“I’m thinking it’ll probably be useless to have a crime team come in and search for fingerprints. These guys are pros and know to wear gloves. But if they left a clue behind, maybe I could track them down and recover the items Jake sent.”
He wanted to steal back the envelope from the rogue agents? She tried to keep the skepticism from her tone. “Is that possible?”
“Yeah, but unlikely since they didn’t leave us any bread crumbs to follow.”
“You’re just giving up?”
He shot her a look hot enough to melt steel. “I didn’t say that. First of all, we don’t know for sure that the documents were stolen.”
“But they aren’t here.”
“Maybe you misplaced them.”
Melinda propped her feet up and considered his suggestion. “I suppose that’s possible.”
“But unlikely,” Clay admitted while he stood and paced. “Our best bet is to track the men who were after you.”
Melinda frowned at him in confusion. “But you just said they probably didn’t leave any clues.”
“Their being here tells me a lot.”
“Like?”
“If these people work inside the agency, they probably obtained travel documents to fly here.”
Melinda caught on immediately. “Who makes the travel arrangements at the CIA? If we could find out, we could figure out what names they are using and maybe track them—”
Clay chuckled at her enthusiasm. “Whoa! What’s this we business?”
Melinda raised her chin. “It’s my things they stole.”
“Mmm.”
She could tell he wasn’t about to debate whether to allow her in on his plans. She found his attitude more than irritating. She wasn’t about to let him stuff her in some safe house while he tracked down the bad guys. For one thing, she’d probably go stir-crazy wondering what was going on. Plus, she figured the safest place for her was right next to Clay.
It had nothing to do with his good looks. She felt safe with him. His sheer size should intimidate the enemy. He carried a gun. He was trained to deal with this cloak-and-dagger work. She was not interested in him, she told herself, trying to remember if she’d ever felt this comfortable with a man in her living room. She tended to say goodbye at the front door, rarely inviting a date into her personal space.
“Who made your travel arrangements?” she asked, going back to the subject at hand.
“I drove down, but if we get lucky, these guys might have flown.” Clay hesitated, then swung a chair around and straddled it. “I can pull a string or two through the accounting department without raising any eyebrows to see if the agency paid for airline tickets to Daytona. Luckily, it’s a small airport.”
She hated to dampen his enthusiasm but felt compelled to point out, “They could have flown into Jacksonville or Orlando.”
“Or driven or taken the bus,” he agreed. “But it’s unlikely.” Clay took his cell phone from his pocket and punched in a series of numbers, then he punched in more numbers, and then more numbers.
She raised her eyebrows and he finally explained. “My phone is scrambled, but, just in case anyone’s interested in my conversation, I rerouted the call through a Canadian satellite.”
Clay didn’t hide his end of the phone conversation from her, but she paid no attention to the technical jargon or the codes he rattled off as easily as she could recite the alphabet. Instead, she wondered if she was making a mistake sticking by him.
From their conversation, she knew he intended to hunt the men hunting her. Dangerous? Oh, yes. But would it be more dangerous than staying in her house like a sitting duck and waiting to see if those men returned to shoot at her? She squared her shoulders just as Clay finished his call and pulled out his Palm Pilot.
“The accountant downloaded the information to me and since it’s wireless, it’s untraceable.” He pressed some buttons and two men’s faces appeared on the screen.
The screen identified the first man as Victor Korbut. He was big, tough and mean-looking, with dark, bushy eyebrows that formed one solid line across the bridge of his oft-broken nose. The name under the second man’s picture was Peter Price. He had sickly white acne-scarred skin, dirty-blond hair and aviator sunglasses.
Clay held the screen up to her. “You remember seeing these men?”
“No. Sorry.”
“They flew into Daytona airport yesterday, rented a car and are staying at the Daytona Vacation Inn.”
“You got all that information from accounting?”
“Sure. Agency employees have to fill out expense account forms just like everyone else.”
Melinda didn’t know what to make of the information Clay had just found with a simple phone call. She speculated on what he would do next. Find the other agents and confront them? Call in for backup? She didn’t have a clue. She only knew that the look in Clay’s green eyes had turned frosty, and she wouldn’t want him aiming all that intellect in her direction if he was angry.
“Now what?” she asked.
“My mission is to decode the documents. I can’t accomplish that without those pages. So—”
“We’re going to steal them back?”
He shot her a cocky grin that warmed her straight through to her gut. “How do you feel about spying on our spies?”
Chapter Five
Clay didn’t like taking Melinda with him, but by his calculations, the danger should be minimal. Leaving her alone wasn’t an option he considered for long, not with so much of the puzzle still unsolved.
He wished he knew for certain whether the rogue CIA agents had stolen the documents or whether Melinda had simply misplaced them. Vowing to find out the answer quickly, he told Melinda to pack a few items of clothing and toilet articles since he had no idea when they would return.
The helpful accountant at the agency had told Clay the agents were checked into rooms 304 and 306 at the Daytona Vacation Inn. Clay made reservations and specifically asked for rooms 302 and 308 and lucked out that they were empty.
Melinda locked up her house. He carried her bag to the car parked one block away. Her neighborhood seemed normal for the dinner hour. Men and women came home from work and parked in their garages. Kids played basketball in their driveways. A dog down the street barked at a cat that had climbed onto a car roof.
“What’s the plan?” Melinda asked him.
“My primary objective is still to keep you safe. Once we arrive, you are not to show your face.”
She looked down at his size-fourteen feet and then up to the top of his full six-and-a-half-foot height and teased, “You’re not exactly capable of being inconspicuous.”
“That’s why my plan is to hide. We wait until they leave their rooms to eat, then I raid the premises.”
“We raid the premises.” When he halted on the sidewalk, she stopped, too. She knew he didn’t want her tagging along. “Look, it’s my personal planner and my messages on that tape. While I’m sure you can find them on your own, don’t you think I’d be safer right next to you than alone?”
“No, I didn’t think of it.” He hesitated to contemplate her words. “But after considering your suggestion, I still think you’d be safer staying hidden.”
“Look, if you don’t get caught snooping, it won’t matter whether I’m with you. But if you do get caught, I won’t stand a chance on my own. They’ll simply come after me.”
“You should have joined a debate team. Or become an attorney. Are you sure you’re really a massage therapist?”
“Did Mr. Logic find my argument sound?”
Mr. Logic? Amusement deepened his tone. “You might be smart, but you can be a difficult partner.”
“Partner? Is that your way of telling me I can come along?”
“I also called you difficult.”
She seemed to take that as some kind of left-handed compliment and grinned up at him, then shrugged. “Every relationship has its problems.”
Relationship. Whoa. She needed
to slow her horse down. They didn’t have a relationship. They barely had a working partnership. Then moonlight glinted and he saw the laughter glimmering in her eyes and realized she was teasing him. Again. In a way he found downright disturbing.
Clay didn’t want to think of Melinda Murphy as a woman. She was an assignment. Unfortunately, she was all woman and his assignment. A combination he should have realized earlier would prove troublesome, especially since he tended to have workaholic tendencies. Since she was part of his work, he supposed it was natural to have his thoughts all wrapped around her. So why was he the one that felt smothered? And way too hot?
He had nothing to offer a woman like Melinda Murphy, who had big plans for a stable future. After the story she’d told him about her parents’ breakup, he figured she had no use for a man who lived for his work.
Sure, he had hobbies like riding his Harley, but he considered biking a solitary hobby—or at least he had until he recalled the way she’d clung to him, her thighs wrapped around him. He took a mental step back. He didn’t want a relationship with Melinda. He wanted sex. Hot lusty sex—with no strings attached in the morning.
But he already knew she wasn’t that kind of woman. She’d put down roots wherever she lived, making her place her own. Even in a house she leased, she had carefully matched the curtains to the pillows on the couch, owned plants that took daily loving care, and had started a vegetable garden out back. She obviously possessed a deep nesting instinct, no doubt a by-product of her insecure childhood.
Taking her to bed wasn’t an option—not for a man who didn’t want attachments. But knowing the facts and seeing the pieces clearly in his head didn’t make the lower parts of his anatomy any less restless.
Glad for the darkness that covered his state of semi-arousal during their confrontation, he continued to walk toward the car. She smelled good and her light step beside him had him very aware of the way she moved. He wondered how the hell he would sleep tonight with her in the same hotel room?
He recalled all those old movies where a couple showed up to find only one room and one bed. Here he already had two hotel rooms reserved but had to keep her with him all night to protect her.
“You’ve grown quiet,” she commented as he placed her bag into the trunk.
“Just thinking.”
“About?” she prodded.
“I don’t want anyone to see you. That means while I register for the rooms, you stay in the car. I’ll figure out a way to smuggle you up to the third floor after I check out the stairways.”
“Okay.”
She really could be quite reasonable when she set her mind to it. But he was still gritting his teeth against his reactions to her. He found her attractive when she fought him. He found her attractive when she agreed with him. He found her attractive when she just breathed.
He opened her door for her and she slid into the passenger seat of the car. “Can we stop somewhere for dinner?”
“I’m hoping to catch the men out of the room while they eat.”
He heard her stomach growl as he closed her door and realized she’d eaten little for lunch—just a bowl of soup and a hunk of bread. He walked around to the driver’s side and sat behind the wheel. “We could hit a drive-thru someplace. How about a burger and fries?”
“And a chocolate shake?”
He started the engine, drove down the street and merged onto the highway. “What is it about women and chocolate?”
She cocked her head. “You mean you have time in your life for something besides work and your bike? There’s actually been a woman?” she teased. “Are you living with someone?”
“Never again.”
“Again?”
“I was married once. It didn’t work out.”
“I’m sorry. Did you have kids?”
He frowned. “According to my ex, I wasn’t home enough to make them.”
He didn’t like talking about his divorce. His wife had been a good woman, and he’d let her down by putting his work first. There was only one reason he was willing to tell Melinda about his past—so she’d realize she couldn’t possibly have any kind of future with him.
“Do you know how to get to the Daytona Vacation Inn?” he asked at the stoplight, not only to confirm the directions on his Palm Pilot but to change the subject.
“Turn left and then right after two lights. It’s across the street from the beachfront.”
“You have any makeup in your purse?”
At the sudden change in topic, she twisted in her seat to look at him. “Why?”
“I’m hoping that the men on the beach didn’t get a good look at me or you. While I’m going to do my best to avoid them at the hotel, anything you can do to change your appearance might help give us an edge if we do run into them.”
While he drove into a fast-food restaurant line and ordered through his window, Melinda pulled out a brush and swept her hair up onto her head, then fastened it with some kind of hair gadget. She flipped down the visor of the mirror and applied so much eye makeup that he wanted to wash her face. But he could hardly complain after he’d asked her to do it.
He handed her the food without comment. She looked more sophisticated, older, wiser and way too sexy. Right now he needed more than a burger, fries and a soft drink to keep from thinking how good she looked. With her hair off her face, he could see her graceful neck and earlobes with tantalizingly tiny gold rings.
Forcing his eyes to his food, he ate quickly and stuffed the extra papers into the bag the food had come in. He sucked down his drink and let her finish eating before speaking. “In the back seat you’ll find a briefcase. Open it and take out the two walkie-talkies.”
She found them without trouble, and he explained to her how to turn the volume down to practically zilch and hold down the talk button, then release it to send a warning signal without speaking. “I’ll register in the lobby while you wait in the car. Don’t turn on any interior lights, and if you spot the men I showed you on the Palm Pilot, signal me.”
“Are you going to give me a weapon?” she asked. Her voice was even, but he could see her neck strain with tension.
He shook his head. “Weapons are dangerous if you don’t know how to use them.” He pulled over into the hotel parking lot and turned in his seat to face her. “I don’t expect to run into trouble, but if you want to back out, now’s the time.”
She didn’t say a word for several long breaths, and he respected the fact that she was smart enough to consider the danger. Finally, she squared her shoulders and looked him straight in the eyes. “I’m good to go.”
MELINDA MEANT THE WORDS she’d spoken. She didn’t want to hide. Didn’t want to be left behind. She’d feel safer with Clay and in the middle of the action than she would alone.
Clay hadn’t parked directly in front of the lobby where the light shined brightly. Instead, he’d found a parking spot close to the door, but in relative darkness.
He performed one last radio check. “Lock the doors after I’m gone.”
“Okay.”
For a moment, she had the strongest feeling that he wanted to lean over and kiss her. Breathless, balanced between keeping still and falling over the edge, she let him make the decision to come closer. But he didn’t and then he slid out of the seat. “I’ll be right back.”
Melinda realized this was the first time all day that he’d left her alone, and all she could think about was what it might have been like if he had kissed her. He’d be gentle and strong. And she imagined her heart doing cartwheels. Since not less than an hour ago he’d told her he was a divorced man who clearly wasn’t interested in her, his slight hesitation before he left must have been wishful thinking on her part.
Fear must be doing strange things to her mind. This was the first time he’d left her unprotected since the incident on the beach—which she still couldn’t remember. But she could remember her fright. Could still recall her heart pounding and her adrenaline pumping.
Now
, in the dark shadows of the parking lot, without his presence, she felt more vulnerable—even with him only one walkie-talkie click away. During their day together she’d become accustomed to his nearness. The solid width of his shoulders made her feel protected, and so did the way he always considered her safety as his primary goal.
She also appreciated the fact that he intended to remain hidden during most of this entire assignment. That alone assured her he wasn’t some hot dog full of testosterone and itching for a brawl. Clay preferred to use his brains rather than his brawn, and she appreciated that about him. She also liked the way he’d given her an out without making her feel like some silly woman who didn’t know her own mind.
While she waited in the car, she tried to distract herself, watching the other vehicles pull in and out of the parking lot. She saw families go through the hotel lobby, saw a man slide into a taxi and a man and a woman pull up in different cars, go into one room and start kissing before they’d even shut the door. Were they a couple having an adulterous affair? A one-night stand after a pickup at a local bar? Or married and meeting halfway between different job locations?
Clay returned without her spying any men who matched the images she’d seen on his tiny computer screen. “Any problems?”
She shook her head. “What about you? You see them?”
“No.” He held up two keys. “We’ll drive around back and take the stairs instead of the elevator.”
Once again, he parked the car, this time backing into the space as if he expected to have to make a fast getaway. She licked her lips and told herself he just wanted to be prepared.
Clay opened the trunk and took out her bag. She expected him to carry it for her again, but he held it out to her with another case that belonged to him. “Would you mind bringing these up? I’d prefer to keep my hands free.”
“No problem.” She slung the straps over her shoulder and tried to keep her pulse steady as he led the way. Although he went first, he still held open the door behind him for her.
There was nothing casual about his actions, which made her note his every movement in the bright lights of the stairwell. Clay’s eyes scanned from side to side as he advanced up the stairs. His long legs could have easily taken the steps two at a time, but he didn’t rush, waiting for her, never leaving her side. They passed no one.
Lovers in Hiding Page 7