He was tempted to make a smart-ass rich-girl comment, but restrained himself. The idea of family favors appalled her as much as him. “You may not be a national security issue, but your boyfriend Alexei is.”
Her shoulders twitched in a shudder. “Don’t call him my boyfriend. We were social acquaintances, a relationship he severed with murder. He’s merely Markos, no first name for me.”
“I understand. Markos has some unpleasant playmates. You heard of the New Dawn Warriors?”
“Vaguely. It’s an extremist group, an obscure sect. From the Middle Eastern country of Yamar, I believe.”
He arched a brow in admiration. “Most people wouldn’t know that much. New Dawn are the ultimate militant extremists, itching to eradicate anyone East or West who doesn’t adhere to their strict code. They’re suspected in an attempted airplane hijacking and the embassy bombing in Monrovia. Fortunately, they don’t yet have the financial clout of some other groups.”
“Ah, that’s where Markos comes in. The charming and greedy import-export tycoon.” An angry crimson stained her fine cheekbones. “Let me guess. The art and antiquities he had me authenticate were part of building their bankroll. And he knew all along. A deal with the devil.”
“I always did admire your quick mind.” He planted one foot on the top step of her cabin and propped a forearm on his knee. “A deal with the devil is right. Markos’s client was Husam Al-Din. He’s a mysterious fanatic and a megalomaniac bent on building his group into a world power. To locate him and stop New Dawn, we need leverage with Markos.”
“And I am that leverage,” she said pointedly.
“Exactly. We think he knows where Husam Al-Din is. A credible witness against him for murder and attempted murder might encourage him to sing like the arrogant peacock he is.”
“Peacocks don’t sing. They screech.”
“I didn’t say it would be pretty.”
He watched fear and doubt cloud her eyes before she turned to the window box. Doubt about nailing Markos. Doubt about Cole’s ability to protect her. She pinched two dead blossoms and dropped them on the ground. Her hand trembled and she shoved it into the pocket of her shorts.
“Why you, Cole? Why did Nolan send you?”
“He said because we went to school together, you’d know me. Trust me.” Hell, there was a laugh and a half.
He’d tried to refuse, but Nolan had insisted he needed Cole’s expert undercover skills and sixth sense for danger.
So here he was.
Rationalizing that he wanted only to comfort her, he eased over behind her, let his hands hover above her slender shoulders. He shouldn’t touch her. He should keep his hands and all other body parts strictly away. He needed discipline to do his job.
Yet he could no more keep his hands from her than he could’ve refused Nolan’s orders. The temptation of her silken skin and her fragrance wove the old spell.
His hands lowered to cup her shoulders, and he turned her to face him. “An FBI informant spotted Markos in Boston. We believe he’s traced you. Pack up, and we can leave in an hour. I’m to take you to a safe house out west.”
She was in danger here, and soon, if reports were accurate. His gut clenched with fear that she wouldn’t trust him. Hell, from the looks of things, she wouldn’t trust him as far as the door, much less Utah.
Emotions chased across her expressive features—fear, fury, determination. She twisted from his grasp. “I’m going nowhere with you. After the way you treated me, I have no reason to trust you.”
“What the hell? You have things backward.” She was the one who dumped him, left him strung out for the vultures. And she was ticked off? But this wasn’t the time. He held up his hands. “This doesn’t have to be personal, Laura.”
“No, and it’s not going to be. General Nolan can send someone else to protect me. I’ll even give him a call, so you’re off the hook. You’ve had your say. Now leave.”
She ducked past him and unlocked the door with a key slipped from her shorts pocket.
No way. This mission couldn’t fold before he even began. “No can do. Arrangements have been made. An ATSA unit is in place, not just me. Markos could already know you’re at this resort.” He racked his brain for anything that would keep her talking to him. He gestured at the keys in her hand. “Good your survival instincts have you buttoning up.”
“Old habits die hard. I’m used to keeping my doors locked.” Ready to shut him out, she glared at him from the doorway. “But I’m perfectly safe here in Maine. At least I was. Now please go. I have no more to say to you.”
Once inside the cabin, the impact of their encounter slammed into Laura, and she sank onto a chair. She stared into space and hugged herself.
He was gone, but sensation still raised the hairs on her skin where he’d touched her. The attraction remained, undimmed by years. It was only chemical, sexual.
Once she’d thought Cole was Mr. Right, but he was Mr. Wrong after all. She’d thought so then and she knew so now.
His very presence here threatened her safety. If ATSA could find her, so could Markos. Cole was right about that.
She’d fled Washington, D.C., last October with few belongings and little cash. She’d hated forfeiting her career and leaving her family and friends. After months alone on the run and in hiding, her previous life seemed a distant dream.
But fear crouched in her mind and in her belly, like a hibernating dragon, ready to roar to life.
Twice she had defied death. Twice something in her had clung to life. Double jeopardy, and she didn’t relish a triple. She didn’t have nine lives to risk like the feline name she adopted. But she could do nothing except remain in hiding until she could return and testify.
A month ago, she’d found this secluded Maine resort, a haven to a woman on the run. Teaching tennis and sailing here provided a focus…and kept the dragon at bay. But oh, God, she was so tired of dodging, dissembling, hiding.
She wanted Alexei Markos behind bars.
She wanted to be Laura Rossiter again. To be safe.
But she couldn’t tolerate even one day of body guarding by Cole Stratton.
Tears welled, and she blinked them away. Tears would accomplish nothing. Resolve and determination would keep her strong. She squared her shoulders and stood.
The last thing she wanted was for Cole to probe their past, to learn the secret she’d kept for ten years.
That left her only one choice.
Chapter 2
The road from Hart’s Inn Resort snaked up Deer Mountain to a scenic overlook before veering down into Alderport.
As dawn’s light peeked over the ridge, Laura coaxed her rusty hatchback as far as the turnout. In her rearview mirror, she spied a black-and-silver motorcycle zooming out of nowhere, on her tail. Cole. She slumped. She should’ve known.
The bike roared up beside her. When it threatened to bump her, she pulled into the overlook parking lot.
As her dad said, the best defense was an offense. She rolled down the window. “Cowboy, you’re in my way.”
“If you’re out for a Sunday drive, it’s only Wednesday.” Cole looked too good in the worn jeans, snug on his muscular thighs, and another black T-shirt with the Harley eagle logo. “We never finished our talk. Imagine my shock when you pulled out in that excuse for a car.”
“I couldn’t sleep,” she said, hedging.
“Me, neither. The ground behind your cabin is harder than this pavement.” He rolled his shoulders.
She blinked in surprise, not liking the implications. “You kept watch over me all night?”
He sighed. “That’s what I’m here for, 24/7.”
Did he know the turmoil that idea generated inside her? Her head swam, and she felt unbalanced, as though her protective layers were peeling away. “I gave you my answer yesterday. What part of no don’t you understand?”
“Song lyrics don’t cut it, Laura. Neither does no. Markos may have already found you. If you won’t go to a safe
house, come back and we’ll talk. ATSA wants Markos. You want to be safe from him. We can work out…something.”
Safe, yes, dear God, she wanted to be safe, but working out something with Cole? How could that be safer than the situation she was in? His nearness was devastating to her pulse. His low, purring voice sent heat eddying through her veins.
Just like old times.
She gripped the steering wheel and fought for the logic and control that had been her bulwark over the years. Cole had her under surveillance, so she couldn’t get away. Therefore, she had to stay. There was no escape. “What choice do I have?”
“I’ll follow you back to the resort.” Cole stared as she turned the hatchback and pulled onto the two-lane country road.
In frustration, he pounded a fist into the other palm. Damn! Yesterday when she’d railed at him, life had sparkled in her eyes and pushed away the fear. Now he saw only the fear.
Grimacing, he rolled his shoulders. He didn’t need much sleep, but too much rough duty had taken its toll. His bones and muscles objected big time to the outdoor stakeout. Otherwise, duty in ATSA challenged him, satisfied him and made him who he was now. Made him who he needed to be, not a biker bum, like his old man had always said.
You’ll never do more’n scrape up enough to buy the next pint, his father had raved at him. You’ll be lucky to keep working at that cycle shop. You’re just like me.
No, he wasn’t. He wouldn’t be. He’d escaped that fate in spite of his old man’s booze and abuse. This op was another brick in building his life, his identity. He would succeed.
Except for the general’s devious U-turn.
Cole’s contact officer had leaped at the need to switch gears. The contact had said Nolan was happy as a Maine clam at high tide that Laura stay put. The safe house was no longer part of Nolan’s plan. The something they could work out was a trap, with Laura as bait.
Cole might have a bone to pick with her, but he couldn’t condone staking her out like the poor damn goat fed to T-Rex in Jurassic Park.
Restful stay in the country, hell.
One ATSA officer had already moved into a rental cabin as a guest. The second ensconced at the inn was code-named the Confessor, for an ability to make friends and encourage people to talk. Not that a pro hit man would fall for that, but having an operative on the inside could eliminate suspects. The rest of his ATSA unit would be deployed at the resort today. Another would set up in town in a couple of days.
Meanwhile, guarding Laura was Cole’s responsibility. He had to stick as close to the sacrificial lamb as a conjoined twin, but he doubted his ability to convince her to let him protect her. She considered him the wolf, not the shepherd.
As he clamped on his helmet, he noticed the sheen of a viscous fluid on the pavement beside him. Small puddles and drips glistened where the old hatchback had stood. A trail of sparkling drops led out of the parking area.
Brake fluid.
Sputtering oaths that might shock a Marine, he spun onto the pavement. Had someone done this? Or was she still not maintaining her vehicles? The thought of Laura tearing down that mountain road with no brakes raked panic down his spine.
He prayed he reached her before it was too late.
Cole leaned into the turns and followed the trail of fluid weaving back and forth across the descending slope. He cast a wary eye at what took the place of a guard rail—boulders nearly as big as her car.
What would she do when she reached the bottom? What was there? He couldn’t remember. Damn. He gunned the bike.
A screech of tires followed by the shriek and crunch of metal had his heart racing as fast as his engine.
Around the next turn he saw the rocks she’d hit. One fender, sheared off as if by a can opener, lay beside a scarred boulder. Miraculously, she was still descending.
Halfway down the hill, he caught up to Laura as she steered wide on a gentle turn. From the trail of fluid he could see she was handling the curving down-grade damn well. She downshifted so the engine slowed her.
But the car was still gaining speed.
At the foot of the hill, Laura’s car shot across the path of an unwitting truck driver. The wild-eyed man slammed on the brakes. His worked.
Veering wildly, Laura careered past a shed and through a wooden fence. Slowed by the impact with the fence, the hatchback plowed on into a farm field. The car ground to a halt axle deep in grass and mud.
Cole jumped off his motorcycle and wrenched open the car door. He allowed himself a deep breath when he saw no blood, no twisted limbs.
Laura clutched her belly and groaned.
“Are you hurt?”
She groaned again, but shook her head.
He had to get her out of there. What if the car blew? Gently, fear for her clogging his throat, he checked for injuries. When he found none, he unbuckled her seat belt and cradled her to him. “Here we go. Let me carry you.” With Laura trembling in his arms, he trudged away from the car.
She curled into his chest, murmuring in a wrenching tone that tore at his heart. “My…” A sob obscured the rest of her words.
“What is it, Laura? What did you say?”
She shook her head, then raised it a little. “N-nothing. I’m…okay.” Eyes closed, she inhaled slowly, then exhaled in what he figured was a calming exercise.
He set her down on a log near the bike. He squatted in front of her and checked her pupils, her face. Reassured she was whole, he pressed his shaking hands to her knees.
She gulped down her tears and blinked at him. “Cole, if you hadn’t stopped me and made me turn around to go back to the resort, I’d have driven down the other side—”
“And over the cliff.” His brusque words left no room for doubting the outcome.
She’d been through hell already. He wished he could shield her, wrap her up and cart her off to safety. But she wouldn’t have it. Nor would the general, damn him.
“You saved my life. I—” Another sob cut off her words. So many emotions whirled and tumbled through Laura that she could scarcely get her bearings. Fear and fury at Markos’s latest attempt on her life were only part. Harder to accept was her treacherous relief that Cole was the one to pull her from the car and hold her in his arms.
“Don’t thank me yet,” he growled, his voice betraying his anger at the accident Markos had arranged. “That may be only his first attempt. I bet my saddlebags that those brake lines have man-made holes. If we had doubt about Markos trying to kill you, this is proof.”
She watched Cole spring to his feet and pace to the hatchback, buckled into the muddy field like a permanent growth. He stared as though X-ray vision would reveal the reason for the brake failure.
Deep breaths gradually calmed her. She smoothed back her hair and tried to stand.
“Whoa, babe.” Arm around her shoulders, he eased her back down. “Take it easy. Maybe we should get you to a hospital.”
“No hospital.” She just wanted to get away from Cole.
He peered at her, clearly still worried. “I know better than to argue with that tone, but you shouldn’t ride back to the resort on a motorcycle.” He flicked on his cell phone. “Stan can send somebody.”
She eyed the Harley as if it were a fire-breathing dragon. Ride back with him, on that, her knees pressed to his hips? She was relieved she didn’t have to create an excuse. “I can’t leave my suitcase and other box in the car. It’s everything I own.”
“Everything you own? A downsized princess.” He stood, shaking his head in disbelief. “I’ll load them myself when your carriage arrives.”
As he waited for a response, she caught him watching her, puzzlement on his face. “Laura, what was that you said when I pulled you out of the car? ‘My’ something?”
Her heart stopped at the fear he’d puzzle out her garbled cry. Then she’d have no choice but to reveal the secret locked in her mangled heart. Only six months after they’d broken up had come her first brush with death.
My baby…my
baby…
She slid her gaze to the ground. “I…I don’t know.”
There was no tandem ride to the resort on the Harley. Not Stan, but the hot-eyed kid Burt arrived in a resort pickup truck. An amazingly perked-up Laura installed herself in the truck’s passenger seat before Cole could object.
Anger and dread seething inside him, he followed the pickup on his Harley. He didn’t trust anybody where Laura was concerned. The shifty-eyed Burt especially.
He ached to grill her about what she’d said as he’d pulled her out of the wreckage. My… something, but what? She knew all right, but she didn’t want him to know.
Opening that can of tarantulas would get them nowhere fast. Yesterday he’d blown it, and she’d run. Not from a killer, but from him. So he had to toe a tightrope with her. And after today’s so-called accident, the present—not the past—demanded one hundred percent of his attention.
Desiring her and remembering how she’d understood him better than anyone before or since were logical consequences of being near her. He hated wavering between tenderness and fury. Anger, passion and protectiveness all warred within him until he didn’t know what he felt. She’d dumped him long ago. He had to put personal concerns aside until the threat to her life ended.
Right.
Later a visit to Libby’s Garage where the hatchback was towed confirmed his suspicions about the car being sabotaged. Chuck Libby pointed at tiny holes along the brake lines. He said in his laconic down-East drawl that corrosion could cause the fluid to drain out slowly and, Ayuh, might be a accident. Might not.
But Cole knew it was no accident. So he was sticking to Laura the rest of the day like ugly on a Marine.
He stood to the side of the tennis court as Laura stowed the ball machine in the adjacent shed. “You should see a doctor. At least rest for a while.”
“I’m perfectly fine. Coaching tennis beats sitting around like a caged cat.” She juggled her sunglasses and racquet and stepped forward to face him. A white visor with the Hart’s Inn logo shaded her eyes. She’d had to miss the sailing class, but had chafed at any other rescheduling. “Besides, the accident wasn’t that bad.”
Guarding Laura Page 2