ALIAS SMITH AND JONES

by Kylie Brant

  Wrapping her arms around his neck from behind him, she leaned so her breasts pressed against his nape and murmured in his ear, "Thirty minutes, lover." Then she swayed back to the bar.

  At the fascinated expression on Ms. Smith's face, Jones felt an unfamiliar thread of embarrassment. Lexie wasn't exactly the subtle type. He cleared his throat. "So. About the length of the trip… I'm gonna need a firm commitment on the minimum number of days, paid in advance. Then if you decide to extend it, the rest can be payable upon return."

  "Fair enough. I'll have to wait until tomorrow morning to have the money wired. I assume you have an account here on the island?"

  There was the barest gap discernible between the top two buttons on her dress, giving him a glimpse of a lacy pink bra, sheer enough to reveal the creamy skin it encased. With effort he pulled his gaze away from the sight and focused on her face. "You don't have to wire the money. I'll take a personal check, verified by a phone call to your bank."

  "I prefer to have it wired. I didn't bring a checkbook, in case my purse got snatched."

  He shrugged. As long as the money reached his account, he wasn't particularly fussy about how it got there. "Now, about payment…"

  "I read it on the sign posted by your ship. A thousand dollars a day, right? Let's say a minimum of four days with a possibility of longer."

  Reaching for the fresh beer, he tipped the bottle to his lips. When he placed it back on the table, he said, "I seem to recall you offering me two and a half times my normal fee."

  Although he'd thought to rattle her, she only gave him a cool look. "That was this afternoon, when you had another charter scheduled. And you turned me down, remember? There's no competition now, so why would I pay more?"

  "Oh, I get it." He snorted. "You're one of those kind of women."

  She tilted her chin upwards. "What kind of woman is that?"

  "The kind that make promises they have no intention of delivering on."

  "I deliver on my promises!"

  When he only looked at her, she flushed but went on. "And besides, it wasn't a promise, it was a business offer. You can blame your own bad judgment for not taking me up on it when I laid it on the table."

  "Yeah, right."

  She was getting mad now, and temper turned her sky-blue eyes stormy. He wondered why he was deliberately provoking her. He should count himself fortunate that he had a replacement for the charter that had canceled. But something about the woman got under his skin, and he remained unconvinced that she hadn't had something to do with the cancellation. "Don't worry about it. Sure, you were in a yank to hire me this afternoon when I was booked, but now I'm free. You're not the first person to take advantage of a situation like this."

  "I'm not taking advantage." When he only raised his brows and reached for his bottle again, she ground her teeth together. "Surely you can see that the situation this evening is completely different from the one this afternoon."

  "Two and a half times different."

  "I honestly don't know what the big deal is. You lost a charter, I'm offering one to replace it. Mine will be worth more money anyway because it's going to be longer."

  "Yeah, you're right. That's fair. It's not your fault the other group pulled out, is it?" He folded his arms on the table and leaned toward her. "You can't help the fact that the fishing group decided at the last minute to book with someone else. And there's really no reason why that should concern you. But me, I'm still kinda wondering. So while we're waiting for the wire transfer to go through tomorrow, I think I'll mosey over to Ranachek's and see if one of the group wants to be a little more forthcoming."

  Either she was a world-class actress or she really hadn't had anything to do with the canceled charter. There was only a flicker in her eye—there and gone so quickly he couldn't be sure he'd seen it at all. "Suit yourself. But I think your time would be better spent getting your ship ready for the charter you do have. And since it seems to mean so much to you, I'll agree to one and a half times your normal fee, for the first three days only. That's how long the other charter would have lasted. I have to warn you, though. I'm going to expect exemplary service, and if you fall short in any way at all, I'll be deducting a suitable amount from what's owed you at the end."

  "Honey, my service is always exemplary." Satisfied, he reached over and caught her hand in one of his, unmindful when her eyes widened and she would have pulled away. Solemnly he shook it, cementing their bargain, certain that she knew more than she was saying about the canceled fishing outing, or she'd never have offered him more money.

  And he was equally sure that despite the inflated fee she'd agreed to pay him, he was still the one who'd gotten hosed on the deal.

  * * *

  Analiese paced her motel room, the specially made phone to her ear. It looked like a normal cell phone, except that a regular one would have been useless on an island without even one transmitter tower. This unit relied on waves from a government satellite to transmit signals to a totally secure line in a location that was kept secret even from her.

  "C'mon, c'mon, pick up," she muttered with each stride she took, and then stopped, relieved when the familiar fussy voice answered. "Sterling? Did I wake you?"

  There was silence, then a long-suffering sigh. "Analiese. I trust this is urgent." It didn't escape her attention that he hadn't answered her question, nor was she surprised. He was too well trained to give away even that much about his whereabouts.

  All she knew of the man was the sound of his voice, which had helped paint the mental picture she had of him. From his proper British accent she had an image of a slender man in his midfifties with impeccable tailoring and a David Niven mustache. The reality was likely to be just the opposite. For all she knew, the accent was affected only for his phone conversations as a way to maintain his cover. "Have you had any word from Sam yet?"

  His hesitation was its own answer, and desolation swirled in the pit of her stomach. "As I said before, I'll contact you when—"

  "You still don't know where he is," she said flatly. Her nerves churned and clashed like grating gears. And despite Sterling's effort at an impassive tone, she knew he was as worried about her brother as she was. Or else he would never have called her at home several days ago to inquire, oh so discreetly, about the last time she'd spoken to him.

  "I know the waiting is difficult, but I have no doubt that Sam will work himself free of any sticky situation he might have encountered." If he's able. Although the words remained unspoken, they eddied between them. "The best thing you can do is remain at home and wait for—"

  "I'm on Bontilla right now."

  His sharply inhaled breath was evidence of more emotion than she'd ever heard from him. "Analiese, listen to me carefully. I want you to go home immediately."

  "I was able to hack into Sam's computer files and trace him this far," she said recklessly, stopping before the window to stare out at the waves with a sightless gaze. She didn't bother to tell him that she'd been chipping away at her brother's computer security for over two years now. While a great deal of it remained maddeningly encrypted, she'd pieced together enough to have a good suspicion that his cover as an international lawyer hid a career much more dangerous, much more covert. And that Sterling knew every detail about it. "I've set up a charter to go to Laconos tomorrow." She thought, but couldn't be sure, she heard a low groan coming from the other end of the connection.

  "I don't think that would be prudent."

  She whirled from the window, concern suddenly turning to anger. "I don't give a damn about prudent, Sterling. My brother has been missing two weeks, and you don't have the faintest idea where he is. Now, unless you're about to tell me that you've got a search-and-rescue plan lined up, you'd better get used to the fact that I'm going in."

  "And just what is it you think you can accomplish there?" Sterling's voice was harder than she'd ever heard it. "Sam has years of experience handling difficult matters while you … you've done only occasional courier w
ork, which, I might add, would be totally against your brother's wishes if he were to find out."

  "I'll let you worry about that, since you're the one who enlisted my services on those occasions."

  "A fact I've often regretted."

  If she weren't so anxious about Sam she would have been offended. As it was she pressed her hand to her stomach in an effort to calm the nerves there. "You aren't sending anyone in after him, are you?"

  "I had some inquiries out a few days ago," he admitted. "I learned nothing."

  She winced at the news, but if anything it made her more determined. "Then it's not going to hurt for me to poke around a bit."

  Silence stretched, so long that she began to wonder if they'd been disconnected. When Sterling spoke again, there was a note of resignation in his voice. "It has to be done discreetly, or you could jeopardize his position if he's still on the island."

  Analiese clutched the phone more tightly, aware that she'd just received as clear a go-ahead as she was going to get. "I can do discreet."

  Had she been talking to anyone else she would have sworn she heard a snort in the man's voice. As it was, she attributed the sound to a cough. "Quite so. Listen carefully, then. You are not to swerve one iota from my directions…"

  It was more than twenty minutes later before she pressed the button to end the conversation. Twenty minutes of directives, dire warnings and commands. She was on a fact-finding mission only, Sterling had repeated again and again. And the scope of her investigation centered solely on the whereabouts of her brother.

  When the man wasn't issuing orders, he was filling her in on a bit of history that might or might not affect her brother's case. She'd listened because she thought it wiser not to mention what she'd discerned from Sam's files. She had a pretty good idea of what her brother's mission had been and, despite Sterling's silence on the subject, an even better idea of the reason behind it.

  She tucked the phone back into her purse and noted, a bit distantly, the unsteadiness of her hand. Among the details she'd failed to share with Sterling was the fact that Jones's name had figured in her brother's files for the past several years. And that she had reason to believe that Sam had used the man's charter service to cross to Laconos. It was clear from his notes that the two had some sort of relationship, and she was concluding that her brother trusted Jones on some level.

  What she didn't know was the exact nature of their relationship. Or just how far she could trust Jones.

  * * *

  Chapter 2

  «^»

  Analiese went to the island's largest bank the next morning and arranged to transfer money from her newly established account in the States—the one in Ann Smith's name. As she completed the transaction she regretted more than once her agreement to a higher fee. Jones had been taking advantage of the situation, but she was no pushover. No, it had been her own guilty conscience that had led her to pay the inflated price.

  It really hadn't taken that much effort to convince the men in the fishing charter that Jones's drinking habits made him an unreliable captain, and that they'd be better off with another service. And once she'd seen Jones at the tavern last night, there had seemed to be more truth in the story than she could have imagined.

  The dock was within walking distance of the bank, so she strolled toward it, enjoying the sight of the brilliant white ships rocking gently in the water. She'd arranged to have the hotel send her bags over, so she took her time, loitering at the market and dickering with a local merchant over a necklace made of tiny shells. Minutes later, the necklace around her neck, she headed toward the docks at a brisker pace. She didn't want to be late and give Jones something to snipe at her about. She had a feeling he'd already been regretting their venture before she'd left the bar last night.

  Or maybe, she thought with a slight sneer as she headed in the direction of the Nefarious, he'd regretted only the necessity that had kept them talking long enough to have his skimpily clad girlfriend throwing glares his way every few minutes. The woman hadn't looked like the type to suffer competition gladly, although she certainly hadn't had any in Analiese. When she was interested in a man, she tended to pick ones who shaved on a regular basis and didn't drink themselves stupid on their time off. Of course, that interest, if returned initially, usually died a sudden violent death as soon as the male in question found out who she was. Or rather who her brothers were.

  Thoughts of her brothers brought a stab of guilt. She couldn't blame them for their cautious attitude toward her safety. It had been forged by events two decades earlier. But understanding that didn't change her feelings. As much as she loved them, she often felt like she was slowly suffocating under their heavy-handed interference. Her work for Sterling had been the first breath of freedom she'd ever known. It seemed oddly ironic that those experiences just might end up affording her the best chance of finding Sam.

  Her bags were in a neat pile on the dock next to the Nefarious but Jones was nowhere in sight. His ship differed from some of the others anchored nearby, appearing to be as much pleasure craft as it was fishing boat. Ana looked up and down the docks and considered the risk of going aboard while he seemed to be absent. At some point she wanted to thoroughly check the ship for any evidence that Sam had been there. Although it was a remote possibility that he would have been careless enough to leave signs of his presence behind, she had to start somewhere. All she had was her brother's planned itinerary, which had included the charter to Laconos with Jones, and Sterling's certainty that Sam had docked at the neighboring island before his disappearance.

  Analiese sent one more glance around, still seeing no sign of Jones. Tucking away a thread of trepidation, she went to the ladder on the side of the ship and climbed up, balanced precariously at the top. Turning carefully, she began to descend the other side.

  "It's customary to wait for an invitation before boarding someone's ship."

  The sound of that sleep-roughened voice startled her. She twisted around in the direction it had come from, and her foot slipped. Arms windmilling wildly, Ana toppled from the step and had a moment's view of the ship's deck rushing up to meet her before two hard arms broke her fail. Her breath rushed out of her anyway, as she found herself staring into Jones's enigmatic gray gaze.

  He was very close. Near enough for her to note, with a degree of fascination, that his gray eyes were the color of smoke today, without the flinty hardness that had been apparent yesterday afternoon. Close enough to observe the freshly shaven jaw, with just the smallest nick below his chin. And definitely near enough to appreciate the effortless ease with which he held her against his bare chest.

  "I was just…"

  "Making a hell of an entrance." He set her on her feet on the deck and took a step away. "I noticed that. Very graceful."

  Really, the man lacked even basic rudiments of civility. Giving a small sniff, she straightened her sleeveless striped top and made a point of brushing off her white shorts, wishing she could brush away the memory of his touch as easily. "I didn't expect to see you about this early."

  He moved past her, climbed the ladder to the dock beside them. "Don't know why not. We discussed the time we'd leave last night."

  With an interesting display of muscle rippling across his bare back, he hefted her bags and heaved them carelessly over the side of the ship. But it wasn't the ease with which he'd lifted the bags that held her attention, it was the scar in the center of his shoulder blades. Even to her untrained eye, it looked suspiciously like a bullet wound. She didn't know how she'd missed noticing it the day before.

  He was beside her in the next moment, and she strove to recover thoughts that had become strangely fragmented. "From your state last night I thought you might be … impaired this morning."

  "You thought I'd be hung over," he interpreted correctly. "Guess you were wrong." He gestured to her bags. "Is this all you've got?" At her wordless nod, he picked them up again and began striding away. "I'll put them below. Follow me and I'll sho
w you to your cabin."

  Ana trailed behind him to a small door, which he pulled open to reveal the companionway. Making certain to maintain a safe distance between them, she waited for him to descend before she attempted to follow. With the way her luck had been going, she'd slip and land right on top of him.

  Below deck, her impatience quickly turned to appreciation. The area was compact but outfitted with gleaming teak trimmed with polished brass. There was a galley tucked into one corner, with a large table and chairs, couch and TV fitted into the rest of the area. Jones led her down a narrow hallway. "You can stay in here." He opened one of the doors and strode in ahead of her, slinging her bags onto the double bed.

  "How many does she sleep?" she asked curiously, entering the small space and looking around. Her oldest brother, James, had a sailboat that slept six. At thirty feet, it was less than half the length of the Nefarious.

  "She sleeps ten total. The head is in the stem."

  Ana flipped through her mental files, searching for the ship lingo she'd picked up from James. "In front, right."

  "Since you're the only passenger, I'm just bringing along one crew member. Pappy's a pretty fair cook, and he'll also help me with the navigation. If you need anything, he'll get it for you."

  Analiese was finding it increasingly difficult to focus on his words. The quarters were small. There was only the bed, bolted to the wall, and a closet on the opposite wall, with a dresser inside it. The space was shrunk even more by Jones's presence. The ceiling was low enough that he had to slightly hunch his over-six-foot frame, which put his face alarmingly close to hers. "Okay, then." She manufactured a brilliant smile in a sudden hurry to get rid of him. "I assume you'll want to check with the bank before we set out, so…"