ALIAS SMITH AND JONES

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ALIAS SMITH AND JONES Page 8

by Kylie Brant


  Ana's eyes widened. "Oh, don't tell me I interrupted some of your agents when they were about to make an arrest?"

  At the distress in her voice he reached across the table to pat her hand. It did not escape her notice that he failed to remove it. "No, the agents were not going to make the arrest tonight, merely gather more incriminating evidence. We hope to be led to their superiors, you see. The more carefully we prepare the case, the more far-reaching our arrests will be."

  His hand felt heavy and moist on hers. Forcing herself to leave hers motionless, she wet her lips. "I just went out for some air," she lied. "I'll never forgive myself if I messed up your investigation by blundering into the middle of it."

  "We will continue. The men may go further underground, however. It may become more difficult."

  Shrugging helplessly, she said, "I feel bad about that."

  "You mustn't." His fingers squeezed hers in a grip that was meant to be reassuring. They felt like a vise. "However, if there is anything you can tell us about these men, perhaps our investigation will be aided."

  Nodding excitedly, she leaned forward. "I can describe both of them—oh." She pretended to be crestfallen. "Of course you don't need a description if you've had them under surveillance."

  Shala's voice lowered, as if soothing a dull-witted child. "No, but that is just the kind of help you might give us. Perhaps you heard them speak. Were you close enough to bear their conversation? Could you identify the language they spoke?"

  "No," she said honestly. "I didn't hear what they said to each other. They saw me before I noticed them. Only one of the men spoke to me." Her shudder wasn't totally feigned. "I didn't have to understand his words to know they were threatening. He came after me with a knife."

  The hand on hers turned stroking. The look in Shala's eyes was at odds with his paternal tone. "That must have been quite frightening. How did you get away?"

  She relayed the experience for him, beginning with the pepper spray and closing with how she'd lost herself in the crowd heading toward here. And all during the telling he continued to caress her hand, in a gesture that missed soothing when coupled with the way his gaze drifted over her bare shoulders and lower.

  "You are a very brave woman. Very … resourceful. Many in your situation would have frozen. How did you know what to do?"

  The admiration in his tone didn't cover the fact that he was still not sure about her. Was he using a personal interest in her to disguise a more professional one? She decided he was, because it was exactly the thing she would have done in his position.

  She wasn't about to tell him she'd started carrying the defensive spray when she'd commenced doing courier work for Sterling. "I live alone in a large city in the United States." The address on her phony passport would verify her lie. "It pays to be careful."

  He used the opportunity to change the subject, to ask about her fictitious life in Atlanta. He asked questions, let her talk a bit, and then switched back to the men she'd seen earlier. What language did the man address her in? How much French did she understand? After fifteen minutes of conversation it was clear to her that she was being efficiently interrogated.

  Shala was smooth about it. If she hadn't had an NOPD detective for a brother she might never have realized that his sudden shifts of topics were designed to take her off guard. As it happened, she'd been interrogated by the best on enough situations to make her cognizant of what was happening right now. Cade could squeeze information from a garden hose.

  "I must admit that my experience tonight has affected my decision about staying on Laconos." Ana steeled herself to ignore the way Shala's gaze lingered on her chest. "I can't say I feel completely safe here."

  He protested, as she'd thought he would. "Please do not let one unfortunate episode ruin your stay here. I can assure you it will not be repeated."

  She acted unconvinced. "I wish I could believe that. But yesterday while I was in the marketplace I heard rumors of some man on the loose, running from the government. Coupled with what I saw tonight…" She shook her head. "I don't feel comfortable being alone here."

  He followed the path she set. "I do not mean to belittle your fears, but they are unfounded. Remember, the man who threatened you tonight is under our constant surveillance. He would not be allowed to harm you."

  "But what of that man wanted by your government? No one seems to know for sure what he's sought for, but I have my suspicions." She threw a quick look around, lowered her voice conspiratorially. "Was it … murder?"

  Shala gave an indulgent laugh. "I am afraid our diligence in the search has given rise to many unfounded rumors. No, the man is merely a nuisance. He breached the security of the capitol, that is all."

  "Oh." Ana made a moue of disappointment. "So he was just a thrill seeker of sorts."

  "Perhaps. At any rate, we wish only to question him about his intentions before allowing him to go on his way." The smile he gave was sharklike, and convinced Ana that if Shala had his say, there was no way Sam was ever going to be allowed off the island alive. She wondered what damaging information her brother had discovered that had the government so anxious to find him.

  Shala lifted her fingers to his lips. "If you remain unconvinced of your safety, perhaps I shall have to personally assure your security."

  Her first reaction was to yank her hand from his. Although his words were innocent enough, the look in his eyes was not. She ground her teeth together and smiled at him. "You would do that for me?"

  "It would be my pleasure." Was that his tongue touching her palm? She suppressed a shudder of revulsion. "Tomorrow, once I am done with work for the day I would be free to escort you wherever you wish. Perhaps we could dine together and later go dancing. There is a place on the other side of the city that you will enjoy."

  She was tempted to decline. Though she lacked experience, even she knew that entrusting herself to Shala would be danger of a different sort. But before she could respond, he frowned, as though just remembering something.

  "First, though, there is a government function I must attend. If you would do me the courtesy of joining me, we could dine afterward."

  Senses humming, Ana leaned forward and called on all her feminine wiles. She could only hope that Shala was more impressed by them than Jones had been. "I would love to accompany you to the function. And then later … you could have me all to yourself."

  Her deliberate wording had his fingers tightening around hers. "You will not find drinks and conversation with cabinet members frightfully dull?"

  "I can't think of anything that would be dull with you, Icanno."

  It had taken remarkably little convincing, Ana reflected later in the taxi, for the man to agree. And far less imagination to picture the ending he had in mind for their evening together. But she thought the opportunity the evening afforded was worth the personal risk. After dinner she'd fake an illness that would have her going back to the ship, after promising to meet the man the next night. A promise she had no intention of following through with.

  It could work, she thought with satisfaction, as she watched the taxi approach the dock area. And the plan allowed her access to government officials that she would normally never have. Perhaps one of them would let something drop about the hunt for Sam, or about the reason for the search.

  She paid the driver and walked up the dock toward the Nefarious. Lights winked along its side, but it was dark aboard the ship. She wondered if Jones had returned. For the first time, she thought about what she would say to him. Even if he'd spotted her in Le Dauphin she could always pretend she hadn't seen him. The crowd there would make the excuse seem reasonable.

  Still, she was glad she was going to be given time before facing him again. Slipping off her shoes, she tiptoed down the companionway into the narrow hallway below, finding her cabin in silence. The stealth required made her smile. She was a master at sneaking into the house after breaking curfew, although she'd been caught as often as not.

  The door to Jo
nes's cabin was closed. He must have given up his search and returned to the ship much earlier. Soundlessly she opened the door to her room, slipped inside and closed it behind her. She let out a little breath of relief, and set the shoes soundlessly on the floor. Her arms were at the bodice of her dress preparing to peel it down her torso before a low, angry voice pierced the shadows.

  "Where the hell have you been?"

  * * *

  Chapter 6

  «^»

  Slapping one hand to her heart, Ana sought to keep it from jumping through her chest. "My God, you scared me to death. Give you a mustache and a rosary, and you could be my grandmother."

  The small wall lamp above her bed was snapped on, and then Jones rose from the edge of the bunk, his face a grim mask. "If she had to keep track of you, prayers probably came in handy."

  Faced with his implacable expression, Ana was once again aware of the way his presence seemed to shrink the area. Involuntarily she retreated, until her shoulders met the door. "There was no reason for you to wait up. I figured you'd be asleep." In fact, she'd counted on it.

  "You're not at Disneyland," he said grimly. "You're a woman in a strange country, one that's had more than its share of unrest lately. Only an idiot would go out at night alone."

  "Idiot?" The word burned, even if it served her purpose.

  She wanted him to believe her a harmless ditz out for a good time, didn't she? So there was little point in telling him she was a black belt in karate and an expert marksman. Especially since neither of those facts had helped her much tonight.

  "Sorry if you were worried. I just wanted to—" she swallowed as he came closer "—experience the nightlife on my own, you know? Besides, you wouldn't have liked the places I went, believe me. Too crowded."

  "As it happened I did experience those places," he snapped. "Looking for you."

  She let her eyes widen. "Why would you come looking for me?"

  "Maybe because you seem to have the sense of a gnat and a gift for trouble."

  Okay, the ditz pretense was wearing a little thin. Or maybe it was just his ready belief in it that burned. "Look, I'm sorry if you were worried, but there was no reason—"

  His hand slapped the door beside her head. She winced at the restrained force behind the action. "There was every reason," he disputed, shoving his face close to hers. "Do you have any idea what can happen to a woman on her own in a place like this? Something could be slipped into your drink and you'd be out in a matter of minutes. The white slave trade is thriving these days, did you know that? Or maybe you'd be targeted for robbery, instead. People have been known to get their throats slit for the contents of their wallet."

  Ana swallowed, partially at the vivid scenes he was painting, partially at his proximity. His other hand had joined the first against the door, on the opposite side of her head, effectively caging her. And she couldn't be sure whether the wild pumping of her pulse was due more to his words or to his nearness.

  She had as much practice at soothing male tempers as she did at rousing them, and she called on it now. "You're right, of course. It can be dangerous for a woman out on her own. But believe it or not, I do take precautions."

  Rather than mollifying him, her words seemed to enrage Jones further. His eyes slitted and his voice went low and smooth. "Do you?"

  Swallowing hard, Ana forced herself to maintain his gaze. "Yes. I don't take chances, and I'm not without some self-defense training."

  "Prove it."

  Ana blinked. "What?"

  The note of mockery in his voice was at odds with the dangerous light still burning in his eyes. "Let's see those self-defense moves of yours, baby. You've got a man cornering you, wanting more from you than you care to give. Stop me." As he spoke he moved even closer, until his shoulders blocked the rest of the room from her view. There was barely an inch between them, and the scant space was filled with a vibrating tension that simmered, warning of imminent eruption. "Maybe he's trying to seduce you out of that sexy little dress of yours." He reached down, traced one index finger across the bare skin above her breasts, where the dress ended.

  He lowered his head so his voice sounded beside her ear, his breath caressing her neck. "Or maybe he doesn't care about seduction at all. Maybe he's just going to take what he wants." He hooked his finger in the top of her dress and tugged lightly. Ana shivered violently. The callused pad of his finger was grazing the top of her breast, the light contact making it all but impossible to concentrate on what he was saying. "What're ya gonna do, Annie? Huh?"

  She started at his use of her nickname, her gaze flying to his. How had he known that her brothers insisted on calling her that, despite her threats of bodily harm? But in the next moment she realized her error. There was no secret knowledge in Jones's eyes, he hadn't discovered her true identity. The look she did discover there, however, turned her hones into warm, soft putty.

  It took all the strength she could muster to manage a response. "Back off, Jones, before I have to hurt you." Admittedly, her words lacked conviction, but she managed to wedge her arms between them, pushing hard at his chest. He allowed himself to be moved, but only slightly.

  "Talk is cheap, honey. I don't think you know how to—"

  Her strangled gasp interrupted him, and he looked down, then froze. He'd dropped his hands when she'd pushed him, but hadn't remembered to disengage his finger, taking a corner of her dress with him, exposing her breast.

  Ana reached to cover herself, but Jones's hand was there first. And he wasn't making any move to restore her modesty. Instead, he traced his finger around her breast, trailing a line of fire as his path moved to her nipple, before taking the taut nub between his index finger and thumb.

  "Ah, damn." The muttered words seemed to be torn from him, and then he wasn't speaking at all, but kissing her, with the same restrained force that had marked his actions earlier, only with much greater effect.

  The ship seemed to pitch and shift beneath her feet, although it was rocking gently against the dock. Jones's mouth ate at hers, weakening her knees and shredding her resistance. Coupled with the shockingly intimate touch on her breast, Ana's senses whirled, then imploded. The state-room became steamy with heat.

  She clutched at his shoulders as he crowded her against the door, her lips parted beneath his, as desperate longing flashed through her. She'd wanted this, from the first time he'd kissed her. Wanted to see him lose control, to react without that careful caustic guard of his. The reality shattered anything she could have imagined.

  His touch wasn't controlled at all this time, but a little rough, a little wild. This wasn't a man like any other she'd known, whose timid or grasping touch had annoyed or disappointed by turns. Jones knew exactly what he was doing, and the result was devastating.

  Her tongue answered the demand of his and she shuddered as he sucked at it, tested it lightly between his teeth. It wasn't until she felt his second hand on her other breast that she realized he'd tugged the bodice completely down and held her half naked, pinned against the door.

  And it wasn't enough. She raised one hand to thread through his hair and pulled him closer. Ever closer. With the other she tugged at his shirt, yanking it higher so she could feel his skin against hers. And then shuddered when he pressed his bare chest against hers.

  She couldn't tell whose heart was pounding more loudly. She felt his hand shove up her skirt, smooth along her thigh, and almost sighed. When his fingers grazed her mound, a gasp was torn from her. Then his hand was on her bottom, squeezing the softness there.

  A fist of desire clenched low in her belly. Her palms found the smooth skin on his sides, and skated down to the low-riding khakis on his slim hips. She brushed the back 'of her fingers beneath his navel and felt his stomach muscles contract beneath her fingers. His reaction brought a pleased hum of satisfaction, which turned to a strangled gasp when he lowered his mouth to her nipple.

  Dark sensual colors exploded behind her eyelids when he sucked strongly from her,
drawing a sob from her throat. She pressed closer, wanting more of the erotic torment, unsure if she could stand it. His other hand left her bottom and caressed her thigh, before slipping his fingers beneath the elastic in her panties and touching her intimately.

  She jerked in shock, a violent, involuntary reaction that she regretted as soon as she felt him freeze, to remain shuddering and unmoving against her. Then a moment later he was releasing her, with a suddenness that left her bereft.

  "Damn."

  Dragging her eyelids open, she saw him jam a hand through his hair, take a step back. And although it was on the tip of her tongue to plead with him to return, she knew it would be in vain.

  "Annie."

  He didn't say any more. He didn't need to. With trembling hands she pulled the dress back up over her breasts, then smoothed the skirt down where it rode high on her thighs. She wished she could control the shaking in her limbs.

  Jones looked away and muttered an expletive. Then with the air of a man faced with an unpleasant task, he turned toward her again. "Look … I'm sorry."

  Sorry. Her incredulous gaze flew to his. He was sorry?

  "This was my fault. All of it."

  Desire, which had only moments ago been honed to fever pitch, turned neatly, irrevocably to anger. "Did you hear me assigning blame?"

  "No, but you should. I was just trying to get you to see…" He had the grace to look uncomfortable. "Well, it doesn't matter. I should never have touched you, not like that."

  "No, of course not." There was strength to be found in anger, Ana discovered, which she embraced. It was infinitely preferable to the hurt that threatened to bloom. "It wouldn't do for me to get the wrong idea, now, would it?"

  "No." Because he was focused on tucking his shirt back into the waistband of his pants, he missed the glare she speared at him. "I had no right to come on so strong. What I had to say could have, should have, waited until morning."

 

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