He leaned closer. “What was that?”

  “I wondered if you were going to move or sit here waiting forever. This is Boston, remember? They aren’t going to stop and let you into traffic. You have to make them!”

  Momentarily distracted by their argument, he realized he’d been sitting at the exit, waiting to turn. Knowing she was right but refusing to admit it out loud he pushed the nose of the white GTO into the flow of traffic, forcing the harried commuters to let him in.

  Studiously ignoring her, Jace concentrated on his driving. In a place where the drivers had been dubbed ‘Massholes,’ it paid to keep your eyes on the road and stay aggressive.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The mattress sagged briefly and then flexed, sending Ryan flying into the air. The ten-year-old whooped and flung himself back, bouncing again and again in some strange rhythm known only to people under the age of twelve.

  Jace wasn’t sure what was more amusing, watching Ryan bounce, or watching Dayne watch Ryan bounce. It was another one of those odd moments that made him wonder. What kind of childhood had Dayne had? One second she was indulgent and the next she couldn’t even scrounge up an ounce of empathy.

  Watching her cross her arms and set her face in an expression of distinct disapproval, he realized that he found it difficult to picture her as a child. Obviously she’d been young once. But he half wondered if she hadn’t been exactly the same, just shorter.

  “Did we come here for a purpose or not?” Dayne asked irritably.

  “Sure, it’s much nicer to pay someone else to clean up the bed when he’s done jumping all over it,” Jace deadpanned.

  Heaving a gigantic sigh, she turned her back on the both of them and stalked back out into the sitting room of their large two-bedroom suite.

  Jace tossed the remote control to Ryan. “Just sit for a minute, okay? Watch some TV or something.”

  Ryan muttered something inaudible. Jace suspected he’d just been called a Meaner, whatever that was.

  When he entered the other room Dayne was scribbling something on a legal pad, pausing briefly to gnaw the end of her pen between sentences. Half her hair had escaped her ponytail. She’d shoved it haphazardly behind her ears, the ends curling wildly about her neck. Jace felt the oddest urge to go and untangle the loose strands, to run his fingers through them and savor their silky texture as he had while she’d slept so peacefully in the garage.

  Shaking off what probably would’ve been a suicidal inclination, he took a seat on one of the barstools instead. She barely glanced up at him.

  “It’s a pretty safe bet that Ramsey will know something about those Russian assault rifles. They had to have come off the black market. If someone has been buying that kind of weapon, he’d have heard about it.” She didn’t spare him a glance.

  He bobbed his head, trying to decide how to put his plan into action without really pissing her off. “I know some people, CIA people. I was going to check in with them first. If my contact has good information, we might not need Ramsey.”

  Her glare could’ve frozen hell. “If Yuri Dolohov is somehow involved with this, Ramsey Vitale will know. Those two have their heads so far up each other’s asses they can’t take a shit without the other knowing. It would be idiotic not to have a chat with Ramsey since I’m already here.”

  He jerked his chin in a curt nod. He didn’t trust Ramsey Vitale as far as he could throw him. Anything the self-serving Russian mobster said would be negligible as far as Jace was concerned. The asshole always had an eye out for personal gain.

  “When do think we should go, Jace?”

  “Well, I thought I’d go now, actually.”

  She lifted her gaze, eyes narrowing. “I’m not a babysitter.”

  “We can’t leave him here by himself. And we can hardly take him with us.”

  “Well then you’d best figure something else out!”

  “C’mon Dayne, it’s not like I can call the front desk and ask for babysitting service—”

  “Twenty bucks says you can!” she cut in.

  “Not with the situation like it is.”

  “This is ridiculous!”

  “Look.” He gritted his teeth, loathing the compromise and yet knowing he’d get nowhere without one. “I’ll go and be gone just a few hours. When I get back you can pay a visit to Ramsey. Then we’ll meet back here and talk about it.”

  Vitale wasn’t likely to do Dayne irreparable damage in one meeting. At least Jace didn’t think so. It made his blood boil to think of the Russian bastard putting his hands all over Dayne and trying to fast-talk his way back into her bed.

  “You’re insane if you think I’m going to stay here with Ryan the rest of the afternoon!”

  “It’s a big hotel. We’re right at the edge of the water. There’s plenty to do!”

  “Hey!” Ryan yelled from the adjoining room. “Check out this pool! Can I swim?”

  “See?” Jace said in his most encouraging voice. “He’s already found something for you guys to do.”

  There was a heavy pause. For one moment he thought Dayne was going to leap across the counter and strangle him. Her full lips pressed together into a thin line, and her gray eyes grew stormy. Hands fisted at her sides, every muscle in her body looked ready to snap. Then the fury receded and he saw her relax. It began as an almost imperceptible loosening of the tension in her shoulders and ended when her jaw relaxed enough that she could open her mouth to speak.

  “Go,” she snapped. “Before I change my mind and use my gun on you.”

  Not one to waste time, he went.

  “Hello, Jace, are you lost? Or are you putting your nose where it doesn’t belong again?”

  Jace didn’t turn away from the panoramic view of the MIT campus. The great dome gleamed pale pink in the late afternoon sunlight, its Greek columns casting long shadows on the steps below. Students milled about, immersed in the creativity that blanketed the campus like morning dew on the sweeping lawns. He wasn’t certain why he’d come to the edge of the MIT campus to wait for what promised to be a CIA fishing expedition.

  It wasn’t a surprise to hear CIA Agent Tyra Cantwell’s husky bedroom voice. He had been expecting her. It was a given that the agency had been keeping tabs on him the moment he stepped off the plane from Egypt. Coming to Tyra’s own city was like waving a red flag in front of a bull.

  “Well?” Tyra’s voice took on a tinge of annoyance. “It’s rude to ignor
e somebody who’s trying to be polite.”

  Jace turned casually, offering a lazy smile. “I’ve never known you to be polite without a reason, Tyra.”

  She laughed, throwing her head back. The gesture allowed him a full view of the delicate skin of her slender throat. Tyra’s long pale blonde hair was pulled back into a knot at her nape. Generous breasts bounced gently, straining against the starched white cotton of her blouse. A fitted black suit jacket emphasized her narrow waist and the flare of her hips. He noted that the matching skirt was short, keeping a nice expanse of well-muscled leg in plain view.

  She stepped closer, her black high heels creating a swing in her walk that sent an emphatic message to his groin. He had known her for years. She was part of a relatively small group of predatory females in his mental Rolodex. Tyra knew she was sexy. She carried herself as if she were hedonistic lust personified. There was no doubt in her mind that every male she met wanted a piece of her. But her brain was coolly analytical, detached, and sharp enough to manipulate every encounter while calculating the best way to work things to her advantage.

  This very trait was what had brought Jace looking for her. He’d taken the contract on Yuri Dolohov’s brother, Kiryll. It had been carried out right there in Boston at Yuri’s Brookline estate. But Kiryll’s assassination had only seemed to be the important part of that visit to Boston. Jace had since come to realize that the quiet meeting he’d inadvertently stumbled upon meant more than the contract.

  At the time he’d thought it was a meeting between Dolohov and the Feds. It wasn't wholly unusual, and Jace had almost instantly recognized Tyra’s trademark husky bedroom voice mingling with Yuri’s thickly accented English. Now he had to find out the purpose of their meeting.

  It was a task that would’ve been easier had he known if Tyra was aware he’d assassinated Kiryll. As it was he would have to fly blind and hope he didn’t somehow compromise himself.

  She stopped just short of running into him and then flung her head back to meet his eyes. Tyra smiled. “To what do I owe this…pleasure?”