Uncontrollable

by Susan Kearney

  “SO HOW DID the meeting with Amanda Lane go last night?” Logan Kincaid, director of the Shey Group, asked Bolt, his tone conversational over the encrypted satellite phone call that had been rerouted through five countries before coming through the New York City line.

  “Excellent.”

  Kincaid had arranged for Bolt to attend Hathaway’s party for the express purpose of meeting Amanda Lane, but his boss hadn’t told him why. But when a boss with Kincaid’s reputation and brilliance made a suggestion, a man would be foolhardy to ignore it. During his former stint in the Agency, Bolt had heard rumors that Kincaid had been the driving force behind writing the code for the antimissile defense system before leaving the CIA to create the exclusive Shey Group, the private organization for which Bolt now worked. Kincaid’s tentacles of power wound from the White House to the Kremlin to Beijing, but it was his loyalty to his men that endeared him to Bolt and fostered that same loyalty in return. He’d formed the Shey Group to take on missions the government wouldn’t or couldn’t touch, as well as lucrative private assignments.

  Ex-Special Forces and ex-CIA, Bolt was no fool, so last night he’d followed his boss’s suggestion to check out Amanda. The meeting had bowled him over.

  Although he’d never been in love, he’d been involved several times, only to pick up and leave on a mission before things got too serious. Often when he was in the field, he thought about settling down one day and having a family, and when he imagined the fantasy, it was with a woman like Amanda, someone responsible as well as sexy and intelligent. He’d been pleased and surprised to discover a powerful attraction between himself and the woman, but he’d yet to understand why Kincaid had suggested they meet.

  “Is she a client or under suspicion?” Bolt asked.

  “Neither.” Kincaid’s clothing rustled and Bolt imagined his boss easing back in the leather chair of his penthouse office. “Amanda will be your partner for your next mission. You’ll need her help to get near to the target. Conditions will require you to work close to her—very close.”

  “I have no problem with the last requirement,” Bolt admitted. She suited him to a T. Oh, yeah. From her saucy expression to the sway of her seductive hips, she had kept him tossing and turning half the night with memories of their too-short dance. But when Bolt didn’t work alone—as he had when he’d rescued a missing American executive from Columbian kidnappers—he worked with other members of the Shey Group, whom he trusted to watch his back. Bringing in Amanda was highly unusual. “Why pair me up with an outsider?”

  “We have intelligence that Hathaway Balkmandy stole a precious antique. The Shey Group has been hired to retrieve it. You won’t be able to get close to Hathaway without a female accomplice.”

  Bolt could accept that. He hadn’t been back in the country long, but even he had heard how Hathaway constantly surrounded himself with the world’s most beautiful women. The agent’s face had graced the covers of People and Time always with a bevy of world-class models surrounding him.

  “Why Amanda Lane?” he asked Kincaid. After meeting her, Bolt already felt she was special, but he wanted to know why Kincaid had chosen her.

  “She’s FBI, dedicated, intelligent and motivated.” Kincaid briefed him on details that hadn’t mattered until now.

  Bolt caught a nuance in Kincaid’s voice, one he was certain was there for him to pick up on. “She’s motivated on a personal level?”

  “Amanda’s sister, Donna, was involved with Hathaway before she was murdered. Apparently Amanda’s as suspicious as I am that Hathaway had something to do with it. While Amanda doesn’t yet have proof, obviously her instincts are on target. I’ll have Ryker send you both sisters’ files.”

  “I look forward to reading them, sir.”

  “Donna was a brilliant chemist, involved in top-secret government research, who Hathaway lured from D&B Industries to model for his agency—an odd career change that I’d like you to find out more about.”

  For now Bolt would accept Kincaid’s judgment that Amanda wasn’t a loose cannon about to sabotage his mission because she recklessly sought revenge. Kincaid possessed superior insight into people and Bolt trusted his boss implicitly. If Kincaid believed Amanda could keep her cool, then she probably could.

  Bolt leaned back in a chair of his temporary Shey Group acquired apartment. He appreciated the luxury of the butter-soft leather cushioning his large frame as much as he appreciated his Park Avenue view of the bustling city. Kincaid only supplied the best, employing the most up-to-date equipment money could buy. He leased top-notch quarters and the most skilled and trained men, operating on levels both large and small of scale, but always consequential in nature. Not too many men had a mind like his boss’s.

  The Shey Group team went to extraordinary lengths to complete their dangerous missions. However, Bolt had rarely found himself in quarters as richly appointed as this N.Y. penthouse, conveniently located across the street from Hathaway’s suite. He couldn’t wait to bring Amanda here and watch her take in the marble floors, museum-quality paintings, crystal chandeliers and gold faucets—such a far cry from his central Florida roots. He especially wanted to see her take in the bedroom. She could admire the furnishings while he admired her.

  “Can you tell me more about the antique Hathaway stole?”

  “Yes.” Logan Kincaid paused, obviously taking care in his choice of words. “Sebastian Stone has hired us to retrieve an ancient and cursed Romany perfume bottle.”

  “Cursed?”

  “Rumor says the perfume bottle was cursed by an eighteenth-century gypsy witch. Supposedly the bottle reflects the powers of an ancient gypsy shaman and now enhances the paranormal gifts of whomever owns it.”

  “So the legend makes the bottle valuable?” Bolt understood that historical objects took on value from the people who had once owned them, but Kincaid had couched his words with special care…as if the bottle still possessed unusual properties. But surely Bolt had misunderstood.

  “Do you recall what happened to John Cameron?” Kincaid changed the subject abruptly.

  “Yeah?” John Cameron had been caught and tortured during a mission, but the Shey agent had never yielded his precious data to his captors. Kincaid had rescued him and John had recovered, but that’s all Bolt knew.

  “During torture, John suppressed the details so deeply that not even he could recall them. We tried all the usual methods to help him unlock the secrets. They failed. Then I arranged for a psychic therapist to borrow the bottle to help unlock his memories. The therapist claimed the bottle was invaluable to retrieving the data.”

  “So the bottle helps memory recall?”

  “The bottle enhances the powers its owner already possesses. If you don’t have special abilities, it does nothing.”

  Bolt wasn’t certain he believed in paranormal powers and wished for something more concrete to go on. “How does the bottle work?”

  “Some say it’s magic.”

  “Magic?” Despite his respect for his boss, Bolt couldn’t keep the skepticism from his tone.

  Kincaid remained calm. “I’m more inclined to believe there’s some unexplained scientific reason for its unusual effects. Electromagnetics. Changes of polarity on the atomic levels. But it could be faith or smell or a gravity well or fairy dust. We simply don’t know.”

  “From how far away can the bottle affect the owner?”

  “We aren’t certain, but think it must remain relatively close to project the full effect. Distance might weaken it. We do know Hathaway coveted the power and stole the bottle from Stone’s brother-in-law, Nick Davis.”

  “Hathaway’s wealthy. Why would he resort to theft?”

  “He tried to buy it, but the bottle wasn’t for sale at any price.”

  “Do we know if Hathaway’s resold it?”

  “All I know for certain is that Stone’s sister and brother-in-law were crushed by the loss. He’s willing to pay us a hefty price to retrieve the bottle. I’ve already sent you
pictures.”

  “So the mission is to infiltrate Hathaway’s life, find the bottle and recover it?”

  “Yes. But,” Kincaid continued, “I’d like to learn more about Hathaway. Since Donna’s death, Amanda has been doing her own digging into Hathaway’s background.”

  “He’s dirty?”

  “He’s got his fingers in a dozen illegal Internet operations. He’s hiding behind foreign corporations and subsidiaries so complex that no investigation could unearth all his maneuvering.”

  “Okay.” Bolt didn’t ask how Kincaid had acquired his information. His boss had friends in high and low places, and so many people owed him favors that his operatives knew he could pull strings if they got in a jam. If Kincaid said Hathaway had stolen the perfume bottle, then he had. If Kincaid said Amanda was digging into her sister’s death, then she was. Due to the Shey Group’s incredible resources, Kincaid had never fed Bolt incorrect data.

  “Try to learn why women find it impossible to deny Hathaway Balkmandy anything he asks for. He may be using the bottle, intimidation, blackmail or bribery.”

  “Got it.”

  “Third. Keep an open mind.”

  Bolt had been expecting another concrete mission objective. Kincaid didn’t typically give advice. He hired the best and expected his people to complete a mission as they saw fit. Bolt’s fingers clenched the phone tighter and his gut clenched. “I don’t understand, sir.”

  “Since we don’t know how the bottle works, we don’t know its limits, the extent of its effects. Unusual powers will make Hathaway a tough opponent.” Kincaid’s tone remained as casual as if he’d just claimed the sun was purple.

  If anyone else had told Bolt that a perfume bottle had unusual powers he would have had difficulty controlling a laugh. However, his respect for Kincaid, who’d saved Bolt’s life twice, was more than enough to curb his normal skepticism.

  Bolt’s mind broke into high gear and he quickly typed notes into his computer.

  Antique perfume bottle.

  Paranormal powers.

  Before he attempted to infiltrate Hathaway’s organization, he would research the subjects most carefully, assess the situation before deciding on the best way to proceed. He would read over Amanda’s and her murdered sister’s files. The entire operation required preparation and they all had to be on the same page.

  “Sir, do we have any clue to where Hathaway keeps the perfume bottle?”

  “None. And this is why I’m telling you to keep an open mind. Hathaway may think the bottle’s powers come from perfume residue, but I’ve been told by a very reliable source that the bottle’s properties exhibited themselves during a hundred-year span while the bottle remained sealed.”

  Despite his utmost respect for Logan Kincaid, Bolt’s eyebrows rose. Clearly his boss actually believed the bottle enhanced paranormal powers and the skin on the back of Bolt’s neck crawled. He’d seen Kincaid pull off missions no one else could. He’d benefited from the man’s extraordinary foresight and his ability to think fast on his feet. Every single man who worked for the Shey Group would willingly take a bullet for him. So if Kincaid thought the bottle enhanced paranormal powers—Bolt would keep an open mind as Kincaid had asked of him.

  Still, that meant the bottle wouldn’t do Hathaway any good unless he had some paranormal power. “Is Hathaway known to have any unusual abilities?”

  Bolt asked because Kincaid possessed resources he didn’t. His boss could delve into black operations within the CIA through official connections, but he suspected the man could illegally tap into the Agency’s encrypted programs as well.

  “You mean besides the charm and charisma that women seem to find so appealing?” Kincaid asked, clearly thinking out loud, or perhaps he was slowly leading Bolt to believe what he needed him to believe to complete his mission. “You’re missing the point.”

  Bolt thought again, recalling Kincaid’s words. “Sir, are you suggesting this perfume bottle enhances Hathaway’s powers with women?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m suggesting. And infiltrating his organization won’t be easy. I believe Amanda’s suspicion that Hathaway killed her sister is correct, but we don’t know why. While your primary mission is to retrieve the perfume bottle, I’m interested in learning if and why Hathaway killed Donna. I wanted you to meet Amanda Lane and form your own impression whether you could work together before you were influenced by her impressive file.”

  Bolt didn’t require Kincaid to spell out the rest. Amanda had left hurriedly and suddenly last night, but he’d had a sharp feeling she’d needed to put some distance between them. He hadn’t missed her body’s reaction just to his gaze, a man couldn’t miss those hardened nipples teasing through her dress, and he couldn’t wait to find out how she’d respond to some very direct stroking. He imagined she’d preen like a cat. Oh, yeah. Amanda Lane would work out just fine.

  Since Hathaway surrounded himself with only female executives, a woman partner made sense. Bolt saw the merit in Kincaid’s choice, but perhaps he felt that way because Bolt had always enjoyed women. Last year, he’d labored behind the scenes with a female Mossad agent. Although no sparks had flown between them, they’d developed a mutual respect that had led to friendship. Their successful mission had prevented terrorists from setting off a dirty bomb within the continental United States.

  A man with three loving sisters, two aunts and a matchmaking mom, he was comfortable around the opposite sex and found them very appealing. Especially Amanda. She was a combination of tart sugar and sweet spice. In fact, just thinking about her roused both interest and excitement. His normal missions ran toward uncovering high-level criminal activity, preventing terrorism and recovering kidnapped corporate executives—not retrieving a perfume bottle from New York’s top modeling agent. His current mission, while dangerous, was more upscale and had the added bonus of working with a very delectable woman partner.

  “The final decision of whether to accept Amanda as a partner is still up to you.”

  “Appreciate that.” But as Bolt ended the call, he’d already made up his mind.

  And reading her file only confirmed his impressions of her. Dedicated, motivated, smart, she was a terrific choice for the mission. Like all FBI agents, she had specialized training that would help her deal with the unusual circumstances of this mission. Besides, her background had already been thoroughly checked out and he approved of her skills. Though it wouldn’t sit well with some of the macho men he often worked with, it didn’t bother Bolt that she was probably a better shot than he was. A partner who could shoot with skill might save his life as well as her own. Based on her file, though, he suspected she’d never fired her gun at a moving target.

  He glanced at her picture, drawn to the secretive smile on her pretty mouth. But it was her eyes, the color of the autumn sea, that grabbed him, dark green eyes that swirled with hidden recesses and untold depths in which a man could willingly become lost.

  Oh, yeah. He could definitely enjoy working with a partner like Amanda Lane. Now all he had to do was convince her that she wanted to work with him.

  2

  SINCE DONNA’S DEATH seven months, five days and three hours ago, Amanda had immersed herself in work. Her heart ached as if fate had chewed it up and spat it out. Moments when she could combine business and pleasure, like last night at Hathaway’s, were rare. Although friends and colleagues had suggested she take time off, she couldn’t handle empty hours. Not when her thoughts always converged on the loss of her sister. Although they hadn’t been as close over the last months, when Donna had worked for Hathaway, the connection they’d established after their parents’ deaths had made them much tighter than most siblings. Guilt weighed on Amanda that she hadn’t made more time for Donna during those final months. Perhaps if she’d visited her sister in New York, she might have somehow prevented the tragedy.

  Consumed by grief, Amanda kept herself focused and busy. With her mind occupied, she tried not to dwell on the fact that
with Donna gone, she was the last surviving member of her family.

  She’d attempted to bury her grief by burrowing through piles of paperwork. Her job was to decide which cargo to search aboard ships and trains in order to discover any illegal imports that could threaten the safety of U.S. citizens. When she finished with her own files, Amanda used her FBI resources to investigate Hathaway Balkmandy, the last person to have seen Donna alive.

  That’s why she’d wrangled an invite to his party last night. She’d intended to get to know the man, watch the way he operated. But between his bodyguards, the models constantly surrounding him and the very distracting Mr. Bolt Tanner, she hadn’t accomplished her goal. Failure didn’t sit well on Amanda’s shoulders. In fact she prided herself on working hard enough to make sure she achieved success. And while she’d have liked to blame Bolt, she’d been a willing participant in their flirtation.

  And what a flirtation it had been. She’d paid for it with a cold shower followed by a sleepless night. Even now, just the thought of him caused a breathless hitch in her lungs. The vibes between them had been powerful. Uncontrollable.

  But attending Hathaway’s party had left her at square one. According to the police report, Hathaway had sent her sister to model at a fashion show, but Donna had never arrived. Her body had been found in a Dumpster. The coroner’s report stated she’d suffered one bullet to the head.

  Amanda didn’t feel one bit better knowing Donna hadn’t suffered. She was feeling enough sorrow and hurt for them both. Despite typical sister disagreements, she and Donna had been close. And now they would never speak again. Amanda would never again have the pleasure of hearing Donna’s passion for life, never again look forward to her phone calls and visits. The sharp grief seemed to have taken up permanent residence, leaving a slicing pain inside her. And when the grief lessened, anger swept in. Especially after the rumors started. Ugly rumors that rubbed Amanda’s wounds raw. No way would her brilliant sister sell secrets to terrorists, but Amanda was unable to explain how Donna’s top-secret formulas for the government and D&B Industries had ended up on a terrorist’s computer. When the man had been captured, the evidence had been right there on his hard drive.